Interested in representing and serving SLAC users? SLUO Executive Committee needs YOU!
Each year, the SLAC Users Organization (SLUO) hosts its annual meeting for users. For as long as I’ve been involved, the meeting is themed. This year, the theme of the meeting is SLAC science, from the depths to the heavens. SLAC users now represent research programs located deep underground, developing and using new accelerators here on the surface of the Earth, and looking far out into the cosmos. SLUO needs to have representation and participation in all of these exciting programs, and the annual meeting will highlight this.
The meeting will happen all day, next Thursday (Sep. 17). During the lunch, institutional representatives will meet with current executive committee members and nominate candidates for the next election cycle. Elections for the SLUO executive committee will be held this fall. SLUO needs your nominations! Talk to your institutional representative (group leader, principal investigator, senior researcher, etc.) and make sure they make nominations at this meeting!
Nominations can be made in person over lunch or on the web,
If you have an interest in serving users, representing them to the SLAC management, and acting on behalf of them (e.g. through science advocacy in Washington D.C.), SLUO needs you! Make sure you let your institutional rep. know you want to be nominated. If you know someone who is perfect for this, nominate them to your rep.
If you have a SLAC unix account, use SLAC equipment, work at SLAC, etc. you qualify to be a SLAC user! Make sure you’re registered – your vote is important, so make sure you can cast it.
SLAC is, more and more, a diverse community. From science projects located deep underground, to projects orbiting the earth and looking at ancient light from distant cosmic cataclysms, SLAC’s users are working to understand the total universe. Make sure your voice is heard; make sure your interests are represented.
A blend of the last image from the Mr. Wilson webcam and Hubble's redshift data.
Mt. Wilson is covered in smoke. The UCLA webcam, mounted on a tower near the observatory, snaps one last image around 1:30 pm [1]. According to the website, they believe communication has been lost due to back fire destroying the internet connection to the observatory. The observatory was said to be out of harm’s way just yesterday, and the latest news still seems to be that it’s not under direct threat.
The possibility of losing the Mt. Wilson observatory got me thinking quite a bit about what the observatory means to me (quite apart from the fact that Jodi is teaching cosmology this semester). The history of the observatory plays a vital role in the knowledge I was taught when I was trained to be a scientist. Most notable is the fact that Edwin Hubble, among the most famous astronomers of the 20th century, used the observatory to make several transformative discoveries.
One of those discoveries was that the redshift of light from distant galaxies increases with the distance of the galaxy from the Earth. The data was not perfect, the conclusions inaccurate by modern standards; nonetheless, they were revolutionary. The data indicated that galaxies far away, whose light has traveled millions of light-years before reaching us, have light that is more red than galaxies closer to us. Their light waves are being stretched, not by the motion of the galaxies themselves but by the expansion of space-time through which the light is traveling. This expansion could be seen in the data, albeit not very accurately. Regardless, it was there.
When I was in college, the universe was believed to be an ever-expanding volume, extending not into old space-time but instead defining new space-time at its boundaries as it grew. It was also believed that any of three scenarios was possible: the universe would expand forever, its own mass density slowing the expansion through the action of gravity; the universe would stop expanding, the expansion ground to a halt by gravity; or the universe would eventually recollapse, as gravity overcame the expansion and reversed it. When I entered graduate school, a new picture was emerging. Data from distant supernovae were whispering a tale, one seemingly dismissed as it was not one of the three fates I learned from books and TV. The supernovae suggested that the universe was not just expanding; it was doing so faster and faster with each passing second.
A new story, a new potential fate for the universe began to emerge. A runaway cosmos, expanding faster all the time, may one day expand so fast that the stretching of space-time will tear apart atoms. Instead of a “big crunch”, where the universe collapses, there might be a “big rip,” where the cosmos can’t even hold itself together any longer.
While the accelerating expansion seemed to be a fact, the cause of the acceleration remains unknown today. It is one of two huge mysteries about the cosmos, and its mysterious cause has an equally mysterious label: “dark energy.”
The nature of the dark universe is one of the great challenges to modern physics. Why is so much of the matter in the universe non-luminous? What makes up the dark matter? What is pushing the universe apart? Will it ever stop pushing?
Edwin Hubble’s work started something great, and like all discoveries in science built on the work of others. The observations at Mt. Wilson of the redshifts of distant galaxies has become a cornerstone of astronomy. The interpretation of the observations as evidence for the expanding universe set the stage for the modern mystery of dark energy.
I’m keeping a close eye on Mt. Wilson, not because I long for the days gone by but because of those yet to come. The improvements made to the telescope have kept it at the leading edge of astronomy through the modern era. The service of the telescope to public education cannot be neglected. We are fortunate to have places like this where people can to to learn and inquire. I just hope the fire continues to remain under control in that area.
Earlier this week, I submitted my first grant proposal to a federal funding agency. The Department of Energy established an “Early Career Award” program this year using $25 million in ARRA (Stimulus Plan) money. The money was intended to provide a generous budget for 5 years to each of 30-40 young researchers (no more than 10 years from the award of their Ph.D.). The Office of Science provided applications for their research programs, High Energy Physics (HEP) included. Several of us in the physics department here at SMU put in applications.
The ECA program replaces the Outstanding Junior Investigator (OJI) program that has been a mainstay of the DOE for years. ECA is a program on par with the National Science Foundation’s Early Career Award program, which has existed longer. The challenge was that the deadline for OJI, cancelled this year, is typically in November. The deadline for the ECA was Sep. 1. For a new faculty member, like myself, starting on Aug. 1, this was a difficult but rewarding process.
I learned several things along the way. First and foremost, you have to have a clear and articulated vision of the next five years of your research life. That vision has to be both compelling and realistic. It must be explained clearly and concisely. After all, with a limit of 15 pages on the “Project Narrative” portion of the application, you cannot be Shakespeare. This was an opportunity for me to focus on my scientific writing. I’ve written many papers, but in collaboration with others. This time, I was basically on my own with support from the faculty here at SMU. Nobody was going to be my editor.
My first draft was terrible. After restructuring it, I achieved a working organization of my ideas. It clearly laid out priorities, topics, and goals. However, my grammar was terrible. My writing process is very specific. First I vomit ideas onto paper.Then I organize them. Then I edit them. With such limited time, I was showing ideas + organization to my peers at SMU, but not grammar. There was no time to edit before handing over a draft for comments. Consequently, I think I gave a bad impression to some of my colleagues. I have never been cavalier about my writing, but the deadline forced my process too much.
In the end, I was happy with all parts of the document. I feel committed to the ideas laid out in the proposal. I felt that they were described clearly and that the program was reasonable for a 5-year period, with clear avenues of extension beyond the first five. Of course, none of this means that I’ll get the award. I’ve found, however, that if I hate the proposal then nobody else is going to like it.
The other major lesson was that I am not alone. SMU has an excellent Research Office that works with you to prepare the application. I was able to focus on the Narrative while they focused on the paperwork. We coordinated signatures from Deans and other important folk. I felt more pressure to think than to do other things associated with an application. This is a good thing.
The proposal got out the door on schedule. This process gives me confidence that I can do this again, and again, and again, until I secure funding from outside sources. Mainly, I am excited to get to work on the things in the proposal.
