TED

I've known about TED talks for a while now, a number of years, actually, but I never took more than a casual interest in them. If a link took me to a YouTube video of  a TED talk, and if the subject interested me, I'd watch, but that was the extent of my involvement.

Over the last several weeks, a job function has tied me to my desk, but it has not required much of my mental faculties. I used the time to stream a number of TED talks.

If you are unfamiliar, TED stands for Technology, Entertainment and Design (a thorough history is available on Wikipedia), and currently consists of around 2000 recorded lectures on an incredibly diverse range of subjects.

It is amazing to explorer the breadth of subject matter addressed here. I found lectures which inspired, lectures which surprised me, and more than a few which frightened me. But the overarching theme that meant the most to me is the proof within these talks that our younger generation is producing some incredible minds which are doing some incredible thinking, asking questions and finding answers that are so far outside the box that........well, the promise for the future is bright indeed.

If you are ready to be enlightened on your own schedule, visit TED.com.

A Good Day

Something happened that I wasn't expecting.

To be sure, it was something I wanted, but I was not so bold as to expect it.

It wasn't even planned. It just happened.

It started and grew in a natural and positive way, and as all really good things do, it ended too quickly.

But if anyone ever asks about that particular day, I will tell them that I finished the day with a wonderful memory......and eleven cents. :-)

Milk Carton Boy

I was raised by a single mom in an era when that was the exception, not the rule. She honestly tried her very best and although her love for me was never in question, she fought mental illness and debilitating physical problems all of her adult life.

The summer before I was to enter the 6^th grade, people who loved her convinced her to sign herself in to a mental health facility. The next question, of course, became “What to do with me?” I spent a month with my aunt and her kids in a distant state, then flew across the country to live with my dad and his family, sorta kinda.

He had remarried (to the Wicked Witch of the West), and sired two rug rats. I was pretty inconvenient…again. The decision was made. I would go to boarding school, a Military Academy at that. As I reflected later, the depths of her desire to keep me away were indeed deep. The private school was relatively expensive and they were not rich.

At the end of the summer, I was prepared to matriculate at San Rafael Military Academy. I had a footlocker; uniforms both Olive Drab and Dress Blue; and all my clothes had tags sewn in. I was to begin this new stage of my young life in two days.

I was staying with my grandmother, a wonderful lady full of love and fun. She lived fairly close to the new school and was a convenient place to stage all my stuff. About six o’clock in the evening the phone rang. It was mom.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Hi Mom. Wow, I’m surprised to hear from you. I didn’t think they would let you use the phone in the hospital. You’re not? Where are you? You’re here? Sure I want to see you. Ok, I’ll stand by the mailbox on the curb so you can find us. Then, in a few minutes….Hi Mom! Cool! I didn’t know you had MayBeth with you! MayBeth was her sister-in-law and I had a secret crush on her from the moment I first saw her. Yeah, I’d like a soda. Sure I’ll go with you to get one. I didn’t know the soda they were taking me to get was halfway across the country.

I got in the car, and before I knew it, we were on the Freeway headed for the Great State of Texas. Did I feel kidnapped? Not  really.  After all, I was with my mom. We had done so many road trips together over the years that a moving car was like a second home to me, and I was always up for an adventure.

Things went pretty smoothly from my perspective, but there was stuff going on of which I wasn’t aware. Mom planned to cross the state line in Needles. There are only so many highways that leave the state. By this time my dad had figured out not only that I was gone but also that my mom was the perp. If you know who the ‘Unsub’ is, do they become simply the ‘Sub?’ In any case, the APB was out, and the local cops pulled us over in Needles. Turns out I was the ‘Droid they were looking for,' and I was taken into protective custody. Mom and MayBeth were not arrested, but I got a ride in the patrol car.

It is interesting being in protective custody, at least it was back in the day. First of all, let me say that I was no stranger to the inside of a jail. My mom used to date a county Sheriff. She would visit him in the evening as he worked at the local lock-up. I would go along and while she was visiting, I would play draw poker in the cell block with the inmates. So yeah, I knew what the inside looked like. For the Needles Mounties, I was a bit of a problem. I wasn’t a criminal and hadn’t done anything wrong, so they couldn’t just throw me in a cell and forget about me, but I might be a kidnapping victim, and until that was sorted out, I needed to be ‘protected’ from everybody, it seems.

So what does a small town cop do with a ten year old? I slept in a cell by myself, but during the day I had the run of the station. I became a self-taught expert at taking my own fingerprints. I recall the ID form to be filled out when someone ran afoul of the law. Ten fingerprints and a space to describe any identifying tattoos; location and picture or words. That may be when I decided to forego ever getting a tattoo myself. The sheriff had a deal with the local doughnut shop, and brought in breakfast and lunch from their selection of day-old goods at very reasonable prices. Doughnuts and milk for breakfast. Doughnuts and milk for lunch, then a nice nutritious hamburger for dinner.

The whole Custody thing was a mess. Mom had physical custody of me as a result of the divorce, and when she went into the hospital, I was just sent to my dad’s. As far as I know, there were no modifications to the custody order, so she had as much claim to me in California as she did in Texas.  So was I really kidnapped? Or was she just picking me up under the old “Easier to ask forgiveness than permission” thingy.

On the third day, Mom won some sort of legal tussle and they released me into her custody. Lickety-split, we were across the state line into Arizona, and home free. I heard later that my dad arrived in Needles to collect me hours after we crossed the border.

The balance of the trip was unremarkable. I returned to Texas and back to regular school. Two years later, Mom was committed to the same institution, I repeated my trek west, finally did enter the Military Academy for a year, and have lived in California ever since.

Mom? She only left the State Hospital to go to a rest home, where she died at the age of 57. Her “Treatment” consisted of numerous Electroshock Therapy sessions. I was never able to have a normal conversation with her again.

Boxing Day, 2004

I stumbled across an interesting set of videos last week on YouTube. If it turns out your interest is piqued, the title is “Tsunami, Caught on Camera.” The content was assembled, in the main, from amateur video captured by individuals who survived the onslaught.

The tsunami in question is the Indonesian Tsunami of 2004. It was caused by a large earthquake off the coast of Sumatra on the morning of December 26, or Boxing Day as it is known in some parts of the world.  For perspective, the massive tsunami which devastated the coast of Japan in 2011 is estimated to have taken between 20,000 and 30,000 lives. The Boxing Day Tsunami of 2004 killed 10 times as many, with estimates ranging from 260,000 to 290,000 dead.

Over a quarter-million fatalities.

Much of the footage was captured by tourists who were staying at resorts in Indonesia, Thailand and Sri Lanka. Of course they are the ones standing around with cameras all day so it makes sense that they become our cinematographers. Unfortunately, they also became the victims and in some cases the casualties.

The images are by turns stunning, compelling, mesmerizing, awe-inducing, horrific, terrifying, mystifying and confounding. As I watched, unable to turn away, I was astounded by the power of Nature’s fury, the very inevitability of the unstoppable water as it swept away everything in its path. I was amazed that so many people seemed completely unaware of the warning signs of the impending destruction. As the water receded to an incredible degree, the video showed many who followed the ocean out only to be gathered up by returning waves and swallowed in a heartbeat.  

Although the scenes were actually not as dynamic as the recent video from the Eastern Japanese coast, I found them even more disturbing because of the nature of the places depicted. Most were resorts on beautiful tropical beaches. When we go on holiday, we don’t expect to have our lives changed forever or suddenly ended by a so called Act of God.

All of the commentary was from survivors in the form of interviews, years after the fact. Most of the people had stories of their personal struggle for survival, and stories of the struggles of those around them, some of whom survived and many that didn’t. Particularly poignant was the testimony of a young mother on vacation with her family who had her 5 year-old daughter swept away by the flood and then came very close to drowning herself. Imagine, if you will, swimming for your life with your child’s arms wrapped around your neck one instant and just….. gone the next. If you survive, you spend the next days or weeks trying to find your child, praying she will be alive and unharmed while you look through thousands of photos of the ones who didn’t make it hoping against hope that you won’t find her there.

So many people lost not only their homes and jobs, but many lost their entire families as well. I am not sure how one continues following such a tragedy. I hope I never have to figure out the answer to that one.

Oblah Dee .......Oblah Dah

I spend some time thinking every once in a while. We all have the same lessons to learn. And when I learn them, I often forget that I am not the first person to figure this or that out. All I can claim is that I finally got it.

I’m gonna hitch a bit on a blog I wrote for another venue. Remember the dreaded “Grading on the Curve?” That infamous bell shaped curve that defines so many aspects of our lives? Here is one angle I was thinking of recently. Take your knowledge, your physical skills and your mental abilities and distribute them along the time line of your life. If you are somewhat normal and live the expected number of years, you’ll find that your skills and abilities will follow the curve. From birth to death, you are either increasing or decreasing.

Sure, there is a smooth spot at the top, and you may ride the crest for quite a while, but it really is either up or down. In the very beginning, you don’t even notice your progress, but you are assimilating experience and knowledge at an ever increasing and quite astonishing rate. I always think of my learning and my experience as measured by milestones. Do you remember when you first rode a two-wheeler by yourself? Your first kiss? Your High School graduation or your first driver’s license?

I have always been a bit short-sighted. When I graduated High School, I didn’t envision my College graduation. When I first rode my bike around the block, it never occurred to me to look forward to driving a car or riding a motorcycle. That first kiss? Didn’t ever imagine being married. At the wedding, becoming a parent was the farthest thing from my mind. Now that I’m a bit older, though my eyesight is getting worse, my vision seems to be improving. The lens of experience, I guess.

As I grew, I collected experience, knowledge and skill, bit by bit, one piece at a time. I eventually reached a zone of relative competence and have cruised there for a while. If you will envision a metaphor with me, picture walking up a rounded hill. In the beginning, the slope is gentle, but as we have just begun our walk, we are full of energy and enthusiasm encouraged by our very ignorance. As our ability to learn and do increases, so do the challenges. Farther up, perhaps the hill is less steep, but the air becomes more rarefied the higher we go and the going does get tougher. We approach the top, and buoyed by our work to this point, we can do what we must fairly easily. At the top, our tasks, though they still take time and energy, are almost effortless.

The surprise waits a little farther. Gradually things become even easier, but……is that because we are even better, or has the slope crested and started down? At first it may be hard to tell. We are full of ourselves, matured as human beans, competent to handle most situations and able to enjoy life and the fruits of our labors. However, the rock we stand upon, that bell curve full up with our skills and abilities, is diminishing. The area under the curve is becoming smaller and smaller.

Maybe the first thing we lose is just a step. Perhaps I can’t quite catch up with that fastball, or some motion I used to make routinely now elicits a twinge of discomfort. An injury may cause us to be a taste more cautious. A restricted back-swing knocks 50 yards off the drive. Perhaps every face doesn’t always have a name attached the way it used to, or, dare I say it, maybe I get just a little bit lost on a familiar road?

At some point you begin to realize that the walk is just a bit too easy; the slope is helping you to walk just a little bit more quickly than you really want to, and it takes effort to slow down. It’s like driving down a hill: at first it’s just enough to lift your foot from the accelerator, any steeper and you begin to use the brakes. (OK here my improved vision kicks in and I can picture myself sliding, on my back down an enormous slip n slide, arms and legs flailing wildly, grasping at anything to try and slow down.) Maybe somehow our equilibrium fails and instead of a nice smooth curve into the flat line (Ooh, there is an interesting and appropriate analogy!) we trip and simply fall off the hill, straight to the bottom, not to be confused with illness, injury or accident at an unfortunate moment dropping us to zero before our time.

Another way to look at the whole thing is this. We spend a bunch of time adding…adding skills, adding knowledge even gathering stuff. Then, one by one, things are taken away. In the end you will leave just as you arrived.

My point is this: when you receive a gift, appreciate it. Be it a gift of time, space, or love, treasure it….live in the moment and savor each precious tick of the clock. You never know which tick will be your last.

Oh! Did I tell You About...........

Here is one I don't talk about much. My SO is a wonderful person, but she does have an interesting quirk.

She has never met a story that she can't improve. Literally and literarily, every time she tells a story it changes. Eventually it becomes bigger than life, and I find this incredibly amusing. Once she gets started, I sit back and marvel at how creative her manipulations become. If I have heard the story before, I have a baseline, a benchmark or starting place to mark and measure the width and breadth of her inevitable prevarication.

The funny thing is that she seems to be more solidly grounded in the improved tale than she does the truth. Every retelling drifts further and further from fact towards fabrication. She seems to believe the story and will even swear to its veracity.

Here is an example:
One day the kids borrowed her car for a while. We ran errands in my vehicle and stopped in at Trader Joes. As we parked, we saw her car in the parking lot; the kids were next door at the Wherehouse. She thought it would be funny to move her car. I have a bit of a mean streak and readily agreed, so we did move it several rows over, then went in to Trader Joes. As we were checking out, the kids rushed in looking for us, saw us at the check stand and came over to let us know just how unfunny our prank was. We laughed. End of story. OK...that's what really happened.

Now for the improved version: Everything is the same up until we moved the car. At this point we hide in the bushes and wait to see their reactions, and you wouldn't believe the looks of astonishment on their faces when they come out and find the car missing *laugh out loud and slap thigh for emphasis* "You should have seen the looks on their faces! It was hilarious!" She has even quoted dialogue between them on occasion(I guess the bushes were pretty close.)
A simple change and maybe it does make a better story......she surely does enjoy telling it more.

Anyway, it has created a new hobby for me. When she starts, I just relax and wait to see what new paths our old adventures have taken since the last time. I'm always amused and often amazed at what we have done.

Of course I can only testify about the ones to which I've been an accomplice. The stories that scare me are the ones where I wasn't........ 

Some Days are Golden, Some are Maroon

OK… now I feel like a Maroon.

I am away. On a business trip. A looong way from home.

Business finishes early, but my reservations are cast in financial concrete. Back at the hotel, I wander down to the concierge (that’s what you call the afternoon manager at Best Western when you need to ask him a question) and inquire as to the location of the nearest decent steak house. Being a good concierge and obviously concerned for my expense account, he suggests that the nearest Red Robin might be just the ticket. I counter with the concept that when you stray from a given establishments forte menu item, you are treading on a very slippery slope. Does Red Robin even serve whole meat without feathers? He finally begins to get my drift and does make a reasonable offer. I consider it.

Before dining, I head down to the business center to print tomorrows boarding passes. The computer requests my password. Back to concierge. “Oh, yes! I’ll give you the password, but it won’t do you any good. The Internet is down.” I explain that I have just come down from my room where I checked my e-mail. That Internet was working fine. “Well, we have a different Internet down here and it isn’t working at all!” He’s right. 

Hmmmmm

I abandon the whole steak plan and walk a half-block to Wendy’s for a forbidden cheeseburger with bacon. Maybe his Internet will be fixed when I get back.

Delicious. And 'Ain't Happening'...No printer for you, Kemosabe.....

Back in the room, I stand admiring the In-Room-Spa sized for four. I am traveling alone this trip, more’s the pity, but not wanting the Spa to go unappreciated, I decide to fill it and flounder around by myself. I can turn on the water from the floor, but it is impossible to actually touch the water to say…. oh… feel the temperature or whatever without actually being “in the spa,” so to speak. To avoid obvious later disappointment, I disrobe, and clamber in to check the water. At my age you don’t ‘step’ into a spa…clambering is the most generous description that can legitimately be applied here.

At the risk of giving the whole plot away at this point in the story, let me say that my rental car is a technological WunderKar. The radio doubles as a rearview TV when reversing. And it picks up music from outer space. To start the thing, you simply push a button. When you are finished driving another push of the same button shuts it off…..

Back in the Spa. I am standing buck nekkid, ankle deep in the tepid water of the ‘just clambered into' Spa when hotel phone rings. This strikes me as rather odd because nobody who needs to call me knows exactly where in the Sam Hell I am. 

Again, Hmmm.

I execute the Much Vaunted but Seldom Seen ‘Reverse Clamber’ and slosh my way to the insistent instrument. Hello? 

“Good evening, Sir! This is the Front Desk." 

Hardly ever a welcome call unless expecting a package from UPS or the Pizza Boy. 

"We are attempting to locate the driver of a car in our parking lot which has been sitting with the motor running for several hours. Which vehicle is yours?” 

With a sinking feeling I confess both Make and Model. 

With a barely concealed squeal of glee, she replies, “Well, Sir, I believe it is yours!” She is delighted because finally she can can quit calling rooms, and now I know why they ask for your auto's curriculum vitae at registration...Information I chose not to provide...... as a security measure, of course.....I stare at the "Keys" to my WunderKar sitting on the dresser, I think about the button on the dash.....Krap!

I start to explain that I am part of the WunderKar test team conducting “Long Term Idling Tests” at Best Western altitudes, but I can tell that her Geezer B.S. Radar is finely tuned and she’s not buying any of it.

I thank her, dry off from the ankles down, dress, sorta…..and slither down stairs, praying there is no thundering crowd to cheer me on the last 20 yards. I'm sure when she disconnected, she shouted "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a winner!" Funny, I don't feel exactly like a winner.....more like a Maroon.

Oh…the quadruple In-Room-Spa solo act…don’t bother…….it's just no fun by your self, and if you doze off (highly likely at my age), your Kindle gets to test the Submarine Clause in Amazon's warrantee.

Geez....Ida swore I pressed that danged button the second time…….mumble…mutter….mmmmph ........

Hmmm...wonder if the boss will notice I used $80.00 in fuel on a twenty-mile round trip?

p.s. A big tip-o-the-hat to the Manager of the local Guitar Center who graciously allowed me to get a solid 'Guitar Fix' this afternoon playing his $3000 instruments so far from my babies.....There is this one Martin I played, it was like soft butter in my hands, and such a bargan at only $1999........nnaaahh, I dasn't........