Trying to find ways to measure life's oddities

I love visiting the Hill Air Force Aerospace Museum. I really enjoy seeing the vintage aircraft and pondering how in the heck these behemoth results of someone's imagination got/get off the ground.

        I try to imagine my uncle's plight, as he considered his life expectancy toiling as a tail gunner in a Flying Fortress. He would later be shot down over Germany, be taken prisoner and rarely speak of it again. It takes me quite a while to make my way through the museum displays.

Visiting there earlier this month, though, I heard a bit of trivia from my minutia-master son, as I was reading the biographical sketch of several of the airmen in the Hall of Fame. Pointing to our former senator and one-time astronaut, my offspring noted that space sickness is now measured in "garns," that his name is actually a unit of measurement, in this case, how ill you can become due to space travel.

      Odd, I thought, to have your legacy be a unit of measurement. But then I considered that watts are named after James Watt, volts after Alessandro Volta, and the Richter Scale after Charles Richter.

   A fellow by the name of Oliver Smoot recently retired from the chairmanship of the American National Standards Institute. He said with a smile that he would lend his name to a unit of measurement -- the smoot would be equal to his height (5 feet 7 inches).

       I was reminded, as I considered our good senator struggling to keep his Tang and trail mix ingested, that Frank Gilbreth, an efficiency expert often called the father of motion study, broke work down into fundamental units of activity, which were and still are called therbligs, derived from spelling his name backwards.

        For years, I have joked with Spouse when she is considering a purchase by using a unit of measurement not commonly heard: Totino's pizzas. For a lot of years of our marriage Ñ and sometimes you can still find them on sale Ñ Totino's pizzas cost 99 cents. Sure, that purse or pair of shoes only costs $15, but that is 15 Totino's pizzas, I remind her. Kind of puts things in a practical, day-to-day perspective, I think. Kind of makes her mad.

      What are some other units of measurement we can get our arms around and maybe push for adoption, along with Mr. Smoot? Well, we can consider measuring time in Wobegons. That would be the time between episodes of "Prairie Home Companion." What a treasure this show is and what a treat is Garrison Keillor. I don't have a regular time to listen to it, but when I stumble on to it -- usually on a Sunday -- that dead time in between could be a wobegon.

        On college campuses, the time before the first lie or major infraction by a fraternity could be measured in sigmas. When members of that so-called Greek community indicate that they are now a "dry" (non-drinking) house, or that they don't believe in initiations, or spout some similar rot, the time before their houses are raided, complaints made against the noise or investigations of sexual assault would be a sigma. Works for me.

        The time a baseball player takes off for "injury" while being investigated for steroid use, time used to rid one's system of enhancing chemicals, could now be called a bond. Or perhaps the number of steroid use violations issued against an athlete, as in, "the linebacker was charged with three bonds, a violation of the NFL drug use policy." I think that one could work.

     Time between peacekeeping efforts in Middle Eastern nations? Those could be called bushes. Time between news reports about car chases that mean absolutely nothing in the long run? Those could be CNNs. Time between price hikes of gasoline? Those could be exxons.

   We are between the first two races of the Triple Crown, so what the heck is a furlong? I looked it up and it equals 40 rods. Well, that clears that up. Turns out Saxon farmers in old England (picture the guys playing in the mud in early scenes of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail") decided a furlong (or furlang in the old tongue) was the "length of a furrow," or how far a team of oxen could plow without needing rest. Not the most exacting form of measurement, is it? It was later pinned down to be 40 rods, 220 yards, 660 feet or one-eighth of a mile. Knowing that, the Preakness will be even more enjoyable to you, won't it?

    Having spent time in England, I learned quickly to tell my weight in stones (yes, I have put on a pebble or two) and knew precisely what a fortnight was. Pound sterling? I had it figured, right down to the tuppence.

        Our lives truly are measured. In many ways.

        So, may your summer be full of bushels and half bushels and pecks and flats and acre feet and knots and nautical miles and maybe even some positive Apgar scores. But be careful of the APRs and the fathoms and those tricky troys and carats. Watch for high and prolonged Kelvins and SPFs and Randiquitos (derived from Randolph and the number mosquito bites received there. Trust me on this one.) And, for heck sakes, I hope you make it through the summer without any garns.