Brutus, Bullwinkle and Mars

A couple of months ago I spent a day travelling around the Gulf of Mexico visiting one small oil production platform (Boxer, or Green Canyon 19) and a compressor station (Ship Shoal 28). This week I spent a few days helping with an audit on a larger production platform and drilling rig (Auger, or Garden Banks 426). The Green Canyon, Ship Shoal, and Garden Banks names define certain geologic formations or oil fields in the Gulf.

The drilling rigs and platforms are also given names that sometimes simply defy explanation (well, any explanation I can find, anyway). Sometimes they make perfect sense. For example, the Noble Jim Thompson is a drill ship owned by the Noble drilling company, apparently named in honor of someone special (as are all the Noble rigs). Some are apparently named for legendary or mythical characters related to the oceans (like Neptune). And then, there are those that simply do not appear to make any sense at all – but they are fun to say. Here’s a quick list of the ones I’ve been considering:

• Brutus
• Bullwinkle
• Mars
• Ursa
• Popeye
• Enchilada
• Salsa
• Cougar
• Cognac
• Perdido (do you really want to be on a platform that is “lost”?)

And a few pipelines:

• Serrano
• Oregano
• Cardamom
• Habanero
• Macaroni

I suspect the engineer(s) responsible for the discovery of a well, or development of the field, or design of the drilling rig/platform have some vote in the name of the development.  If so, I’m glad to know that there are engineers with a sense of fun.

Side Note: A pig, in the oil patch, is a device placed in a pipeline to help clean it out; a pig launcher is the opening in the pipeline where the pig is inserted – or launched – to be sent to the “pig trap” at the other end. And, of course, you know that in this computer age there are “smart pigs” that can inspect the line as it travels to the other end.

Which leads me to tell you that seeing something labeled as the “Macaroni Pig Launcher” is just funny.

Scientists and Preachers

John Clayton is a pretty well informed scientist.  And he’s a pretty well informed apologist of the Gospel, as well.  Not a combination you find very often.  I like most of his information on the evidence of a Creator (I disagree with his old earth theory, but that’s another blog), and I really like the way he defines the battle between creationists and evolutionists:

It’s scientists vs. preachers.  Not science vs. the Bible.

Makes perfect sense, right?  Yet, you would be surprised how often people use the terms “science” and “scientists” interchangeably.  (And they also use “the Bible” and “preachers” – or Christians, or some other such term – interchangeably.)

Case in point:  the radio show Science Friday had a piece today titled “If Science Takes a Wrong Turn, Who Rights It?”  The opening line quoted on their website states

Science is often idealized as a self-correcting system. But how often–and how quickly–is bad science set straight? Ira Flatow and guests discuss recent cases of scientific fraud that have led to retractions of journal studies, and whether human study volunteers have been harmed by bogus science.

In order for this to be a proper description of the issue, I believe they need to switch out the word “science” with “scientists.”  There are, in fact, numerous examples of scientists who have committed fraud, misrepresented their data, intentionally misled others, and published outright lies in order to support their positions.  (Google Andrew Wakefield for recent, stunning example – not only of the fraud pawned off on you, but on the fierce debate it has created in the scientific community).

Lest you think that I believe the “preacher” side of this debate has got it all in the bag, let me share this thought with you.  Patrick Mead, one of the greatest preaching scientists I know, has recently completed a series of blog posts at his Tentpegs blog on God’s knowledge of the future (if there is a future – you’ll have to read his blogs to understand that).  He wrapped up the series with this quote.

… remember that we are saved by our faith in Jesus, by grace, and not by having our doctrine correct in every detail.

We are woefully inadequate to understand every detail of the Scripture that Our Creator has shared with us.  And we should be careful not to be so arrogant that we think we’ve got all the answers.  But, at the same time, if and when you get into a discussion with a scientist over the validity of the Scripture, don’t be intimidated by the idea that they’ve got science on their side and “all you have” is faith.  You can have both.  And both can be corrupted and abused.

Science and Scripture are not at odds with each other.  Our collective understanding of each, however, is subject to some serious second-guessing.  Pray for understanding and wisdom.

This Week or Next?

When, exactly, does next week start?

A couple of weeks ago, while standing in line at Subway, I overheard the customer in line in front of me ordering a large, seven-foot sandwich to be picked ”this Thursday.”   The “sandwich artist” (their term, not mine) asked
“day after tomorrow, or Thursday next week.”

Reminds me of the time I rented a house in Ruston.  The owners had negotiated a deal with the gas company to supply free gas service to the house in exchange for running a distribution pipeline through the yard.  All I had to do was call the gas company and have them come out and read the meter before I moved in (they still gauged gas usage, but didn’t charge for it).  So, on Tuesday I set up an appointment for “next Thursday at 9:00.”  A couple of days later, I got a call from the meter reader, asking where I was.  I said “I thought we were meeting next week.”  The scheduler thought I meant the next Thursday on the calendar, when I thought we were talking about Thursday of next week.  The next Thursday on the calendar is “this Thursday” – right?

I’ve had this conversation a few times since then.  When, exactly, does
“this week” end and “next week” start?  When is “next Thursday”?  Is it
the next Thursday that appears on the calendar, or is it the Thursday of
the next week that appears on the calendar?  In my mind, “next Thursday”
is next week, and the one that appears on the calendar this week is
“this Thursday”.  If “next Thursday” is the next one that appears on the
calendar, and that so happens to be the day after tomorrow, then when do
we get to have “this Thursday.”  Can “this Thursday” and “next Thursday”
be the same day?  How confusing is that?

Similarly, if you have an appointment on Monday, and you are discussing
that with someone on Saturday, would you tell them you have an
appointment “this Monday” or “next Monday.”

Here’s the plan.  From now on, just quit talking about “this Thursday”
and “next Thursday.”  Just tell the lady you want to pick up your
sandwich on the 14th, and there won’t be any confusion.  As to “this
week” and “next week,” I don’t have an answer for you.

I Met The Pilot!

In the last post, I mentioned that last week I took my first helicopter ride.  I gotta tell ya, I was pretty apprehensive about it.  I am, and always have been, afraid of heights.  My first memory of this is at Six Flags Over Texas.  We took the elevator to the top deck of the big oil derrick, I stepped off the elevator and stuck to the wall – did NOT go to the edge and look over.  It’s listed at 300 feet tall.

Coker Structure

Because of my job requirements, I’ve gotten better at dealing with this – I can take the elevator to the top deck of the coker and stand out next to the handrail, but I’m still a bit uneasy about it.  And I do NOT like climbing down that little ladder through the hole in the floor to get to the nuclear gauge.  And I do NOT ride roller coasters.

So, you can imagine I was a bit anxious about this helicopter thing.  I usually sleep like a rock in hotel rooms.  Not this time.  Dreamed about going out to an oil rig, only we went in a boat that almost sank.  I’m thinking there must be a connection.

EC135 Helicopter

Anyway – my boss and I arrived at the heliport Wednesday morning at 6:45, and checked in.  Had to wait around for all the other flights to leave, and then watch the orientation film (we were the only newbies flying that day, so we had to go last).  After the film, the boss asked if he could ride in the front seat.  (It was a small helicopter, with room for the pilot, one front passenger seat, and three rear passenger seats).  ”YES” – of course you can have the front seat.

In his sermon on Sunday, Kin Ellis said that airplane passengers have a lot in common with church-goers.  They just want to get in, sit down, do the deed, and get out.  Most of us don’t want to meet the Pilot personally and develop an intimate relationship.  We don’t want anything fancy or exciting, we just want to get on with the show and get out of here.  That was me on this helicopter flight.

As we took off, my boss was asking the pilot a few questions.  I was busy checking my heart rate – but, surprisingly, it was calm.  The whole experience was very unlike climbing the side of the ash silo at the biotreater (which is VERY un-nerving, let me tell ya).  At 120 knots and 1300 feet in the air, there is hardly any sensation of movement.   So I started listening in on the pilot’s explanation of all the instruments and how to fly this contraption.  After half-an-hour, I had learned a bit about flying, a little about the pilot, and found the whole experience much more interesting than it would have been if it had gone as I planned – get in, sit down, get it over with quick.

And I’ve been reminded that if all I’m doing with God is checking in on Sunday mornings, and I’m not really pursuing an intimate relationship with Him, I will miss out on a LOT of great stuff He has planned for me.  What about you?  Are you trying to get to know the Pilot?  Or just checking in?

Connections

Just because you don’t know them, doesn’t mean they aren’t family.

There is a book titled “Innumeracy“  that talks about our numerical illiteracy.  In the book, John Allen Paulos suggests that we are connected to every person on earth by no more than three or four acquaintances.   That is, every person you meet is at least acquainted with someone who is acquainted with someone you know.  There is a Wikipedia article on the Six Degrees of Separation, suggesting that everyone is, on average, approximately six steps away from any other person on Earth.

You’ve probably heard that you should be nice to everyone, because you don’t know what someone else might be going through.  I’m here to tell you, you better be nice to everyone, and keep your happy face on, because they just might know your family – they could even BE your family.

One of the few times we went skiing when we lived in Colorado, I met a guy on the ski lift who lived in my Dad’s hometown (very small town in Kansas), and was well acquainted with my uncle and cousins.

While working for J-M in Colorado, I was on a trip to Ruston, LA where I ran into my wife’s uncle in McDonald’s.  When I approached him and said “I think I know  you,” he said “No, I don’t think you do!”  After I told him who I was, he relented and we had a good visit.

And this week…well, it’s almost unbelievable.

A couple of months ago I was assigned a new role to provide services to the Shell Pipeline group, including some offshore operations.  So, this week I flew out to a couple of platforms to have a look at what I’m in for, and answer some questions for them.  (My first helicopter ride – but that’s another story.)  One of the platforms is operated by Shell Exploration and Production (E&P), but is transitioning to the pipeline group.

While we were eating lunch, the E&P superintendent mentioned living near Texarkana.  Someone asked what town.  He said Atlanta.  I said I knew a few people in Atlanta, that my mother grew up in Rodessa, and that in his later years my grandfather had married a lady in Atlanta – but I couldn’t remember Blanche’s last name.  He said “Is your last name Selman?”

“Well,” I said, “my mother’s maiden name was Selman.”  And he said “My mother was Blanche.”

Makes me wonder how often we meet someone without knowing how connected we are.  Or how often we pass someone on the street without meeting them, and knowing how connected we are.