But the events of April 14, 2004, changed everything. That day, Corporal Dunham and his men were in the town of Karabilah, near the Syrian border, when they received reports that insurgents had ambushed a marine convoy. Corporal Dunham and his men boarded Humvees and headed toward the area, where they spotted a convoy of cars filled with Iraqis fleeing, according to various accounts.
The patrol led by Corporal Dunham stopped the Iraqi convoy and began inspecting the vehicles for weapons. As Corporal Dunham inspected one vehicle, a man jumped out and grabbed him by the throat. Two other marines ran over to subdue the attacker, who dropped a grenade, according to the accounts. It was then that Corporal Dunham made a fateful decision: he threw his Kevlar helmet and held it down over the grenade. He died a few days later from his wounds .
Dunham posthumously received the Medal of Honor, which is “the nation’s highest military award.” He was the same age I am now.
On July 19, 2006, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart aired what is largely considered the best explanation of the Net Neutrality Act ever put together. Please listen closely (and laugh along, too) — if opposition to Net Neutrality gains any traction, then internet as we know it will be done for. Stay informed, voters!
Unlike dunes made of quartz-based sand crystals, the gypsum does not readily convert the sun’s energy into heat and thus can be walked upon safely with bare feet, even in the hottest summer months. In areas accessible by car, children frequently use the dunes for downhill sledding.
This morning, I had an 8:30 meeting on the sixth floor of the pilot process/laboratory building next to the building in which I work. I sprinted up 6 flights of stairs to wake myself up (and to get to the floor the meeting was on). The view from the conference room was incredible.
You see, 3M’s campus is covered in oak trees, and they all got a thick coating of frost last night. So, this morning, a diffuse reddish-golden glow shone over the entire scene — it looked like the kind of view you would have from a castle in a storybook. With some effort, I stopped admiring the brilliant colors of the perfect dream-like winter landscape and focused my thoughts on the meeting ahead. I wondered if any one of my colleagues were as distracted as myself by the beauty behind them. Perhaps, I mused, decades in cubes and laboratories stunts one’s appreciation of the transient beauty of nature. It was like a Schumann opus playing behind a group of deaf people.
The 18th Century Sundial and Compass is a great gift idea for that wanderer in your life who also has a timeless (har) sense of style. This isn’t a hint as a gift for me (I could use a kitchen table, frankly), but I thought I’d pass it along.
