Helium Shortage: Wyoming, Semiconductors and Underdog

I caught a TV soft news segment about the giant balloons being prepared for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. The story featured Underdog, the blue-caped canine superhero whose balloon first appeared in the parade in 1965.

Black-and-white cartoon of a dog rushing out of Macy’s while a caped superhero dog flies past the entrance.

I have to admit, seeing Underdog brought back memories. The superhero, voiced by the late Wally Cox, didn’t need artificial intelligence, a streaming subscription, or a complicated origin story.

“There’s no need to fear. Underdog is here!”

He had a cape, a telephone booth, matched wits with the evil doer Simon Bar Sinister, and a good supply of helium.

Helium?

The same lighter-than-air gas that makes Underdog fly has a behind-the-scenes job regulating silicon wafer temperatures as they’re etched and processed. Think of it as the air conditioning system for the world’s most expensive microscopic assembly line.

That got me thinking. Why are we running short of helium?

In October, the U.S. Department of Energy added helium to its Critical Material List, recognizing its importance to semiconductor manufacturing, medical applications, and other essential technologies.

Helium has officially graduated from filling party and parade balloons to a national security concern.

If helium is such a high-demand commodity, why not recycle it?

One reason helium is wasted is that semiconductor manufacturers don’t routinely recover all the gas they use. During some manufacturing processes, helium flows behind silicon wafers to help regulate their temperature. Afterward, some of the gas enters the chamber exhaust, where it mixes with other process gases, including corrosive chemicals.

Recovering and purifying that mixture can be technically difficult and expensive. Engineers have developed ways to capture helium before it gets mixed with the exhaust, but recovery isn’t yet standard across the industry.

Recycling a valuable resource can interfere with profit margins.

The Thanksgiving Day balloons spewing helium into the post-parade air don’t help the cause either.

When the chips are down

According to the U.S. Geological Survey, in 2024, only 18 percent of American helium consumption went toward lifting gas, including balloons and airships.

Black-and-white cartoon of Acme Semiconductors executives watching a helium-powered superhero balloon float over a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, captioned “There goes our helium supply.”

The rest went toward running equipment and machines. About 15 percent of that total went to controlled atmospheres, fiber optics, and semiconductor manufacturing. Another 17 percent went to MRI machines, and 22 percent went to analytical, engineering, laboratory, scientific, and specialty gases.

Welding, aerospace, leak detection, and deep-sea diving account for much of the remaining consumption.

That’s a lot of important work for a gas most of us associate with floating birthday balloons.

Much of the world’s helium comes from a relatively small number of sources. Qatar produced nearly 40 percent of the world’s helium in 2024. Disruptions to its natural gas infrastructure during the 2026 Middle East conflict have put additional pressure on global supplies and technology supply chains.

Why does Qatar matter when we have helium here at home?

Wyoming is a helium heavyweight. The natural gas fields around LaBarge and Big Piney in southwest Wyoming account for an estimated 20 to 25 percent of the world’s helium supply.

The LaBarge facility alone has an estimated 80 years of production remaining at current rates. A new project near LaBarge, approved by the Bureau of Land Management in December 2025, could add more than 800 million cubic feet of helium production annually when it begins operating, currently expected in 2028.

That’s nothing to sneeze at.

It’s time we paid a little more attention to what the Cowboy State has underground.

Underdog might want to keep his cape handy. Wyoming could help keep him airborne for the next eight decades.

Does Underdog get priority?

Here’s a question for the folks managing our national resources.

When helium supplies get tight, who gets priority?

MRI machines? Scientific laboratories? Semiconductor factories making chips for artificial intelligence? The people responsible for keeping Underdog airborne?

Underdog has some serious competition.

I’m not suggesting we ground my favorite dog who had cosmic vision and spoke in rhyme like a 1960s hip-hop dog. Heaven knows we could use a superhero right about now.

The parade has its own history with wartime shortages. Macy’s suspended the parade during World War II, from 1942 through 1944. Materials that would have gone into the celebration, including rubber for the balloons, went to the war effort.

Underdog could do his patriotic duty and volunteer to walk the parade route instead, although that might disappoint the children and the adults who still remember him from Saturday morning cartoons.

The Creating Helpful Incentives to Produce Semiconductors (CHIPS) Science Act

At first, this story started out as a jokey connection between two seemingly unrelated uses for helium.

After I got to digging, there’s a serious economic policy question here.

In September 2023, the Biden administration announced a funding opportunity for smaller semiconductor supply-chain businesses. The program included manufacturers of chemicals, gases, equipment, and other materials American chip manufacturers need.

The Commerce Department has since reopened and amended that funding opportunity. Its current program accepts proposals for facilities producing semiconductor materials, including gases, with concept plans accepted through 2027.

There’s a principle here.

If taxpayers subsidize the construction of semiconductor factories to protect American economic and national security, shouldn’t those same taxpayers expect the companies to help strengthen the domestic supply of helium?

We don’t have to prohibit imports. We don’t have to pick a fight with Qatar, an important American security partner in the Middle East.

We can reward companies that invest in American suppliers, including those in Wyoming.

Here are my three ideas:

  • Domestic purchasing preference: Companies receiving federal semiconductor subsidies should demonstrate that they prioritize American helium when it meets quality, availability, and competitive-price requirements.
  • Long-term purchase agreements: Offer tax credits or other incentives to chip manufacturers that sign multiyear contracts with domestic helium producers. This gives producers the confidence to invest in additional extraction and purification capacity.
  • Helium recovery requirements: Require federally subsidized semiconductor facilities to evaluate and install helium recovery systems when technically and economically practical.

A helium-filled Underdog parade balloon isnisn’tsponsible for computer chip shortages. The quantities and uses are different.

The connection between the two raises an interesting question about our priorities.

We spend billions encouraging sophisticated technologies that depend on a gas that, when inhaled, makes a grown man’s voice sound like a Munchkin.

This Thanksgiving, when Underdog makes his return to the parade after a 42-year absence, I’ll be cheering for him to stay afloat.

Let’s hope nobody gets the bright idea to substitute hydrogen. An exploding Underdog would be a terrible way to celebrate the parade’s centennial.

Get that dog a fire extinguisher!

Election Anxiety: The Results Are In. Now What?

I recently saw a television segment about election anxiety. Now that the votes are counted. You’re either jumping with joy or throwing stuff at the TV. Zealous voters worry about the future, obsess over the results, and wonder how the country will survive another two years.

I have a confession. I don’t spend much time worrying about elections.

It’s not that I don’t care about politics. I make a few donations to candidates in other states. I live in Boulder, Colorado, in Congressional District 1. Both are reliably blue. There’s not much election drama here.

My home state, Wyoming, sits at the opposite end of the political spectrum and is solidly red.

Depending on where you live, the election results can either reassure you that the country is on the right track or convince you that civilization, as we know it, is coming to an end.

I have friends at both ends of the political spectrum who have a hard time accepting election results when their candidate loses. My red friends have spent years, and continue, complaining about Joe Biden. My blue friends have had plenty to say about Donald Trump since 2016.

Each side is convinced the other has taken the country in the wrong direction.

We need a national cooling-off period after every election. No political commentary, no cable news, no arguments on social media.

I, for one, need a few weeks to catch my breath.

Of course, that would require people to stop talking about politics on Facebook. I’m not sure we’re ready for that level of national sacrifice.

Now, before we’ve finished processing the election results, the holidays have been arriving since October.

Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, and New Year’s Eve are supposed to bring us together. Instead, they become chances to revisit the election with relatives we haven’t seen since the last family gathering, and to remember why we haven’t seen them.

In the spirit of holiday harmony, I offer a few suggestions for coping with election anxiety.

Seven Tips for Surviving Election Anxiety

1. Turn off the television.

You’ve watched the election coverage. You’ve heard pundits explain the results, analyze them, and predict what they mean for the future of the republic.

You’ve also heard the pundits who predicted the opposite outcome explain why they’re still right.

Give yourself a break. The country survived before cable news, and it will survive without your constant supervision.

2. Avoid political discussions at family gatherings.

This sounds simple, but it takes planning.

If Uncle Fred pipes up about why the election was a disaster, ask him about his vacation. If that doesn’t work, ask him about his health. If that doesn’t work, offer him a piece of pumpkin pie.

Should all else fail, mention that the Buffalo Bills are playing the Kansas City Chiefs. If your relatives are football fans, that might substitute one argument for another.

Choose your battles carefully.

3. Get some exercise.

Shoveling snow has several advantages. It gets you outside, burns calories, and gives you something productive to do with all that nervous energy. You might help a neighbor who isn’t particularly interested in your political opinions.

Besides, it’s difficult to argue about the election when you’re trying to keep from slipping on the sidewalk.

4. Remember that friends who vote differently are only trying to get through life.

I know. This is a radical idea.

I’ve discovered that a person who voted for the candidate I can’t stand can also be a decent neighbor who helps me shovel snow.

We may disagree about politics, but we can still share a laugh, help one another out, and enjoy each other’s company.

Democracy requires us to accept that other people get to vote, too. Even those who didn’t get the memo on how to vote correctly.

5. Find something else to worry about.

If you really need something to occupy your mind, try assembling a piece of IKEA furniture without reading the instructions.

You could start a new hobby, take up jigsaw puzzles, or attempt to understand the instructions for that new electronic device.

Life offers plenty of challenges that don’t require watching another panel of political commentators argue about the future of America.

6. Don’t confuse worrying with doing something useful.

If the election results concern you, respond in a constructive way. Volunteer for an organization, help a neighbor, or support a cause.

You can care about the country without spending every waking hour worrying about it.

Worrying rarely changes the outcome. The best response is to take a deep breath, make a plan, and get on with your life.

7. Remember the turkey.

Thanksgiving comes with its own built-in remedy for anxiety: a large meal followed by a nap.

The tryptophan-laced turkey might not resolve your political concerns, but it could make you too sleepy to argue about them.

If cousin Zach insists on bringing up the election while you’re digesting dinner, you can always close your eyes and pretend you’re asleep.

Remember to gently snore. You don’t want your sister to check your breathing and call 911.

There’s More to Life Than Elections

Elections have real consequences. Citizens have legitimate reasons to worry about their rights, livelihoods, and the country’s future. Telling them not to worry doesn’t make those concerns disappear.

There’s a difference between caring about what happens to our country and allowing election results to consume our lives.

We can stay informed without remaining perpetually outraged. We can disagree without turning every conversation into a political argument. We can spend time with people who see the world differently without treating every disagreement as a threat to the future of civilization.

As we head into the holiday season, we could all use less political combat and

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Thank you for your response. ✨

more human connection.

We don’t have to abandon our convictions. We need to remember that there’s more to life than election outcomes.

There will be other elections. There will be another round of political advertisements, campaign promises, pundit predictions, and Facebook arguments.

In the meantime, there’s turkey to carve, pie to eat, and political discussions to avoid with Uncle Fred.

Happy holidays. May your favorite team win, your turkey turn out moist, and your relatives keep their political opinions to themselves, at least until the dishes are done.

The Origin of Jack-o’-Lantern: From Turnip to Pumpkin

Every October, Americans head to the pumpkin patch, pick out a nice round pumpkin, carve a toothy grin into it, and stick a candle inside. It’s a national Halloween ritual. This year, my pumpkin came from the Costco pumpkin patch.

A close-up view of a sculpted head resembling a mask, with rough textures, a subtly painted face, and exaggerated facial features, including deep-set eyes and a prominent mouth.
Irish ghost turnip

Here’s a little Halloween trivia that might make you look twice at the produce aisle: The original Jack-o’-lanterns were turnips.

That’s right. Before pumpkins became Halloween celebrities, turnips did the heavy lifting.

The tradition goes back to Ireland and Scotland, where people carved frightening faces into turnips, potatoes, and other root vegetables. They hollowed them out, placed a candle or burning ember inside, and set them near doorways or windows.

The lanterns provided light, but their frightening faces also protected against wandering spirits. According to Celtic tradition, the night of October 31 marked Samhain, a time when the boundary between the living and the dead supposedly grew thin.

Who was Jack?

According to Irish folklore, Jack was a rather unpleasant fellow who tricked the Devil not once, but twice.

In one version of the story, Jack persuaded the Devil to turn himself into a coin so Jack could pay for a drink. Instead of spending the coin, Jack slipped it into his pocket beside a silver cross, trapping the Devil.

Jack eventually released him after extracting a promise that the Devil wouldn’t claim his soul.

Unfortunately, Jack’s cleverness didn’t earn him any points after death. Heaven wouldn’t take him. So Jack found himself wandering in darkness, carrying a lump of burning coal the Devil had tossed him.

Jack placed the coal inside a hollowed-out turnip to light his way.

The legend of Jack of the Lantern was born. Over time, the name became Jack-o’-lantern.

The National Museum of Ireland displays a plaster cast of a carved turnip lantern donated in 1943. The original came from County Donegal and represented a local Halloween tradition around 1900.

Enter the pumpkin.

When Irish immigrants arrived in America during the 19th century, they brought their Halloween traditions with them. They soon discovered an abundance of pumpkins.

A cartoon depicting a man presenting various creatively designed jack-o'-lantern alternatives to a panel of three men at a conference table, with one man expressing disappointment over abandoning traditional pumpkins.

Pumpkins were plentiful, much larger and easier to carve than turnips. Imagine trying to scoop out a turnip with a kitchen spoon.

The pumpkin replaced the turnip as America’s Halloween decoration of choice.

Today, we spend millions of dollars on pumpkins, carving kits, decorations, and pumpkin-flavored everything. The humble turnip lost its place in Halloween history.

The next time you carve a pumpkin, remember its less glamorous predecessor.

The Jack-o’-lantern didn’t begin as a cheerful orange pumpkin sitting on a suburban porch. It began as a sinister-looking root vegetable intended to frighten away the spirits of the dead.

The turnip deserves a little recognition.

I’ll stick with my pumpkin.