October 12th, 2021


Deep Springs, Ichabod’s unique, innovative and altogether amazing college was profiled on 60 Minutes:

I don’t watch network television myself. I learned about this only because John L_______ texted me shortly after midnight Sunday night, awakening me from a dream in which a band of Super Seekrit oracles, living in Oakland, California, were forecasting the future by analyzing stories in The Daily Mail.

(In John’s defense, he’d probably gotten so-o-oooo excited, he simply forgot about the New York/California time difference.)


What else?

The sun was out yesterday, and the temps were a lovely, low 70°-ish.

I tromped six miles or so along the railroad tracks that edge the eastern bank of the Hudson River:

It was quite the lovely day though when I looked across the river, I could see that roughly one-third of the trees along the west bank highlands were bare.

Those trees never had show autumn colors.

People who live north of me tell me that the leaves are turning color there, so I will take it as an article of faith that autumn leaf color changes are not yet a relic of the past.


Once home, I labored on the current Remunerative Project.

It’s hard to write because there’s simply no information out there on its topic—which happens to be the causes of the dizzying shifts in Ph.D. in Social Work salaries from state to state.

I am positing the salary differential is somehow correllated with the amounts that individual states spend on public welfare services. (The vast majority of public welfare services are bankrolled by the federal government, but states pitch in some of their own $$$$.)

The topic is complicated by the fact that there are two doctorate degrees associated with social work, and neither is what you would call a terminal degree. The MSW is the terminal degree, the one that’s necessary for licensing and certification.

There’s no earthly reason that I can understand why anyone in their right mind would pursue a Ph.D. in Social Work.

But—I must make a case for it.



You can still hear birds in the morning.

The calls of migrating flocks of geese.

Not cheerful little robins hunting for worms on your front lawn. Crossposted from Dreamwidth.