'...A wiggle in her walk...'

The song Chantilly Lace (1958) by the Big Bopper (Jiles Perry Richardson Jr. (1930-1959)) contains the phrase:

A wiggle in her walk…

Every time I hear this song, I remember an anecdote told by an old professor. He claimed that the ‘wiggle’ in women’s walks was due to a difference in timing of pelvic and hip muscle contraction by comparison with that in males. It was a genuine physiological phenomenon.

There was at that time a girl on campus who was studying biochemistry. A particular skirt she sometimes wore had a very distinctive way of flicking as she walked. (I couldn’t help noticing this and thinking of every time of what our old prof. had said.) Indeed, the ‘wiggle’ seems to be a signal denoting (or ‘advertising’, as some put it) one’s sex and so is an example of sexual dimorphism.

An extension of this comes in another anecdote. One that I hear regarding Marilyn Monroe (1926-1962). A female student once told me that Marilyn Monroe deliberately had the heels of one shoe made shorter than the other. Here we are specifically talking about stiletto heels. The difference in heel length results in different leg lengths. (Whether she consistently had the left or the right heel shortened probably doesn’t really matter.) This inevitably leads to exaggerated hip movements when walking by way of compensation.

NB
The song Chantilly Lace was covered by Jerry Lee Lewis (1935-2022) in 1972 and has now come to be more often associated with him than with the Big Bopper.

You can watch the Big Bopper sing the song here.

Plaque and tartar

When I first studied the digestive system—which traditionally begins at the lips and ends at the anus—I was told that saliva was rich in calcium ions. This caused me to wonder over the years whether this imparted any benefit. For example, might it aid mineralisation of the teeth?

I’m particularly aware of the effects of calcium ions on my teeth given that there is always some tartar that needs to be removed every time I visit the dental hygienist. I’ve tended to blame my calcium-rich saliva. However, it transpires that I was wrong to do so. Firstly, it should be pointed out that, although the words tend to get used interchangeably, there is a difference between plaque and tartar. Plaque is a soft, sticky film of bacteria that adheres to the teeth but which can be removed with daily brushing and flossing. Tartar is plaque that has hardened over time, requiring professional dental cleaning for its removal.

Looking into this question more deeply, I find that saliva is not necessarily ‘rich’ in calcium ions. The calcium concentration in saliva is actually similar to or even lower than that of blood plasma. Nevertheless, what calcium there is in the saliva does aid mineralisation of the teeth. It is not the concentration of calcium in the saliva that seems to matter but rather the fact that the saliva is supersaturated with calcium and phosphate ions. These are the main components of tooth enamel. Thus, saliva provides a constant supply of these minerals to help repair and strengthen the teeth. In addition, the calcium and phosphate in saliva help to neutralise acids produced by oral bacteria. Without this neutralising effect, these acids would demineralise the tooth enamel, leading to cavities.

Salivary calcium concentration can become elevated and lead to the formation of stones in the salivary ducts. This is a process known as sialolithiasis. So too much calcium does not so much mean stronger teeth but potentially blocked salivary glands.

I always find it amusing how textbooks always point out that saliva is about 99.5% water. That makes saliva more aqueous than beer—but not at all more palatable to drink.

About a soirée at Surrey University in 1977

It was a soirée to mark the start of the new academic year. There were glasses of wine and cheese on sticks—all the usual accompaniments for that day and age—and yet in such a genteel atmosphere something quite shocking occurred.

Before I go into detail, I should point out that I wasn’t at the particular soirée in question. But while I didn’t start until autumn 1978, what had happened in 1977 was still resonating. Two members of the academic staff jointly hosted a get-together for new and returning students. It was much the same every year. It had been an easy and relaxed way for new and returning students to get to know each other. However, in the idle chat something was said—or rather a question was asked—that was deemed so shocking that the whole event soon ended as students decided to leave. (Something serious had to be going on if students were willing to turn down free drink!)

I was intrigued to know what had happened in 1977. Initially, those present would not divulge anything. Indeed, it took me well over a year to get to the bottom of it. It is something that even today would be described as ‘indelicate’, and as such, I cannot bring myself to describe it in detail. (Suffice it to say that it involves female anatomy.) Indeed, I suspect that people would find it more objectionable today than we did then.

Personally, I do not find what was said the least bit shocking—although I do understand the sensibilities of others (hence my lack of detail). The question asked was one that anybody ignorant of (female) anatomy might at least wonder about to themselves. (This is a roundabout way of saying that it is a question males might wonder about.)

Importantly, I want to raise the question of questions that can and cannot be asked out loud in polite company. It is my contention that we should not limit ourselves—especially when it comes to questions. We must be as free as possible when asking questions. That is not to say that we are at liberty to ask any question we like on every occasion. Also we must ask in such a way as to give the context and the reasons for asking certain questions lest they be deemed improper.

Nearly fifty years on, we can now ask whatever impertinent question we like, impersonally, of an AI chatbot. In fact, I did just that for the question asked at that 1977 soirée. It gave the factual response that I had expected. Importantly, it didn’t refuse to respond or query my motives. However, it turns out that there is a medical/well-being dimension to the question about which I was previously unaware, and that is worth knowing about. It transpires that the question was a valid one after all—albeit one asked in the wrong setting.

A person... In search of meaning…

I have come across the following quotation on more than one occasion. Attributed to Plato, it describes humankind (Man) stating, “Man – a being in search of meaning.”

I have not been able to find a source for this quotation. Instead, an online search suggests that while this quote is widely attributed to him and reflects a core Platonic idea about self-examination and the pursuit of wisdom and truth, the phrase itself appears to be a summary or popular adaptation rather than a direct quote from his original writings. Nevertheless, as a ‘summary or popular adaptation’ of at least some aspects of Plato’s thinking, does it describe us nevertheless?

I don’t know how often people ask the question, ‘What is the meaning of life?’ However, I don’t think people ask this question as often—or as deeply—as they should.

Nevertheless, I find it a strange question. I asked an AI chatbot (Gemini), 'As a question in and of itself, does the question "What is the meaning of life?" have any objective meaning?'

The response I got was:

That's a fascinating question because it turns the focus from the meaning of life itself to the meaning of the question. The question "What is the meaning of life?" does not have an objective meaning in the same way that a scientific question like "What is the boiling point of water?" has. The latter has a single, verifiable answer that is independent of human opinion or perspective.

The question about the meaning of life, however, is a subjective and philosophical inquiry. Its meaning isn't found in a definitive answer but in the act of asking it and the personal exploration it prompts. The meaning of this question is tied to human consciousness, purpose, and values. It is a way for people to seek transcendence, connection, or understanding in a complex world. The meaning isn't in a factual statement but in the personal journey and the diverse answers that have been offered throughout history, from religion and philosophy to art and science.

(The emphases—in bold—are its.)

If its meaning isn't found in a definitive answer but in the act of asking it and the personal exploration prompted, our study of life as a physical phenomenon should, I believe, make a contribution. Here we can ask a related question and get a direct answer. We can ask, ‘What is the purpose of life?’ to which the answer is ‘to survive and reproduce.’ Life as a phenomenon and life as expressed in individual organisms share the goal of surviving—at least long enough to reproduce. (There being, of course, creatures that die in the process of going about reproduction.)

When we consider humankind with its ability to ask with a metaphysical or existential nuance, I think that we must couch the question in more conscious or cognitive terms. What is the purpose of a brain that has gone well beyond doing things that are simply directed at surviving and reproducing? We are able to be introspective in ways that other creatures are not. That is not to say that they are not ‘self-aware’ in some sense. But we are able to go further. If we are to ask about the meaning or purpose of life, it is not to be asked objectively but subjectively, calling upon our introspective capabilities.

In answering the question of a purpose of life, the best I think I can come up with is

‘The purpose of life is to ask whether there is a purpose to life.’

From this starting point, one can take a ‘personal journey’, calling upon religion, philosophy, art, science, etc., as one sees fit.

What good is a person…?

‘What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? A beast no more.’ - Hamlet. Act IV, Scene iv. (line 35ff)

Or to paraphrase this into more modern terms - ‘What good is a person if the best they do with their time is just to eat and sleep? They're no better than an animal.’

I’m posting this as an hors d'oeuvre; something to think about before I go further in my next post.

Remember: My aim is to think about ourselves primarily in physical terms. While there are other (non-physical) ways of thinking about this quote, in the next post I hope to be true to my intentions.

Einstein’s biggest puzzle?

I found this quote attributed to Albert Einstein (1879-1955):

“The eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility.”

In describing the comprehensibility of the world as an eternal mystery, Einstein implies that it is a mystery that will persist forever and cannot be something he or his successors would ever explain. While the stuff in the universe can be described and explained in a material sense, that cannot be described as a complete comprehension. Comprehensibility is also inherently partial.

Making sense of the world, understanding it at a deeper level than the merely descriptive, is something most people overlook. A lot of our experiences in daily life are simply taken for granted or glossed over. People just get on with getting on. In this quote, Einstein has gone, I think, another step deeper still when he asks why it is that we can make sense of things at all. Is this a question for the physicist or the neuroscientist – or for a philosopher with interest in both camps? I think it is a question we all should stop to consider. We are often aware of what we do not or cannot know. We miss the fact that we are even able to know anything in the first place. Why is that?

What do you say to a new set of students? (3)

There were a number of occasions when I forgot to tell the students who I was. I don’t remember many of my lecturers (in the late 1970s/early 1980s) ever giving their name, let alone contact details. I remember an intrepid student putting her hand up at an opportune moment about 10-15 minutes after I’d started and asking, “Excuse me, who are you?” The message is more important than the messenger.

If students on that course wanted names, I thought I’d try something on them. The first time I met another group of students on that course, I said that my name was ‘Doctor Love’. This I pronounced with an exaggerated American drawl so that it sounded like ‘Lurve’. Surely I could not be taken seriously. There had been records with the title 'Dr Love' out about that time. Would anybody write this fictitious name down? A few did. I'm glad to say that most were not.

Again, there was a moral: don’t take what I say at face value. My name – fictitious or otherwise – was not important. We can play about with that; no harm would be done. But there was a need to read and find things out for oneself. It was important not to rely on just what I might say. My words might always be misunderstood.

I remember a colleague who confided in me that what he had been teaching that morning was all rubbish. Somehow he had just got into some sort of a ramble, making up plausible nonsense as he went along. When first pointed out to me, this colleague was described as one of the top men in Europe in his field. If this can happen to the likes of him – usually an excellent lecturer – it can happen to any of us.