Universe, Brimley both younger than you thought

The universe just pulled a Wilfred Brimley on us.

You read that right.

According to a recent NBC news article, several recent studies were conducted in an attempt to confirm that the universe is 13.8 billion years old, an estimate made after astronomers analyzed the European Planck space telescope's measurements of cosmic radiation.

The studies didn't confirm the age. Instead, many found that the universe is only about 12.5 billion years old.

It's younger than expected! That's (hoping his math is correct) a 1.3-billion-year difference. By percentages, it's the difference between being 45 and 50.

Those are important, because 50 is how old Brimley was when he starred in "Cocoon." Yes, 50. For context, Tom Cruise is now seven years older than Brimley was when he appeared in that film.

Like the universe, Wilfred Brimley was younger than we thought.

The universe age discrepancy led to the biggest space-time argument since the famous 1968 "Kirk vs. Spock" brawl that shut down the National Association of Astronomers meeting in Denver because, as you'll see below, not everyone agrees.

This dispute comes from how scientists interpret the data – with a side argument on the necessity of the "c" in "Planck" in the name of the telescope (most of us believe the c isn't needed).

This dispute goes back to 1929, when astronomer Edwin Hubble discovered the universe was expanding. That meant universe had a definite age – its birth was the time it began expanding.

Hubble's discovery led to the theory of the Big Bang, which led to the idea that we could figure out the age of the universe by figuring out when the Big Bang happened, which presumably led to the name of the 1984 Hall and Oates album "Big Bam Boom," which included "Out of Touch" and "Method of Modern Love."

Back on track: astronomers believe the universe has an age that we can discover. Decades after Hubble, the Planck space telescope came into play and made the age calculation possible by figuring out how fast the universe is expanding.

Astronomers concluded the age was 13.8 billion years. Until recent studies reveal the universe is growing at a faster rate than Planck predicted, which means the universe is younger than expected.

The NBC news article on the issue included this line: "given the stakes, everyone involved is checking and rechecking their results," which seems weird. I mean, the stakes don't seem that big, right? Does it really matter whether the universe is 12.5 billion years old or 13.8 billion years old? Both were before I was born.

Apparently it matters. The NBC story was headlined, "The universe may be a billion years younger than we thought. Scientists are scrambling to figure out why" and three weeks later, an article on Forbes' website was  headlined "No, The Universe Cannot Be A Billion Years Younger Than We Think."

Reading both made me feel like I was caught in an argument between an old married couple, but it's ultimately a science argument. This is what decided it for me: The Forbes article contained too many mathematical formulas and capitalized the word "universe" on every reference. I side with the NBC people.

But let's review what we know: The universe is only 12.5 billion years old.  Wilfred Brimley was 50 when he filmed "Cocoon." Bim Bam Boom was a solid album. Planck doesn't need the "c."

Who says science can't be fun?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Email service reveals my age; a fitness craze suggestion

We're at the midpoint of summer, which means it's time to empty the metaphorical columnist's notebook, with information on email platforms, a new fitness craze, sports and more.

And of course "and more" is what we use to include everything unworthy of mention.

On to the topics du jour . . .

• • •

There are plenty of signs that I'm getting old: Gray hair, wrinkles, an affinity for 40-year-old music, early bedtimes. But nothing makes my geriatric condition more obvious than the fact that my primary email account is Hotmail.

Ha ha ha, grandpa. Nice job with the Hotmail account.

Well, first of all, I am now officially a grandpa, so thank you. Also, slow down a little. (Speaking of speeding, the speed limit on the freeway is that – the maximum limit. It's the maximum speed. I prefer to drive 45 mph in the slow lane, thank you very much. In my day, we weren't in such a reach. Oh, you can reach me at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.)

Yes, I use Hotmail.

I'm old enough to remember reading advice to job seekers to be careful about using a Hotmail account because it sounded too racy. Like maybe it involved sex.

Now a Hotmail email address is like having a Netscape email address watching an old tube television. My millennial co-workers are all on gmail–if anything (darned kids!).

Of course, I won't change. If Hotmail was good enough for Franklin Roosevelt, it's good enough for me.

• • •

A free idea: If you're a farmer, why not add to your income stream and reduce your work by calling your farm a "fitness camp?"

Cross fit is popular, why not this?

Farmers could have people pay to spend a few weeks in the summer "working out" in the fields, hauling hay around and doing whatever people do on farms (my understanding is largely based on watching movies).

Call it "Hayfit," make money and save expenses. Everybody wins.

Solano County farmers, you're welcome.

• • •

Quick sports observation: This year's NBA offseason the wildest such period for any sport in history, with several huge stars switching teams and a tremendous shift in the balance of power.

However, Bay Area fans should be optimistic after the Golden State Warriors avoided catastrophe. The Dubs lost Kevin Durant, but managed to add a young All-Star (D'Angelo Russell) and retain many of the key players around Stephen Curry. The Warriors will enter next season as one of the top 10 teams in the league, which seemed impossible after they lost in the NBA Finals.

Now back to non-sports coverage . . .

• • •

In a few years, we'll be telling young people how life was before television streaming services: "So you only had 250 channels and had to watch what was on when they scheduled them."

They won't believe it and neither will we, because it already seems ridiculous to watch regular TV without Netflix, Amazon or another streaming service.

It's like think of life before mobile phones.

• • •

I'd write more, but I'm running late for my Hayfit class. It's just $100 a week!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com (Yes! Hotmail!)

A statue's view of me: I squirm like a 7-year-old boy

So I'm kind of twitchy. Not in the little-kid-who-can't-sit-still way, but . . . well, maybe I am twitchy in that way.

But I didn't fully realize it until recently.

First what I already knew: I itch a lot. I squirm a lot. It's hard for me to sit still for a long time. If I ever have to get an MRI, I will go crazy because suddenly I will begin to get itchy everywhere I can't move.

That's not too unusual, I suspect.

I suspect.

But sometimes it's different. For instance, a few years ago Mrs. Brad and I were in Hawaii and took part in one of those do-three-things outings, where we hiked through a forest, rode mountain bikes and went snorkeling in the ocean (not simultaneously). The bike ride was the part where it became obvious.

We rode down a long, winding hill – obviously this wasn't an outing to see how tough  you were, but one to give you all the fun of without the work of pedaling up hills. Anyway, I told Mrs. Brad I'd follow her down the hill and did, for about five or 10 minutes. Just into the ride, I realized I was scratching and adjusting my seat and moving around.

Mrs. Brad looked like a statue. She didn't move.

I kept moving, adjusting myself. My arm itched. My leg itched. My face itched. I needed to move in the seat. I wanted to stand up.

I told her about it and we laughed. Ha ha ha. Yeah, I'm twitchy. I squirm.

Fast-forward to a couple of weeks ago. We were at a stoplight in our Prius, which goes silent in such circumstances. Mrs. Brad sat silently. She could hear me moving around, shifting, scratching. Looking out the side window, moving again.

She never moved.

We laughed about it. Ha ha ha. I'm a twitcher, she's a statue.

Then we had lunch with a friend from work. The story came up and we laughed. Then she spoke.

"You should see Brad during our meetings," she said. "He constantly moves around and taps his pen on the table. He's always moving."

What?

Apparently this is something about me that's known by people beyond Mrs. Brad. Apparently I'm the wiggly 7-year-old who can't sit still (in fact, we recently went to a Giants game with my nephew, his wife and their charming 7-year-old son. Mrs. Brad asked me what it was like to sit next to myself).

Apparently, the fact that I get up from my desk and walk around frequently is seen as restlessness, not being social.

This is a thing. (And, in fact, I've adjusted my seat several times while writing this and looked at the window while scratching my face.)

It's a little late in life, but I'm willing to accept it. While I would like to think of myself as normal and maybe consider my frequent movement as "having energy," others see it as me being a restless twitcher.

Mrs. Brad has known it for a long time, but I guess co-workers and friends do, too.

I'll do something about it after I'm done squirming, then walking around.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Data on Americans and stress makes me anxious

I knew something was different. We're super stressed.

According to an annual Gallup survey released this spring, Americans feel stress, anger and worry at the highest level in a decade.

Americans are among the most stressed people in the world, a fact that makes me uptight.

Here are the basics of the poll: Gallup asked more than 1,000 adults whether they had experienced a series of feelings – positive and negative – during the previous day.

According to Gallup, 55 percent of American adults said they felt stress "a lot of the day," compared to 35 percent of people around the world.

About 45 percent of American surveyed said they felt "a lot" of worry (compared to 39 percent globally) and 22 percent said they felt "a lot" of anger (same as those around the world).

So we're more stressed, more worried and equally angry as the rest of the world.

Gallup found that negative experiences were most prevalent in those younger than 50, those earning a low income and those who dislike President Trump.

That makes me uptight (if "uptight" is still a word).

Most other nations with a lot of negativity were in Africa or the Middle East, while Latin American countries rated highest in positive.

Americans stressed, angry and worried, despite being one of the wealthiest nations in the world (No. 10 last year, according to one study), so money clearly doesn't buy happiness. What if achievement does? In other words, is it possible that we could turn this around by simply valuing different things?

Here's my plan to make America great again.

There are six nations that are more stressed than us: Greece, Philippines, Tanzania, Albania, Iran and Sri Lanka.

It's time to practice something I learned as a child: When you're losing, just change the scoring system. Insist you won because your checkers were eliminated first. Claim the lowest score wins in basketball. Say the goal in arm-wrestling is to have your arm pinned to the table.

Sooo . . . what if traveled to those stressed countries and gave residents money, paid for massages and played peaceful music the day before Gallup does this survey next year? The people relax, we get stressed and with a little work, the United States is the most-stressed nation in the world!

We could be No. 1! We spin it that being stressed is a positive!

The last time we were the undisputed No. 1 in something this important was Jan. 15, 2009, when Chesley Sullenberger landed an Airbus A320 on the Hudson River near Midtown Manhattan in the "Miracle on the Hudson." We were kings of the world! We were coming out of the Great Recession, we had a genuine hero and things were looking great!

The next day, a computer worm called "conflicker" infected more than 8 million Windows-based computers, really killing the vibe.

Since then, we've been like the Houston Rockets or the Los Angeles Dodgers: Good, but not quite good enough.

And stressed.

Under my plan, we can become become the kings and queens of stress. All it takes is a change in perspective and a trip to Iran and Sri Lanka to help the people relax.

Although I'm anxious about whether this will work, which is either good news or bad news.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

We have bigger homes, but we're still unsatisfied

Warning: A bigger home won't necessarily make you happier, unless you get a cartoonishly large house. And even then, you might be unhappy after your neighbor does an addition.

You already know that, but science backs it up.

I'm a baby boomer. I was raised in a ranch-style from the 1960s, spent most of my adult life in a tract home from the 1970s and now live in a condo from the 1960s (back to the future!)

You could say I'm old and cheap. I prefer the term "old-school."

But information in a recent report lets me know I'm on the right track. The McMansions of the 1980s, 1990s and 2000s held a hidden danger: They had the potential to make the homeowners unhappy.

That finding is from a paper by a guy named Clement Bellet. It also back up what you've heard from your grandmother, who told you that comparison is a thief of joy.

Grandma was right.

Bellet's paper reports that what he calls "house satisfaction" remains steady in America, despite the fact that the median size of newly built homes grew from 1,500 square feet in 1973 to 2,500 square feet in 2015. That's not shocking because another report says that the amount of space per resident has nearly doubled in the past 40 years. Homes are bigger now.

What's mildly surprising is that we aren't any happier with our homes. A four-bedroom, three-bathroom house with a large kitchen and a family room should bring more satisfaction than a 1,000-square-foot three-bedroom, one-bathroom tract house, right?

Not necessarily.

Bellet said the reason for the plateauing of satisfaction is simple. It's all about comparison.

He said (and brace yourself, there's some math coming) that if the largest 10 percent of homes in neighborhoods become 10 percent bigger,  neighbors become less happy with their homes unless their also grew 10 percent. In non-math terms, when the biggest house in the neighborhood gets bigger, neighbors become less satisfied unless their house, too, gets bigger.

Bellet points out that the people whose satisfaction is harmed the most are those with the second-largest homes. So if you see yourself as the No. 2-ranked home in your neighborhood, you are miserable if the gap between you and No. 1 grows. People who own large homes become unhappy when larger homes are built.

The result? Large houses are growing faster than small houses in an arms race to be the biggest, happiest homeowner in the neighborhood, even though it's a race you can't win.

All I know is that this report – and a lifetime of experience – shows that your house doesn't make you happy. And that people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. And that there's no place like (a slightly larger) home.

To recap, here's what we learned

• McMansions don't make us happy, unless they're the only one in the neighborhood.
• When it comes to home size, the old saying is true: Second place is the first loser.
• Comparison is a thief of joy.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.