Rat

Joey Amalfitano reports: "Baltimore yet lives, Danny boy! I saw a man sitting on his white marble stoop on Fleet Street in Highlandtown the other day, and he was actually drinking a National Boh. And then a few minutes later, I heard a guy on the No. 10 bus talking about Davey Johnson's strategy in the 'World Serious.' I swear ta gaahd!" . . . Jackie Watts, editor of the East Baltimore Guide, passed along a news release from the Maryland Army National Guard that refers to Oldham Street as "Oldhon" Street.

"WHATEVER YOU do, choose wisely and have the best intentions in mind. Be considerate of others and live life to the fullest" is the advice Joann Wheatley offered to her fellow graduates during Liberty High School's commencement exercises Sunday afternoon at Western Maryland College, where she was one of two student speakers.A series of books popular with middle school students was the inspiration for her address. "Choose Your Own Adventure" was her advice as she reflected on the choices one makes in life and the paths where those choices lead.

It was the sighting of heirloom hydrangeas that knocked me into the realization that an old-fashioned Baltimore summer has arrived. Their hot blueberry and purple blossoms, which resemble the shades of snowball flavorings, remind me of canvas awnings and summer hotels. These hydrangeas are tough city survivors. They are tucked into the areaway of some old apartment houses near my home. They seem to thrive on utter inattention and soil conditions only a little removed from a clay pit. I can never recall their not being there; there is something comforting about the annual return of these June veterans.

WITHIN a few days, the United States has become the first nation to orbit a veterinarian, to dissect a rat in space and to spend $2 billion on a hole in the ground that is now useless.If a scientist arrived from Mars and was told these feats were part of two of the most expensive research projects ever undertaken by humans, he'd imagine Earth was inhabited by idiots. Either that or, having met with human leaders, he'd politely ask to see the planet's more intelligent species.There were, of course, intelligent arguments why the United States should not have committed $11 billion to build a superconducting supercollider, most of them having to do with the amount of socially useful science that could have been purchased by a similar expenditure in other research where such a huge portion of the investment wouldn't be eaten up by the earth-moving budget, using technologies not all that far removed from the excavating methods of ancient Rome.

Johns Hopkins Hospital is assembling a team of scientists that will work to perfect a kind of biological alchemy that has already succeeded in turning muscle tissue into bone.Experiments with manipulation of the body's own repair mechanisms suggest human beings may soon be able to generate their own skeletal replacement parts right inside their own bodies.Hip joints worn down by age or disease, facial bones damaged by accident or congenital deformity, and slow-healing fractures might all be repaired or replaced with the patient's own bone tissue, manufactured to precise specifications inside his own body.

To most dogs, there's little difference between a feral rat, a squirrel and a guinea pig.A rat is Prey, pure and simple. A squirrel is Prey With Fuzzy Tail. A guinea pig is Prey, No Tail, Extra Plump (mmmmm!).It doesn't matter much that we think of the same animals a little differently -- as Disgusting Vermin, Cute Little Wild Creature and Fuzzy Pet With Shoebutton Eyes and Twitching Nose. Every fiber of a dog's being tells him that these are all pretty much the same thing -- lunch.Knowing this, I wasn't really surprised at my younger dog Andy's reaction to the temporary addition of Geepers, a black-and-white guinea pig, to the household menagerie.

FOUR SCIENTISTS inject a genius serum into a rat. They gather around the brown, furry creature to see the effect. Suddenly the rat quivers and falls down -- dead.They chuck the rat out in the alley and head back to the lab to start over. Moments later, the rat shakes itself off and runs away.Now that's a genius.Animal behaviorists love this story because the last laugh is on the scientists who tried to measure brain power. We tend to judge animals by how they perform for us. But is that fair?

A friend took a deep breath the other day and remarked, "It smells like August." I'd never thought the eighth month of the year had its own perfume, but he was so right. Anything green that grows is now peaking. Weeds are in ecstasy. The corn is toppling over. There's a lush bushiness that translates into the musty, damp odor of a ripe compost heap. Ah, August. Another friend, who walked through my backyard flower garden, complained it was too full - that it had too many black-eyed Susans, too many zinnias.

The illustration from Kenneth Grahame's 1907 classic, "Wind in the Willows" has been reprinted countless times -- Rat and Mole on an idyll along the riverbank in an old wooden rowboat:"Believe me my young friend," murmurs Rattie, "there is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."Now fast forward to 1994, a time when "messing about in boats" is a more pleasurable escape than ever from an increasingly crowded, hectic life on the land.But Rat has to shout to be heard now, because he and Mole are making at 30 knots, fur plastered back by the rush of wind across their sleek, Fiberglas cruiser.

My first summer job was as a counselor at a recreation center near my home in Northeast Washington, D.C.I was 14 and I learned a lot. For instance, it was for this job that I filled out an employment application for the first time. I got my telephone number and address right, but on a whim, I wrote down "Chris" as my first name.A few days later, someone from the recreation center called to offer "Chris" the job."Chris?" said my mother. "I'm sorry, there's nobody here by that name.""Wait a minute!"