[Date Prev][Date Next][Thread Prev][Thread Next][Date Index][Thread Index]

RE: Some thoughts from the darker shadows of Earth Day, and a challenge to the P2 community



But what you just described is P2, so what's the point of Zero Waste?

-----Original Message-----
From: Gary Liss [mailto:gary@garyliss.com] 
Sent: Friday, May 02, 2008 10:02 AM
To: Callahan, Mike; Liss Gary; Butner, R Scott; p2tech@great-lakes.net
Subject: Re: Some thoughts from the darker shadows of Earth Day, and a
challenge to the P2 community

Zero Waste doesn't mean there will be NO WASTE created.  It means that all
efforts will be first be made to design waste out of the system.  Then set up
systems to takeback products and packages for reuse, then recycle or compost
the rest.  GRRN calls for Zero Waste, or Darn Close.  Businesses that have
diverted over 90% of their wastes from landfills and incinerators.  Thousands
of businesses have documented that they have already done that, and saved
money at the same time.  That's not zealousness - it's hard cold cash.

G

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

-----Original Message-----
From: "Callahan, Mike" <Mike.Callahan@jacobs.com>

Date: Fri, 2 May 2008 09:53:14 
To:"Gary Liss" <gary@garyliss.com>,"Butner, R Scott" <scott.butner@pnl.gov>,
<p2tech@great-lakes.net>
Subject: RE: Some thoughts from the darker shadows of Earth Day, and a
challenge to the P2 community


I'll throw in my two cents since some people seem to be fixated on "Zero
Waste" and they are suggesting that P2 take a "me too, me too" position. 
Zero Waste, as a concept, is fine when you focus on a single wastestream. 
But P2 has taught us to look at the bigger picture.  There are multimedia
effects, there are trade-offs.  There's no such thing as a free lunch.  As
long as there are people, and people consume, there will be waste.  You can
reduce waste, you can even eliminate "some" waste, but there will always be
waste.  And if you think that you have a perfect example, just elevate your
view a little, expand your scope, and you will find that you have created a
new problem elsewhere. 
  
One major strength of P2 was in the fostering of lifecycle assessments.  It
was recognized that we live in complex systems that interact.  A simple
material substitution may solve an immediate problem for the user but result
in impacts both upstream and downstream.  Some impacts may be good, others
may be bad.  How do you balance the tradeoffs?  This field is still
struggling over issues of boundary, scope, and tradeoff issues.  No one has
come up with an easy and acceptable method because the subject is so
complex.  The only thing certain that comes out of this work is that impacts
occur regardless of the path you take.  So, do we rain on their parade by
being too practical or do we foster and promote their cause by being zealots?
  
  
-----Original Message----- 
From: owner-p2tech@great-lakes.net on behalf of Gary Liss 
Sent: Fri 5/2/2008 7:20 AM 
To: Butner, R Scott; p2tech@great-lakes.net 
Cc: 
Subject: Re: Some thoughts from the darker shadows of Earth Day, and a
challenge to the P2 community

 
Scott,

Beautifully written.  I connect your dots differently though.  Add "nada",
"next steps for P2", the mirage of GREEN that is permeating the world right
now, and "Fresn" and I come up with (drum roll please): ZER0 WASTE.

It's time for the P2 network to embrace and lead the wa) to Zero Waste. 
They're doing it in Austin (see Thomas Vinson). Why not all over the country?

FTC has launched new hearings on what is GREEN.  Toyota is running ads
nationally touting Zero Eissions and Zero Waste.  It's time for P2 to clearly
support Zero Waste as the GREENEST of them all, and ask your clients and
organizations to adopt Zero Waste as a goal, and to develop plans to
implement those goals.

How does Fresno tie in? See cover story of this month's Resource Recycling
journal - Fresno adopted Zero Waste as a goal and is actually making great
progress towards it.

Gary Liss
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

-----Original Message-----
From: "Butner, R Scott" <scott.butner@pnl.gov>

Date: Thu, 1 May 2008 00:59:07
To:<p2tech@great-lakes.net>
Cc:"Butner, R Scott" <scott.butner@pnl.gov>
Subject:  Some thoughts from the darker shadows of Earth Day, and a challenge
to the P2 community


<tangent  ramble_mode="true" coherence="low" relevance="questionable"
verbosity="high">
P2TECH-ies (and a few selected other friends) --
I've come, once again, to drink from the well of your wisdom.
I even brought my own (non-disposable, stainless steel, bisphenol A-free)
cup.
The precipitating event for this e-mail is an invitation I received the other
day from our esteemed colleague Jeff Burke, Executive Director of the
National P2 Roundtable.   He wanted to know if I was willing to spend a few
minutes during the NPPR break-out session at the National Environmental
Summit on Wednesday May 21, to help kick off a discussion session among the
NPPR membership. 
Rousing the rabble, as it were.
Well, I can rarely turn down a chance to stand in front of an audience and
hold forth, especially if not bound by any strict accountability to things
like "facts" or "data."  
Besides, I've spent a long time attending NPPR meetings, sort of an
intellectual lint ball hanging from the rich tapestry that is the P2
community, so it was an excuse -- an opportunity! -- to come to Baltimore and
see some of my friends, old and new.
How could I refuse?
However, now I find myself facing the bleak consequences of accepting his
invitation -- specifically, having to select a discussion topic which will
provoke the audience to such stimulating conversation that they go home
saying, "I am SO glad I went to the Summit!" 
This is where the challenge comes in:  I got nuthin'.  Nada.  Zip.  Less than
zero.
                                                        ---------
Now, left to my own devices, I will come up with something.  I always do. 
But I'd like to invite this group to suggest topics for discussion that YOU
would like to see NPPR have, regarding the future of the organization, and of
the P2 community. 
Got ideas?  Send them to me.  By now, you know where to find me.
Otherwise -- and consider this a warning, not  threat -- in two weeks the
audience at the Summit is likely to hear something along the lines of my
latest brainstorm:
"Going Softly into That Dark Night -- a P2 Strategy Whose Time has Come?"
Yeah.  You heard me. 
In the words (word?) of the late, great Kurt Vonnegut:  "Listen."
                                                        ---------
So, last Saturday -- as fine a day as has yet to grace the 2008 calendar; a
virtual poster child for springtime in the northwest! --  I spent the
morning, and well into the afternoon, working in my garden, communing with
the worms, soaking up the sun, and contemplating what message I wanted to
bring to the Summit. 
Alas, pulling weeds, planting gladiolas, and deciding where in the garden I
should relocate the family totem pole ("Fred") took provided more
distractions than you'd think they could.  So while I accomplished much in
the garden, by 4 p.m. I had made little headway towards crafting my Summit
message. 
But it's late April and days are getting longer up here at 47 degrees north
latitude; even at 4 p.m. we had hours of daylight left.  So I decided to take
a long-contemplated, oft-postponed trip across the desert to visit the
Juniper Dunes Wilderness, a 7,000 acre "island" of juniper and 100-foot sand
dunes surrounded by the soft green contours of dryland wheat, the giant
irrigated bullseyes of potato farms, and the sage-filled shrub-steppe that
fills all the spaces in between.  Though it is only 45 miles from my home,
I'd never visited it.  I figured the drive would do me some good.  At the
very least, I might find some good light for taking photographs of the wild
rhubarb that was reputed to grow there.   I could sink my toes deep into the
sand.   If I was lucky, I'd find some deeper inspiration to sink my teeth
into as well.
I packed up my camera and tripod, climbed into my Mazda -- which like me, has
more miles on it than I'd like to admit, and is overdue for some preventative
maintenance -- and backed out of the driveway onto Stevens Drive.  I pointed
the car in a generally eastern direction.
Figuratively speaking, of course, since our street runs north/south. 
As I pulled away from the curb, I turned on my iPod, and heard the opening
refrains of an old Pointer Sister's song from the 70's:

"Now's the time for all good men
to get together with one another.
We got to iron out our problems
and iron out our quarrels
and try to live as brothers.
And try to find a piece of land
without stepping on one another.
And do respect the women of the world.
Remember you all have mothers."

I turned the volume up a few notches -- turns out that my dad was right -- I
DID wreck my hearing, listening to that music so loud!  Now I have little
choice but to turn it up.
For what it's worth, I've long thought that this song -- "Yes We Can Can,"
from their self-titled first album released in 1973 -- is, to my mind,
perhaps the last viable candidate for an anthem for my generation.  As far as
I can tell, it remains untouched and unspoiled, not yet co-opted into selling
SUV's or laundry detergent or acting as a cliched audio synopsis each time
that Hollywood wants to pay lipservice to that period of simultaneous
political unrest and (for a brief while) enormous optimism that was the late
60's.  As such songs go, it's too long, and takes too much time to get to the
point, and can't be easily fitted into a 30 second format. 
Though I suspect that even now, some cynical Madison Avenue types are working
on it.  They're sitting around a big table, probably made of endangered
tropical hardwoods, making plans to strip away the innocence from yet one
more song in hopes of convincing middle aged consumers that they can replace
their own lost innocence with a bit of cheap nostalgia and a Prius in the
driveway.
I know.  Cynical.  Though, some would respond that cynicism is the only
logical response to the world we live in. 
Those would be the cynical ones, by the way.  At least we're consistent.
On this fine Saturday, however, I didn't entertain such thoughts for even a
moment.  My mood buoyed by good music, and admittedly feeling a little TOO
self-satisfied about spending the last hour meticulously pulling dandelions
by hand so that I didn't have to resort to herbicides, I drove off towards
the dunes and started to contemplate discussion topics for my Summit
presentation.
                                                        ---------
This may seem, on the surface, to be much ado about nothing.  After all, I'd
been asked to give a ten minute talk -- the primary purpose of which is to
get OTHER people to enter into the discussion.  No one was asking me to be
the authority about anything.  * (I feel compelled to add here -- as a
pre-emptive measure against those who know me well -- to say in my defense
that there ARE things I am an authority on.  Really.  It's just that few
people are very interested in them, which is precisely what allows me to be
the authority -- niche specialization being an important adaptitve strategy
in any ecosystem).  All I had to do was relate a few ideas about current
issues facing P2, and get the ball rolling.  Plenty of people smarter than me
would be in the audience, and they could take it from there.
Simple, really.  Right?
The problem I faced was this: 
I'm a P2 has-been.  Tasked with talking to a bunch of P2 up-and-comers.
See, even by my own admission, most of the truly interesting work in my 20+
year career in pollution prevention -- real fun stuff dealing with mass
transfer in supercritical CO2 parts cleaning, multi-objective process
optimization, project prioritization methodologies, environmental lifecycle
analysis, debunking ISO 14001, design for environment, "green" accounting
software….is more dated than a high school prom queen.  Like a lot of us,
though, I continue to chug along, making contributions where I can, trying to
stay reasonably current with the latest and greatest. 
But still painfully aware that I am increasingly out of touch.
I was wrapping my mind around this bitter reality when I turned off of
Highway 12 onto the Pasco-Kalhoutous Highway, a sun-baked two lane that winds
its way along the Snake River, where salmon once thrived, and through some of
the richest farm land in the US, which in many ways sealed the salmon's
fate.  And as the miles ticked by, though the sun was still hanging bright in
the sky, my mood began to darken a bit.  So perhaps there was some psychic
resonance at work that allowed the plaintative voice of Neil Young to push
its way into my consciousness. I rolled up the window (in an earlier,
ill-considered concession to my P2 roots, I had bought a car without air
conditioning -- not a good choice when you live in a climate where summer
temperatures occasionally top 110 F) and turned up the volume just in time to
hear him singing the punchline from "My My, Hey Hey":

"It's better to burn out/Than it is to rust…"

And with that lyric, juxtaposed as it was against the ongoing contemplation
of my own rustiness, my mood shifted out of the blue, and into the black. 
                                                        ---------
Bear in mind:  with 5,438 different songs on my iPod, the odds of this
particular song playing at this particular moment in time were relatively
small. It's a simple matter of statistics.  Lots of songs means a small
chance of any given song being played. 
For instance, I once calculated that I could drive from Seattle to Fresno,
California -- and BACK again -- listening ONLY to my collection of Elvis
Costello songs, and never hear the same song twice. 
I should note that I've never actually tried to verify this experimentally. 
For one -- who wants to go to Fresno?  But mostly, I fear that if I ever
tried it, my wife would probably get out of the car somewhere around
Portland, and hitchike back home.  It would be a long, lonely ride home for
Elvis and I.
At any rate, I'd recently finished reading "This is Your Brain on Music: The
Science of a Human Obsession," a great book by record-producer turned
congitive psychologist Daniel Levitin, which discusses how the human brain
processes music (and which, incidentally, closes with an air-tight scientific
explanation, based on sound evolutionary principles, of why the bass players
always get all the girls). 
Perhaps because I'd been reading this book, I started paying more attention
than usual to the lyrics of the songs that were playing.  Egged on by the
coincidence of Neil Young's great tribute to Johnny Rotten, his warning
against musical obsolesence, and the contemplation of my own technical
obsolesence, I started noting (or was it, constructing?) a certain theme in
the songs that played.
The pattern was set, I think, when the next song in the queue was Pink
Floyd's "Time" from the "Dark Side of the Moon" CD:

"Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
 Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
 Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
 The time has gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say"

Or this -- from "Thousand Year Prayer" by the Cowboy Junkies:

"Here we all are at the end of "the century of beauty lost".
 We greedily ate what you gave us, the rest we tossed.
 We've trapped all your rivers, paved every pass,
 Pulled at your sky till we caused it to rip.
 But you've got Jimi Hendrix so lets call it an even split. "

Eddie Vedder's voice rang true on Pearl Jam's "All Those Yesterdays"

"Don't you think you've done enough?
Oh, don't you think you've got enough, well maybe..
You don't think there's time to stop
There's time enough for you to lay your head down, tonight, tonight"

Followed back to back by an oldie from Counting Crows:

"I got bones beneath my skin, mister...
 There's a skeleton in every man's house
 Beneath the dust and love and sweat that hangs on everybody
 There's a dead man trying to get out "

and by a recent favorite of mine from Death Cab for Cutie:

"Love of mine
some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
 I'll follow you into the dark
 No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
 Just our hands clasped so tight
 Waiting for the hint of a spark

If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied
 Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
 If there's no one there beside you when your soul embarks
 Then I will follow you into the dark "

Now, lest you think that my musical collection consists entirely of dark,
self-possessed songs by Emo kids in black sweatshirts, I'll have you know
that I have my fair share of upbeat songs as well. 
But in any string of random events, there exists a finite possibility that a
sequence will emerge which gives the appearance of being by design.  And if I
were a spiritual person, I might even have been tempted to think that the
heavens were sending me a message.
On such matters, though, I tend to subscribe to the world according to Iris
Dement:

"Everybody's wonderin' what and where they all came from.
 Everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go when the whole thing's
done.
 But no one knows for certain and so it's all the same to me.
 I think I'll just let the mystery be."

In any event, whether by design or by chance, the great epiphany came as I
turned left off the Snake River Road, skidding across the crushed gravel of
East Blackman Ridge Road in a cloud of dust.  From a distance, my dust cloud
would have been the only moving thing visible for miles in any direction.  As
I crested a ridgeline, the road bent to the west, pointing me into the
setting sun and momentarily blinding  me to the presence of spring calves
standing idly in the road.  I veered around them, leaving tire tracks at the
edge of a wheat field, and regained my purchase on the road.
In that moment of brilliant light, I was illuminated -- and I swear I am not
making this up -- by the opening verse of Poi Dog Pondering's "Bury Me Deep"

"A lifetime of accomplishments of which the dirt knows none,
 only in death can one truly return
 Return the carrots, the apples and potatoes,
 The chickens, the cows, the fish and tomatoes.
 In one glorious swoop, let the deed be done
 and bury me deep so that I can be one...
 And all around my muscle and all around my bone,
 don't incinerate me or seal me from
 the dirt which bore me, the bed that which from
 the rain falls upon and the fruit comes from"

And there it was in front of me, as plain and as bright as the setting sun: 
"Going quietly" as the final frontier in pollution prevention.
                                                        ---------
See, like many of a certain age, I've begun to come to terms with my own
eventual mortality.  I'm not quite 50 yet, but my parents both died fairly
young so I figure I'd best get an early start on thinking about such things. 
Like many of my cohorts, I have made certain wishes known to my loved ones --
how heroic I expect them to be in extending my life, what to do with any
"stuff" I have left over when the game ends.  What to do with ME when the
game is over.  The usual details.
But it occurred to me that perhaps in death there was an opportunity I'd been
overlooking --  a way to take make sure that I truly reduced my footprint on
this earth.  What if, I thought, I simply decided not to fight the
inevitable?  What if I allowed myself to go quietly into the dark when my
body finally decided it was time to let go? 
No heroic measures.  Not even any mildly strenuous measures.  My med-alert
bracelet would read "No, really -- don't bother on my account!"
No life support, no blood pressure medications, no defibrillators or
emergency heart surgery should I one day find myself clutching my chest. 
None of it.  Roll the dice and accept the consequences without regret.  Walk
into and beyond the white light, and don't look back.
Not willing myself to an early death -- certainly not! -- but instead, making
a decision in relative health, to spare myself those last years when medical
science can only preserve life, but not the quality of it. 
Think about it:  what better way to reduce your footprint on this earth, than
simply ceasing to be? 
No more worrying about the environmental impact of that beef you had for
dinner.  No fussing over the awful taste of soy milk and longing for the
stuff that comes from cows.  No more being haunted by the faint hum of the
air conditioner on a sleepless summer night.  No "paper or plastic?"
conundrums, or wondering if that ethanol-spiked 89 octane you put in the
Prius was REALLY taking food off the table of a family in China.
No more hauling around your stainless steel coffee cup, or sidestepping the
issue of whether the coffee beans you put in your grinder couldn't really be
replaced with something grown closer to home.
Organically grown?  Doesn't mean a thing to a corpse.
Ashes to ashes, and all that. 
As I trudged up the side of a 100 foot sand dune, sinking back one step for
every two I took, I began to get excited by all this.  I mean, this was a
breakthrough!   One person, by himself, wasn't going to change the world this
way -- but thousands -- no, millions! -- well, we could ALL take the pledge
to go away without a whimper when our times came.  Each of us might shave 5,
maybe 10 years off of our time on the planet, and with it, effect a
proportional reduction in our environmental impact.
This was frickin' brilliant, I panted, as I crested the tallest dune and
stared into the sun.   
I sat down in the sand and watched five different varieties of beetle trace
tracks across the sand -- anyone who expired here would certainly release his
inner skeleton!  While the beetles kept careful notes in the sand, I began to
ponder out loud all  the things that needed to be done.   We'd need to have
plastic wrist bands -- black, of course.  Public service announcements -- I'm
thinking Christopher Walken or Anthony Hopkins as our spokesperson.  Hire a
writer -- a ghost writer, if you will -- to create a best-selling
self-improvement book:  "How to save the Earth by not even trying!"   Guest
appearances on Oprah AND the Daily Show.  Product placement in Starbucks. 
And viral marketing over Facebook. 
Bumper stickers, of course.  But we'd be very selective about who could buy
them, and we wouldn't sell them to ANYONE whose car didn’t get at least 30
mpg, or carry at least two passengers.
I mean, you wouldn't want to risk selling out, right?
Oh, there would be detractors.  The pharmaceutical companies would be the
loudest.  They'd lobby for publicly subsidized medications for all those who
hadn't joined our crusade, in a vain attempt to make up for lost revenues. 
Network news shows would run negative stories about the cult-like nature of
the movement -- after all, us old people are the only ones that still watch
their drivel, and they know it.  They can't afford to lose a single one of
us!
The religious right wouldn't know what to do about us -- I mean, they don't
like assisted suicide, but leaving it in God's hands?  What could be wrong
about that, other than the fact it was a bunch of tree huggers who were
embracing the idea?
There would be some who tried to stop us.  They'd lobby and cajole and preach
against this noble gesture of ours.
But we would prevail -- or die trying. 
Yes, this would be my crowning accomplishment as a P2 professional -- the
final frontier. 
The sun perched on the horizon.   The dunes shifted imperceptibly with the
wind.  Lone blades of grass etched compass circles in the sand, marking the
direction of the wind.  Though the warmth of the spring day began to drain
from the sky, I felt good.    The gloom that had followed me into the
wilderness had wandered away, leaving not even a trace of footprints in the
sand.   So I lifted myself up, bid adieu to the beetles, who nodded quietly
in acknowledgement, and returned to their note taking.  I began walking back
to the car through the sage.  I watched for rattlesnakes and listened for
coyotes, who, in these parts, typically greet the coming night in a raucous
fashion -- but aside from the wind, all was quiet. 
A mile or two later, I reached the car, happy in the knowledge that I still
had a good idea or two left in me.  After all, I might very well be over the
hill, but there are still more hills ahead to climb, and new views waiting at
the top of each of them. 
                                                        ---------

Fast forward a couple of days.  Far from the sand dunes, immersed in a
different sort of inner wilderness, and viewing things in a different sort of
light --  I'm starting to realize that maybe the whole "early death as the
ultimate P2 strategy" idea still has a few obstacles to overcome.
Like, living, for one.  It's sort of become a habit of mine, and we all know
how hard habits are to break.
And my wife wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about this idea as I was.  Go
figure.
The Oprah people told me they weren't interested, either.  I wonder if Ozzie
Osbourne has a book club?
These are not insurmountable obstacles to be sure.  Nothing that a few really
good graphics and a celebrity endorsement or two couldn't help.  
I mean, it worked for Al Gore, right?   
Maybe I could talk Michael Moore into making a documentary about the topic --
after all, we met once, 30 years ago, and I'm only one connection away from
him in my LinkedIn network.
The idea -- that was the main thing.  I mean, everything made by man starts
in the same place -- as an idea.  Peter Gabriel even tells us so:

"Looking down on empty streets, all she can see
Are the dreams all made solid
Are the dreams all made real
All of the buildings, all of those cars
Were once just a dream
In somebody's head"

As ideas go, maybe this one still needs some work.  But it's a start.
                                                        ---------

Looking back 15 years or so to the Engineering Foundation conferences on P2,
I can recall walking and talking with dear friends along the beach in Santa
Barbara (and later, San Diego) or sitting in a hotel lobby, engrossed in
late-night conversations about how technology alone was not going to do the
trick.  This seemed a great revelation to a technologist like myself; it was
self-evident, I am sure, to those who considered technology as a foreign
language. 
We talked of the need to change consumer behavior.   To get manufacturers
interested in pursuing "green" markets.  To get celebrities "on the
bandwagon" for our cause.  To think beyond the confines of the plant gate to
how our communities were built. 
We talked about the need to make "green" the world's favorite color.
And looking around me today, I feel like a modern Rip Van Winkle -- awaking
after a long sleep in a world that is somehow both strange and familiar at
the same time. So much of what we hoped for has come to pass -- I've seen
more ads touting the "green" attributes of various companies and products in
the past year, than in all the years leading up to this time.   Gas prices
are high, people are conserving fuel -- for now. 
It's like we've rubbed the lantern, set free the genie, and have been granted
our first wish. 
We've got two left.  What shall we do with them?
And yet….
And yet, all the while, the glaciers vanish, the ice caps crumble.  The
precautionary principle asserts itself in a world that repeatedly throws
caution to the wind. 
The second law is enforced vigorously and without mercy.  Things are running
down.  Time is running out.
Still, I am an optimist at heart, evidence to the contrary notwithstanding. 
Remember the Pointer Sisters?

"I know we can make it.
 I know darn well we can work it out.
Oh yes we can, I know we can can
 Yes we can can, why can't we?
 If we wanna get together we can work it out. "

Thirty five years later, I actually still believe that sh*t.  It touches a
still-clean part of me that hides deep down, and when it does, I know that
they were telling the truth then.  And it's still the truth now.
So.  Tell me something good.  Shine a ray of light through this dark cloud
and tell me where P2 is going.  Where YOU want it to go.  Venture a guess
about where our new frontiers are.  What do you see from your sand dune, when
you look towards the horizon?
As Elvis once sang:  "Let's talk about the future, now we've put the past
away"
You've seen one of my ideas.  I've set the bar low -- certainly you can do
better than THAT!
I mean, old and worn out though I may be, I've got some fight left in me. 
Cynical as I've become, I'd still love to change the world.  Wouldn't you?
great gosh a-mighty!
</tangent>
P.s. -- for those patient souls who have made it all the way to the end, I've
chosen some photographs to go along with the text…
 <http://www.flickr.com/photos/rs_butner/sets/72157604824211565/show/
<http://www.flickr.com/photos/rs_butner/sets/72157604824211565/show/> >
http://www.flickr.com/photos/rs_butner/sets/72157604824211565/show/
<http://www.flickr.com/photos/rs_butner/sets/72157604824211565/show/> 
Pictures may be worth a thousand words -- but they're a lot faster.
========================================
Scott Butner
Director, ChemAlliance
c/o Pacific NW National Laboratory
MS K7-28
3350 Q Ave
Richland, WA 99354
Voice: (509)-372-4946/Fax: (509) 375-2443
Website:  <http://www.chemalliance.org/ <http://www.chemalliance.org/> >
http://www.chemalliance.org/ <http://www.chemalliance.org/> 
E-mail: scott.butner@pnl.gov
========================================

 ?dÄx¬†‹-yÖò¶†­æ­-©°‰ß¢¹š¶*'5ëp¢¹!¶Úÿ
0‚·š¶V¤zÉÞµ:.žË›±Êâmçë¢kaŠÉb²ÛÙšŠ[h™¨è­Ú&¢
ÞjÙZ‘ë'zÜ"¶ayÊ&™©Ýº{.nÇ+‰·©Úל†)í…æèw*Ê‹«™ë,j
¢«¨µë(®Ë›ç-–)Þj·«z«¢­ç@n‹­†Ûiÿü0Â
ÞjÙZ‘ë'zßåŠËlþ­yȧk^r§~€&jš?dÄ{.nÇ+‰·«±Æ§mëâ{
jØm¶Ÿÿà ­ªi­Ê&þ­yÈS†+%ŠËb²f§j
o+axjÞjÒÚ‘ëz¨©O¢Yn¶*'>·¯z{b¢thºwmi¹^†Ûiÿü0     k¦šè®
Z®Ú¶Ùgjب©gzÜ(®J­è"¢v¥?h§~ŠæjبÇ§µêì†Ûiÿü0«ÆŠà 
NOTICE - This communication may contain confidential and privileged
information that is for the sole use of the intended recipient. Any viewing,
copying or distribution of, or reliance on this message by unintended
recipients is strictly prohibited. If you have received this message in
error, please notify us immediately by replying to the message and deleting
it from your computer.

NOTICE - This communication may contain confidential and privileged information that is for the sole use of the intended recipient. Any viewing, copying or distribution of, or reliance on this message by unintended recipients is strictly prohibited. If you have received this message in error, please notify us immediately by replying to the message and deleting it from your computer.
L@hםo+axjjڑ+bs^
+m+yejGS칻&~&+-ݙݢj 歕w+aiۧrzyb^nr�Ơx*^칸rbz*tm 歕wXלv!wfL@rzjv޾'y֭i0ڦܢoל8bX+&jvy-ڔ%bsz*'Fv֛m i४axvږwŠނ*'jSwfz{^m)ڼh