Physicists often ponder small things, but probably not the ones on Kerwyn Casey “KC” Huang’s mind. He wants to know what it’s like to be a bacterium.

“My motivating questions are about understanding the physical challenges bacterial cells face,” he says. Bacteria are the dominant life-forms on Earth. They affect the health of plants and animals, including humans, for good and bad. Yet scientists know very little about the rules the microbes live by. Even questions as basic as how bacteria determine their shape are still up in the air, says Huang, of Stanford University.

Huang, 38, is out to change that. He and colleagues have determined what gives cholera bacteria their curved shape and whether it matters (a polymer protein, and it does matter; the curve makes it easier for cholera to cause disease), how different wavelengths of light affect movement of photosynthetic bacteria (red and green wavelengths encourage movement; blue light stops the microbes in their tracks), how bacteria coordinate cell division machinery and how photosynthetic bacteria’s growth changes in light and dark.

All four of these findings and more were published in just the first three months of this year.
Huang also looks for ways to use tools and techniques his team develops to solve problems unrelated to bacteria. Computer programs that measure changes in bacterial cell shape can also track cells in plant roots and in developing zebrafish embryos. He’s even helped determine how a protein’s activity and stability contribute to a human genetic disease.

A physicist by training, Huang delves into biology, biochemistry, microbial ecology, genetics, engineering, computer science and more, partnering with a variety of scientists from across those fields. He’s even teamed up with his statistician sister. He’s an “all-in-one scientist,” says longtime collaborator Ned Wingreen, a biophysicist at Princeton University.

When Huang started his lab at Stanford in 2008, after getting his Ph.D. at MIT and spending time at Princeton as a postdoctoral fellow, his background was purely theoretical. He designed and ran the computer simulations and then his collaborators carried out the experiments. But soon, he wanted to do hands-on research too, to learn why cells are the way they are.
Such a leap “is not trivial,” says Christine Jacobs-Wagner, a microbiologist at Yale University who also studies bacterial cell shape. But Huang is “a really, really good experimentalist,” she says.

Jacobs-Wagner was particularly impressed with a “brilliant microfluidics experiment” Huang did to test a well-established truism about how bacteria grow. Researchers used to think that turgor pressure — water pressure inside a cell that pushes the outer membrane against the cell wall — controlled bacterial growth, just like it does in plants. But abolishing turgor pressure didn’t change E. coli’s growth rate, Huang and colleagues reported in 2014 in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. “This result blew my mind away,” Jacobs-Wagner says. The finding “crumbled the foundation” of what scientists thought about bacterial growth.

“He uses clever experiments to challenge old paradigms,” Jacobs-Wagner says. “More than once he has come up with a new trick to address a tough question.”
Sometimes Huang’s tricks require breaking things. Zemer Gitai, a microbiologist at Princeton, remembers talking with Huang and Wingreen about a question that microbiologists were stuck on: How are molecules oriented in bacterial cell walls? Researchers knew that the walls are made of rigid sugar strands connected by flexible proteins, like a chain link fence held together by rubber bands. What they didn’t know was whether the rubber bands circled the bacteria like the hoops on a wine barrel, ran in stripes down the length of the cell or stuck out like hairs.

If bacteria were put under pressure, the cells would crack along the weak rubber band–like links, Huang and Wingreen reasoned. If the cells split like hot dogs on a grill, it would mean the links ran the length of the cells. If they opened like a Slinky, it would suggest a wine-barrel configuration. The researchers reported the results — opened like a Slinky — in 2008. Another group, using improved microscope techniques, got the same result.

Huang teamed up with other researchers to do microfluidics experiments, growing bacteria in tiny chambers and tracking individual cells to learn how photosynthetic bacteria grow in light and dark.

But in nature, bacteria don’t live alone. So Huang has also worked with Stanford colleague Justin Sonnenburg to answer a basic question: “Where and when are bacteria in the gut growing? No one knows,” Huang says. “How can we not know that? It’s totally fundamental.” Without that information, it’s impossible to know, for example, how antibiotics affect the microbial community in the intestines, he says.

Stripping fiber from a mouse’s diet not only changes the mix of microbes in the gut, it alters where in the intestines the microbes grow, the researchers discovered. Bacteria deprived of fiber’s complex sugars began to munch on the protective mucus lining the intestines, bumping against the intestinal lining and sparking inflammation, Huang, Sonnenburg and colleagues reported in Cell Host & Microbe in 2015.

Huang’s breadth of research — from deciphering the nanoscale twists of proteins to mapping whole microbial communities — is sure to lead to many more discoveries. “He’s capable of making contributions to any field,” Jacobs-Wagner says, “or any research question that he’s interested in.”

Over the last 40 years, the number of kids and teens with obesity has skyrocketed worldwide. In 1975, an estimated 5 million girls and 6 million boys were obese. By 2016, those numbers had risen to an estimated 50 million girls and 74 million boys, according to a report published online October 10 in the Lancet. While the increase in childhood obesity has slowed or leveled off in many high-income countries, it continues to grow in other parts of the world, especially in Asia.

Using the body mass index, a ratio of weight to height, of more than 30 million 5- to 19-year-olds, researchers tracked trends from 1975 to 2016 in five weight categories: moderate to severe underweight, mild underweight, healthy weight, overweight and obesity. The researchers defined obesity as having a BMI around 19 or higher for a 5-year-old up to around 30 or higher for a 19-year-old.

Globally, more kids and teens — an estimated 117 million boys and 75 million girls — were moderately or severely underweight in 2016 than were obese. But the total number of obese children is expected to overtake the moderately or severely underweight total by 2022, the researchers say.

The globalization of poor diet and inactivity is part of the problem, says William Dietz, a pediatrician at George Washington University in Washington D.C., who wrote a commentary that accompanies the study. Processed foods and sugary drinks have become widely available around the world. And urbanization, which also increased in the last four decades, tends to reduce physical activity, Dietz says.

While obesity rates for kids and teens have largely leveled off in most wealthy countries, those numbers continue to increase for adults. The findings in children are consistent with evidence showing a drop in the consumption of fast food among children and adults in the United States over the last decade, Dietz says. “Children are going to be much more susceptible to changes in caloric intake than adults.”

Discovering an itchy welt is often a sign you have been duped by one of Earth’s sneakiest creatures — the mosquito.

Scientists have puzzled over how the insects, often laden with two or three times their weight in blood, manage to flee undetected. At least one species of mosquito — Anopheles coluzzii — does so by relying more on lift from its wings than push from its legs to generate the force needed to take off from a host’s skin, researchers report October 18 in the Journal of Experimental Biology.
The mosquitoes’ undetectable departure, which lets them avoid being smacked by an annoyed host, may be part of the reason A. coluzzii so effectively spreads malaria, a parasitic disease that kills hundreds of thousands of people each year.

Researchers knew that mosquito flight is unlike that of other flies (SN Online: 3/29/17). The new study provides “fascinating insight into life immediately after the bite, as the bloodsuckers make their escape,” says Richard Bomphrey, a biomechanist at the Royal Veterinary College of the University of London, who was not involved in the research.

To capture mosquito departures, Sofia Chang of the Animal Flight Laboratory at the University of California, Berkeley and her colleagues set up a flight arena for mosquitoes. Using three high-speed video cameras, the researchers created computer reconstructions of the mosquitoes’ takeoff mechanisms to compare with those of fruit flies.

Mosquitoes are as fast as fruit flies while flying away but use only about a quarter of the leg force that fruit flies typically use to push off, Chang and her colleagues found. And 61 percent of a mosquito’s takeoff power comes from its wings. As a result, the mosquitoes do not generate enough force on a mammal’s skin to be detected.

Unlike fruit flies’ short legs, mosquitoes’ long legs extend the insects’ push-off time. That lets mosquitoes spread out already-minimal leg force over a longer time frame to reach similar takeoff speeds as fruit flies, the researchers found. This slow and steady mechanism is the same regardless of whether the bloodsuckers sense danger or are leaving of their own accord, and whether they are full of blood or have yet to get a meal. While in flight, though, a belly full of blood slowed the mosquitoes down by about 18 percent.

Chang next wants to determine whether mosquitoes land as gently as they depart. “If they are so stealthy when they leave, they must be stealthy as they land, too.”

Microbial stress can be a boon for young trees.

Saplings grown in soil microbes that have experienced drought, cold or heat are more likely to survive when faced with those same conditions, researchers report in the May 26 Science. And follow-up tests suggest that the microbes’ protective relationship with trees may linger beyond initial planting.

The team’s findings could aid massive tree planting efforts by giving new saplings the best chance of survival over the long run, says Ian Sanders, a plant and fungal ecologist at the University of Lausanne in Switzerland. “If you can control which microbes are put onto tree saplings in a nursery, you can probably help to determine whether they’re going to survive or not when they’re transplanted to the field.”
As climate change pushes global temperatures ever higher, many species must either adapt to new conditions or follow their ideal climate to new places (SN: 1/25/23). While forests’ ranges have changed as Earth’s climate has warmed and cooled over hundreds of millions of years, the pace of current climate change is too fast for trees to keep up (SN: 4/1/20).

Trees live a long time, and they don’t move or evolve very quickly, says Richard Lankau, a forest ecologist at the University of Wisconsin–Madison. They do have close relationships with fast-adapting soil microbes, including fungi, which can help plants survive stressful conditions.

But it was unclear whether microbes that had previously survived various climates and stresses might give inexperienced baby trees encountering a changing climate a leg up. With friends in the soil, “trees might have more tools in their toolkit than we give them credit for” to survive tough conditions, Lankau says.

For the study, Lankau and fellow ecologists Cassandra Allsup and Isabelle George — both also at UW–Madison — collected soil from 12 spots in Wisconsin and Illinois that varied in temperature and amount of rain. The team then used the soils to plant an abundance of 12 native tree species, including white oak (Quercus alba) and silver maple (Acer saccharinum). Overall, “we had thousands of plants we were monitoring,” Allsup says.

Those saplings grew in the soils in a greenhouse for two months before being transplanted in one of two field sites — one warm and one cold. To simulate drought, some trees in each spot were placed under transparent plastic sheets that blocked direct rainfall.

One site in northern Wisconsin was at the northern edge of the trees’ range and represented how trees might take root in a new area that’s getting warm enough for them to grow. There, trees planted in soil containing cold-adapted microbes better survived Wisconsin’s frigid winter temperatures. Plants that faced drought in addition to the cold, on the other hand, didn’t have the same benefit.

The other location, set up in central Illinois, was designed to represent a region where the climate is getting too hot or dry for the tree species to tolerate. Saplings grown in soil with microbes from arid spots were more likely to survive a lack of rain. But those grown in soils with heat-tolerant microbes were only slightly more likely to survive when they received normal rainfall.
Resident species already living in the area didn’t outcompete all of the transplanted microbes. Newly introduced fungi persisted in the soil for three years, a sign that any protective effects might last at least that long, the team found.

It’s still unclear which microbes best aid the trees. Analyses of microbes living in the soil hinted that fungi that live inside plant roots may better help trees survive drought. Cold-adapted soils seem to have fewer fungal species. But soils also contain bacteria, archaea and protists, Sanders says. “We don’t know what it is yet that seems to affect the plant survival in these changing climates.”
Determining which microbes are the important ones and whether there are specific conditions that best suit the soil is next up on the list, Allsup says. For example, can dry-adapted soil from Iowa help when planting trees in Illinois? “We need to think more about soils and combinations and [transplant] success… to actually save the forest.”

One caution, Sanders says, is that transporting microbes from one place to another en masse could bring the bad along with the good. Some microbes might be pathogens in the new place where they’re transplanted. “That’s also a big danger.”

A vaccine to fight Lyme disease, decades in the making, has received a temporary green light from the U.S. Department of Agriculture. But it’s not for people — it’s for mice.

The vaccine isn’t a rodent-sized injection, which wouldn’t work for targeting large populations quickly. Instead, it’s coated onto edible, nutrition-free pellets that mice gobble up.

The vaccine makes mice develop antibodies that neutralize Borrelia burgdorferi, the bacterium that causes most U.S. cases of Lyme disease. When ticks imbibe the blood of a vaccinated mouse, the idea goes, they won’t get an active infection and so can’t transmit the bacteria to people or other animals.
“Mice are probably one of the most important reservoir hosts for Lyme disease,” especially in the Eastern United States where Lyme disease is rampant, says Jean Tsao, a disease ecologist at Michigan State University in East Lansing who was not involved in developing the new vaccine. Reservoir hosts are animals with B. burgdorferi in their blood (SN: 2/5/21).

The vaccine has a conditional license, granted on May 9. That means it is available on request by groups such as federal and state health agencies under certain conditions for roughly one year, with the possibility of renewal.

The first well-documented case of Lyme disease in a person in the United States was in 1970. A vaccine for humans was available from 1998 to 2002, but it was taken off the market due to low consumer demand, likely related to fears over the vaccine’s safety. Some vaccinated people reported developing arthritis, but the U.S. Food and Drug Administration found no meaningful difference in joint problems in vaccinated versus control groups.

Both the mouse and human vaccines use a protein called OspA, found on the surface of B. burgdorferi, to spur antibody production and prevent infection.

Biologist Maria Gomes-Solecki co-led the early development of the new mouse vaccine. Her team distributed an early version of the vaccine to areas in upstate New York from 2007 to 2011. B. burgdorferi has a two-year life cycle in ticks. This and other factors mean it takes time to see meaningful reductions in infections, says Gomes-Solecki, of the University of Tennessee Health Science Center in Memphis. After two and five years of vaccination, the researchers found that tick infections were reduced by 23 and 76 percent, respectively, compared with control sites.

That early vaccine used live Escherichia coli bacteria to deliver the OspA protein. But the current, green-lighted version of the vaccine uses inactive E. coli. A 2020 study of the new vaccine found a 30 percent reduction in the proportion of infected ticks in residential areas after two years, compared with control sites. Several coauthors on that study work for US Biologic, the company Gomes-Solecki cofounded to develop the vaccine.
“The vaccine they have works, but it’s not spectacular” in terms of the rate of reducing B. burgdorferi–infected ticks, says Sam Telford III, an epidemiologist at Tufts University in Medford, Mass., who was involved in the development of the human vaccine and led research in the 1990s for vaccinating mice.

Edible vaccines targeted at hosts have worked well for other diseases and species. For instance, vaccinating prairie dogs against the plague has decreased levels of the disease. For now, it remains to be seen whether vaccinating mice will result in lower Lyme risks for humans. “With additional studies as the product rolls out … we’ll see more data on how well it does,” Telford says. “It’s certainly a step in the right direction.”

Researchers are studying many approaches to controlling Lyme disease, including genetically engineered mice that produce B. burgdorferi antibodies without the need for vaccination (SN: 8/9/17). Tsao and Telford are studying how to limit tick populations by controlling deer numbers. And a new vaccine for humans is in late-phase testing in several thousand people.

Vaccines that target wildlife hosts will remain one tool among many for managing exposure to Lyme disease, the researchers say. Showering after being in areas with ticks, wearing long sleeves and pants and doing tick checks will still be important.

“We have to continue to be vigilant,” Gomes-Solecki says.

SEATTLE — Tyrannosaurus rex may have had small arms, but it was no pushover.

This fierce dinosaur is known for its giant head, powerful jaws and overall fearsome appearance — except for those comical-looking arms. But the roughly meter-long limbs weren’t just vestigial reminders of a longer-armed past, paleontologist Steven Stanley of the University of Hawaii at Manoa said October 23 at the Geological Society of America’s annual meeting. Instead, the limbs were well-adapted for vicious slashing at close quarters, he argued.
T. rex ancestors had longer arms that the dinos used for grasping. But at some point, T. rex and other tyrannosaurs began to use their giant jaws for grasping instead, and the limbs eventually atrophied. Many people have hypothesized that the shrunken arms were, at best, used for mating or perhaps pushing the animal up off the ground; at worst, they were completely functionless.

But Stanley noted that the arms were quite strong, with robust bones that could sustain the impact of slashing. Each arm ended in two sharp claws about 10 centimeters long. Two claws give more slashing power than three, because each one can apply heavier pressure. Furthermore, the edges of the claws are beveled and sharp like those of a bear rather than flat like the grasping claws of an eagle. Those traits support the slasher hypothesis, Stanley concluded.

Many scientists aren’t convinced. While an interesting idea, it’s still unlikely that an adult T. rex would have used its arms as a primary weapon, says vertebrate paleontologist Thomas Holtz of the University of Maryland in College Park, who was not involved in the study. Although strong, the arm of a fully grown T. rex would barely reach past its chest, greatly reducing its potential strike zone. But a T. rex’s arms grew more slowly than its body, so younger dinos would have had proportionally longer arms. It’s possible the juveniles might have found them useful for slashing prey, he says.

At the beginning of 2017, parents and pediatricians got new peanut guidelines that, for most kids, are very pro-peanut. My colleague and fellow mom Meghan Rosen wrote about the recommendations, issued from the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases.

This “let them eat nuts” advice is based in part on a large and unusually clear dataset from a study that looked at babies at high risk of developing an allergy to peanuts. In the study, some of the children were regularly fed peanut-containing foods until their fifth birthdays. The others avoided any food with peanuts. By the end of the study, the kids who regularly ate peanut-containing food were way less likely to have a peanut allergy than the kids who had avoided the nut, the researchers found.
In a nutshell, parents of low-risk babies (infants without an egg allergy or severe eczema) should feel free to put peanut-containing food in the rotation as soon as their babies are ready for solid foods, around 4 to 6 months of age.

Whole peanuts and peanut butter are both choking hazards and shouldn’t be fed to babies. Instead, peanut butter (or peanut flour or peanut butter powder) can be mixed into breast milk, formula, fruit, yogurt or purees.

Babies with severe eczema or who are allergic to eggs ought to be seen by an allergist who can help guide the introduction of peanuts to the diet. Those appointments may reveal that some babies are in fact already allergic to peanuts. For those kids, peanuts may need to be avoided altogether.

When the recommendations were released, health officials were optimistic that the advice would lead to a reduction in peanut allergy in kids, given the study that found an early peanut introduction curbed this allergy. But that intro may not be happening as early or often as officials had hoped.
Bryce Hoffman, an allergist in New York City, suspected that the guidelines weren’t being used. Anecdotally, he and his colleagues hadn’t seen many infants coming into his allergy office with referrals for peanut allergy testing.

To get an idea of whether the guidelines were being applied (or not), Hoffman and his colleagues surveyed pediatricians about their advice to parents on peanuts. The results, which he presented October 30 at the annual meeting of the American College of Allergy, Asthma and Immunology, were discouraging.

Of the 79 pediatricians who responded, 30, or 38 percent, were not using the new guidelines in their practice. What’s more, 61, or 77 percent, of the pediatricians recommended high-risk patients eat peanuts later than ages 4 to 6 months, instead of sending those children to an allergist first for testing. Close to half (44 percent) of the pediatricians said they didn’t routinely test high-risk patients for allergy or send them to an allergist for testing.

This reluctance to test poses a problem for infants who “may have a dangerous anaphylactic reaction if given peanut,” Hoffman says. Testing can help clear up whether these infants should strictly avoid peanuts or be exposed to the nut first in an allergist’s office.

Peanuts got a bad rap for a long time, so it’s not surprising that parents and pediatricians might not jump at the chance to get peanut-containing food on the menu. The survey suggested that pediatricians aren’t familiar enough with the guidelines and, what’s more, are often too rushed to delve into the details during checkups. But for the new guidelines to do any good, they need to be used.

NASA’s New Horizons mission needs a catchier nickname for its next destination. The bar isn’t exactly high.

On New Year’s Day 2019, the spacecraft will fly by the tiny Kuiper Belt world that bears the official designation of (486958) 2014 MU69. NASA announced Monday that it is asking the public for an easier-to-remember nickname. The SETI Institute is hosting the contest.

As with similar crowdsourced naming campaigns, the name options vary widely. Current candidates range from Mjölnir (the hammer of the Norse god Thor) to Z’ha’dum (a planet from Babylon 5) to Peanut, Almond and Cashew — multiple name options may be necessary if the object is a binary pair. Whatever the object is named, it will be the most distant solar system body ever visited.
NASA will submit a formal name (or names) to the International Astronomical Union after the flyby, based on whether MU69 turns out to be a single body, binary pair or other system.

While anyone is welcome to submit a name or vote on existing options, SETI must approve any options before they appear on the ballot. So the odds don’t look good for Planet McPlanetface.

The naming campaign will close at 3 p.m. EST on December 1. The winner will be announced in early January.

Eggs, long condemned for making raw cookie dough a forbidden pleasure, can stop taking all the blame. There’s another reason to resist the sweet uncooked temptation: flour.

The seemingly innocuous pantry staple can harbor strains of E. coli bacteria that make people sick. And, while not a particularly common source of foodborne illness, flour has been implicated in two E. coli outbreaks in the United States and Canada in the last two years.

Pinning down tainted flour as the source of the U.S. outbreak, which sickened 63 people between December 2015 and September 2016, was trickier than the average food poisoning investigation, researchers recount November 22 in the New England Journal of Medicine.
Usually, state health departments rely on standard questionnaires to find a common culprit for a cluster of reported illnesses, says Samuel Crowe, an epidemiologist at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta, who led the study. But flour isn’t usually tracked on these surveys. So when the initial investigation yielded inconclusive results, public health researchers turned to in-depth personal interviews with 10 people who had fallen ill.

Crowe spent up to two hours asking each person detailed questions about what he or she had eaten around the time of getting sick. Asking people what they ate eight weeks ago can be challenging, Crowe says: Many people can’t even remember what they ate for breakfast that morning.

“I got a little lucky,” Crowe says. Two people remembered eating raw cookie dough before getting sick. They each sent Crowe pictures of the bag of flour they had used to make the batter. It turned out that both bags had been produced in the same plant. That was a “pretty unusual thing,” he says.
Follow-up questioning helped Crowe and his team pin down flour as the likely source. Eventually, U.S. Food and Drug Administration scientists analyzed the flour and isolated strains of E. coli bacteria that produce Shiga toxins, which make E. coli dangerous.

Disease-causing bacteria, including E. coli, usually thrive in moist environments, like bags of prewashed lettuce (SN: 12/24/16, p. 4). But the bacteria can also survive in a desiccated state for months and be re-activated with water, says Crowe. So as soon as dry flour mingles with eggs or oil, dormant bacteria can reawaken and start to replicate.

Cookie dough wasn’t the culprit in every case. A few children who got sick had been given raw tortilla dough to play with while waiting for a table at a restaurant. The cases all involved wheat flour from the same facility, leading to a recall of more than 250 flour-containing products.

There are ways to kill bacteria in flour before it reaches grocery store shelves, but they aren’t in use in the United States. Heat treatment, for example, will rid flour of E. coli and other pathogens. But the process also changes the structure of the flour, which affects the texture of baked goods, says Rick Holley, a food safety expert at the University of Manitoba in Canada who wasn’t part of the study. Irradiation, used to kill parasites and other pests in flour, might be a better option, Holley says. But it takes a higher dose of radiation to zap bacteria than it does to kill pests.

Or, of course, people could hold out for warm, freshly baked cookies.

Many people may be fuzzy on the details of North America’s colonial history between Columbus’ arrival in 1492 and the Pilgrims’ landing on Plymouth Rock in 1620. But Europeans were actively attempting to colonize North America from the early 16th century onward, even though few colonies survived.

As historian Sam White explains in A Cold Welcome, most early attempts were doomed by fatally incorrect assumptions about geography and climate, poor planning and bad timing.
White weaves together evidence of past climates and written historical records in a comprehensive narrative of these failures. One contributing factor: Explorers assumed climates at the same latitude were the same worldwide. But in fact, ocean currents play a huge role in moderating land temperatures, which means Western Europe is warmer and less variable in temperature from season to season than eastern North America at the same latitude.

On top of that, explorations occurred during a time of global cooling known as the Little Ice Age, which stretched from the 13th to early 20th centuries. The height of exploration may have occurred at the peak of cooling: Starting in the late 16th century, a series of volcanic eruptions likely chilled the Northern Hemisphere by as much as 1.8 degrees Celsius below the long-term average, White says.

This cooling gave Europeans an especially distorted impression of their new lands. For instance, not long after Spanish explorer Sebastián Vizcaíno landed in California’s Monterey Bay in December 1602, men’s water jugs froze overnight — an unlikely scenario today. Weather dissuaded Spain from further attempts at colonizing California for over a century.
Harsh weather also heightened conflict when underprepared Europeans met Native Americans, whose own resources were stretched thin by unexpectedly bad growing seasons.

A Cold Welcome is organized largely by colonial power, which means findings on climate are repeated in each chapter. But White’s synthesis of climate and history is novel, and readers will see echoes of today’s ignorance about the local consequences of climate change. “Human psychology may be both too quick to grasp at false patterns and yet too slow to let go of familiar expectations,” White writes.

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