Looks like I got what I deserved this year.
It has been pointed out I need to add Festivus to the mix. Presumably, this means in the short title I’ve used for this post. That probably means I should add Mele Kalikimaka as well. There may be others. In the spirit of the season, I offer the following:
Based on the amount of traffic I’m seeing about the tragedy in Connecticut yesterday, I’m reasonably certain the fallout from this event is not going to soon subside. In fact I’m wondering if, now that the election is over, all the energy that had gone into finding ways to communicate and share in order to affect the outcome of the November contests isn’t looking for another avenue to express itself. We’ll see.
There’s one particular aspect of this tragedy that struck me recently and I wanted to quickly share my feelings about it. It has nothing to do with guns and violence, but it definitely has to do with death and loss. A Facebook (and real life) friend of mine shared this article from the New York Times and, in a comment later, said the following: “Ordinary people are much more courageous than we give them credit for being.”
This reminded me of something that has long intrigued me. I’m curious to know if others have felt the same. I have been to quite a few funerals or memorial services in my life for people I either didn’t know at all or knew very superficially. These include members of my wife’s family, spouses of co-workers, employees at a favorite venue, etc.
One of the things that stands out in my recollection of those experiences is the feeling I always got that I had missed something; that a special person had slipped through my fingers and now I would be forever barred from appreciating their existence and the particular light they shone out into the world.
Now, I know I can’t possibly get to know everyone, yet listening to friends, family, and co-workers reminisce and reflect on the life of the person for whom we were gathered together in memory of, always seemed to leave me with a feeling of incompleteness, of having missed something wonderful and extraordinary.
I’m of the opinion there’s no such thing as an ordinary person.
It’s the numbers I’m Interested In.
So many dead. So many children. I am numb . . . and I can’t wait to see my kids when I pick them up from school today. I’m also a gun owner. I am not, however, so numb I can’t recognize a need to address the issue of gun control. We treat these occurrences like we treat earthquakes; as if they’re natural disasters and, with the exception of securing loose objects and having some emergency supplies at the ready, there’s nothing we can do about ’em.
We seem to face a choice; either arm everyone – including the children – or come up with rational policies that keep guns out of the hands of those who have no business possessing them. I’m kind of thinking the latter would be easier, cheaper, and more humane . . . not to mention rational.
I didn’t do a comparison of the populations of all six other countries listed, but we can look at one – Canada. With these numbers (assuming them to be accurate) the U.S. population would have to be 47 times that of Canada. Actually, the population of the U.S. Â is 9 times greater than that of Canada so, were all things reasonably equal, we could expect a gun murder rate of approximately 1800 people, less than 1/5 of what it actually is. That’s got to be pretty strong evidence of some kind of fundamental problem. Don’t you think?
Is This How You See The Ump?
Last month, during the third game of the 2012 World Series, there was a pitch that was called as a third strike. Seconds after the call, which ended the at-bat for whichever team was up for that inning, there was a graphic shown of the strike zone and the location of the ball as it passed the plate. It was clearly outside the strike zone and, therefore, should not have been called a strike.
It got me thinking. We use technology to help us with a lot of things and it seems to me calling balls and strikes ought to be one of the things we consider using it for. I have no doubt the technology not only exists, but that it’s currently being used during baseball games. They showed the graphic and, frankly, inasmuch as they’ve been able to obtain the speed of the ball using radar for years, I see no reason they can’t use it to ascertain the exact track of the ball.
Now, I no longer watch much baseball. Ever since the game showed their disdain for their fans by canceling the 1994 World Series through the inability of the players and owners to reach an agreement on how they would divvy up the enormous sums of money they garner each season, I have determined not to be a contributor. Amazingly enough, I have managed to make it through most every season without paying attention and my life has continued rather nicely. I have, on occasion, attended a game or two in all these years, but only because I was invited and did not wish to ignore the generosity of someone whom I respect.
I have also watched many of the games in the World Series over the years, though not much lately. The one I watched this year was – I believe – the third game of the series between San Francisco and Detroit. It was the first game I had seen all year. Frankly, I’d rather watch golf; I’d actually rather play golf, but that’s another story. Besides, it’s difficult to play golf in the dark. I’ve heard Stevie Wonder does it. 🙂
Since I began writing this particular post, I’ve spoken to several friends who are baseball fans and asked them what they thought about the concept of using technology to replace the home plate umpire. Not one of them thought it a good idea. I’m not surprised. There is something to be said about the human factor in games involving humans. After all, if we could replace the umpire with a near-infallible robot, why not seek to replace the batter/runner with a robot capable of calculating the trajectory of the ball when pitched? That would suggest the possibility of a home run each at bat, obviating the need for fielders. Oy! Now my head hurts thinking about this.
I’m sorry I brought it up.
Hey! Guess What I’m Doing Inside.
As I was leaving my house yesterday to go pick up my daughters from school, I noticed a sign reminiscent of the political signs that had been so ubiquitous in my town for the past month or so. This one was in my neighbor’s yard, stuck in the median grassy area between the sidewalk and the street. Although I wanted a picture of it for this blog, I was in a bit of a hurry to get my oldest and had to continue on. I was pleased to find, upon returning to drop her off, it was still there. I got out of my vehicle for a moment and snapped this picture before going after my younger one.
Right after I saw it, though, I found myself wondering if there was a way I could do something like this. My first thought was I should have a big sign I can raise on my roof that says things like “Rick writing here!”, “Rick editing text in progress”, “Rick proofreading a blog post right now”. Now that I think of it, I doubt that’s a very good idea. Actually, the city would likely frown on it and I’d soon find myself at odds with the very people I wish to work more closely with. There’s likely an ordinance prohibiting it. Scratch that.
So, how about this? In keeping with my theme of being a Senior Inspector of the U.S. Grammar Police, I’m thinking when I go to someone’s house or office I should put up some yellow plastic tape that reads “Possible Literary Crime Scene. Do Not Cross!” How’s that sound? Any better ideas?
Ahm also illitaret.
Being a member of the Grammar Police is not a pleasant thing at times. It can often be a curse, as it makes reading for pleasure  distracting and, sometimes, painful. I’m finding it also makes it difficult to write for this blog regularly because I’m too freaking anal about mistakes and how I say things. I’m seriously working on not caring . . . well, not NOT caring but not being paralyzed by caring . . . if you get my drift.
When I was working for Rocketdyne I wrote a blog post in response to the reality that many people who had a lot to share with their colleagues didn’t step up to the plate precisely because they were afraid doing so would expose them to ridicule or, at the very least, make them look less competent than they actually were. The fear was somewhat real because Engineers are notoriously lacking in overall English and grammar skills, as evidenced by the numerous t-shirts and coffee mugs available with the slogan you see here. However, my experience is blogging doesn’t require the same kind of attention to detail designing an auto, a microwave, or a rocket engine does. Unless, of course, you hold yourself out as a member of the Grammar Police.
Therein lies the rub. I do hold myself out as such and, in fact, am herein sharing a new business card I created to advertise and promote my services. The first iteration of it brought me a small amount of embarrassment because I used “ghost writing” instead of “ghostwriting”, the latter of which is correct. Careful research seems to show it’s correct to use either “Ghostwriter” or “Ghost Writer“, but “ghostwriting” is the only correct usage. A friend of mine shared the graphic of my card and one of her friends immediately called me out on it. I thanked him profusely for his unwitting collaboration and immediately changed the spelling, after which another person suggested some design changes that made sense as well, so I once again edited the graphic.
I’m pleased with the results and want it known I do not hold myself out as beyond error or reproach. Most people are painfully aware their own writing generally contains errors they are virtually incapable of spotting because of their proximity to the subject of the text. I am no different, though I am pretty damn meticulous in reviewing nearly everything I write – including chat messages. Yes, I am a wee tad obsessive, but therein lies my strength.
I recently was required to read a novel; one which I will likely soon talk about at some length on these pages. In doing so, I asked the author if it was OK for me to make note of any errors I came across. I received the go-ahead and, although it had been read by quite a few others, I nevertheless came across a couple dozen small (but frequently distracting) mistakes. I even discovered a rather glaring error in continuity, which the author was glad to have me point out.
I am currently working with several authors and on several projects. I am looking for more business. If you or someone you know could use a little help polishing up their novel, blog post (one that requires a modicum of professionalism, that is), or even some simple promotional or marketing text, please consider running it by my discerning eye. I believe I can help more than you might imagine. BTW – Here’s the card I ended up designing and may even print out some day. If you spot an error somewhere, feel free to admonish me. I can take it.
One day the shield will read “To Correct and Preserve”
It’s All Good!
One of the things I noticed when I was working at PWR was the seeming inevitability that people who were most knowledgeable about some skills seemed considerably challenged when it came time to demonstrate the skill in their own work. What I’m referring to is analogous to the cobbler whose children are shoeless or the accountant who never balances her own checkbook.
I found this to be true of many of us who were the most active in what we still refer to as Knowledge Management (KM). We could help others – whether individuals or large product teams – to organize their approach to capturing and sharing knowledge, but we couldn’t keep our own calendars or contact lists up-to-date to save our lives. I was surely guilty of this; still am, though not nearly as profoundly as before.
I credit the concept of continuous improvement for my ability to refine my personal knowledge management and to slowly become more effective and efficient in performing the tasks and commitments I take on. I suppose, in that regard our lives are a bit like physics avoiding pyramids. The basic, foundational skills we learn early in life remain at the bottom of the edifice. However, as we gain experience and further skills, the foundation continues to broaden in order to provide maximum support for those new capabilities we keep piling on top of it.
In that spirit, I have just added another page to this site. On it, I’ve taken a screen grab from my LinkedIn profile in order to share some of the recommendations I’ve received over the past few years. They’re from colleagues and friends and, in that regard, they may be taken with a tiny grain of salt. I do believe they’re reasonably honest and accurate. I paid nothing for them 🙂
The page has been added to the Menu on this site, under “Background”, “Personal”. If you’d like to check it out now, the link is here.
My 1967 Chevrolet Camaro SS 396
So . . . blog posts should have substance, should they not? They should tackle thorny issues and momentous decisions; social policy and government actions that affect us all. I’m sorry to say this one just doesn’t fill the bill. There’s nothing momentous about it at all. In fact, part of it is a commercial for Chevrolet, though that isn’t the reason I’m including it here.
I was born in downtown Los Angeles and raised in the San Fernando Valley. As is true with many of us native Angelenos, I have somewhat of a love-hate relationship with the automobile. My very first car was a 1957 Chevy Bel-Air. It had a 3-speed manual transmission, and the previous owner had transitioned the shifter from the steering column to the floor. It was a dream car, but for one flaw. It was a four-door. Still, I was only 16 and it was truly something special.
I’ve only had one new car in my life. A 1967 Chevrolet Camaro SS 396. Actually, if I remember correctly it was leased to the business my father had bought for me. I only owned the car for about six months, because I decided I didn’t want to spend the rest of my what at that point was a very short life working about 15 hours a day. The business was mine for about eight months. It was somewhat of a disaster as my father ended up having to sell it at a substantial loss. I didn’t realize just how much it mattered until, years later, I did a time-value of money calculation. I was an idiot. I chalk it up to youth, naivetĂ©, and incredible stupidity. The Summer of Love may have had something to do with it as well, but that’s another story.
As the years went by I came to view automobiles primarily as conveyances to and from locations that were important to me. Creature comfort was nice, but much of it not absolutely necessary. I was in no way invested emotionally in my cars and, over the years I’ve had plenty of them. In my late twenties, when I was in Law School, I worked for a lawyer whose practice involved representing three of the largest car rental agencies in town. I drove everything from a Porsche 914 to a Mercedes 450 SL. They were fun, but I never once wished they were mine.
At any rate, this video was sent to me by an old friend from High School. We are only a few years away from our 50th reunion, so it’s been a long time . . . and some of us have stayed in touch. He, being an old man like me, still shares most everything via email (unlike me). I was moved by the story and, even though this is around a year old and is a commercial for Chevy, the story is moving and I thought I would share it. You might get a kick out of it. I did. The car sounds awesome.
I celebrated my seventh birthday in June of 1954. We had recently moved from our modest home in Panorama City, California to a two-bedroom apartment in Palms, West Los Angeles. The San Diego Freeway (Interstate 405) wasn’t even approved for construction yet and behind our building was a small pond. I have no precise recollection of the day I went to see the movie I’m sharing this trailer from, but I do remember it was a Saturday matinee. The Creature From The Black Lagoon was, for a seven-year-old, a very scary movie. I’m sure today it would be rated PG-13, though it would undoubtedly be far more violent and bloody.
That evening my parents went out and left me to fend for myself and my almost 4-year-old brother. At the time, it seemed perfectly normal for us to be alone on occasion and we enjoyed playing together and watching television. Come to think of it, I’m not sure how much there was to watch back then. I don’t think there was a great deal of children’s programming in 1954. At any rate, we managed to entertain ourselves and, at the appropriate hour, we trundled off to bed.
Our apartment was in the very back of the building we lived in and our bedrooms were in the back of the apartment. The window in our bedroom faced to the West and overlooked the pond behind our building. When you’re seven years old everything is bigger than life and exaggeration comes easily. It wasn’t long before that pond (which I have no doubt was pretty small by any standard I would use today) became a Black Lagoon! As I lay in bed, reliving the still-vivid scenes of horror I had witnessed that afternoon, I became increasingly convinced the creature was preparing to smash through our window and whisk us both off to his lair in the lagoon, almost certainly to be consumed at his pleasure.
I was determined not to let that happen and, mustering up my courage, I leapt out of bed, aroused my brother, and fled with him to the Building Manager’s apartment, where we sought the protection of adults. They were most likely quite surprised to hear we had been left alone by our parents and, as I learned much later in life, my mom and dad were quite embarrassed by the whole affair. Nobody called the police and nobody suggested they were neglectful. Young and impetuous, perhaps, but not criminals. I doubt that would happen today. Here’s the trailer to the movie. It was a humdinger back in the day!!
Addendum 05/02/17 – Thanks to a comment to a friend’s post on Facebook, I need to add the following video, which I think adds a little more flavor to the Creature’s panache.
The word “Amen” isn’t confined to prayer, though it’s generally closely related.
Yesterday I was inducted into one of several local Rotary clubs here in Simi Valley, CA. The name of this club is Simi Sunrise and, not coincidentally, it meets at 7:00 am every Thursday at the Grand Vista Hotel. I had some trepidations about joining an organization such as Rotary International, best explained by the question a friend asked me when informed of my desire to join; “Aren’t they a really conservative organization?”
Truth to tell, I wasn’t entirely sure they would accept me, especially since this is a fairly conservative city I live in and I’ve made it abundantly clear I am not a conservative – at least not politically. I didn’t really know a lot about Rotary and I knew an awful lot of the people who were in this club. Most of them were quite conservative – politically. At the same time, I live and work with them and know them to be good, decent people. Especially the ones in Rotary 1 and other service organizations.
Fortunately, I got to know a person who ended up convincing – and sponsoring – me to join. Due to an unlikely confluence of events I ended up being the guest who wouldn’t go away, and a process which normally takes a couple of weeks ended up taking a couple of months. Nevertheless, she insisted I continue showing up and, because she had to pay for my breakfast each week, I have offered to do some data input for her at her discretion. It’s the least I can do.
Yesterday was the culmination of two months of meetings and thinking about what I was getting myself into. Now that I’m officially a member I will not only have an ongoing financial obligation and an expectation of service in the form of volunteerism, I will also be expected to perform various duties at the meetings, e.g. greeting members as they arrive, checking attendance, etc. There is one duty I’m somewhat concerned about. Leading the invocation.
I have now heard approximately eight different invocations. I don’t recall any of them being identifiably denominational, though some referenced “our heavenly father”. I believe at least one ended a bit irreverently . . . and comically. They all end with “amen”, a word of Hebrew origin defined by Merriam-Webster online as: “used to express solemn ratification (as of an expression of faith) or hearty approval (as of an assertion).” Although used primarily at the end of a prayer or hymn, it is clearly not limited to religious expression. So it looks like an invocation avoiding the mention of God would most likely be acceptable, even if hard to author.
However, as an atheist I have a lot of experience with people who misunderstand my kind of “faith” and are likely to exhibit one or more of the following traits or attitudes in response to an expression they perceive to be anti-religion: Anger; disgust; defensiveness; dismissiveness; revulsion; incredulity; hatred; need I go on? When you think of invocation, you just don’t think of atheism now, do you?
So . . . my dilemma. I’m going to assume I will, at some point in time, be asked to give the invocation. I suppose I could respectfully decline, but I kind of want to do it. The issue for me is how to do so without offending anyone. Part of me believes that’s a tall order, precisely because of the responses I’ve experienced or observed for so many years, while another part of me believes it isn’t as big an issue as it at first appears. I’ll post the text . . . when I write it!
1 Rotary is very attractive to me as it espouses values I believe are important and progressive. I find it a little ironic so many of the members are staunch conservatives, yet the values they ascribe to can just as easily fit the most progressive agenda. If words are important, and I believe they are, then their foundational writings should matter a lot when determining what kind of an organization they (at the very least) aspire to be. For instance, there’s The Four-Way Test:
Coupled with numerous other writings, which I will not get into now but will surely bring up as I gain more experiences with this new facet of my life, I think Rotary paints itself as an organization dedicated to the same things I am – Peace, Justice, Goodwill, Internationalism, Fairness, etc.
There’s likely an argument lying beneath the surface here as to the role volunteerism plays in an inherently unfair economic system, but – in my opinion – it is more a philosophical one and should in no way minimize the pain alleviated through the actions of Rotary and other organizations like it. More on this some other time.
Systems Savvy 