Sex and Hurricanes: One Bizarre Study

There’s a story all over the Internet about how female-named hurricanes are deadlier than their male counterparts. Researchers determined that people don’t take the female storms as seriously and therefore don’t take the necessary safety precautions.

Mood music:

The headline writers are having a party over this, putting out such headlines as “The deadly sexism of hurricane naming” and “When Sexism Kills: Deadly Hurricane Edition.”

It’s one of the weirdest things I’ve seen of late.

The heart of the research involved the examination of death tolls from hurricanes that struck the US from 1950 to 2012. The researchers wrote in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences:

Do people judge hurricane risks in the context of gender-based expectations? We use more than six decades of death rates from US hurricanes to show that feminine-named hurricanes cause significantly more deaths than do masculine-named hurricanes. Laboratory experiments indicate that this is because hurricane names lead to gender-based expectations about severity and this, in turn, guides respondents’ preparedness to take protective action. This finding indicates an unfortunate and unintended consequence of the gendered naming of hurricanes, with important implications for policymakers, media practitioners, and the general public concerning hurricane communication and preparedness.

When I first read through this, my reaction was that people are stupid. Some of the most vicious hurricanes of recent memory had female names, such as Katrina and Rita in 2005 and Camille in 1969. Thanks to modern meteorology, people had plenty of advanced warning about the first two storms and countless others. For days before these storms hit — male and female alike — you see people on the news planning for doomsday.

It makes the sexism about storms harder to believe. I also have trouble trusting the results because Katrina wasn’t included in the study. It was considered an “outlier,” an event so terrible that researchers thought its inclusion would skew the final result.

All that said, I can see how people might have taken earlier storms in the timeline too lightly. Sexism is still pretty bad today, but it was off the charts in the 1950s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s. Maybe people were being stupid at the expense of their lives.

Still, I find studies like this useless.

What’s it going to accomplish today besides a few smart-ass headlines? If there are still dopes out there judging a storm’s dangerousness by its name, showing them a study won’t help.

I’d rather see researchers working on better ways to predict the path of these storms. Or ways to make stronger buildings that can stand up to Category 5 storms. Or devise more sensible evacuation plans that cause less panic.

That’s my two cents.

katrina

Father’s Day Is for Kids

A new LEGOLAND has opened in my neck of the woods, and I’m hell-bent on taking my kids there for Father’s Day. It’ll make it harder to see all the dads in my life that day, but I have good reason for wanting to do it.

Simply put, I think Father’s Day should be more about the kids than me.

I don’t want a day where I’m off the hook from my parental responsibilities. I want to celebrate being a dad by doing something my children will love.

Mood music:

That’s not meant as a swipe against dads who want to sit around on Father’s Day. There’s nothing wrong with wanting relaxation, and most of the time those dads want their kids around them. But there are also cases where the day is seen as a time for men to escape to the golf course or sleep all morning.

I’ve been particularly mindful of these things since reading a column from SI.com writer Jeff Pearlman in 2011 called “A Father’s Day Wish: Dad’s, Wake The Hell Up.”

At the time he wrote it, Pearlman was a stay-at-home dad who heard stories from moms in his community about how their husbands would never change a diaper or wake their children up for school or clean up their puke. An excerpt:

The woman started crying. I didn’t expect this, because, well, why would I? We were two adults, standing in a preschool auditorium, waiting for the year-end musical gala to begin, talking summer plans and Twitter and junk fiction and all things mindless parents talk at mindless events. Then — tears. “My husband,” she said, “doesn’t care.” She told me her husband works from home. But he never drops their daughter off at preschool. He never picks their daughter up at preschool. He never wakes up with their daughter, never puts her to bed, never takes her to a movie or a carnival or a ball game; never comes up with fun daddy-daughter activities. “All he worries about is golf,” the mother said. “Sometimes he’ll take her to the driving range for an hour. But that’s it.”

I consider myself a hands-on dad. I’ve cleaned up puke, bandaged scrapes and read to them daily until they could read on their own. I still make the lunches, and while I don’t work from home every day, most weeks I get them up, dressed, fed and off to school a couple days a week as a matter of routine.

I can’t be self-righteous about it because I’m imperfect in other ways. I remember a time early in parenthood where I preferred lying on the couch all day to actively playing with the kids. I’m also guilty of staring at a computer screen when they’re in the room.

I know many dads from my parent’s generation who were never home because they had no choice. They had to work long hours to keep the family housed, clothed and fed. I’m blessed with the type of work that allows me the flexibility to be a more active parent. That gift is what I plan to celebrate this Father’s Day.

My kids love LEGOs, which makes LEGOLAND the perfect place to go.

legos

I Don’t Dislike Mondays

I used to fit the “I hate Monday” stereotype perfectly. In fact, that first day of the work week used to fill me with terror. I’d start to get depressed Saturday night because it meant the weekend was halfway done. I’d get so worked up on Sundays that I’d short circuit and sleep most of the afternoon away.

Now I love Mondays. When someone complains about it, I laugh or roll my eyes, conveniently forgetting that I used to get that way.

Mood music:

So why the turnaround? It wasn’t immediate.

Learning to manage my depression certainly helped.

I used to get overwhelmed by all the work I usually had to do on Mondays and Tuesdays, which were the busiest, longest days of the week when I was a reporter and editor for weekly newspapers. Those were the days when you had all the municipal meetings to cover and all the writing to do. I used to write all five-seven stories a week in one day.

That kind of disorganization made life messy on its own. But my unchecked OCD and depression made it worse, and I wasted many weekends on worry as a result.

Finding the right medication and developing an arsenal of coping tools went far in changing how my brain processes things. Finding my career groove helped, too.

When I saw work as a massive pile of shit to be shoveled every week, the depression was inevitable. In more recent years, particularly the last eight, I’ve been blessed with work I love.

I’m happy to put it down on the weekends. But now I see Mondays as that time when I can dive back into creative mode.

There are things I do so I can start the week right:

  • I make lists of things to do for work and home. Writing a list means I don’t have to keep rehashing the agenda in my head over and over again.
  • I get to bed fairly early on Sunday night.
  • I plan out my breakfast and lunch for the week. Otherwise, I’d starts the week eating from the drive-through and wouldn’t stop.
  • I play a lot of guitar on Sunday. I play guitar daily, mind you, but those Sunday sessions have become critical to my mental equilibrium.

It’s Sunday night as I write this, and I’m feeling just fine.

Calvin and Hobbes making faces; happy Monday