Unanswered Questions

I've been down with a cold. As usual, whenever I get sick I finally finish the book that's been sitting on my nightstand for months and months. This time it was "Flags of Our Fathers," by James Bradley. The book traces the lives of the six soldiers pictured in the famous "Flag Raising Over Iwo Jima" picture from WWII, of which one was the author's father.

The book provides a poignant and horrifying account of what the battle for Iwo Jima was like, but is ultimately about something else--fathers and children. His father, one of three flagraisers who survived Iwo Jima (the battle was by no means over when they posted the flag), nearly never spoke about his experiences, constantly dodged the press, and never acknowledged The Picture.

In short, there was an entire aspect of John Bradley his children never knew about. They knew he was in The Picture, but it was just something they took for granted--partly because their father didn't talk, but also because children seldom realize that anything about their lives is not normal.

In short, it summarizes the relationship I had with my father. My father was no one even remotely famous--that's not what I mean. I mean that while I knew a great deal about my father, I can't say that I really knew my father. It was not, in the case of John and James Bradley, because he didn't talk about himself. My dad was quite a talker.

I think the fault is mainly mine, because I don't think I ever viewed my dad as a normal person. I never questioned what I saw. How did he feel about working two or three jobs? Did he regret not having done something different with his life? Was he satisfied with the relationship he had with us children?

I could have found out easily enough. I'm sure he would have talked to me about it. But I never really had that kind of relationship with my dad. Not to mention it being hard to find those kinds of moments.

Part of the problem, too, was the context-gap. I didn't become a father myself until recently, and by then my dad was already going downhill. By the time I really started questioning my own life and wondering if his would offer any answers he wasn't really around to ask anymore.

Some of the questions didn't really come up until after he died. Talking to others who knew him brought up a lot of facets of my dad that I'd either forgotten or never realized were there. Sometimes what's right in front of your face is the hardest to see. When he was alive I never questioned. Now he's gone, and all I have is questions.

My mother is still alive. I still have a chance with her.

From the "Gee Whiz" File

I sat in on a presentation at work today where a colleague discussed the things he learned at a design and usability training seminar recently. It was, of course, interesting professionally, but something particular caught my eye.

At one point the speaker showed a list of all the organizations that have attended this workshop in the past year. One of the organizations listed was "LDS Church." So there you have it. Our church may be "backward" culturally, but we're "with it" when it comes to IT. Or at least getting with it. I will say that I've noticed a distinct improvement in the quality and functionality of the church's websites over the past few years.

In other news, we're gearing up to go to a family reunion soon. This is our immediate family's first attempt at such, so this could be interesting. According to weather.com it's "only" going to be in the mid-nineties where we're going. Did I already say this could be interesting?

What am I...

...reading: "The Eyre Affair" by Jasper Fforde. A quirky little alternate history tale with a bit of harsh language and occasional violations of narrative style--and the occasional dash of unexpected humor.

...doing: Still working on the playhouse and maintaining the lawn--when I get outside at all!

...planning: Family reunion next week.

...waiting on: Babylon 5, seasons 1 & 2

...still recovering from: Cracked ribs mentioned two weeks ago. I'm getting better, just slowly

...wishing for: Either rain or cooler weather...or both!

...lauging about: Subject line from spam: "Cash for Women!" Sounds like a good trade to me. Too bad I don't have any to spare.

Shine Fourth

The Fourth was a good day, if a hot one. We had our annual get-together with friends from our old neighborhood, and this was the first year that all three of our kids were able to fend for themselves. It helps immensely that our friends' kids are very good with our kids. There was plenty of food, good conversation, bearable shade, and plenty to do. The event ended with a mid-summer version of an easter-egg hunt: scouring the lawn for Airsoft pellets. My kids brought home at least a hundred--and are now proceeding to fight over them.

Afterward we went home and made some homemade ice cream. Or ice soy, really. It turned out quite well, and for considerably less than it costs in stores. Eeeeexcellent!

The kids wanted to stay up to watch fireworks. We didn't really want them to stay up that late, but decided to indulge them this once. Fortunately, between the Macy's Fireworks Spectacular (odd use of the word--like calling "CSI: Miami" a television dramatic) and our neighbors who lit theirs off early so their two-year-old could go to bed, our kids were satiated and crashed before the neighborhood bombardment began after dark.

This was our first Fourth with a dog. It could have been worse. She was quite disturbed by the noise, but was content to lay next to the bed and let us soothe here until it calmed down. I'm just glad our neighborhood is comparatively tame. Our old neigborhood was like that for several days before and after the holiday. With few exceptions it's been quiet until last night.

Only the youngest child was awake before I headed out for work this morning. All things considered I'm feeling fairly good. Except when I sneeze. My ribs still don't like that.

Cramming Cultural Cuisine

One person on my team at work lives in another city. He was in town this week, so we all went out to lunch together today. For whatever reason we ended up at an Indian restaurant. I've had Indian before, so I can't say I was surprised that it was good. More likely just surprised that I didn't learn my lesson last time not to eat so much. That's the trouble with buffets. I only tried most of the dishes, not all, but I'm still stuffed.

My ribs are still hurting, though not that much during the day. It just makes sleeping rather uncomfortable, as there are only about two positions that aren't painful. I don't really want to go see a doctor. We're still paying off my little adventure to the emergency room a couple months ago.

The weekend is nearly here. And then we get two very short workweeks next week, thanks to the Fourth of July falling in the middle of the week. So far the kids haven't asked if we can buy fireworks, but probably because no one in our subdivision has been lighting any off yet. Which is in itself amazing. The last neighborhood where we lived they'd start a couple weeks early.

I'm tired. It's been one of those weeks where, even though I've accomplished a fair deal, I still feel like I'm getting farther behind.

Two hours left to work today, and I'm struggling against the effects of a localized gravitational anomaly in the area of my eyelids.

Go Dogs Go!

Our group at work had a big meeting on Monday, followed by a "team-building" exercise at the local indoor go-cart track. The latter was not mandatory, but I decided to go anyway. And what did we learn? I'm the most cautious driver in our group. I wasn't surprised to see the various male managers blowing by me, but I was a bit surprised to find our female director was also a faster driver than me.

Not that I care. If my future with the company relies on my ability to screech a go cart around a track with as little braking as possible then I'm more than happy to move on to another company. I'm pleased that I was able to loosen up some and just go for it, however. My best lap time was 26.7 seconds, which was nearly five seconds slower than our crazed web design lead, but also ten seconds faster than my initial lap times. So I reckon for a rookie (and one who, by nature, is allergic to speed) I did okay.

Anyway, it was actually kind of fun--right up until I went to pull into pit row after the last lap. Someone coming up behind me lost control of their cart and T-boned me at full speed. Being a skinny person, there was extra side-to-side room in my seat that the seat-belt really couldn't help with. I got slammed into the side of my seat and bruised three or four ribs. My mobility is somewhat restricted, and I can only find one comfortable position to sleep in at night.

In spite of that I was able to finish the inside walls on the playhouse last night. Still, I'm looking forward to getting over my "racing injury." And I doubt I'll be going go-carting any time soon.

President For Life

My wife saw a small notice posted somewhere in our subdivision that our homeowners association was having elections today, but she didn't notice where. I couldn't find any trace of the sign, personally, but since I care about what happens in our neighborhood I decided to see if I could track it down. I found it mainly by whose cars were parked outside of whose house, and arrived ten minutes late.

I was just in time to be nominated and voted in as president. To be honest, I wasn't surprised, and was somewhat prepared for that eventuality. We have a small, vocal, but essentially chicken group of attendees at each meeting. They want someone to make sure that the CC&Rs are kept, but they don't want to be the one to have to deliver the message.

Fortunately they also nominated me a vice president who's a bit tougher-looking than I am (and drives a Harley), so I think we'll be all right. It'll largely be a thankless job, but there'll at least be ONE benefit: I don't have to ask anyone before I change anything on my property.

Mwah ha ha ha!!!!! The corruption begins!

Feelin' Snarky

My boys woke up too early again this morning, and in an effort to keep things at least mildly under control I put on some early-morning kids TV. In listening to the theme music as the singer extolled the virtues of a CGI kewpie-faced airplane I noticed repeated references to "magic" and "magical."

It seems that magic is a required element in kids programming, even if there is none. At least the only magic I noticed in the show was sparkles trailing from the airplane's wings. I guess it's easier to call it magic than have to explain condensation (or fuel leaks) to tots, but still. It's become such an overworked term that I'm getting kinda sick of it.

Like another stop-motion television series about a tank engine that will remain nameless. The place it occurs is billed as a "magical land where dreams come true." Except I've never seen any magic there, either. And your dreams only come true if they involve a bunch of talking trains that continually get into scrapes and personality conflicts.

Kids are no dummies. I'm pretty sure most kids are totally immune to "magic" these days. "Yeah dad, I know. The plane is magic. The trains are magic. This pencil is magic. Suzy's diapers are magic. Everything's magic."

Okay, perhaps the diapers are magic--the dark arts, to be sure.

"How Much Older Can I Get?"

Morgan Freeman offers some thoughts on aging gracefully and appreciating life...couched in golf terms.

Projectile Dieting

I've been putting on a little weight lately, but I'd have preferred to take it back off slowly. Instead I got stomach flu over the weekend, the same stuff my kids have been passing around for the last week. I'm still not entirely back up to snuff, as food still does not appeal at all, but at least I'm functional. And I've dropped five pounds. Uhm...yay?

Thanks But No Thanks!

It would seem that at least some people in Africa aren't so keen on foreign aid. I've taken enough college economics to see that he has a point. To quote Dr. McCoy, "Drilling holes in his head isn't the answer! The artery must be repaired!"

The Greatest Generation

Last night I got back to reading "Flags of Our Fathers," a book about the men in the famous "flag-raising on Iwo Jima" photo. I read about the battle for Tarawa, where we lost over 1000 men in three days. The American public was upset about the losses, and couldn't understand the point of sacrificing so much for a tiny little island.

It reminds me, of course, of the war we're in right now. Every single complaint applied to the War on Terror could be applied to World War II. Yet they continued the fight at a cost that makes the Iraq War look like playground fisticuffs.

I dare say that America today wouldn't have won WWII. That doesn't fill me with hope, considering that WWIII has already started.

Polar Bear Dung Destroys Planet!

One of my gripes about the Global Warming current (I'm not going to say debate, as that's no longer allowed) is that they focus entirely on greenhouse gasses causing everything. Another is that everything gets blamed on Global Warming, and hence, greenhouse gasses. The polar ice caps are melting? Blame CO2 emmissions!

Well, perhaps not. A new study indicates that dirty snow is contributing at least partly to the increasing temperatures worldwide and more significantly to warming at the poles. It's not encouraging, mind you, and it's no less a problem than whatever else is going on, but it just shows that if you oversimplify things and fail to do due scientific diligence you may end up with the mob all running in the wrong direction.

CO2 and particulate pollution are connected, I'm sure, but the differences could make quite a bit of difference.

Increased solar output, and now particulate pollution. Isn't it time we opened our minds again on Global Warming? Do we really know what we think we know?

Smattering of Elemental Strategy

(Why yes, I DO love the word "smattering." Why do you ask?)

Overheard:
Emma (to the cat): You are so sweet, Jynx!
Walter: I'm not Jynx!

Middle-East:
Michael Totten has a guest columnist on why we should worry about Iran.
Michael Yon rides with the Queen's Royal Lancers.
Michael Yon writes about the courage and intelligence of one of our commanders in Iraq.

What I'm Reading:
I just finished reading "The Psi Corps Trilogy" by J. Gregory Keyes, from an outline by J. Michael Straczynski. The series covers the early origins of the Psi Corps and details the rise of our favorite psi cop, Alfred Bester, from childhood to head of the Corps. The series is ultimately about Bester--the history is just to set the stage, really. This causes the book to be a bit choppy at times, and it skips over events you really wish it would have detailed.

For example, if you're hoping to find out the gory details of Lyta Alexander's bloody revenge on the Psi Corps, prepare to be disappointed. It's alluded to, but entirely skipped over.

Instead, what we have is a classic Straczynski B5 tale: It's all about choices. The book takes one of the most vile human beings and reminds you that he was just that--a human being. You find yourself almost cheering for Bester, even while he's giving you the creeps. You find yourself hoping that he can find redemption and happiness. What we get is a book that, while not exactly satisfying, fits very nicely within the B5 universe and the Straczynksi morality.

I'm glad I read it, even though I wish I hadn't needed to read the whole thing. But you do, and it's worth it.

Audio Book:
"Pattern Recognition" by William Gibson. I've already read this before, but it's a good story well told. It can be as haunting as the "footage" the story revolves around. It details the story of a free-lance "cool" hunter as she undertakes an international search for the creator of the mysterious but provacative "footage," short video segments that pop up on the internet from time to time and has gathered a devoted following.

The annoying beauty of this book, I think, is that not everything is there for a reason. While some things in the book are interconnected in a nearly impossible--yet somehow believable--manner, other things are just...there. There are loose edges, and the ending seems a bit too elysian, but there's something there that won't let you go until it's done.

Gibson has a gift for descriptive detail--not quite poetic like Ray Bradbury, but evocative and multi-leveled. I should probably buy this book someday so I can study the language. I could learn from Gibson.

Notable Quote:
"I suspect I have spent just about exactly as much time actually writing as the average person my age has spent watching television, and that, as much as anything, may be the real secret here" - William Gibson

Idiots Guide to Prophecy

I'm the GM for a D&D group I play with (which makes me a DM, not a GM, I know. So sue me. The game takes place above ground most of the time, so if you want to get technical, I'm really a Surface Master. So there!). As such, I've been developing a game world for the group to play in. In an attempt to round things out a bit more I've been developing some prophecies.

That's not easy task, really. Even without the decision to make each poetic in nature (and in different styles to denote different prophets) it's difficult to get the right balance of vagueness and near-universal applicability without making them meaningless altogether. There has to be enough there that the characters can actually believe they may be part of prophecy--and that the prophecy is helpful to choosing their actions--while leaving room to wiggle if they're really not.

After writing around ten of these I have to say I'm feeling an intense desire to write up one "anti-prophecy" just for fun. Something like:

"Lo, and Drea, Alcoraxis, Fevera, and Wedlin (but not Gaubin, who shall be dead by then) shall go forth to the town of Silverling. There they shall find a grumpy bartender, a genial serving girl, and a mysterious man in the corner, who, though claiming to be able to help them, shall pick their pockets and render no real information. The serving girl, however, if treated kindly and tipped well, will provide information about the location of the Talisman of Ascerotin which they seek, having been told once years ago by her father, god rest is his soul. They should avoid the stables, as a most unpleasant encounter involving a goat, three roosters, and lots of lice awaits them."

That would be fun, especially to see the reaction of the players upon receiving such specific information (especially Gaubin's player). They'd doubtlessly not trust it, and before long be begging for a more "traditional" prophecy. Especially after the lice.

Der Burgermeister

Several years ago I mounted a Mission Impossible-style infiltration of Burger King to steal the secret recipe for their veggie burgers (they've since changed suppliers, and the quality has dropped). It required great skill and a fair amount of luck, but I was able to walk away with their free nutritional information pamphlet which, thanks to the USDA, contains a list of ingredients.

What I didn't get is proportions, of course, so I've spent the last several years working on the recipe. Since each batch makes enough to keep us well stocked for about six months, it's taking awhile. To be honest, I don't know if my recipe even comes close to theirs now. I know the consistency is different. But it tastes pretty good.

Anyway, Memorial Day has become one of the two "Burger Days" when I whip up a batch of burgers. It takes me about 4 hours, but we wind up with about 14 meals worth. So yesterday I spent the afternoon in the kitchen chopping veggies, adding filler and "glue", and then cooking them up. The batch was proclaimed the best yet by my independent, impartial taste-tester (my wife), and since all the kids ate theirs as well I'm inclined to agree.

Last night I decided it was time to take my rather cryptic working notes and type them up into something a bit more workable. If anyone cares to give it a try, let me know. I'll gladly send you the recipe. Unfortunately I've never tried to make fewer than 40 patties, so it doesn't scale well to "let's try it for dinner some time."

Perhaps now I might try making soy cheese. Just kidding.

Russian Thuggery

I know, this is not the sort of stuff I usually get excited about, but this is different. I've been there. I know people there. They warned me several years ago that Russia would love nothing better than to get Estonia back.

So when the Estonians move a Soviet monument, they find themselves under widespread internet attack from Russia (via the Washington Post). Abnormally coordinated hackers? Russian Mafia? Russian Intelligence running field tests for cyberspace warfare? Does it really matter who? The fact is that someone can.

"These attacks were massive, well targeted and well organized," Jaak Aaviksoo, Estonia's minister of defense, said in an interview. They can't be viewed, he said, "as the spontaneous response of public discontent worldwide with the actions of the Estonian authorities" concerning the memorial. "Rather, we have to speak of organized attacks on basic modern infrastructures."

This next little bit is telling, not just for just how seriously this is being taken, but by whom:

The NATO alliance and the European Unionhave rushed information technology specialists to Estonia to observe and assist during the attacks, which have disrupted government e-mail and led financial institutions to shut down online banking.

I think we can expect to see more of this in years to come, and not just from Russia. And why don't I find the Russian response reassuring:

A Russian official who the Estonians say took part in the attacks said in an interview Friday that the assertion was groundless. "We know about the allegations, of course, and we checked our IP addresses," said Andrei Sosov, who works at the agency that handles information technology for the Russian government. His IP address was identified by the Estonians as having participated, according to documents obtained by The Washington Post.

"Our names and contact numbers are open resources. I am just saying that professional hackers could easily have used our IP addresses to spoil relations between Estonia and Russia."

Whether he's lying or telling the truth, the implications are still scary.

"The nature of the latest attacks is very different," said Linnar Viik, a government IT consultant, "and it's no longer a bunch of zombie computers, but things you can't buy from the black market," he said. "This is something that will be very deeply analyzed, because it's a new level of risk. In the 21st century, the understanding of a state is no longer only its territory and its airspace, but it's also its electronic infrastructure."

Or, to quote one of my all-time favorite movie characters, "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Pauper of the Bride

Last week for our date night my wife and I watched "Father of the Bride". I think we estimated that the wedding in the movie cost at least $100,000. I figured that was an exaggeration (remember, this was 15 years ago).

But then I saw this article online. It claims the average wedding in the US costs about $27,000. The average. In the US we spend more on weddings than the GNP of Lithuania. I understand, however, that Japanese weddings leave us in the dust.

I've got about 13 years to save up. Perhaps I should offer my daughter $10k to elope.

Litterature

Iowahawk has envisioned what a James Lileks news story might look like in this amusing parody.

He also channels a few other more famous writers to fill out the other beats. Not suitable for the below PG-13 crowd.

Progress and Appreciation

The playhouse is finished. At least the structural part. I need to give all the exposed wood a shot of primer, at the very least. But the verdict is in. My four year old declared it (or at least the porch railing I added on Saturday) "Outstanding!"

I wish for just a moment I could see the whole thing through his eyes instead of my own, which only see all the parts I goofed up on. It's so easy to forget to see things not in terms of mistakes but in possibilities. After all, growing up we had a lean-to shack cobbled onto the side of the house that was crammed full of old stuff and cobwebs. You could barely even get the door open. But it was the absolute coolest place!

Responsibility kills the inner child, I think. Or at least sends it to its room. It's hard to enjoy a playhouse when you're the one who had to build the playhouse. It's hard to live in the moment when you're expected to always be thinking several moments ahead. To quote Barry Manilow, "Oh, for the fun of them when I was one of them."

Instead I get stuck thinking of preparing bedtime snacks and getting kids ready for church rather than giving myself over to a good laugh with my wife over a linguistic near-miss.

Speaking of my wife, I'll extend Mother's Day just a bit and mention just how much I appreciate her. She is completely committed to giving the best to her kids (which far too often includes me). She's an amazing woman who approaches everything with a style and grace of a Golden Age starlet. She's my Grace Kelly, Katherine Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman, and Donna Reed, all rolled into one--dresses like them, too!

One of the advantages of being a husband is that you tend to catch glimpses of your wife's "press." It sufficeth to say that the general consensus is that I married well. I wish I could say the same about her. To quote Alan Jackson, "Be patient...I'm a work in progress."