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Poems and Thoughts by Frank Maurer

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Education

Campangol (Campanyol) opus 64

My study creature of choice in graduate school
Was the ubiquitous Meadow Vole, Microtus pennsylvanicus.
My base study area at Cornell was an open field laced with hay bales.
To be really efficient, in addition to the use of traps,
Was to quietly approach a bale and suddenly flip it.
Then there was a dive and a scramble,
Scooping up whatever was moving.
Proper mothers and offspring were often collected together,
Preserving the accurate genetic line in one fell swoop!

Many years later, I find myself in California,
Surreptitiously meeting a professor studying the large Microtus of the West.
We hit it off, friendship wise, as biologists often do; with us, the binding Microtus!
And, of course, as I have learned in my now home of 45 years,
Our belov-ed tiny mammal in Spanish is Campangol (Campanyol) (the mouse of the field)!

Nicholas, the future Zoologist opus 82

Well, Nicholas is a 14 year old boy who wants to be a Zoologist.
His mother called me to ask if I might be interviewed.
(She had chatted with me on the 'phone, while making a doctor's appointment.
I guess I said enough that she thought I was an able zoologist!)

The day arrived when Nicholas and his parents came for the interview.
We started, Nicholas with pen in hand, by the non-native eucalyptus trees.
We talked together about how there was little life stirring up there--
Introduced plant species are the same as constructing a parking lot for wildlife.
Next on to a stand of Elymus glaucus, the Blue Wild Rye grass.
Here, one would be much more likely to see native fauna amongst the stems.
Then on by the plug-in hybrid car-- a small positive step, slowing climate change for all of us.
We passed by my little pond, explaining the necessity of water for life.

Around behind the house, Nicholas viewed and talked about antlers, horns, and tusks;
All as a result of parallel evolution, manifesting uses for defence and aggression
And just plain, obvious secondary sexual characteristics!
More subtly, we viewed a fluorescent rock,
Demonstrating the added ability of birds to see in wavelengths beyond ours.

Finally, some real vertebrates: a Whiteface Angus steer,
And three emu--ratites (flightless birds) from Australia.
The steer licked Nicholas' hand, showing some of his (its) dentition--
Flat and gently ridged, adapted for a grazing life,
And the emu with greatly reduced wings and huge legs,
Demonstrating a life which evolved from flight to bipedalism.

As we concluded, I asked Nicholas if he had any further questions.
He concluded with a smile, "Nope, you've covered it all!"

My Dream of the Golden-haired Microtus opus 94

In my dream, which I wondrously recalled upon waking,
Students divided up, some collecting normal brown-haired Microtus,
While I and others sought out the beautiful and fanciful, golden-haired specimens.
Is there any 'meaning' to this, (or to most others), only as a bizzare recounting--
Perhaps a mental culmination, after so many years,
Rewarding my love for this creature with which I mingled my Ph.D. student years,
By imagining a beautiful semi-fossorial and important Microtine,
Donning it with a mantle of golden hair?

AI (Artificial Intelligence) opus 108

What sort of warped mind
Would fake the countenance and words of the Pope?
Or fake those of presidents or film stars?
Will AI be utilized to rewrite our 'holy' scriptures?
(Hmmm--substituting one set of myths for another?)
Will there be a time when counterfeit news
Won't be discerned from what actually occurred
So that populations will be manipulated like a circus elephant?

What of our science reporting--
Completely constructed from AI--
(Many papers now submitted, are already based on this horrible flaw.)

And students--from high school to university--
Will their degrees be as fake as their 'research'?
Will our society ultimately be just a house of cards
And collapse around us in a heap of confused rubble?

Will missiles be so supersonic
That only AI might be able to intercept?--
Decisions required to be made so fast--way beyond human ken.
Regarding this; one voice has cried out:
'May such systems at least be programmed
With compassion and understanding
To result in a more 'human' outcome.'

There are of course, positive uses for AI;
In medicine, engineering, bioscience, various devices, and possibly even art.
But is the tradeoff otherwise worth these AI 'advances'?.

Atomic energy was once viewed as a 'saveall' for the world,
But, as is now occurring with nuclear-armed Russia over Ukraine,
Will the world be held helplessly as a hostage
To the possible outcome of our own creation?

Flying V: After a long Hiatus opus 116

A long interim of school, work, and marriage,
Until graduate school hit and my related field work.
I was studying blood transferrins of the Meadow Vole, Microtus pennsylvanicus.
I managed to be accepted in the Conservation Department of Cornell,
Working with electrophoresis under Professor Charles Sibley.
(His son, David Allen Sibley, paints and writes the bird ID guides!)
Field work consisted of capturing these voles from under hay bales
In nearby Ithaca (NY) hay fields--all set up for me.
From under distributed hay bales, I would flip and lunge for my 'prey'.
In my five years, I captured and bred more than 6000 rodents.

Nearby was the Ithaca airport
Which spewed out plane after plane, winging over my fields.
After several months, I could take it no longer,
And bicycled over to the nearby port to inquire about lessons.
Unhesitantly I signed up for whatever was going to come.
For more than 30 hours, I concentrated diligently to earn my first solo flight.
What an absolute thrill to rise from the earth alone,
And maneuver this machine to come round and return safely to the waiting ground!
Many more tests would occur before a license was granted:
Flying cross country with a map spread over my lap--
The railway tracks--on the north or the south side of that highway?;
Realizing I needed to connect the map with rising topography ahead;
Listening to the radio announcement of another student,
Landing simultaneously, heading straight towards me from the incorrect direction;
Landing in the dark--control lights off and listening to the wind
Through an open window so as not to stall;
Dropping abruptly down over a barrier of trees
In order to reach a short runway immediately ahead.

Tough lessons which provoked deep thought and common sense;
Preparing me for a series of further flying challenges.
Which actually kept me alive!

A Divided Body? opus 201

Have you ever had a thought
That our bodies are now subdivided into various departments?
We are not one entity, but rather a kaleidoscope of functions:
From podiatry at the foot to ENT at the top.
In between exists cardiology, gastronomy and urology.
As with much of our society, our bodies are medically subdivided.
Of course one argues that specific knowledge is necessary
So that the pundits are able to understand the complexities of each system.

Oh well, it is just a thought as to how,
With deeper and more complex comprehension of anything
There obtains a possibility that the vulgar ceases to understand anything.
Is everything we now know so complex, that the common person
Will just not be 'in the know' about much?
With the human species being obliged to learn so much more,
Are we to 'rest on our laurels' with the ease of possibly even allowing
Augmentation of yet more AI into our future lives?

Music To My Ears, I. The Early Days opus 210

Since I was tiny, I always had music in my life.
My mother played the old upright piano
During the day at times and later, to put us to sleep.
At five, I started piano lessons with a neighbor teacher.
I advanced some, even recording a duet,
"The Happy Farmer" with my mother.
Mrs. Winkler, married to a Swede who sold knicknack stuff,
As near as I remember, from his car, was my teacher.
She was stiff and formal
And I soon decided at six or seven years to stop.
My mother told me, Winkler had said I would never play music again!
In the meantime, I discovered at six
A big, deep cabinet my father had hand constructed for my mother,
In which were classical 78 record albums--
Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Beethoven, and perhaps Wagner;
Large albums of three to five 78 records--six to ten sides with complete works.
I played them all over and over again.
Once, when I was deep in thought, musically,
My mother came by and said, "Why don't you go out and play?"
Another time she came by and asked, "What are you thinking?"
I seriously answered her, "I am contemplating death."
(I had raised and butchered rabbits from the age of six,
So I knew the 'birds and bees' of rabbits (and humans!)
And how to ready a rabbit for the pot in 20 minutes--
I got faster 'as I aged'!)
At ten years old, I attended dance school with Mrs. Cohn.
I always sat near the trio of men who talked with me--piano, sax, and drums.
In sixth grade at Hyde Elementary School,
They needed an upright double bassist.
I had been given a 'Seashore Test' to check musical prowess and ability--
I may remember it was administered to my whole class.
Well, the music teacher approached me to join the orchestra and play bass.
We had an hour and a half lunch hour between sessions.
Instead of going home for lunch, I practiced by myself
And after one half hour, I walked home, two blocks away,
Lunched and walked back to school.
This continued in Junior High School, when I finally got my own instrument.
It was a big, old, very dark heavy bass,
Which had been, not delicately, reconstructed.

In High School, I went to a private music school for lessons--
My mother drove me and the bass, four miles to the school each week.
My teacher was Mr. Spinney, an older, dark haired,
Very soft spoken man, whom I respected very much
And from whom I learned techniques and fingering.
(He helped prepare me for the school's annual concert--Grieg's piano concerto.)
After about three years he told me I was ready for a more advanced teacher.
He suggested a bassist in the Boston Symphony!
I was about to graduate and leave for Antioch College, Yellow Springs, Ohio,
So I did not follow that advice--who knows what that might have led to!
I left Newton, Massachusetts, and my first wonderful girlfriend,
Seta DerHohanessian, an incredible flautist, whom I loved dearly.
I will always remember my first date, when I drove my parents' car to Seta's home.
We, with others, played the Bach Flute Concerto in B flat.
I was in heaven, with her and being allowed to drive alone--
My wilder, younger brother, John, was not allowed to drive until after 16!
(Seta and I lost track until 30 years later, when we met during my 50th HS Reunion.
She was a year older, so I actually attended two Senior Proms!)

One outstanding memory was when Donald March, HS orchestra director,
Allowed me to conduct the orchestra for some piece, which I remember not;
Yet another moment of being in musical heaven.
I was indeed very content with those early musical years
And, indeed, with almost every day of my youthful process, becoming an adult.

White Boards opus 211

What have we come up with now??
Instead of government controlling extravagant killer guns,
Society, in our Republic, must always attempt defensive methods
To protect our children and their teachers in schools!
Entrepreneurs are now trying to gain 'benevolent' profits,
By producing a teaching white board to be used in schools
Which can be transformed into a bullet-proof shield
So that teachers and pupils might hide themselves,
Waiting for (Texas) reluctant 'peace' officers
To decide just when they might invade a 'dying' classroom,
With THEIR protective shields enabling their safety,
Rather than quickly moving in to restore sanity!

Remembrance of WWII and Vietnam. An Email from Loren opus 222

An email from Loren appeared, responding to my 'Gaza' poem--

'Beyond a threshold. It is hard to understand the scale of tragedy and loss.
I recently looked back on the tragedy that was WWII.
I knew it was catastrophic, but comprehending death
In the thousands/hundreds of thousands/millions is near impossible.
Difficult subject to tackle at 0800 Hours (the time of my 'Gaza' poem) or any time!'

My email response to Loren--
Yes, WWII. I was four, but remember the conclusion.
My father was involved in developing
The O2 pilots' breathing mask.
He had many interesting and harrowing tales
Which he related to his three children over the years.

I cannot look at the horrible films about such any more.
I declared myself a pacifist in 1966 amidst the Vietnam fiasco.
Trying times with all that and attempting to finish Grad school!
My number for the draft was never called,
But I was ready to choose among three--
A1 ambulance, prison, or flee to Canada.
I believe now I would have chosen Canada
And I would have become a passionate patriot!
(Who knows.)

Be well and stay in touch. I need the voice of youth
To surround me and help maintain some equilibrium.
As ever, Frank.

Music To My Ears, II. Middle Years; Antioch College opus 223

Adding a bit more from High School, I was serendipitously introduced to jazz.
(1956).
The Newton High School was performing the 'Connecticut Yankee' musical.
After the final successful performance on that Saturday evening,
I was encouraged and invited to go to someone's home,
Taking my upright double bass with me and jamming!
I had never done such a thing--just extemporaneously playing by ear.
I knew all my musical keys, so knowing such with each tune,
I thought I might be able to 'fake it' somehow.
In fact, it really worked and that was the beginning--
I performed jazz, along with the classical through Grad School!

Well, I arrived (1959) at Antioch College, Yellow Springs, Ohio.
I jumped right into classes--music, science, literature, religion.
Of course, I joined the orchestra, led by David Epstein,
A good, clear conductor and later, I would learn, was a violinist.
We had many hours (and years!) of playing together.

One quarter, it was announced that David would temporarily have leave
And Donald Keetes, music history professor, would take his place.
Keetes was a light, indecisive conductor,
So I almost immediately switched to choir!
It was for only the quarter, and I missed my bass,
But I learned much about using my vocal cords,
Rather than fingering on large gut and steel strings.
The following quarter, I met Keetes again as professor
In a music history class--no singing notes, just notes.
He was a student of Hindemith and very knowledgeable.
My term paper, being deeply into religion and seeking a personal god,
Was a comparative study of the Masses of Mozart, Beethoven, and Stravinsky.
I remember hiding away to write at Lady Alice Bingle's apartment downtown.
She had nursed my father during his illness while he was
A student at Antioch, years previously.
I trepidatiously handed in my paper to Keetes,
Who surprised me with a big, fat A!

During my fifth and final year (I had taught in Switzerland for a year abroad),
David Epstein came to me after one of our rehearsals,
Asking if I would conduct a movement of Bach's Brandenburg Concerto #3,
While he performed the solo violin part in its designated musical movement.
Remembering my one opportunity in High School
And how wonderful the experience turned out to be,
I immediately said 'yes' and got to work, studying the score.
A real score, so complete, with one page containing the entire ensemble.
So you can imagine, the pages were turned quickly!
The graduation concert, including my conducting debut, went very well.
At this point in my life, I was struggling with career choices
Between religion, music, and biology to earn my future keep in the world.
After much thought, I chose biology, which, as it turned out, was a wise decision.
Music, however, continued to be a large part of my life.

A Tribute to Sandra Day O'Connor opus 231

Sandra Day O'Connor died today at 93.
She was the first woman on the US Supreme Court (1981).
She was a role model for an ever-increasing
Number of young women entering the law.
She championed women, generally, towards greater rights.
She encouraged a mood of tolerance and moderation on the Court.
Her influence on society will remain for many years;
However, with the now conservative Court,
Much of what she attempted to mediate there
Is sadly now, at present, lost in this new intolerant era.

Roadkill opus 261

Human deaths and roadkill involving deer
Are continually occurring with our invading highways
Into the unbounded wilderness which once reigned.
Many warning signs increased, declaring 'Deer Crossing'.
One woman in Michigan, who had collided with several deer,
Vociferously opposed these signs saying,
"The signs are only instructing deer to cross at a specific place,
And therefore should be removed to lessen these accidents." (!)

Oh, dear god, why can our early education
Not be more logically inclusive??

(Read 'Crossings' on roadkill by Ben Goldfarb.)

Book Banning opus 275

Why do certain groups of the species, sapiens,
Now that this species reads and writes,
Battle each other to abolish written knowledge
Of that of the other group,
Forcing contrary 'themes' to overwhelm, ideologically?
Well, perhaps,--idiocentric beliefs
That 'I am right--down with the other'.

A wise person, coping with this enigma, once said:
'Anger (or an absolute adherence to a dogma)
Is a form of ignorance.'
Consider the college kid who returns home, vacationing.
I was such a kid, but thankfully, I had educated parents,
Who only gently chided me for my 'outlandish' thoughts,
Knowing the same, they had endured.

Our Elders. To the Young Ones Around Me opus 289

An aware elder has been around for a long while,
And, being aware, most likely has acquired a good deal of knowledge.
If an elder conveys some observation or thought to one, younger,
A good path for the young one to follow is listen, thank, then contemplate,
And act, if it seems appropriate to heed those words.
Politely, take it or not, after some thought,
But do maintain the elder in your circle of knowledge sources;
Never break the tie nor be angry, annoyed, or abusive in word or thought,
For there just might be the occasion when that elder's words,
Will be invaluable in your successful progress forward--
No cost. No obligation!

The Egyptian Vulture opus 297

My first university teaching job was in Turkiye (then Turkey).
At Robert College (now Bogazici Universitesi) in Bebek,
On the Bosphorus, north of Istanbul.
The Science Building was quite new and my classes were on the first floor.
I had a laboratory of my own in the 'attic'.
There was a large enclosed, depressed area
Along the whole building on the south side.
During my entire life, even now at 82 in Davis, California,
I have always lived with and studied tortoises.
In Turkiye I worked with two species of Testudo--
T, graeca and T. hermani, observing them in the large depression.
Specifically, my studies included electrophoresis of blood types,
As well as diurnal behavioural movements of the two species.
To be terse, T. hermani's activities began earlier and lasted longer
Than those of its sympatric fellow species, T. graeca.
Thus, their daily movements divided their feeding times, reducing competition!
The appearance of the two is fairly similar.

I collected specimens both on the European
And on the eastern Anatolian territories.
As I moved through the wilder area of Anatolia,
I noticed that a number of the tortoise carapaces (upper shell),
Had large, healed cracks across much of the curved surfaces.
Upon queries and studying, I learned the cause was the Egyptian Vulture.
Tortoise flesh was one of their sources of protein.
I never actually saw this occurring, but the evidence was plentiful;
The vulture simply found a tortoise, flew up in the air,
Grasping the reptile's body with its talons and dropping it from a height
Which, perhaps after several attempts, cracked the shell enough
That the bird could pry it open and consume the protected body!
(In Africa, this vulture would 'fling' rocks with its beak
At ostrich eggs to break them open.)

I began to wonder what phenomenon
Caused the weaker, curved carapace to be cracked
And not the flat plastron, covering the tortoise underside.
North of Bebek, Ahmet the Conqueror had constructed the Rumeli Hisar
From which, paired with a fortress on the eastern side of the Bosphorus,
He could control, using cannons, the movements on the waterway.
(From here he later moved his boats on rollers over the hill,
Ending inside the protected, chained Golden Horn of old Constantinople,
Surprised the Greeks, and conquered the city!)
At any rate, I used that Hisar (fortress) with my students,
To drop preserved, dead tortoise bodies from the high parapets,
Observing how they would fall and land,
Imitating the hunting behaviour of the Egyptian Vulture.
As suspected, the aerodynamics of the curved carapace
Caused the tortoise body to rotate in the air and collide with the ground,
Making vulnerable, the weaker upper tortoise carapace.
From this experience and from so many more,
Turkiye taught me abundantly the enigmas of life.

Flying XI The Snowstorm opus 320

{It has been quite a while since I wrote my last 'Flying X'.
There have been many distracting world events to deter me!
These Poems and Thoughts were initiated to pass on some personal histories
For my two boys and any other family members who may be interested.
It has thus evolved, as well, to include commentary of all sorts,
But still remaining within the realm of my thoughts and concerns.}

While at Cornell as a graduate student, I flew small planes,
Having joined a University flying club.
To maintain some sanity during all the serious PhD studies,
Music in the Cornell orchestra and occasional flying here and there
Were the antidotes to clear my head from the challenging academic thinking.

After a few years of flying, I became quite proficient,
So I met more and more challenging weather situations.
In the winter of 1967(?) I was flying back to the Ithaca airport
When, suddenly the weather changed as it did often in northern New York.
Snow flurries from the Great Lakes spread across the area.
I had landed at an airport about half an hour flying time from Ithaca.
I called the control center and explained I needed to return to my home base.
(Probably the need was the result of a pending oral exam!)
After some discussion I convinced them I could fly on.
I had told them I knew all the highways leading to Ithaca
And that I would fly above the roads, following them to the airport.
Ok. I took off, flying at about 1000 feet, still maintaining a visual of the ground.
The snow was light, but thick around me.
I remember seeing the vehicles passing below me.
It was a sight I would never dismiss from my mind.
I did wonder, while above them, just what they thought of all this!
I followed the main highway west, turning left or south,
Then on to the anticipated runway ahead.
I believe I came down on runway 31 where I had learned to fly!
As I touched down and the wheels squealed in joy with the earth,
My heart was relieved, but in harmony with the joyful rubber below me.

The Deafening Silence of Quiet Snowfall opus 329

My son just sent me a few-second video from the mountains,
Where he is introducing my grandson to the snow!
The video was dark, but depicted the soft-falling flakes in the limited light.
I suddenly remembered my first skiing attempts
On our neighbor's Massachusetts backyard slopes.
I then remembered my trips with my two boys--separately--
Because of their different ages,
To the ski slopes of our neighboring Rockies in eastern California.
Thereafter, my thoughts went further back to my student days,
Where I taught as a teaching job in the Alps of Switzerland.
The school, The Ecole D'Humanite, was in Goldern, above Meiringen,
Above which was the Rosenlaui Gletcher (Glacier),
Where Sherlock Holmes was 'first murdered'.
One day it was announced the school would all use the Gondalbahn,
To be transported to the actual 'Alp', the highest elevation of the mountain.
From there, we would ski down, ending up in the school yard!
I remember it was overcast and gently snowing.
The powder was so very soft and glass-like.
Descending on the slope was effortless--almost as if one were levitating!
Stopping now and then--there was no speed competition--
I listened to the absolute silence of the falling flakes,
As they gently accumulated around me, muffled in their fall.
It was a chilling experience of so much surrounding activity,
Accompanied with absolutely no sound.
My Heart shudders at 82, 60 years later,
From having had the privilege of partaking
In such an incredible human experience with our beautiful Nature.

(Sadly, with the Climate Crisis, many areas of our planet
Will no longer have skiing, let alone even snow!)

The Wisdom of the Inexperienced opus 358

I was talking with my ophthalmologist about world affairs
In the few extra minutes we are allowed in our pressured medical world.
He said it was, "Too bad that our (USA) students
Should be demonstrating about Gaza."
His thought took me back to my Vietnam-demonstrating days.
The country was then in turmoil, some of my family even disowning me,
But we finally stopped the brutal, horrible, unnecessary war,
And now we are friendly and trading-allies!

Today, the Palestinian situation of injustice has commenced long enough,
And a just Two State Solution is what must obtain.
Religion, guilt and fervor entwined us in this--mess.
For my whole life I have endured and anguished with these conflicting peoples.
Uncomfortable as it may be, are once again our students correct?
Students are lacking in much experience and knowledge,
But there is a childlike, youthful innocence towards what is right.
Thinking human animals often create uncomfortable situations,
But youth, where and when they are allowed to speak,
Often show what is the right and just path.
They are the ones, when contemplating the implications of their future lives,
Who resist their stagnant elders, mired in their indecision,
And cry out, "We do not want to inherit the world you are presenting us!"
Unlike their tired elders, youth are full of energy
And that energy often is directed towards a better life
Which they wish to pursue into their unknown futures.

We are having a Telephone Speech Crisis opus 359

I am almost 83 in August.
I have raised millions of dollars by telephone for wildlife and open space.
I also receive hundreds of calls asking for something
Or informing me of an appointment or something informational.

The new trend is to employ many less expensive--cost cutting operators,
Most recruited from Central or South America, or more, from the Philippines,
Who do not often speak clearly or succinctly.
The many North American operators are mostly young female citizens,
Who are, over time, speaking more and more rapidly.
What I am observing over my many years,
Is that the foreign operators are not well trained in English
And that the citizen women uncoached operators speak so rapidly,
One has a true difficulty in following and comprehending their message,
Let alone catch their mangled name at the introduction.
As for the doctor or company for which they are calling
These pivot people are well trained in their professions and how to speak.
So my basic question is why on earth are 'professional' telephoners
Not trained properly in speech, speed of delivery, and clarity?
Actors on stage must learn proper speech and delivery.
Why are telephone informers not groomed
To properly execute their message as well?

My Relationship with Horace Mann opus 411

"Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity."
This, of course, is a quote from Horace Mann,
The father of American Education in our country.
He started his work in Newton, Massachusetts,
Where I spent my first 18 years of life and attended school!
I had never heard of him--he was never mentioned in our curriculum.
I graduated from Newton High (now Newton North)
And went on as an undergraduate
To Antioch College (1964), Yellow Springs, Ohio,
The school from which my father also graduated.
Horace Mann was a president of the College (1852-1859),
Attracted because of its not being religious,
And, incredibly, that it was co-ed!

I spent five years attending Antioch, which included 'Education Abroad',
Teaching math at the Ecole d'Humanite in Goldern, Switzerland.
The school was quadrilingual, so I worked on Italian, French, German,
(and English).

Back on the Antioch campus, I continued to pass by a small obelisk
Bearing the Mann quote cited at the commencement of this essay/thought.
This quote has penetrated my thoughts throughout my life.
I have created (40 years) an educational, polyculture farm;
Have begun a land trust, Quail Ridge Wilderness Conservancy (35 years);
Created the Tartan Stone (25 years), commemorating Scottish Americans
Of whom I discovered I was one--connected with the first king of
Scotland (Alba).
(These Tartan Stones are housed in 35 state institutions)--
The creations were all manifested with a mallet and chisel,
Similar to my Pictish ancestors--great early (500 AD) stone carvers
of, now, Scotland.
Through all this, Horace Mann's admonition urged me ever forward
And still, even now, permeates my 83 years' actions and thoughts.

African Origins opus 436

I revel, remembering that I had lived in Africa,
Teaching, but also living amongst its people
And other indigenous creatures.
I have also paid visit to the Leakeys' Olduvai,
Where our species' origin may have arisen.
Being there for a time, overwhelmed the spirit
And edified the incredible realization of our origins--
The Sistine Chapel in the Serengeti Plains,
Situated deep in a gorge of the Great Rift Valley.

Sally Sobottka, My Friend opus 444

Sally Sobottka appeared in my life sometime in the 80's,
Attending a Quail Ridge land trust fund raising dinner on the Reserve.
She expressed her strong devotion towards environmental needs
And within months she became a Quail Ridge board member.
For many years, she worked to further the land trust's efforts
To reach out, manifesting education, stewardship, and preservation.

On Thursday, 10 October, Sally quietly passed away amongst her family.
She and I had, in later years, often chatted on the phone,
Since neither one of us was very mobile.
To the end, Sally continually expressed her love and devotion for QR
And reminisced about her times walking amongst its wonderful flora.
She shall be missed--were there more of her ilk.

Frank

Time Revisited opus 453

Humans have created an illusion with the measurement of time.
Today, Daylight Savings Time (DST) ended at 0200 Hours, pushing the clock back.
Announcers and others cried out joyfully, "We have gained an hour!"
Likewise at autumn-time an opposite lamentation is heard.
Are we really so completely brainwashed?
Humans, as well as other Earthly life,
Are locked into a circadian rhythm coordinated with the sun.
Before the invention of clocks, no conflict occurred.
With clocks, humans could just coordinate more precisely,
But still not challenging their circadian rhythms.
Standard Time (ST) is basically coordinated with the sun and our bodies.
And it must be emphasized that light exposure is vital
For the health of our circadian rhythm and its proper functioning.
Most, including farmers, worked from sunup to sundown.
The clock often extended the work day from dawn to darkness,
But the circadian rhythm was not challenged or shifted.
Then, because of the rationales of war, farming,
And school children walking in the dark,
The subtle biological conflict of the sun vs clocks began.
With the artificial creation of Daylight Saving Time;
Nice for many now 'having' long summer evenings,
But, as warned by many psychologists, detrimental
To our cryptic, but very real circadian rhythm.

Now politics enters to raise its uninformed head;
Always considering votes, business, and a feeling of control.
Two years ago, I sent an email to all 50 senators,
Warning them of the pending chaos, if a free-for-all were allowed.
Only two states have thus far legislated for only Standard Time--AZ and HI.
If future states choose just what they desire, permanent DST or ST,
Our country will be a chaotic mosaic of time changes,
And, we do this not fully understanding the detriment to ourselves
Which manifests our normal circadian rhythms
Grinding against a seasonally changing time,
Part of the cycle being unhealthy for our very well being.

Search for Purpose opus 472

'Search for Purpose' is the title of a book by Arthur Morgan,
A self taught engineer and later president of Antioch College in Ohio.
Morgan thus later followed Horace Mann, the enlightened first Antioch president.
Under Morgan a work-study program--the Co-op Program-- was established,
Where students had to combine academics with real-world jobs.

At any rate, the book describes that purpose is discovered and created,
And that one needs to plan, always having several life pathways ready,
In case a first choice is not feasible to accomplish.
My choices were careers in music, religion, or biological sciences.
Religion dropped to a study of interest only,
While music was greatly fulfilled with my orchestral pursuits,
But the study, learning and fascination in biology won out.
Slowly, this evolved into field biology, conservation, and related
small farming.
After much thought and anguish, what I have done is now there and manifested:
An educational, experimental small farm, working with children,
A successful educational land trust,
Protecting open space which harbors native flora and fauna,
And a writing attempt to teach, provoke thought and preserve my
thoughts in life.
I guess my deep and most important activity, including the present,
Is to always stimulate thought in others to question and understand
Why we are here in our condition and to relate ourselves to human and
natural history.
It has been a challenging, but fruitful sojourn during this one-time experience.

Our Future? opus 504

Oh, those of you who switched your votes,
Do you really know what you have unleashed?
Will we now be once again flooded continually with misinformation?
Check out the purchase of Greenland with all its new duties?
The declaration that Canada is the 51st State and all those duties?
Future steps to make women a non-reproductive entity?
Destroying the FBI which, with all its faults, does maintain the law?
Abolishing the Department of Education, which was an attempt
At more equal access to learning opportunities?
Reduction of food and fuel prices--both now reneged upon?
And god knows what else will obtain in this murky future.
Well, you voted for whatever, and we must now
All live with the consequences.

Seta opus 529

A Bach flute concerto plays on the air.
My first love was Seta, a flautist in high school.
Our first date was meeting and playing music at her home.
I knew her parents well; her mother,
An Armenian, soft-spoken woman;
Her father, a very short Armenian artist
At the Rhode Island School of Design.
I remember when he showed me
His plastered juxtaposition of egg cartons;
Beautifully conjoined to create an optical illusion.

Seta and I met at a 50th Reunion for Newton High School.
She had aged, but was soft and conversant.
Dementia hit and her son took her off to California.
I was never able to converse with her again.
The magic of early youth, lost at the end
In silence and an unfulfillment of words.

Three Choices opus 540

Friendly and gentle Canada is now undergoing a tariff blitz
From its huge neighbor to the south.
I do not completely understand all the implications of this,
But I do feel empathy for a country that might have become my home.
It was 1966, during the, now as seen, unjust Vietnam War.
I was studying for my Ph.D. at Cornell University.
Unrest and antipathy against the war prevailed.
I was the leader of the 'Young Friends', a Quaker Students group.
I read and studied profusely everything printed about the war.
I profoundly felt that I was not able to kill another human being.
I applied and succeeded to be classified as a Conscientious Objector.
Oh, what if my draft number, about 370, had been drawn--
What would I have done to maintain my life's dignity?
As I saw it, I had three choices for a major decision in life.
One, I would drive a military ambulance as a non-combatant;
Two, I would go to prison as a non-cooperator;
Three, I would flee to Canada, becoming a refugee.
Time passed by as I attempted to continue my biological studies.
The war ended and my draft number was never drawn.
Fate shifted once again, nullifying my chances of becoming
A citizen of our reasonable, 'sweet', Acer saccharum nation to the north.

Lexington, Massachusetts opus 566

When studying at Weeks Junior High School (about 1954)
In Newton Center, Massachusetts, I was learning French.
My teacher was Madam Neufeld, a wonderfully vivacious person.
French was my second new language after one year of Latin.
I had changed, after advice that the French would better help in a science career.
Madam Neufeld lived in Lexington, Massachusetts, where she invited me to visit.
I liked her as a sympathetic teacher and accepted her hospitality.
I clearly remember going to Lexington Bridge and the Green,
Where the Revolutionary 'Shot heard 'round the World' had occurred
I also had a very dedicated older, white-haired history teacher,
So my visit to the Bridge was ever more meaningful for my young mind.
Tomorrow, 19 April (1775), will commemorate
The 250th anniversary of the start of the US Revolution.
I am glad I have lived so long to see this day and time
But I am full of worry and anguish for our present and future,
As I am sure they were in those early days of turmoil.

A 21st Century Book Burning opus 573

Most of us, especially older persons who grew up with books,
Distinctly remember historical films, showing books being thrown into bonfires.
Since the 1400's, when the Gutenburg printing press was invented,
Education and information about the world was multiplied by many factors;
So it was with the creation of organized educational institutions.
Today, the slow 'destruction' (ie 'burning') of educational organizations,
Formerly reaching out to free thought and encouraging individual choices of ideas,
Is peeking out at the adumbrations of a terrible one-sided educational format,
Which will stymie the present, golden-age of knowledge-seeking.
In a democratic, free-thinking world, one must be exposed
To all thought, discuss everything , and freely make up one's own mind.

Is Selection Our Mindless Life Guide? opus 594

From my boyhood, and I was a very inquisitive child,
I started learning about mammals,
By first studying all aspects of my childhood domestic rabbits,
And along with that, an intense study of our avian neighbors.
Audubon Camps and bird counts kept me up to snuff.
Of course also dinosaurs--but to a lesser extent than others my age,
Although, later in life, teaching in Africa,
I ferreted out the remnant tracks of the former dinosaur inhabitants,
Making many plaster casts of their plodding on earth in good future sandstone.
Now, even later in life, I am fascinated and overwhelmed
With the 25,000 species of trilobite,
Which densely populated the earth-seas for about 270 million years.
Their morphology and progressive evolution towards greater elaboration,
Was perhaps part of their end; Their ever-more elaborate morphology
For sexual competition getting the best of them.
Remember the Irish Elk with their competing secondary-sexual-character antlers,
With which the males could no longer bear in competition.
This might demonstrate that 'mindless' selection to a 'double' end-adaptation,
Can result where one, 'out-evolves' the other's 'benefit' and extinction occurs!
Perhaps this questions the thought of a loving deity,
Guiding 'all its creatures' to a perfect existence.

Are Audio Books a Form of Reading? opus 608

The ability to read is an important aspect of human life.
The debate has begun as to whether audio books count as reading.
According to an NPR-Ipsos poll,
40% of adults felt such books were not a form of reading:
This poll was comprised of men 65 years old and older,
And those with no four-year college degree.
But what does science say? No significant difference,
Between reading, or listening to, or doing both.
The information retained was basically the same!
HOWEVER, school-aged students did worse when utilizing audio alone.
In other words, they comprehended, understood, and recalled less than readers.
So, when one is learning to read, one needs the actual experience of reading!

An Interview Using the 'Wobbly Chair Test' opus 611

Interviewers seeking good employees may well use the 'Wobbly Chair Test'.
It entails two chairs; one set a little aside which is totally normal.
The interviewee's primary chair by the interviewer has one leg cut a bit short.
This enables the latter chair to not sit straight and to wobble.
The test is, will the interviewee notice and remark on the unsteady chair,
Momentarily stop the interview, and ask to exchange chairs;
Or will 'they' (notice the 'singular they' employed here)
Continue to wobble and uncomfortably continue with the procedure?
Of course the interviewer is interested in whether or not
The one interviewed takes initiative in a situation
And notices something that needs improvement.
Of course, if the person interviewed is shy and does not speak up,
The establishment may possibly lose an otherwise potentially good employee.
Presumably, all that depends on the good insight the interviewer may have at that moment.

Hope is the Enemy of Courage opus 613

At age 19 while attending Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio
A very intellectually stimulating academic institution,
I came across a book, 'Faith of a Heretic',
Written by a Yale Philosophy Professor, Walter Kaufman, in 1959.
The subject included not to hope, but to get in and do it.
My whole life seems to have followed that philosophy.

As a child I wanted to build a treehouse 30 feet high in an oak.
And I did so.
As a 10-year-old, I had a 'nature club' for 'younger' kids!
It went well, considering my tender age.
I wished to continue my father's abandoned large vegetable garden.
And I did so with my little brother.
I wanted to have a large pond for my huge carp and snapping turtles.
And I dug it.
I wanted to earn a PhD at Cornell.
And I earned it!
During my teaching job in Africa, I wanted to learn beekeeping with the aggressive African bee.
And I carefully learned the art.
I wished, back in the US, to start a polyculture educational farm; the Environmental Education Farm Foundation.
And, laboriously, I managed and did so.
I decided I must save California wildlife land and created the Quail Ridge Conservancy (Land Trust).
And it, with lots of effort, manifested itself, eventually becoming part of UC Davis.
I learned of the languishing of the creation of legislation for a California State Grass.
And after four years it was passed.
I worked in Wyoming to protect 7,000 acres of wildlife acreage.
And after 20 years,it was accomplished.
I learned I was a Pict of Scotland and established myself as a stone carver.
Lots of effort and work to do so!
After Nora, my late wife passed, I decided to create and manage a UCD Student Endowment.
And, believe it or not, it is functioning.
I wished then to create a 'Poems and Thoughts' website for my children to remember my life.
And now it consists of 580 plus poems for their, and others' thinking.

What I am saying is that the old philosopher's words were always there for me to manifest;
From childhood to near death, I have attempted to meet the challenge of my passions.
My advice to the next generation is to do such--
Never demur in your true passions and accomplish what you desire and must do. May it be good.

Are We Witnessing the Downfall of a Great Democracy? opus 616

So many 'props' for so many are being kicked out from under.
Our democracy, our parks, our research, our meds, our schools,
Our information sources, our relationships with each other.
Such phenomena have rarely been witnessed before.
As an old elder, there are feelings streaming through my bones.

An Elder's Views on Aging, Learned While Living as a Youth, With Men Mentally Crippled from War opus 633

One of my Antioch Co-op Jobs was in the Ozarks of Missouri,
Girdling old oaks to improve the forest with a subclimax of pine.
Every day I went out and 'doubled-axed' my way down each long ridge.
Winter's snows came and went, then Spring and I saw my first wild lizards!

I lodged in a boarding house which catered to several men,
Mentally crippled from WWII and Korea-- all unable to cope in society.
On weekends, I would spend some time with each,
Conversing and interacting as each was able.
I built up friendships and learned something about war's effects on them.
It made a deep impression on me as a twenty-year-old.
So much so, that in graduate school at Cornell,
While the brutal Vietnam War was raging, (1966),
I declared myself a pacifist, registering with the US government.
I was then voted in as President of the Quaker 'Young Friends' organization
And led a protest walk across the US/Canadian Peace Bridge.

Those men in Missouri, expounding their stories and plights,
Have affected me to this day, in the ways I conduct my life's activities.
I shall never forget them--I can still picture the face of each one.

David Attenborough opus 673

The middle of the night, as I age, becomes more familiar.
I fell asleep, then woke at 2 AM to a PBS Nature program.
It featured the long life and career of David Attenborough.
He began as a child, collecting English fossils in his neighborhood.
Then with the usual and finally, successful career attempts, got onto TV.
He created, in his own style, several notable nature series.
After 'translating' the many lives of frogs and birds,
He wished to explain the very early living life of the planet.
What would he choose, but that from his childhood--fossils.
From my own present passion with fossil Trilobites,
What did he explain, but his similar passion for Trilobites!
I was very familiar with David, but this brought me ever closer to him.
Our lives were parallel in many ways as we grew,
He being more world renowned, and I, in a smaller, but similar sphere.
Our worldly passions and concerns were parallel,
But through circumstance and drive, some of us reach wider horizons.
Both are vital, the smaller sphere augmented and supported by the greater.   
Truth and awareness are vocalized and needed by wide and local voices.
One should not boast if large, nor be discouraged if small.
All voices of encouragement are severely needed--especially now.

For History's Sake opus 681

For history's sake, I am recording this to demonstrate my constant efforts
To help our planet. You need do nothing or take me up on it!

Dear Reader,
All the Poems and Thoughts are written by an 84-year-old poet/biologist,
Frank Maurer, always concerned about where we are headed,
Pricking society to simply conduct some clear thinking.

My Maurer/Timm Quail Ridge, UCD Student Endowment
(started a few years ago, along with the 36-year-old Conservancy)
Is up to $200,000 now and growing.

If you wish to donate (for in perpetuity) with even a single donation,
Which will be matched, as long as funds are available,
(and are tax deductible through the University of California, Davis),
Email me for any information and/or instructions,
And if you need to confirm my legitimacy.

frankmaurer41@gmail.com

Just state your questions, including for donation instructions,
And I shall respond.
Devotedly Yours, 
Frank Maurer.

My Timeline opus 710

A wonderful preschool life with loving, caring parents and a little brother, John, and a littler sister, Susan.

Hyde School Elementary, Newton Highlands, MA (1946-1951). (I loved school and started piano and in 6th grade, double bass.)

Weeks Jr HS, Newton Center, MA (1951-1954). (Met students from other religions and began my love of Shakespeare. Orchestra for real.).

Newton (N) HS, Newtonville, MA (1954-1958). (More and better orchestra, personal relationship with a supreme being, love, readying for college.)

Antioch College, BA, Yellow Springs, OH (1959-1964). (New subjects and thoughts, orchestra conducting, Cooperative academic jobs--whales, a museum job, teaching in Switzerland-- end of formal religion.)

Cornell University, Ph,D., Vertebrate Zoology and Ecology, Ithaca, NY (1964-1968). (Dinner with Hans Betha, inventor of the hydrogen bomb; field work on Microtus; learned to fly.)

Robert College, Istanbul,Turkiye, Prof Vertebrate Zoology (1968-1972). (Became department chair, field work in Israel and Libya, learned cello, composed music, travelled around Turkiye.)

U. of Botswana, Lesotho and Swaziland, Lesotho, Africa, Prof Vertebrate Zoology (1972-1975). (Bred Basotho Ponies, rescued a baboon, learned bee keeping with this vicious species.)

U, of Uppsala, Sweden, Researcher (1975-1977). (Did research on the gentler European Honey bee as well as animal ag food processing, learned Swedish, ice skating, drank from royal horns.)

Created the Environmental Education Farm Foundation, Davis, CA (1977-2024). (Learned farming, farmers markets, raised ground-raised turkeys, chickens, and ducks, and aquaculture.)

Created the Quail Ridge Wilderness Conservancy, (Napa, CA), Davis, CA (1989-present). (Learned about Conservation Easements, fundraising, passed the legislation for the State Grass.)

Pictish Stone Art hand carved petroglyphs (1995-present). (Learned a completely new art form. did custom orders, learned even more Scottish and world history, gave lessons, exhibits.)

Conducted several outreach voyages to Scotland, one of my natal ancestral nations, to be with the people, and carve in situ and present stone petroglyphs to Parliament and to other organizations.

'Poems and Thoughts' poetry (2020-present) (Through new writing, I reviewed my history and world thinking; became more philosophical, viewing my past life; leaving a record for my children.)

Author's Page opus 713

After ten years abroad, he started the Environmental Education Farm Foundation, Davis, California, and ten years later, founded the Quail Ridge Wilderness Conservancy, a land trust, saving 2000 acres in Napa, California, and joined it to the University of California Natural Reserve System. He also spearheaded the preservation of two, 3000 acre parcels in Wyoming, giving shelter to wildlife and specifically the Greater Sage-Grouse. Frank wrote the legislation for the Official State California Native Grass. He went on to also pass the State Grass for Wyoming.

Maurer became a stone carver, because of his Pictish ancestry, using only a hand-held chisel, and donated stones to several countries, including Ireland and Scotland, as well as Cornwall and Wales, districts. His stones are in 37 state archives throughout the US, named the State Tartan Stone.

Frank created his 'Poems and Thoughts' in 2000 and to date has written over 700 prose-poem works, reflecting his varied life experiences. Maurer is now 84-years-old and has a sharp mind and uncanny memory. He is listed in Who's Who in America and in Who's Who in the World.

Frank lost his brilliant wife, Prof. Lenora A. Timm, in November 2016, after 31 years of a symbiotic, productive marriage, and has two surviving sons, (Christine's and his offspring), Pierre (52) (his wife, Julia) and Basil (46) and grandchildren, Jayden and Rowan. (Also in memory of Jayden's brother, Chance.)

The Metric Conversion Act opus 720

I arrived to live near Davis, California, in 1979.
I shall always remember the State sign on I-80.
The sign indicated the distance to Sacramento and the East Coast,
But not in a usual manner--there were two systems used!
One was the normal 'mileage', the other, the metric.
What was going on?  Metric in the US?  Yes indeed.
The US was the last country to attempt to go metric. 
In the 1970's, President Ford put forward the Metric Conversion Act.
This was an attempt to at last convert this country to the metric system.
Of the many entities needing conversion, road 'mileage' signs were one.
This, as we know, did not succeed.
However, to match the rest of the metric world,
Much of our food and drink, automobile and aircraft dimensions,
And our medications are also measured  metrically.
But our children are stuck with the British System.
How many feet in a mile?  (5280).  How many meters in a kilometer?  (1000).
How many inches in a yard?  (36).  How many centimeters in a meter?  (100).
I won't even ask how many feet in a rod?  (16.5 feet or 5.5 yards)!
Ok, a Chain is 66 feet or 22 yards.  Ten Chains in a Furlong!
Oh, and there are 100 Links in a Chain.  (0.66 feet or 7.877892 inches equals one Link).
Do you see my point?  The metric system is built on base 10.
For a child to thoroughly (which they don't) learn the British System,
It takes about three years of school time to perhaps learn this system.
Can you imagine how many other important things could be learned instead?
The metric system uses basic names (centi, milli, deci, kilo)--no Furlongs!
And conversions are accomplished by merely moving a decimal point!
Need I say more, considering the precious learning time available?
We, as a people, are absolutely stuck in our ways.
(Just as our British cousins were for so long!) 

Do Not Forget Rosenlaui opus 728

In my second year at Antioch College,
I decided to partake in their 'Antioch Abroad' program.
All this entailed an indepth German course in Radolfzell,
Pushing my bike and pack up the Alp to the village of Reuti,
And, there, declaring myself ready to teach math!
But on the way along the high, level road to Reuti,
I continually gazed at the Rosenlaui Glacier to the south.
At the young age of 19, I had enough sense 
To stop and comprehend the beauty I was beholding.
I vowed at that moment, pausing along the road,
To never forget what I was now first experiencing.
And thereafter, each day while teaching at that school,
I took a few moments to deeply absorb
That which I feared I might forget to take in,
Out of the passage of time, 
Which often brings complacency and grantedness. 

Encounter With a Rattlesnake on the North Fork of the Yuba River opus 730

Being restless one California weekend,
I took the family, with the two boys, Pierre and Basil, east,
Into the Foothills of the Sierras and the North Fork of the Yuba River
To pan for gold, anticipating use of our new gold pans. 
Driving through lovely wooded roads,
We made it together to the river's edge.
Gold panning was fun and we even found
A few small nuggets amongst the deep black sand grains.
After panning for two or three adventuresome hours,
We decided to explore along the wooded shoreline.
Suddenly, I spied a large rattlesnake in the grass.
I called the others to come and check it out with me.
We slowly followed it, as it agilely glided along.
Sensing our presence, I am sure, it headed for a tree,
With an opening in between two large roots.
As the snake was half way into the hole,
I compulsively announced I was going to hold its tail !
This was all done quietly as I explained,
That I was able to do this because the snake could not turn around.
As they watched, I explained how the snake felt--
Strong body muscles, cool to the touch, and very soft skin.
Concluding this bizarre exercise, I slowly released the tail,
And the snake quickly disappeared down into its shelter.
This act was perhaps foolish, but my knowing animals
Made it very safe, and we all, in our own way, will remember
Our interaction with this dangerous, but now 'controlled' creature--
A creature of mystery and stories, giving us each a memory
To last until the end of our lives!

Meditations opus 736

A young couple stopped in Istanbul from India about 1972.
They had studied with the Maharishi,
Learning Transcendental Meditation.
They taught, giving us a mantra; each.

Meditation stayed with me, I reaching into it now and then.
The next real moment was in Egypt.
I was in the Great Pyramid with its long corridors of stone.
Being in a pyramid, I found a corner 
And produced my alpha waves
(Remember 'pyramid power' in the 70's?)
The moment of exultation was great,
Augmented by the largest of all pyramids.

Then a sojourn through Belize 
And its modest Maya pyramid structures.
Quietly returning to the area after dark,
I climbed the high, narrow steps of one to its summit.
I sat there with the moon, looking over the dense jungle,
And my mind, catalyzed by my mantras,
Sent alphas through me and the surrounding forest. 
I was at one, blending with encompassing Nature.

My alpha waves have given me balance through time.
How fortunate to have been on the path so long ago,
With those two tarrying teachers travelling home from India.
They have given me a levitation of my mind
And an aura which joins me with my world and my existence.

First Shakespeare, Now Plato to be Outlawed? opus 746

Just this last summer, the governor of Florida,
Decided to ban Shakespeare for anything that is 'racy or sexual'.
This is to 'protect students from anything untoward'.
Now, we have a beloved, southern university, Texas A and M,
Which is banning Plato's 'Symposium', which explores sexuality and gender.
The Symposium's consideration that there may be, possibly, three sexes--
This, brought about from the University's ban on teaching 'race and gender idiology'. 
Conservatives want to go back to the classics (of which Plato is one!).
This would deviate from the teaching of Eastern philosophy.
The irony is that Plato (as do many conservatives)
Favor rule by strong leaders and only for a 'certain' type of democracy!
Do these people read and understand what they advocate?
Now, some high schools and a US university are banning and censoring!
Are we truly, now, still, actually in a real world of research and truth?
I have lived as an academic and also as a peasant farmer-- 
If this continues, I foresee the demise of our enlightened and very productive nation.