Lies, damn lies, and statistics

One nice (scary) thing about the job I started last year is that I get (am forced) to teach statistics 1 and 2 now. As you can tell, I have mixed feelings about this. As an undergrad I was terrified by stats, but I turned out to have a natural faculty for it. Now I get to inflict that fear on others and hopefully help them discover that it's really not that bad. The one lesson that I try to convey to ALL (stats and econ) my classes is that correlation DOES NOT imply causation! Just because two things are related DOES NOT prove that one causes the other. Though they may ignore that lesson later, they seem to understand it in a classroom setting at least.

A tougher thing for them to recognize is the more nuanced problem that pops up quite often in the world of stats -- the failure to follow through to the end of the analysis.

Okay I admit that I just now made up the name for this particular problem, but it is real and it is dangerous. Well, not dangerous in the same way a rattlesnake or a hurricane is dangerous, but it can cause problems nonetheless. What exactly is this problem I'm so worried about? Let me explain. I'm talking about situations where the authorities identify a problem, usually through the correct usage of statistics, and then implement a solution to the problem without ever checking to see if the ultimate outcome has improved. Let me just try a couple of "for instances".

In recent years lots of folks have figured out that people talking on cell phones while driving are involved in more car accidents (a good use of statistics). Governments have now begun to implement laws to fix the problem. Laws that prohibit talking on a cell phone while driving? No, of course not. They're enacting laws that prevent talking on cell phones WITHOUT A HANDS FREE ADAPTER of some sort. See, they've identified the problem (lots of folks crashing cars while talking on cell phones) and they've implemented a solution (make them use hands free adapters), but not very many have followed through to see if the solution has improved the ultimate outcome.

Do folks with hands free adapters really have fewer car crashes? Isn't that something that should be asked? I think so, but it seems that cities and states are content with the knowledge that they've "done something" about the problem rather than asking whether their something really reduced traffic accidents. Many studies show that hands free devices do not, in fact, reduce traffic accidents. Instead, researchers suggest, "it's the cognitive overload that sometimes occurs when you're engaging in a conversation that is the source of the distraction more so than the manipulation of the device."

The impetus for this post was a similar example I saw in the local paper the other day. In case you've been high on drugs or in a VERY deep cave for 5 years or more, you've probly heard the news -- American kids are overweight (the problem). Some studies have shown this is more a function of lack of physical activity rather than a diet issue. Still, the popular approach is to freak out about kids eating unhealthy foods. Mind you, I'm not arguing that we should stuff little Jack and little Jill full of hamburgers and pizza every single day and expect them to be look like fashion models, but has anyone stopped to ask whether this really does much to help the problem?

Anyway, the story in the paper involved a healthy eating program in the Opelika school system. The point of the story was that Opelika has been doing this for 10 years now so other systems in the state can just copy what they've done. Well congratulations to Opelika, but why haven't they asked the obvious question: are there fewer obese children in the Opelika school system? Here we have a 10 year sample that could be used to test "now vs. then" or to compare Opelika to other school systems that have not changed their menus. There are MANY good research questions that could be answered using the Opelika system, but no one seems to be interested in asking them. Sigh, it's disappointing.

So, today's lesson: ask the right questions!

Okay, I realize I care way more about this than 99% of you (hey, I can hope for 1%, can't I?). Still, as I've said before -- it's my blog. I know I promised a book post this week; I'll get there.

P.S. Talk about spooky. I just saw this story from the BBC on the misuse of statistics. All I can say is, "Amen!"

Blown Away, Almost

I feel the storm, all wet and warm, not 10 miles away. Approaching my Mexican home.

[Note: formatting is being funky today. Sorry it all ran together.]

Okay, I don't really have a Mexican home, but I certainly did feel the storm last night. Plus, I really like that song. I know I shouldn't even comment on my storm experience given what those to the south dealt with, but it wasn't fun up this way either. Since I live in an old house in a neighborhood with LOTS of old trees, I was a bit nervous. The wind got pretty bad last night, but I only lost power twice. One of pieces of lattice I'd put on the porch for the jasmine to grow on got blown down, but I think I can salvage it.

On the bright side, the college doesn't officially open until 11:00 this morning. Since my two classes today start at 8:00 and 9:15, well you can figure out what that means. Thankfully they made the announcement last night before bedtime, so I knew I could stay up and monitor the storm without worrying about being here for an 8 o'clock. I suffered through a couple of power outages, but nothing worse. This morning, though, Dad called AT 6:55 to tell me that I didn't have to go in to work until 11:00. Thanks Dad! Really, I appreciated the thought, but COULDN'T YOU HAVE WAITED AN HOUR OR SO?

Anyway, my immediate area seemed to survive okay. There were lots of downed limbs and assorted floatsam around the neighborhood. Over in the older part there seemed to be a little more damage.

I was concerned about the stray cat that seems to have adopted me. He won't let me pet him, but he does seem to love my porch. I think he steals food from the cats next door, but evidently he likes to have his own living space. I figured the neighbors would move their cats inside, but little Rufus (or maybe Graham, to go with Emmylou) had nowhere to go. He wasn't on the porch when the weather started getting bad, but I knew he'd show up so I tried to build him a little sheltered area out there. I even moved one of my cat carriers out there, but I was pretty sure he wouldn't go in there. Anyway, I kept checking the porch and he was curled up in his little sheltered area most of the night. Hmm, I guess I think like a cat. He wasn't out there at 6:50 this morning, but I did see him before I left home. I'm trying to avoid officially taking him in (I've been told there's a 2 cat limit for straight guys), but I was glad to see he made it through the night.

So, I made it through the storm and I managed not to throw anything through the TV in frustration after watching the idiots on the Weather Channel for hours. I won't go into a rant about how idiotic they are -- especially Jim Cantore. C'mon, if you've ever watched TWC coverage of any storm you know how annoying he can be. In fact my boss, who has property on the Gulf, told me that there are certain places down there that he's afraid to go -- not because of the weather, but because of the disgruntled locals. Today, though, my biggest complaint is not with TWC but with CNN. Late last night I was watching reports from New Orleans. They were getting a report from a reporter in NO about the utter devastation she'd witnessed while on a boat tour of the 9th Ward. You could tell that the woman was about to break out in tears as she talked about the people stranded on their roofs. The water was rising and they were pleading with the police boats to help them, but something about the debris or the layout of the area prevented the boats from maneuvering into some of the areas. It was heart wrenching to hear her describe the scene. As they were playing the story and showing scenes from the area, though, do you know what caption they put at the bottom of the screen? I'm paraphrasing, but it was something like, "Stranded people plead for help, but police won't stop." And the media can't figure out why people dislike/distrust them!?

Okay, that's it from Decatur. Readers to the south or with families to the south, please let me know, when you get a moment, that all is okay.

New thoughts on past vs. present

I thought about hurricane blogging today, but we're really so far from the coast that it seems a bit ridiculous. Still, I hear the Decatur stores are running short of milk and bread (nothing to put in between bread slices, but by damn we'll all have milk and bread) and I won't complain a bit if the president decides that we need to close the college tomorrow. Still, I have a more serious topic for today.

The last few years there seem to have been lots of prosecutions of old former (at least they claim they're former) klansmen for crimes from the 1950s and 1960s. I hate to admit this, but I have been of a mixed mind on these trials. On the one hand, I certainly realize that these folks were not prosecuted as they should have been at the time of the crimes and if they were they certainly did not receive a fair trial by any measure that we'd recognize today. I feel sure that many of them walked away unpunished from horrendous crimes and I think that is wrong on many levels. On the other hand, I've sort of felt that it's also unlikely they'll get a "fair" trial today either. Put an old klansman, likely still a bit of a racist, on trial today and show horrible pictures of a past crime and I figure your odds of conviction are pretty darned good despite the fact that the crime is 50 years or so old and I just don't see how witnesses and evidence can be that reliable after that long. I'm not saying they shouldn't be prosecuted, I just wondered if we weren't convicting a bunch of old men (who were guilty of SOMETHING at least) to make ourselves feel better. Terrible deeds were perpetrated by the klan in those days, these guys were klansmen in those days, 2+2=4: they're guilty. Plus, it seemed to me that these were vestiges of the past and I wondered just what good came from dredging all that up.

As of this past weekend, however, I've changed my thinking. As Faulkner said in Requiem for a Nun, "The past is never dead. It's not even past." What brought about this change of heart? I read a story on Emmett Till in the local newspaper. For those who don't know, Emmett Till was a 14-year-old black teen from Chicago. In the summer of 1955 he was visiting relatives in Money, MS when he made the mistake of "talking big" and, more significantly, whistling at the wife of the local store owner. As a result, he was taken from his relatives' home in the dead of night, tortured, killed, and dumped in the Tallahatchie River. When his swollen and mutilated body was pulled from the river three days later, it was unrecognizable even to those who knew Emmett. Two local white men were tried and quickly acquitted.

It's a familiar tale, in part due to Lewis Nordan's Wolf Whistle. I figured I knew the story and it wasn't a pretty story. Though I enjoy Nordan's work, I've never even bothered to read the book -- partly, I must admit, out of racial and regional guilt. Again, sort of a the past is the past feeling. This story, though, changed my feelings on these prosecutions.

What was it that led to my change of heart? It wasn't the story itself. The details in the newspaper story were nothing I'd not seen and heard before, though I must admit that I'd never before imagined just how terrified a whole race of folks must have been at that time. It's not just that whistling at a woman could lead to a murder in retaliation -- I imagine that could still happen. No the terrorizing part, to me, is that I got the feeling the local blacks sort of knew what was coming or at least were not surprised by it. A teenager could be tortured and killed for such a slight with absolutely no fear of legal punishment. At least one of the acquitted men apparently later felt free enough to talk about how he'd gotten away with torture and murder. Still, that's not what changed my thinking -- again, that was then. What really got to me was that the story included a relatively recent picture of the store owner's wife -- "a crossroads Marilyn Monroe" as she was known then. What shocked me is that this woman looked like a great aunt I'd see at a family reunion today. No, I'm not saying I think the woman is related to me, it's just that she looked so "normal" to me.

I realize my revelation may be sexist, but I'm used to thinking of the perpetrators of these crimes as bitter old men still wearing their tattered klan robes. This woman , though, was familiar -- polyester pantsuit, old Southern woman hair that you know is "done" once a week at the beauty parlor, etc. No one claims she did the killing, but there were indications that she was along the night of the abduction and identified Emmett as the whistler, thereby signing his death warrant. I'm sure that was a power rush for her at the time, but seeing her in a current photo, ... Wow!

This realization rocked me. These folks are not dinosaurs, a curiosity of a shameful, but thankfully past, era. These folks are still here and they SHOULD be punished. Unfortunately I can't find an online link to the local story I read and the MSNBC link I did find doesn't include the woman's picture. Even if it did, I doubt everyone would have the same reaction I did. In fact, I can't explain exactly why I had the reaction myself. I simply found myself very disturbed. So, go after Bobby Frank Cherry, Edgar Ray Killen, and Carolyn Bryant (if she is indeed guilty). I still worry that folks might be convicted simply because we think someone has to pay, but I no longer think these things should just drift off into the past. The past really isn't dead and it really isn't even past. I get it Mr. Faulkner.

Take me out to the ballgame

Last night I headed over to my old stomping grounds to go to a Huntsville Stars game. Fortunately we won 5-0, but it wasn't a sharp game.

I did get something from the game though -- a reminder of how much more enjoyable baseball games would be without other folks around! Yes, I know teams need to draw fans, but I think there should be some sort of literacy test required to gain admission to a baseball game. For instance, "Can you explain the infield fly rule?" I don't think there is a Constitutionally guaranteed right to baseball, though the Constitution is a living document. Hmm, maybe Ted Kennedy can ask John Roberts about that. Forget Roe v. Wade and environmental protections, I want to know whether literacy tests at ballparks are Constitutional!

Though they might not pass muster, they are sorely needed. I've never wanted to pull out my smiting stick as much as I did last night. What brought this on? There was a group of frat boys at the ballpark. Given that statement I realize an additional explanation is not needed, but ...

Since the crowd was so small (and it was $1 beer night), they felt the need to (I'll be polite) draw attention to themselves. They did that quite well. Evidently all they wanted to do was drink beer and yell. They yelled at the Stars players. They yelled at the Bay Bears players. They yelled at each other. They even verbally assaulted the little girl who participated in the
base race with Homer the mascot. I think the actual quote was, "Sandy, you suck!" What they did not seem to do was pay any attention to the actual baseball game. I don't imagine a single one of them knew the final score at the end of the game. Yes, I know I have a different view of the sanctity of baseball than most, but it's my blog so deal with it.

Regardless, this was only the third Stars game I've made it to this year and it was pretty much ruined by a group of obnoxious boobs. Why do people get the urge to engage in group behavior that they'd never do own their own? Yes, I know the standard answer to that, but it's annoying. On the bright side, the Bay Bears first base coach did toss a foul ball to Judy (the wife of the couple I was there with). I thought that was nice of him and Judy even said "thank you" to the man. I'd let her into games.

Okay, that's two baseball posts. I promise I'll do a book post next week.

Oh give me a home ...

My dear old friend, Vol Abroad raised an interesting question in a post the other day: What kind of Tennessean are you? Basically it was about how she has lived all over the world, but still sort of considers herself to be a Tennessean -- at least I think that's how it turned out. Anyway, this is something I've thought about in the past and I figure I can steal (er, borrow) a topic from her. You don't mind, do you, Vol?

Just what am I? I am a native Tennessean (though I was born in the hospital in Waynesboro, not Lawrenceburg -- something I've NEVER forgiven my mother for) and I lived there continuously until age 18. Was it just 18 years? It seemed as if high school alone lasted 18 years. Anyway, I then went off to college for 4 years (it is possible to complete college in 4 years -- yes, anonymous commenter, I know you finished even sooner). Toward the end of that time, I had almost thought of myself as a Mississippian. Yeah, insert snide comments if you'd like, but I enjoyed MS. Of course I was in Oxford, the GREATEST town in the world. Still, I moved off to AL before I really became a full Mississippian. In fact, I left the state without developing an irrational hatred of either Southern Miss or Mississippi State. That will get me uninvited to Jackson, I know, but it's true.

So, I then found myself in AL. I have mixed feelings about my time at Bama. I waver between "I hated it" and "I HATED IT!" Of course grad school was so horrible that I might have hated living anywhere during that time period. Those of you who were with me there should recognize my two biggest complaints -- it was HOT and the town absolutely REEKED of some mysterious hot tar or burning tires type smell. Oh, but it had Bama Football, you might say. All I can say in response to that is, "Have you ever lived in Tuscaloosa when the herd descended?" Now I realize your feelings about the arrival of the Bama nation would be different from mine if you'd spent the whole night before getting "liquored up" in preparation for the game. I'm talking about just trying to survive daily life with 7.2 million crazed folks chanting ROLL TIDE, ROLL TIDE, ROLL TIDE, ... over and over as if they'd been recruited by some sports-obsessed monastic cult. Anyway, not fond memories.

Gosh, looking over the previous couple of grafs, you'd never believe that I'm a huge sports fan, huh? Oh well, I digress.

So, anyway, I next moved to Huntsville. Maybe it was because I had a job, but I really liked it there. It's a good town and though the locals complain, there is a good bit to do. Plus, Nashville, Birmingham, and Chattanooga are all within easy driving distance. I think it was during my time in Huntsville that I began to think of myself as an Alabamian. Actually, that's not true. Huntsvillians take pride in remaining apart from the rest of the state, so I guess I became comfortable with the idea of being a Huntsvillian.

My thinking on this, however, has taken another hit lately as I relocated to Decatur. So far I really like Decatur, but it's hard for me to get used to thinking of myself as a Decaturite (?) rather than a Huntsvillian. In some ways Decatur reminds me of Oxford -- well, Oxford without a major university or Square Books. So, in closing, I'm not sure what kind of Tennessean or Alabamian I am. Sorry, Vol Abroad, but I'll never be an Orange Tennessean as I find those folks just as obnoxious as the monastic elephants. Still, I think I'll always be a Tennessean at heart, but I am getting used to being (bite my tongue) an Alabamian. If nothing else, I have this

in Decatur.

Summer's Over

I hate for my first real post to be a downer, but alas -- summer is over and it's time to get back to work. Of course, as many of you have heard me complain, this summer was just as busy as the fall and spring semesters. I'll work on that next year. Following that grand back-to-school tradition I present, What I Did On My Summer Vacation!

While I was busy this summer, I did sneak in a quick version of my annual minor league baseball trip. This year was a little different as I had a traveling companion -- Thailand Jeff. I was a little worried since I'd never taken anyone on this trip with me and I just wasn't sure that the simple beauties and pleasures of small town baseball would be immediately obvious to someone else, but I think it went okay. At least he didn't sneak away in the dead of night and catch a bus back to Alabama. Okay that might not be proof that he was having a good time, but I've got low evidentiary standards. Regardless, ...

This year's trip hit a lot of the familiar spots, but we did visit one new (to me) park. The first night of our trip we saw the Greeneville (TN) Astros. The Greenville baseball experiment is kind of interesting. They just got a team a couple of years ago when they lured the Astros from Martinsville, VA. If you've ever been to Greeneville, though, you know that it's not a booming metropolis. Of course this is rookie league baseball, but they still needed a way to support the team. I've done a good bit of research into the economics of minor league baseball and their solution strikes me as pretty good. Essentially they formed a partnership with Tusculum College and built a pretty nice facility on campus for use by both teams. Smart, huh? Evidently this is a growing trend, at least in the low minors, as they mentioned Penn State is looking to do the same thing. Hmm, might be a research paper out of that? Oh, I forgot to mention, we got to see one of Roger Clemens' kids (I don't remember which K it was) playing for the Astros. My judgment -- I hope the kid can hit.

Once we left Greeneville, we headed over to Asheville, NC. Every time I go to Asheville I discover all over again just how much I like that town. If you haven't been, go. It's worth it. I've never been to Asheville's premier establishment (the Biltmore). Y'all know me; I'd never pay the million $ admission fee to see a big house. Still, there's PLENTY to do in Asheville. If you have an aversion to the hippie culture, though, take lots of pepper spray. They are there in force. Seeing all the counter-culture types there reminded me once again just how much work one has to put into looking like a non-conformist. Still, it's a lovely town. Check out Asheville. I recommend seeing the Asheville Tourists (of course) and a trip to Barley's Taproom. Plus, there are scads of used bookstores there. Oh, and good coffee. What more could one ask for?

After Asheville, we headed up to VA and WV. I think southwestern WV may be the prettiest country around. I know WV has a bad reputation, but I enjoy my visits there. We saw a couple of games in that area (Bluefield, WV and Pulaski, VA). What I like most about these teams is that the towns are so small that the ball game is THE ENTERTAINMENT for the town. Especially in Bluefield you see lots of old couples who come out to the ballpark just to visit and catch up. Maybe they show up to keep folks from thinking they've died and been eaten by their cats. Regardless, they show up and they have a good time.

I once had a long conversation with a former high school math teacher at the Bluefield park. Since I like to keep score at games and I usually have my "scoring bag" with spare scorecards, baseball references, etc. with me, it's fairly common for folks to think I have some affiliation with a professional baseball team. This happens a lot. Anyway, that's what the guy in Bluefield thought and he asked me if I was there to "rate" the players. I told him that I was not, that I was, in fact, merely there to enjoy the game. For some reason, however, that message didn't get through. For the rest of the game this guy kept telling me how hard these kids played and how I really shouldn't be too hard on them in my report. Finally, I just had to tell him that I'd try to be as generous as possible in my evaluation of the team. Again, stuff like this happens a lot. Those of you who know me well (and why would you be reading this otherwise?) are not at all surprised that I have encounters with strange folks while on vacation. It happens at home, why not in other states? Thailand Jeff must have been some kind of buffer on this trip; we didn't have any weirdo encounters.

Okay, this is getting kind of long, so I'll try to wrap up. Briefly, ... We saw games in Bluefield, WV (hometown of John Nash -- Beautiful Mind was based on a biography of him) and Pulaski, VA (no claim to fame that I know of) and we spent most of a day in Charleston, WV. Like Asheville, I also enjoy spending time in Charleston. Lots of people like Charleston, but for most it's SC not WV. I'm sure Charleston, SC is a wonderful place, but the WV one has a lot to offer too. They've got a wonderful new downtown ballpark (sort of like Chattanooga or Montgomery) and I really like the Capitol Market. I'm still amazed that you can park, walk in, and wander around the state capitol and you never have to pass through a metal detector or even be cleared by an 80-year-old security guard. Seriously, it's just open to the public and it really is a beautiful building -- well, except for the grand statue of Robert Byrd that you'll find inside, but I just have to grit my teeth and pretend to ignore homages to him anywhere I go in that state. Really, though, you have to go through a metal detector and pass 4 or 5 guards to get in the Morgan County Courthouse, but you can wander all around the WV state capitol (even going into the legislative chambers, when not in use) without so much as a sign in sheet. Go figure.

Okay, that's it for today. What I did on my summer vacation. Thanks for reading (assuming you've made it this far). They'll be shorter in the future. Oh, I almost forgot a highlight of any trip to WV -- the New River Gorge Bridge. It really is that spectacular!

Welcome

I'm not sure how long I'll keep this up, but I'm attempting to join the blogosphere. I figure this will give me a forum in which to rant and let scattered friends and (former) neighbors keep up with my exciting life.

As the title implies, I'll probably do a lot of blogging on books and baseball -- two of my passions. In addition, I'll probably do a good bit of ranting about the frustrations of teaching economics and statistics to community college students. This will be a learning process, but one day I may even advance to the level where I can add things like pictures. Yes, I'm sure that's a simple process, but keep in mind that I don't even own a cell phone. Have patience!

Please feel free to leave comments if something I say tickles your funnybone, gravely offends you, or just reminds you of something else.

I'll try to get a real post up tomorrow so you'll have something to read. In the meantime, I'll tell you the amusing (perhaps) story that led to my blog title. A few years ago I took a road trip with a friend (shout out to Ginger) to Georgia to rescue a lost beagle. Since this was a LONG trip, we had time to chat. Ginger told me about a game she and some of her friends played where each person has to come up with the three things they are most passionate about (couldn't count family or anything like that). Well the first two were easy for me, but I couldn't come up with a third. I think my difficulty, in part, was due to my love of alliteration. It just seemed wrong not to have another B-word. Problem was, I couldn't think of another B I love -- beets (nope, hate them), The Beatles (nope, think they're overrated), baklava (nope, I always confuse that with balaclava and I'd hate to end up blogging about yummy winter headwear), beverages (well, there ARE some beverages I could wax poetic about), ... Regardless, I'm leaving the third B open. Feel free to suggest a candidate.