Imponderables Page 14

  Chemical Action

  The more cynical among us might assume that there is no difference between bar soap, bubble soap, dishwashing liquid, shampoo, automatic dishwashing liquid, and laundry detergents. The cynics are wrong. Laundry detergent is designed for its specific task. A true chemical action is necessary not only to loosen and remove soil from clothing but to suspend the soil, lint, and grease in the wash water until they are drained.

  Soap's effectiveness is greatly diminished in hard water. Many common mineral salts, particularly calcium and magnesium, but also iron and manganese, cause hardness. Hard water tends to turn soap into insoluble curd (a.k.a. the “Salvo Crud”), which will not rinse away.

  During World War II, when oils and fats were in short supply, artificial detergents were hastily developed, and by 1953 artificial detergents, led by Procter & Gamble's Tide, supplanted soap as the United States’ favored laundry-cleaning agent. Detergents were not only more effective in cleaning than simple soaps, they also relieved many of the hard water washing problems, since they are chemically built to resist hard water minerals.

  Detergents are composed of two types of ingredients. Surfactants (surface active agents) are a compound with two ends, one that repels water and the other that attracts water. Surfactants facilitate dispersion of water onto laundry and concentrate at the interfaces between soil and water and fabric. This action solubilizes the soil and removes it from the fabric. The other type of ingredient in all detergents, the builders, help to soften the water by deactivating the hardness minerals. Builders break oil and grease into tiny globules, suspending dirt in the water until it is drained away. Builders also provide the desired level of alkalinity in wash water, which aids in cleaning. Without surfactants and builders, you would need considerably more detergent to achieve the same level of cleaning, which is why natural soap detergents, although cheaper, require more detergent per load. Even with builders, however, hard water requires more detergent than average or soft water.

  The only rub with modern detergents is that those remarkable builders, which soften the wash water, are usually phosphate-based. Six states have outlawed phosphates entirely in detergents, for environmental reasons. Phosphate is cheap, and this was the crucial ingredient in making chemical formulations cost effective and cleaning effective more than forty years ago. Without phosphates, we have a better environment but an old cleaning problem. Detergents must either be expensive (the chemical alternatives to phosphate are not cheap) or relatively ineffective at hard-water cleaning. More detergent must be used, and because nonphosphate detergents run into solubility problems, about half of all consumers in nonphosphate states use heavy-duty liquids rather than detergents, about double the national average (liquids generally outperform powders in all hard-or cold-water cleaning).

  Although top-loaders are gaining ground, front-loading washing machines are still prevalent in Europe. Most of them have revolving drums designed to conserve energy and water. Because the water spins with the clothes, European front-loaders use less water in relation to fabric than top-loading machines. Without the agitator, however (the mechanical part of the Big Three), Europeans compensate by increasing the length of all of the wash and rinse cycles and by using hotter temperatures than American consumers. Aha, thoughtful readers might point out, couldn't the lesser mechanical action of the front-loader be compensated for by increasing the chemical action (i.e., using more detergent)? If the mechanical action of the front-loader is less than the front-loader, shouldn't the front-loader use more detergent?

  Theoretically, yes. But the tumbling action of European washers tends to generate excessive foam, so their detergents contain chemical ingredients designed to suppress suds. With a low-sudsing detergent, it is safe to use the same amount of detergent for both types of machines. But as Molly A. Chillinsky of the Coin Laundry Association put it, “A high sudsing detergent in a front-loader would cause the soap foam to literally fall out onto the floor, a situation not particularly desirable to most launderers.” Nor to most laundromat owners (or managers), the biggest customer for front-loaders. With front-loaders rarely being sold anymore, most detergents don't even specify whether or not they are high- or low-sudsing products. Still, the danger of “fallout” is one of the reasons detergent labels specify less detergent for front loaders.

  Remember a few eons ago when we mentioned that the answer to this Imponderable was “too easy.” It's time to fess up. The main reason that top-loaders require more detergent than front-loaders is because they have bigger capacities. Top-loaders can hold more water. Top-loaders can hold more clothes. Front-loaders usually hold between 8 and 10 gallons. Top-loaders have a capacity of 10 to 25 gallons.

  When a detergent label recommends using a certain amount of its product, it is assuming average conditions. Although producers never specify what “average” means, here are their implicit assumptions:

  1. An average-size load (approximately five to seven pounds of clothes).

  2. Average dirtiness (i.e., no heavily soiled garments). If you are using a liquid detergent and have an average-size load with one or two heavily messed-up garments, pretreat the stains with your detergent, but add the regular full dose to the wash as well. Do not include detergent used for pretreating as part of your detergent allotment for the wash. If you don't know what less-than-average dirtiness is, neither do we, but the best rule of thumb is that it is generally better to use too much detergent rather than too little—at least that's what the detergent companies told us for some reason or another.

  3. Average hardness of water (consumers presumably use the Federal Water Hardness Hotline to determine the relative hardness of their water).

  4. Sixteen gallons of water for a top-loader, eight gallons for a front-loader (which is why most labels tell you to use twice as much detergent in a top-loader as in a front-loader). Skeptics feel that the only reason the companies retain the instructions for front-loaders is so that they can promote in advertising and in big print on their packaging that consumers need only use one-quarter cup of their detergent. The companies needn't add that it would be highly unusual if the customer roaming the grocery store aisle happened to be lucky enough to own an obsolete washing machine.

  To be fair, some detergent manufacturers have stopped printing their two-tiered instructions, and Imponderables tried to find out why. Lever Brothers guessed that it may because so few front-loaders are manufactured and sold anymore. Molly Chillinsky had a different hypothesis. In some states, a few localities have banned phosphates, so manufacturers are virtually forced to distribute two different versions of their detergents. “As a result, directions for proper amounts of detergent to be used would be determined by that factor, rather than by which type washer the consumer is using.”

  What does the “L.S.” next to the signature line on contracts mean?

  Next to the signature line on most formal contracts, you will find the cryptic abbreviation L.S. usually in parentheses. Many people assume that L.S. stands for “legal signature.” It doesn't.

  L.S. is an abbreviation of the Latin, locus sigilli, meaning “the place of the seal.” Centuries ago, seals were usually essential in order to make a document or contract official. A seal, according to Black's Law Dictionary, could be “a design, initial, or other device placed on a letter, document, etc., as a signature of proof of authenticity.” Letters were once closed with a wafer of molten wax, leaving a distinctive, indelible mark of the sender.

  Nowadays, a simple signature usually will suffice. Although the federal government and all fifty states have their own seals and many corporations and government departments have them as well, a naked signature on a letter or contract is usually no less binding than one with an ornamental seal.

  Many contracts still insert the L.S. next to the signature line even though it is an anachronism likely to disappear eventually. While it once marked the place of the seal, L.S. now indicates that the signature is instead of the seal.

  What's
that funny beep on the radio just before the network news?

  You are hearing a two-frequency tone known as a bee-doop. The bee-doop is an electronic means of communication from a radio network to its individual affiliates. Each affiliated station is equipped with encoding equipment that translates the meaning of the particular bee-doop sent by the network.

  One bee-doop might tell the affiliate that the network news is airing immediately. One might notify that a live sports feed is about to be sent. Another might alert the affiliated stations about a national news bulletin that might interrupt local programming. Most networks use a bee-doop to broadcast closed-circuit programming and promotional announcements to their stations. The local stations can set their encoding box to receive the bee-doop as it is sent or as a flashing light with no audio.

  The most important use for the bee-doop is in signaling automated radio stations. Many radio stations, particularly in small markets, are fully automated, with only a lonely engineer as the sole employee at the studio. These bee-doops signal the encoding boxes to switch from local to network programming and to automatically trip recorders to tape network feeds for rebroadcast in the local market.

  Bee-doops could serve an important function in case of national emergency as well, since they can act as an instantaneous communication device among hundreds of stations in all fifty states. George Thomas, the manager of broadcast operations for the Mutual Broadcasting System, told Imponderables that MBS tests the Emergency Broadcast System through its internal bee-doop system. The President, in case of an emergency, could reach many stations (since a large number of stations have a network affiliation) simultaneously this way even if some regional outlets for the Emergency Broadcast System were knocked out.

  Although bee-doops have become a subliminal listening experience for radio audiences, most affiliates don't like them, feeling that they make their stations' broadcasts sound unclean and their programming transitions too awkward. Most of the radio networks have therefore reduced substantially the volume of their bee-doops.

  Why are cities warmer than their outlying areas?

  In almost every metropolitan area in the United States and Canada, the city is warmer than its immediately surrounding areas. Compared to suburban and rural areas, cities have gotten warmer throughout the twentieth century.

  Do the cities themselves generate enough heat to raise the temperature measurably? Is there something about cities that allows them to retain heat? The answer to both questions: Yes.

  The heat generated by buildings, factories, vehicles, lighting, and other byproducts of modern technology is enough to raise the temperature a degree or two in densely populated cities. The hot air exhaled by air conditioners during summer months affects the temperature outside as surely, if less dramatically, as it affects the temperature inside an air-conditioners room.

  But even if cities did not generate their own heat, they would still be warmer than rural or suburban areas. When the sun shines on the flat, featureless Kansas countryside, the light is reflected back to the sky. When the sun shines in midtown Manhattan, the light bounces from skyscraper to skyscraper like a manic Ping-Pong ball—more of the sun's warmth lingers close to ground level than on the Kansas farm and more warmth is absorbed in the city. In fact, buildings and cement pavements can retain more heat and more sunlight than grass, trees, or the farmer's topsoil.

  Precipitation has a cooling effect in the country. Rain is stored in the ground and recycles itself through evaporation and plant respiration, thus absorbing heat. In the city, precipitation is funneled into sewers, effectively eliminating much of its cooling effect. The relative lack of this evaporation in the city explains why cities tend to be less humid than rural areas.

  It is commonly assumed that air pollution is what makes cities warmer. Since dust particles can absorb radiation, the theory goes, the more polluted the city, the higher the temperature is artificially raised. There is only one problem with this hypothesis: Dust particles can also reflect radiation, bouncing rays that would otherwise be trapped near ground level back up to the sky. The jury is still out on the net effects of pollution on temperature.

  One fact remains indisputable, though. On extremely windy days, the temperature differences between city and country tend to disappear; on calm days, there is more of a discrepancy than normal. The wind mitigates human intrusion upon the “natural” climate.

  While modern life hasn't seemed to affect wind patterns, we have already created a lifestyle that might permanently change our temperature patterns, at least in metropolitan areas. Meteorologists have little idea, at this point, if these barely perceptible changes (cities have become a few degrees warmer in the last fifty years or so) will create profound changes in our eco-system. They might. And we could usher in the next Ice Age with our cities as hothouses.

  What is the purpose of the little slit in the folds of sugar cube wrappers?

  Imponderables asked the wrong question. It turns out that there is no purpose for the little slit in the folds of sugar cube wrappers. But there is a reason for them.

  The tiny wrappers are die-cut and put in a magazine, where they wait until they contact the sugar cubes. In the past, because the paper was so thin, machines used to grab six or eight wrappers at a time, wasting money and producing some pretty silly packages. The solution to the problem was a pin to hold down the stack of wrappers and then a needle to pick up each label individually. When the needle lifts each wrapper, it rips the label slightly while pulling it out of the stack. The slit serves no function, but is the byproduct of a simple but efficient system of machine packaging.

  Unfortunately, it is getting harder and harder to find sugar cube wrappers, let alone their little slits. The sugar cubes you find in stores are no longer wrapped, and most restaurants have abandoned the cube for crystalline sugar. Crystalline sugar is a more flexible product, enabling the consumer to pour exactly the preferred amount of sugar into coffee or cereal bowls. But there is only one reason why sugar cubes have disappeared from restaurants—cost. Domino Sugar manufactures crystalline sugar packets in the billions every year, but wrapped cubes only in the hundreds of thousands. It costs restaurants several times as much per serving to buy wrapped sugar cubes, so the few who still serve them tend to be exclusive restaurants, with their own logotypes affixed to the wrapper. Some ethnic restaurants also feature sugar cubes. Many first-generation Eastern European and Mediterranean immigrants retained the custom of drinking coffee with a sugar cube in their mouths; others dunked whole cubes into coffee and sucked on them. But these immigrants' children are not following the traditions. The sugar cube, slit and all, is in danger of extinction.

  Why does the word Filipino start with the letter F?

  The Philippine alphabet does not contain the letter F. Natives refer to themselves as Pilipinos. This spelling, not phonetic in English, led us to use Filipino, the Spanish word for the people over whom they once ruled.

  Although the confusing English phonetics of Pilipino explains why we use an F, it is still surprising that we didn't coin our own word, Philipino, which would retain our spelling of the country, but the Oxford English Dictionary notes that the word Filipino was used in American newspapers as early as 1898.

  Why do we itch?

  The short answer is: We don't know.

  Here's the long answer. Itching is an enigmatic phenomenon. If a patient complains to a doctor that she has horrible itching and the doctor finds hives on the surface of the skin, the doctor can treat the growth and alleviate the itching symptoms. But much itching has no obvious cause and is not associated with any accompanying illness. Scientists can induce itching by heating the skin too close to the pain threshold or giving subjects certain chemicals, especially histamines (thus explaining why doctors prescribe antihistamines as a treatment for itching), but the ability to induce itching doesn't mean that doctors know its etiology.

  This much is known. There are sensory receptors just below the surface of the skin t
hat send messages to the brain. The itch sensation seems to flow along the same pathways of the nervous system as pain sensations. According to Dr. George F. Odland, professor of dermatology at the University of Washington Medical School, the vast majority of sensory receptors are “free” nerve terminals. These “free” terminals do not seem to be designed for any specialized or particular function, but they carry both pain and itch sensations to the brain. These pain receptors are the most common in our nervous systems. When they operate at a low level of activity, they seem to signal itchiness rather than pain.

  Many scientists have speculated about the function of itching. Some believe that itching exists in order to warn us of impending pain if action is not taken. Others speculate about the usefulness of itching in letting primitive man know it was time to pluck the vermin and maggots out of his skin and hair. Itchiness can also be an early symptom of more serious illnesses, including diabetes and Hodgkin's disease.

  Itching sensations are distinct from ticklishness, which at least some people find pleasurable. Itching is rarely pleasurable; in fact, most people tolerate itching less well than pain. Patients with severe itching are invariably more than willing to break the skin, including pain and bleeding, in order to remove the itch.