Rocks

In a man's lifetime, he finds he has little influence over two important things: growing older and choosing his neighbors. Usually these two items run separately, but on occasion they come together in unexpected ways. A little more than a year ago, my wife and I were in one of those situations. We were in a local sports arena standing at the edge of the crowd when a security guard came over. "Sir," he said, "no offense, but do you know where you are?" "Sure," I said.

In a modern retelling of one of Aesop's fables, British researchers have shown that members of the crow family can use tools to retrieve a worm that they wouldn't otherwise be able to reach. In "The Crow and the Pitcher," Aesop wrote of a thirsty bird confronted with a half-full pitcher of water. When the bird discovered that the water level was too low to reach, he dropped stones in to raise the level until it was high enough to quench his thirst. Aptly named zoologist Christopher David Bird of University of Cambridge showed that rooks, members of the crow family, could perform the same task, dropping stones in a tall glass beaker to retrieve a floating wax worm.

I just read with dismay that the Environmental Management Agency will have 25 workers placing rocks under the overpasses on McFadden, Edinger and 1st streets, where the homeless have been living for the last six months. What happened to the "kinder, gentler America" we were promised? The people in Costa Mesa have denied Save Our Selves a renewal of their lease because the neighbors "didn't want to see all the poor and homeless standing in line for food." I think we should all stand up and say: Hey, we've got a serious homeless problem in our area and forget the rocks under the bridges, and canceling the leases of people who are donating their time and money and food to help do something, besides criticizing the poor and the homeless.

The U.S. military's culture of silence about troops' mental health had finally begun to change. In the early years of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the various branches had been roundly criticized for failing to adequately address post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, and other psychiatric problems. Responding to that criticism, leaders made progress in diagnosing and treating such illnesses among service members. But Thursday's attack at Ft. Hood -- as well as two other recent incidents in which military personnel allegedly turned guns on their own -- indicates an intractable problem not easily overcome.

Forest Service officials are backing off plans to spray-paint some rocks they fear don't look "natural" enough to sit along a scenic highway over the top of the Cascade Mountains. "We are not going to proceed with the painting of the rocks as originally planned," said Ron DeHart, a spokesman for the Forest Service in the Seattle area. "We decided if this is disturbing to people, let's let it go and see what it looks like in a year." Rep. Jack Metcalf (R-Wash.

The search for just the right rocks to fill the centermost fountain at the Getty Center took landscape architects Laurie Olin and Dennis Hitchcock from the Rocky Mountains to Palm Springs. They were looking for an American stone that was compatible with the Italian travertine that so dominates the Getty's facade. One day, a guy in Columbia, Calif., the heart of the gold country, called them to say, "I've got some great rocks here." After one viewing of the ancient marble boulders, they agreed.

The Los Angeles City Council moved this week to protect picturesque rock formations in the Stoney Point area of Chatsworth from development. In 1991, the City Council approved a blueprint for development in Chatsworth that called for the rocks to be preserved when making planning decisions.

Once a month, small groups of men and women gather near this small Mojave Desert town to carry on the meticulous, methodical tasks of an archeological dig begun more than 25 years ago by famed fossil-finder Louis Leakey. Working out of deep, vertical pits on the slopes of a mountain and using dental picks, ball peen hammers, tiny brushes and trowels, the excavators have dug up literally tons of small rocks. In the process, they have become part of a scientific dispute.

For nearly seven years, rocks tossed from the nearby recreation field of John Muir Junior High School have clogged the swimming pool drain and cluttered the backyard deck and lawn of Grace and Jack Zinnato's Burbank home. Some have even gone clear over the house. But last month, when a rock--apparently launched from the field by a student--smashed through an upstairs window, the beleaguered Burbank couple had enough. "First big rocks and now small rocks," Grace Zinnato said Friday.