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    March 02

    Working on my presentation skills, how leaders connect

    I attended a 2-day seminar where I was coached on developing presentation skills by the amazing Nick Washienko, Phd. Made some good headway in this regard. It was all video...watching video, being videotaped, being critiqued, understanding the dynamic of a good presentation, and practice, practice, practice.

    The first part of this clip is "baseline" .... uncoached, untrained....just practicing introducing someone else. There's a lot wrong with this: I'm standing behind the desk, reading from paper, limited engagement with listeners...the list goes on and on of all the things I am not doing well.

    The second clip is after about 6 iterations. In this clip I am just practicing engaging the listener. Much higher state of engagement, not standing behind the desk, much better body language, etc...

    The third clip is the 8th iteration. This is putting it all together -- introduction, engagement, 1 content section, conclusion.  Not perfect, but much better!
     
    July 11

    We are food for worms....

    "We are food for worms" ...so says Robin Williams in this clip from Dead Poets Society, a clip shown at the end of a 2 day training course called "Leadership Is Everybody's Business".   Unexpectedly moving and motivational course on so many levels.  The ropes course, where I walked across a high wire 40 feet above the ground ....still buzzing on this....the excitement, and on a practical level so much to think about regarding risk, teamwork, and trust.  Some new behaviors and new opportunities I want to try exploring for myself.



      




    April 15

    Time for the senior prom, again

    Prom season is upon us, again.

    I am only aware of prom season every year because I have always had a family member who is a teacher -- first my father, then my wife -- who ends up going to a prom.  I myself never thought I would go to a prom, not even my own prom.  Although believe it or not, I did actually go to my senior prom.   This essay is a humorous and reminiscent look at  [not the prom ....oh geez, what happened that night is a story unto itself, perhaps one that I should take to my grave] of the asking someone to a prom.  As a framework for my essay, I am using an ehow.com (if I had only known about this 25 years ago!) instructions on how to ask a girl to a prom.  


    Step 1:
    Select the girl you wish to ask to prom. The girl should be someone you know and are friendly with. If you've been on a date with her before, that makes her an even better candidate. However, even if you are just friends, you can still ask her to prom.

    Although I was not dating anyone there was no doubt who I would ask to the prom -- Laura.  She had shoulder length raven black hair that was usually flowing loosely around her head, rarely any braids or berets, just a loose witchy and windblown look.  Eyes...like a doe...big and beautifully lashed.  But it was not the shape of the eyes, although the shape of the eyes themselves were beautiful, almost oriental, it was the iris -- beautiful blue swirls like a blue aggie marble from a shoebox in my closet from my long passed childhood  with deep pupils that were so black and bottomless pits that they were like a black hole tugging on my very soul.  Beautiful pale skin.  A bit of a pointy nose.  I realize as I write this she sounds a little witchy by my description, but if she was a witch she was a good witch, and she had cast her spell on me.


    Step 2:
    Find out whether she is going with someone else. If you aren't comfortable asking the girl directly, ask a couple of her friends whether they know if the girl in question is attending prom with anybody yet. If she isn't, that's a green light to proceed.

    We were in 12th grade physics class together.  One day she forgot to do her homework and I had let her copy my homework.  I still recall the homework she copied from me, it was about the physics and trigonometry and some "real-life" example...like a calculating the forces of reeling in a fish on fishing line, when the pole is at a 47 degree angle.   There was a physics lab coming up....wave theory....the class was breaking up into groups of 2 each group with small pans of water....and we were going to study reflections of waves or dismantle particle theory or something with our little experiment and pans and cup of water.  Before we were prom partners, we were wave theory partners.
    My greenlight to proceed I owe to Cat Stevens.  Laura had a slip of paper with what looked like poetry, but I recognized it not as poetry but as lyrics to some songs from Tea For The Tillerman.  Bring tea for the tillerman, steak for the sun, wine for the woman who made the rain come....   Here was our common ground, and it was home turf for me, for I knew the lyrics to several songs from this album.  Cat Stevens had given me the green light.  I could work up the courage to ask.


    Step 3:
    Talk to the girl who you decided to ask to the prom. Relax and be yourself. Broach the subject of the prom and gauge her reaction. If she seems open to the idea of going but doesn't mention a date, that's a clear signal that you can prepare to ask her to the prom. Even if she doesn't sound too excited about the prom, you can still plan on asking her. Her hesitancy might be associated with a lack of a date for the prom.

    Relax?  Oh please that is the most ridiculous advice I have ever heard.  For an awkward teenager to relax when asking out his dream witch/girl to the prom.  Relax?!   I have lost all respect for ehow.com ....zero credibiity.

    Step 4:
    Ask the girl to the prom in an informal setting. You don't have to be on a special date to ask her. However, it's best to ask in person rather than over the phone. Once you have decided to ask her, just do it and get it over with. Ask her simply and directly. Whatever her answer, the stress will be over.

    Well, I wasn't relaxed, but managed to ask, and to my surprise Laura readily said 'yes.'  Yes!  Yes!  Sweeter words I have never heard.  Bring tea for the tillerman, steak for the sun...

    March 30

    Neti Pot: Yoga for my nose

    You are probably asking "What is Neti Pot?"  ...just as I was a few days ago.  I am not sure how to describe Neti Pot, so I will try a few descriptions:

    • Yoga for your nose
    • A form of waterboarding not even practiced by the CIA
    • Nasal cleansing
    • It has left me feeling like I have been body surfing off the coast of Wellfleet for 4 hours
    Oh a picture is worth a thousand words, just look at the picture.  It is salt water in a teapot that goes up one nostril, rinses out your sinus cavities, and comes out the other nostril.  I can't even believe I am writing this it is so disgusting and bizarre.   But maybe not that bizarre: it's not like my world-trekking backpacking neighbor brought it back from Nepal; I got my Neti Pot at CVS.

    And hey, I may even try it again.  I had the sniffles and a little post-nasal drip causing a mild sore throat...I actually feel pretty good right now.



    December 20

    Remembering the broken kneecap

    I was cleaning the house in preparation for the holidays and I stumbled across a diary I kept while I was at Silverstream.  I don't have the exact date of the journal entry, but it was about 3 or 4 days after I snapped my patella tendon....March or April 1999?  2000?  This diary entry is titled "Remembering the smelly plaster cast"   I thought I would share.

    The orthopedic surgeon came in the room and I recognized him instantly.  It was Dr. P.  Dr. P was a customer on my paper route when I was in junior high.  He looked at me and smiled and said, "Mike, you have the distinction of having the smelliest plaster cast I have ever seen."   Calling someone smelly...not just smelly, but the smelliest .....this was not an insult, or a case of horrific bedside manner.   I know Dr. P, but I had forgotten about the smelly cast.  Now I started to remember the smelly cast. This was funny!  Hysterical even!  And also rather overwhelming too, and I'll tell you why.

    So much time had passed, and I had forgotten so much, and somehow this smell...well, not the smell now, I wasn't smelly now....but the sudden memory of this smelly cast when it surfaced into my consciencousness pulled so much up with it. 

    Thirty years ago I had delivered the evening newspaper to the P residence.  It often took me over an hour to move beyond their house.  I would stop and play basketball with P's son...H-O-R-S-E, 21, 1-on-1.  Every day.  And then P's son and I would finish the paper route, usually talking about radio-controlled model gliders we had built, or would build.  P was usually home, downstairs listening to classical music on a tube-driven Macintosh sound system.  A generous tipper, the paper was about 85 cents per week, I usually got a dollar and a quarter.

    Twenty years ago I saw Dr. P again.  I had broken my foot in western Massachusetts parachuting out of an airplane while at the University of Massachusetts.  I landed with uneven footing in a furrowed field.  When I stood up ....oh my...intense pain...no doubt about that...I knew I broke my leg.  Dr. P set my leg at the hospital (ouch) and made a cast...and soon enough I was hobbling around campus.

    But one day when hobbling around campus, it rained.  I got wet, no big deal, water did not bother me then.  But my plaster cast got wet as well.  And a few days later in what I consider "spontaneous creation" life sprang from non-life and something began growing in my cast.  (Right-wingers and creationist, feel free to use this as a data point in your creationist's debates).  Fungus, mold, something else...I really have no idea...but whatever lifeform this was it found a home in the wet cotton and prospered.  And then in a few days more it began to smell, really smell.

    My peeps at the time  -- Rick, Annie, Krista, Scott -- I can't blame them for their repugnant reaction.  It was not me, it was just my foot.   My roomate Annie...brief divergence here...4'4" in height, brown hair and big puppy brown dog eyes, raspy voice, a party machine she could drink a platoon of Marines on shore leave under the table ...I can still see her now ...this exchange is foremost in my memory as typical:

    Setting is the common area in 7 West Orchard Hills dormitories...
    Me:  Anne, I can't I have to study...
    Annie (laughing, raspy voice, handing me a beer): Folz that is bull sh*t get your a** over here

    That is what they called me then ..."Folz"  a term of endearment, yes...but lovingly mocking and a zinger spoof of the cool guy "The Fonz" from the TV show "Happy Days"....I was so uncool.

    Anyways...my peeps, love me as they might, couldn't stand the smell.  Heck neither could I.  It was some repugnant smelling new lifeform.  A lifeform surely destined for extinction, all of nature would work together to eliminate it.  But it was attached to me.  What could I do?  Ostracized, I slept outside that night under a pine tree in a horrible taste of what it must be like to be homeless. 

    Well, the next day, I visited Dr. P.  Grudgingly enduring the twisting faces of the receptionists and nurses as they smelled the olafactory essence of this new lifeform, I maneuvered through the clinic.  Even Dr. P grimaced as he powered up a Dremel-like circular saw to cut through the plaster.  Then, cracking the cast open, the lifeform's sanctuary exposed, I saw it.  Holy cow I will spare you the details!    But a little swabbing with alcholol, a new cast, I was good as new and good to go.  Dr. P said, stating the obvious, "Try to keep the cast dry."  I just looked at him,  message received.  I got it.  Understood.  Say no more. So back to my Twilight-Zone-watching, pizza eating, friends....ah, back in the happy zone at the dorm.

    Now, twenty years later...my kneecap halfway up my quadricep because my patella tendon snapped, me again in excruciating pain, here I am seeing Dr. P again.  He asked me, and I remember this clearly as if it was yesterday, he asked me "What are you doing with your life, Michael?" I told him, proudly, I was working for a pre-IPO internet startup doing software QA...but before I got very far with this answer he waved his hand and said "No, no, no.." and asked me again, "What are you doing with your life?"  Although this was the same question, it stumped me this time.  What is he asking me?  I looked him in the eye and started to think who is this Dr. P that I have known since childhood, known his children, known his whole family?  What is it that he is asking me?  Why was my other answer unsatisfactory? What is important to him?  What is the right answer here?

    And then it started to occur to me...and it started to come back to me.  As it started to come back to me, yes, the first thing to come back to me  was "the smelly cast", but the smelly cast was attached to other things and  pulling huge sections of my memory back into my consciencousness.  Here is a guy who has made good money his whole life as a doctor but never lived extravagantly.  Here is a guy whose whole life has been about family, community, helping others, eliminating pain in others. And it was only then ....after understanding who was asking me this question, after processing the memories of the smelly cast, the good times and friendships at UMass, understanding the importance of health in one's happiness equation, could I begin to answer his question.  So I said .......



    If you enjoyed the essay, feel free to visit the links under my name below....

    Sincerely,

    Michael Foley
    A YouTube Video I made
    A sponsorship page for the Tour de Cure
    February 15

    Work at a start-up no more

    This song played by Garcia and Grisham I now interpret as a warning against working at start-up software companies.  

     

    When first I came to Liverpool
    I went upon a spree
    Me money alas I spent too fast
    Got drunk as drunk could be
    And when my money was all gone
    'Twas then I wanted more
    But a man must be blind to make up his mind
    To go to sea once more

    [Interpretation:  I am broke and willing to take chances (go to sea) to make big money.   "Go to sea" can either mean join a start-up, or drive to route 128 which are the great hunting grounds of software engineers.  "Blind" is a metaphor for ignoring the obvious difficulties which will ensue.]


    I spent the night with Angeline
    Too drunk to roll in bed
    My watch was new and my money too
    In the mornin' with 'em she fled
    And as I roamed the streets about
    The whores they all would roar

    Here comes Jack Rack, the young sailin' lad
    He must go to sea once more

    [Intrepretation: Hmmm....same as above stanza mostly.  We are introduced to Jack Rack, the protagonist in this story.]


    As I was walkin' down the street
    I met with Rapper Brown
    I asked for him to take me in
    And he looked at me with a frown
    He said "Last time you was paid off
    With me you jobbed no score
    But I'll take your advance and I'll give ya's a chance
    And I'll send you to sea once more

    [Intrepretation: Rapper Brown....hmmm...who is he?  A venture capitalist?  A head hunter?  An old friend who is a hiring manager now?]


    I hired me aboard of a whaling ship
    Bound for the Artic seas
    Where the cold winds blow through the frost and the snow
    And Jamaican rum would freeze
    And worst and bear I'd no hard weather gear
    For I'd lost all my money ashore
    'Twas then that I wished that I was dead
    So I'd gone to sea no more

    [Intrepretation: The whaling ship, and all aboard it, are the employees of the start-up company.   The Artic seas is the cold marketplace.]


    Some days we're catching whales me lads
    And some days we're catching none
    With a twenty foot oar cocked in our hands
    From four o'clock in the morn
    And when the shades of night come in
    We rest on our weary oar
    'Twas then I wished that I was dead
    Or safe with the girls ashore

    [Intrepretation:  Whales are ...hmmm...bonuses?....small victories of releasing software version?  Four o'clock is the long hours you have to work.] 


    Come all you bold seafarin' men
    And listen to my song
    If you come off of them long trips
    I'd have ya's not go wrong
    Take my advice, drink no strong drink
    Don't go sleeping with no whores
    Get married lads and have all night in
    So you'll go to sea no more

    [Intrepretation: Drink no strong drink means do not drink the Kool-Aid of the startup.   ]

    January 26

    So, it is, like, wicked good

    A recent observation....hmmm...maybe observation isn't the correct word....I take that back, let me start again.  I have hearing something unique in the conversations of some people that I have not heard before.  It's a speech pattern where the word 'so' is used frequently, excessively even, and always at the beginning of a sentence as a connecting conjunction.

     

    Let me give an example:

    • Person 1:  What is the nature of X?
    • Person 2: So the way that ......

    This pattern is so (my apologies for using 'so', that wasn't a pun) prevalent that it is almost like when I was a kid in Worcester we would say "wicked good"...and I found out later that other people in other parts of the country didn't say "wicked good."  Or like the Valley Girls use of the word "like".  "I was at the mall, and, like, I wanted to buy those shoes because like the price was excellent". 

    "Wicked good" and "like"....I can't discern why these words were used so frequently.  On the other hand, using "so" as a connecting conjunction does seem to have some purpose, or purposes.  For example, if my son asked me, "Dad, why is the sky blue?" and I respond "So the sky is filled with gases such as nitrogen and oxygen and blah blah ...."   Beginning with "so" allows me to begin talking without really answering the question, and in fact, I don't know why the sky is blue.  It sounds better to start with "so" rather than saying "The sky is filled with gases such as nitrogen"....this sounds too definitive...and also clearly incorrect and a non sequitor whereas if I start with "so" I am going to blab along and you continue to listen thinking that I may eventually answer your question if you are patient and listen to me blab along. 

    So "so" provides some very convienent connectivity to link my response to your question.   And in this regard I think it adds a sense of caring or unity to bind the conversation of two people together.  Your words are not metaphorically hit like a tennis ball over the net and you wait for a response....your words  are considered, thought about, and responded to in a caring fashion.

    It also adds a lack of definition.  "What is 3 plus 3?"  "So the addition of two numbers is often performed by ...."   It takes a step back from the specificity of the question and begins by providing some context.  In this regard "so" is a sign of thoughtfullness, but possibly also at the expense of clarity.

    Interestingly, there is a 2nd part to this speech pattern that I think is a definite  counterpart to "so"...and that is the expression "yeah, yeah, yeah [spoken quickly]".  So if I am in listening to some long drawn out answer, often begun with the connecting conjunction "so", and I may go "yeah, yeah, yeah".  Used in this way, "yeah, yeah, yeah" seems to mean 2 things.  One, I understand what you are saying, so it provides feedback and more unity and affirmation to what is being said...connectivity, caring, and affirmation of two thoughtful people engaged in conversation.   "Yeah, yeah, yeah" also sort of says "Please fast forward through this..."  sometimes.

    What makes a speech pattern catch on and be used by many people?  So beginning a sentence with a connecting conjunction is contrary to rules of grammar; but, speech patterns like these catch on if, like, it is wicked good.

    August 25

    Call me Ishmael

    "Call me Ishmael...", the opening phrase of Melville's Moby Dick, is perhaps the most famous opening sentence in all of American Literature.
     
    Call me Ishmael. Some years ago -- never mind how long precisely -- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off -- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.
     
     
     Truly an American epic and tragedy. 
     
    Epic in like the old epics.  Notice the epic timeline...the story begins nearly at the end of the timeline...with Ishmael telling the tale bobbing on a coffin in the ocean.   American...in so many ways...but suprising the world with the wisdom contained in the pursuit of the blubbery beasts...and not  just any beast...the white whale.  What is the white whale?  That is, of course, the question.  Nature? God?  Symbol of man's exploitation of nature?  Man vs. Nature?  Well, we all have our white whale....but take Melville's advice about the relentless pursuit of your own white whale....don't do it.   On the first bite, it'll take your leg off...like Ahab.  And the second bite will take the rest.  
     
    I identify more with Ishmael .... poor with an occasional  wanderlust.  But now when I need to occassionally "drive off the spleen ...and regulate my circulation"...I just go for a bike ride, change jobs, or pick up a new hobby.  And thankfully, I've encountered no white whales on my bike rides.
     
     
     

    Uncle Richard or Brother-in-law Bob

    A good friend's recent blog entry highlighted, in metaphorical terms, two pulls or influences in my life. 
     
    In one ear is brother-in-law Bob.  In general, Bob represents the business and career man.  "Adding value" to society through work contributions, staying on top of their game, on the lookout for new opportunities.  Oxford button down shirts, #2 haircut, a few technical certifications.
     
    In the other ear is Uncle Richard.  Uncle Richard, who I've met, lives in a modest home 1 mile from the ocean.  Retired, or semi-retired, his house is filled with things he loves: vintage tube radios, family photos.  Likely, Uncle Richard probably still has some Oxford button down shirts, but they haven't been dry cleaned in a long time, just tumble washed and dried, and worn around the house or on a leisurely walk to the ocean.
     
    If I was twenty years older, I would reverse mortgage the house, bail on the Bob way of life, and spend all my time ala Uncle Richard with family, old friends, and mucking around the house with a hobby ...be it banjo, bicycle, books, computers, piano, or something new.  But for now, it's a balance ....a little of brother-in-law Bob and a little of Uncle Richard. 
    July 24

    Interesting and motivational quotes from "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor E. Frankl

    Some interesting and motivational quotes from Viktor E. Frankl's "Man's Search For Meaning". Frankl is a holocaust survivor. All the quotes are good, the last one sort of disturbing. Actually very disturbing.


    On Choosing One's Attitude
    "Everything can be taken from a man but ...the last of the human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." p.104

    "There is also purpose in life which is almost barren of both creation and enjoyment and which admits of but one possibility of high moral behavior: namely, in man's attitude to his existence, an existence restricted by external forces." p.106


    On Committing to Values and Goals
    "Logotherapy...considers man as a being whose main concern consists in fulfilling a meaning and in actualizing values, rather than in the mere gratification and satisfaction of drives and instincts." p.164

    "What man actually needs is not a tensionless state but rather the striving and struggling for some goal worthy of him. What he needs is not the discharge of tension at any cost, but the call of a potential meaning waiting to be fulfilled by him." p.166


    On Discovering the Meaning of Life
    "The meaning of our existence is not invented by ourselves, but rather detected." p.157

    "What matters, therefore, is not the meaning of life in general, but rather the specific meaning of a person's life at a given moment." p.171

    "We can discover this meaning in life in three different ways: (1) by doing a deed; (2) by experiencing a value; and (3) by suffering." p.176


    On Fulfilling One's Task
    "A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the "why" for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any "how."
    p.127

    "It did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life - daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct. Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual." p.122




    But now, the quote that has disturbed me:

    On the average, only those prisoners could keep alive who, after years of trekking from camp to camp, had lost all scruples in their fight for existence; they were prepared to use every means, honest and otherwise, even brutal force, theft, and betrayal of their friends, in order to save themselves. We who have come back, by the aid of many lucky chances and miracles -- whatever one may call them -- we know; the best of us did not return.


    So this last quote has me disturbed. Is it just Billy Joel's "Only the good die young"....some horrible truth....or some inconsistency?

    How does one reconcile this quote ...with this one:

    Men who allowed their inner hold on their moral and spiritual selves to subside eventually fell victim to the camps' degenerating influences.


    July 19

    Musings on very long car rides

    Long car rides are inherently unnatural.  Strapped in, immobile, unable to straighten your legs, for 12 hours.  And the worst part are the constraints on bodily functions -- both eating and going to the bathroom.  The only upside is that you have plenty of time to think.  This essay is what I thought about on a recent car ride from  Michigan to Massachusetts.

    • The demographics of interstate rest areas/service stops are skewed and do not represent the general population. There are a lot of old people at service areas; or, more accurately, there is a higher percentage of people who need to go to the bathroom more frequently than the general population. My family does not need to go to the bathroom often, if ever; and I do. Not that I have to go to the bathroom that often. When I wake up in the morning I go, and maybe also after a large cup of coffee. But the rest of my family does not have to go at all. My kids...we woke them up at 3:00 AM, and they did not even need to pee until after noon. How is this possible? And my wife Cindy, holy mackeral. I stopped at a service area to go to the bathroom on our 12 hour ride from Michigan. I said to Cindy, "Did you go to the bathroom?" Cindy replied, "I have to go, but didn't. I am going to try and wait until Albany."  And the award for this self-imposed suffering is?
    • My wife's driving drives me nuts.  Let me rephrase that, she is an excellent car driver, but differences in our driving style cause me stress.   Her overriding motive is to go 5 mph over the speed limit no matter what.  "I need to get around these trucks."  Push push push.  I live to drive mellow. 
    • In the USA, town signs say something like "Entering Paxton, Incorporated 1687".  In Canada, town signs say something like "Entering Town ABC, population 7,500, 3 interchanges".   The difference intrigues me.  USA likes business..."incorporated."  Canada is proud that  a certain number of people actually live in  this area.

    Buried Treasure found in Paxton, MA


    Is there buried treasure in Paxton?  Yes and no.  No, not gold bullion and coins that one might imagine in the long lost hidden treasure chest of Blackbeard the Pirate.  But yes, hidden caches of trinkets that need to be located and discovered with maps and clues.  12 paces east of the old oak tree and all that fun are part of two similar, yet distinct, hobbies named "letterboxing" and "geo-caching."

    Letterboxing, as defined on the website www.letterboxing.org:

    "Letterboxing is an intriguing mix of treasure hunting, art, navigation, and exploring interesting, scenic, and sometimes remote places. It takes the ancient custom of placing a rock on a cairn upon reaching the summit of a mountain to an artform."

    And you may be surprised to know that there is 1 letterbox hidden in Paxton, and many more in the surrounding towns, just waiting to be discovered.   A good place to start is at www.letterboxing.org, and there you can learn more about the hobby and the location of letterboxes in the area.

    Geo-caching is a similar hobby, yet requires a global positioning device, a.k.a. GPS.  You start with the latitude and longitude coordinates and some directions and proceed to navigate to the cache.  A good place to start is www.geocaching.com, which contains the locations of 2 geocaches in Paxton, and many more in surrounding communities.   There is some added cost with geocaching because it requires a GPS device (several hundred dollars), but also some added interest for the gadget freak and techno geek.

    One geocaching experience of mine was to a location called Sampson's Pebble in Spencer with the kids and their friends.  It involved a pleasant hike on the Midstate Trail, the discovery a giant boulder just sitting on the ground left by glaciers, and the final scurrying about to find the hidden cache.  The cache was filled with plastic trinkets, which the kids just loved, and we signed the book recording our discovery of the cache.

    As both letterboxing and geocaching are similar to treasure hunting, I was reminded of the old black-and-white movie "The Treasure of The Sierra Madre" starring Humphrey Bogart.   Bogart found and lost treasure; but he learned the real treasure, which cannot be lost, are the good times, friendships, and experiences.  Says Bogart, "Gold ain't good for nothing except making jewelry with and gold teeth." And alas so it is with letterboxing and geo-caching, in the end there is no gold treasure.   But there is the real treasure -- pleasant hikes in your hometown to places offering scenic vistas with family and friends.   You may be surprised to find such real treasure so close to home.
    June 11

    How Bad is YOUR Boss?

    This was an interesting video that made me think about civic leaders and politicians, bosses and managers.

     

     The video defines bad leaders rather empirically -- a toxic leader is someone who leaves you worse off than when you started.   This is rather circular definition, but ok. 

     

    But then it goes on to discuss the followers of toxic leaders...and why they follow, and continue to follow toxic leaders.  Toxic leaders somehow touch their followers promising them well-being, safety, to take care of them.  Suprisingly, even symbolic "immortality" by convincing followers that they are building something or being part of something that will outlast their lives.

     

    As I apply this to managers and leaders, politicians...it becomes rather interesting.  A business leader may be followed...even down erroneous or unethical paths...if you think it will lead to your personal wealth or career growth.  And take a politician...Bush for instance...why are is followers still behind them.  What is it they believe in...that Bush is creating a world that will be "profitable" for them and their children...or that his vision of America or the world is "correct"?

     

     

     

    Quote

    How Bad is YOUR Boss?

    Jean Lipman-Blumen talks about how normal people become our worst leaders. Her book THE ALLURE OF TOXIC LEADERS explains why we tend to follow destructive leaders, how we can spot them, and how to prevent them from ruining our lives.

    June 05

    Time Enough for Music

    This is an essay I liked, titled Time Enough For Music....

    These are 2 paragraphs I liked...which are not even about music:

    The most valuable resource anyone has is time. If you doubt this, consider the following: if a man loses all his worldly possessions in a disaster, he can eventually gain them back given enough time. What he can never get back is the time he has already spent gaining all those possessions. Not only is time a one way road on which we cannot turn around, we don’t even know how far that road goes. At any moment, our lives can end in the blink of an eye. Our time on this planet is the most precious commodity we have. This is the primary reason why, all things being equal, people seek to satisfy their desires sooner rather than later. You may not be around later.

    While the tendency is for wealth to increase over time, time itself never increases. We only have 24 hours a day to allocate in the way which best satisfies our wants and needs. Those wants and needs vary from person to person. The poorest of the poor in our world who live on a dollar a day use all their available time and energy merely trying to stay alive. Those who are fortunate enough to live a more affluent lifestyle have more options than simply meeting the most basic human needs. Regardless, all of us have a finite amount of time to allocate in whatever way we choose.


    This reminds me of a gut Psychology 101 course I took in college.  One thing was something about Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs.  I had to memorize it at the time, but it is something that I have been thinking about lately.   Happiness is at the top of the triangle.  All to often I have been lower in the triangle.  But happiness is not a good meal, not a house with more square footage.  Focus on the top of the triangle.  And music...playing the piano or another instrument...is at the top of the triangle. 


    May 26

    Piece of Meat

    Now that grilling and BBQ season has begun, I reminisce about the best piece of meat I have ever had....

    It was in Osaka, Japan.  The restaurant on the outside was non-striking and there was absolutely nothing indicating the joys my pallett was soon to experience.  The hallway in was rather confining, and I brushed up against the walls several times disturbing pictures that were hung on the wall.  My first thought was that either these pictures were going to be soon broken, or that this was not a high-volume walkway.  Then I noticed the pictures...celebrites posing with the chefs and wait staff.  There was Bill and Hillary Clinton...ex-boxers like Mike Tyson and Marvelous Marvin Hagler....actors like Frank Sinatra. 

    There was almost a 1:1 ratio of visible wait staff to guests.  This is not due to low customer turnout...but to the extremely high-level of service.  You put your water glass down and it was instantly refilled.  The wait staff lovingly hovered...just outside of the annoying hovering zone...but inside the watchful and attentive zone.  They were more than attentive...they anticipated and responded.

    The wine was one of those rare bottles that I will always remember...not by name...but by taste.  Each sip of the red was like warm velvet on my tongue.  They were big glasses and the wine flowed rather freely as bottle after bottle opened.

    The chef had a tray with about a dozen pieces of meat.  The meat looked marbled with fat and I was at first unimpressed.  I like my steak lean on and not fatty.  Little did I know that this was the venerable Kobe Beef....$400/pound....from cows that were massaged and hung by a trapeze so there muscles would not get tough.  He seared the entire outer surface one side at a time to seal the juice.  And then cooked it.  It was thick...like 2 inches thick.  I would burn a piece of meat this thick in an attempt to cook the inside...but not this steak...it was perfect.

    And vegetables...lightly cooked in oil and seasoning.

    Mmmmm......  that was a great piece of meat that I will never forget.  Ah....BBQ season is upon us.  Let the grilling begin!


    May 20

    The Inner Ring

    One of the more interesting essays I have read lately is "The Inner Ring" by C. S. Lewis. C. S. Lewis is of course the famous author of Chronicles of Narnia, et. al.

    The essay begins with a quote from Tolstoy's War and Peace.

    When Boris entered the room, Prince Andrey was listening to an old general, wearing his decorations, who was reporting something to Prince Andrey, with an expression of soldierly servility on his purple face. "Alright. Please wait!" he said to the general, speaking in Russian with the French accent, which he used when he spoke with contempt. The moment he noticed Boris he stopped listening to the general who trotted imploringly after him and begged to be heard, while Prince Andrey turned to Boris with a cheerful smile and a nod of the head. Boris now clearly understood-what he had already guessed-that side by side with the system of discipline and subordination which were laid down in the Army Regulations, there existed a different and a more real system-the system which compelled a tightly laced general with a purple face to wait respectfully for his turn while a mere captain like Prince Andrey chatted with a mere second lieutenant like Boris, Boris decided at once that he would be guided not by the official system but by this other unwritten system.


    The quote illuminates what I suppose could be called the formal system or organization and the informal system or organization. Nothing earth-shattering so far, but Lewis expounds on this to illuminate something called "The Inner Ring", why people need the inner ring, how to get in the inner ring, and the ethics of the inner ring....and how good people go bad.

    This inner ring is similar to a sense of belonging that one feels in a group or community. According to Lewis, the need to be in this inner ring is extremely high on the hierarchy of needs. But it is also elusive....you could be in and not know it, you could think you're in but you're really out, and you could think you're out but be in. You could be slipping in and out of the inner ring. Apparently membership in this inner ring can be a bad thing. While you being in, others who are out resent your in-ness.

    Says Lewis:

    The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it. But if you break it, a surprising result will follow. If in your working hours you make the work your end, you will presently find yourself all unawares inside the only circle in your profession that really matters. You will be one of the sound craftsmen, and other sound craftsmen will know it. This group of craftsmen will by no means coincide with the Inner Ring or the Important People or the People in the Know. It will not shape that professional policy or work up that professional influence which fights for the profession as a whole against the public: nor will it lead to those periodic scandals and crises which the Inner Ring produces. But it will do those things which that profession exists to do and will in the long run be responsible for all the respect which that profession in fact enjoys and which the speeches and advertisements cannot maintain. And if in your spare time you consort simply with the people you like, you will again find that you have come unawares to a real inside: that you are indeed snug and safe at the center of something which, seen from without, would look exactly like an Inner Ring. But the difference is that its secrecy is accidental, and its exclusiveness a by-product, and no one was led thither by the lure of the esoteric: for it is only four or five people who like one another meeting to do things that they like. This is friendship. Aristotle placed it among the virtues. It causes perhaps half of all the happiness in the world, and no Inner Ring can ever have it.


    I find this all very interesting as it relates to me personally. I have been in, and I have been out. Out is uncomfortable sometimes. As a contractor you are permanently out, but it is ok as you are a contractor. But if you are an employee and out...and can't find the way in....or find that there is an in...then that is generally a bad thing. In every place I have lived for a long period of time -- Paxton, Amherst, Newburyport -- I have felt in. Other places I have visited -- Boston, Framingham -- out....no sense of in-ness for me. Many places I have worked -- Avery Dennison, Powersoft, Silverstream -- I have felt in. Some places ...out.

    The advice on getting in....interesting....and good, I think.
    May 11

    Remembering an old love affair with PB

    I remember when I first fell in love with PB.  My eyes opened wide.  I was excited.  Speechless, yet full of new ideas flooding in with a million things to say.  I knew I was in love with PB.  Yet PB was was not a person...PB was Powerbuilder, a client-server development tool.
     
    Before PB I was content.  I had spent 10 years doing applications programming on integrated accounting and manufacturing systems.  All the programming was in a Unix command-line environment.  And I used text-based 4GLs such as Progress.  I wasn't so much enamored by the technology.  Unix and Progress were only tools for me....with an MBA and APICS certification I was a supply-chain person with the tools to make a difference. 
     
    We had a contractor in to help us on a large project.  His name was AJ and we became friends.  When his stint as a contractor was ending, he opened his laptop and showed me something he would be using on his next assignment.   I had never seen anything like this before.  Powerbuilder!  It was exciting...graphical (instead of text-based), click-and-drag, object-oriented (instead of procedural).  It created graphical applications that were easy to use that users loved.  Programming could be really fun, like creating a functioning work of art.
     
    Well, I knew I was in love.  And there is no stopping love.  I marched myself over to Concord to the company Powersoft which made Powerbuilder.  I confessed my love and begged them to hire me.  They did.  And my second big surprise was how fun it was working there.  Instead of staid and stodgy manufacturers and Fortune 500 companies...this was like college.  Young people.  Learning.  Cooperation.  I took a million classes in everything from how to write and use OLE objects, the Powerbuilder Foundation Classes (PFC), object-oriented programming, the DataWindow.  I became a Certified Powerbuilder Developer (CPD).  I taught Powerbuilder at 2 local colleges WPI and Clark University in their evening client-server curriculums.  I was a wizard on the help desk. 
     
    It was a tremendous love affair.  Until I saw my next love, the Silverstream IDE.  More on that in another essay.
     
     

    The Blue Liquid

    Today's essay on corporate America discusses the job interview and rigourous job screening process that candidates face in the workplace.....
     
    What do I -- middle-aged, of hobbled knee, overweight -- have in common with Lance Armstrong -- 7 time Tour de France winner?   Well, we have both been tested for drugs.    Lance was tested for performance-enhancing drugs like EPO which increase the body's production of red blood cells to improve his cycling and endurance.  Me, I was tested as part of an interview process for a job I am bidding on at a large financial institution.  I suppose  the new company is only protecting themselves.   Maybe,  like Lance, I would be tempted to take some substance to improve my work efficiency or productivity.  "Holy mackeral, look how much Java code he writes...he really rocks...I think maybe he's on something".  Or perhaps the scenario is that I could hypothetically chmod +777 or do an Oracle GRANT for someone for a few hits of  Oxycontin. "Psst...buddy...come over here.  If you write a servlet for me I've got a little purple pill for you.".  Likely scenarios...the company does need to protect itself. 
     
    This is the first time for me with drug testing....so I am a little nervous in the waiting room at the drug testing center.  Maybe they will discover I had a multi-vitamin and some Metamucil this morning?  How embarassing.  Sitting here with me in the waiting room with me are a college student going for an internship at an insurance company.  Surely she has been to one of those musical rave parties where they take drugs and dance naked.  And a truck driver.  Don't they all take speed amphetamines to stay awake on their long hauls...I hope so....better that than dozing off and wiping out a few passenger cars with their 18 wheeler from dozing off, I say.  I know I am clean, but I don't want my test results mixed up with these two likely druggies. I know that is going to happen...some sort of mixup, false results.....accusations...just like what happened to Lance.
     
    So the lady calls me in ...checks my ID...and sends me into the bathroom "to provide a sample".   So I go into the bathroom and do my thing...and come out with my sample.  She looks at my sample closely.  I am feeling inadequate and scared now as she scrutinizes my sample.  She says "What is this?!?"   I say "That is my sample that you asked for."  She shakes her head and says, "This is not a fertility clinic.  Get back in there and PEE in the cup."  Ashamed and embarassed, I go back in the bathroom.  Sigh.  This is my first time and I am trying so hard.
     
    Problem is...I don't have to pee.   I visualize waterfalls, the mighty Mississippi, Old Faithful Geyser.  Nothing.  I turn on the sink thinking the sound of running water will help me.  Nothing.  Then there is a knock on the door and the nurse lady yells "What's taking so long?".  Doesn't she know anything about performance anxiety?  I feel bad for her husband if she puts him under similar time constraints. 
     
    But gee...how ironic, I woke up twice in the middle of the night to pee when I didn't want to...and now I can't make myself pee when I want to.  So I ask the nurse lady meekly, "Can I have a glass of water?".  I hear a big sigh.....then some running water....then a knock on the door and she hands in a glass of water, which I guzzle.  Then I wait.  Visualize water being absorbed through my intestinal walls....entering my bloodstream...and being filtered out by my kidneys...bladder filling.  Finally, I have to pee, and I fill the cup.  Success! Or so I thought....
     
    So I come out and hand the cup  carefully to the nurse lady and she says "Whoa whoa whoa" as she backs up  as if I have a jar of nitro glycerin.  "What now?" I say.  "That is too much," she says curtly.   I can't do anything right.  I am a failure.   I can't even eliminate properly.  "Empty half of it out ."  So I go back in the bathroom and start to empty half of it out in the toilet.  "NOT IN THE TOILET!" she yells.  I jump, and spill some ...alarmed at this yell.  There is blue liquid stuff in the toilet...somehow...I haven't figured this out...this blue stuff is supposed to prevent me from cheating on this test.  I was supposed to know not to mess with the blue stuff.   Maybe Lance has figured this out...but whatever the blue stuff is for I can't figure it out.  If anyone knows what the blue stuff is for, please let me know.  Anyways, I empty half out in the sink...and hand it back to her. Then she packages it up, labels it....sort of cringing all the time like my pee is somehow worse than other people's pee.    I am still paranoid it is going to get mixed up with the samples from those druggies in the waiting room, but what can I do?  This is probably just what happened to Lance...his samples got mixed up with someone else's.  But at least Lance had given 2 samples...an "A" and a "B" sample.  And I only have 1 sample...well, not counting that first one. 
     
    Sigh...corporate America.
    May 10

    Whitespace

    If Spock, Science Officer for Captain Kirk on the Starship, were at this meeting at work that I was at I am sure he would have raised one eyebrow and uttered the word "Fascinating." I can't make my one eyebrow move like Spock, but still I uttered "Fascinating." You see, I was speechless.  I just received clarification on my job function...which is to be like "whitespace." Whitespace. White space. Fascinating.

    In typography, I know what whitespace is -- Whitespace is the space between the words and the margins; without whitespace, words would run together and off the page. In computer science, whitespace is ascii 32, " ", line feeds, form feeds. Non-visual characters. The space between words in the lexicon.  Whitespace is also my new job description....not DBA, not Unix admin, not Java developer, not Websphere admin, not build master, not QA, not performance engineer, not vendor packaged code...but everything else (?)...the whitespace between. Fascinating.

    I tried writing a computer program using only whitespace, the full text of which is below:

     

     

     

     

    This actually compiles, by the way.  Fascinating.

    The famous poet e.e. cummings would use whitespace, its addition and removal, to give special meaning ...and in way that hadn't been acheived before. For example, here is a poem by e.e. cummings about Buffalo Bill that uses whitespace:

    Buffalo Bill's
    defunct
            who used to
            ride a watersmooth-silver
                                      stallion
    and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
                                                      Jesus

    he was a handsome man
                          and what i want to know is
    how do you like you blueeyed boy
    Mister Death

    See...the removal of whitespace in "onetwothreefourfive" adds pacing, and shows the speed of his excellent markmanship breaking clay pigeons. Apparently e.e. wasn't as impressed with Bill's massacre of the buffaloes on the great plains. But anyways...this is whitespace.  Fascinating.

    But still I am struggling with the concept of actually being whitespace at work. What does that mean? To be whitespace? How does whitespace translate into tasks? How can I be the whitespace? How will whitespace look on my resume?  Will people want me because I have experience as whitespace?  Am I to be the e.e. Cummings of Staples?  If so,

     

    I think I will sit q    u   i    e    t    l    y. 
    With fingers of one hand
                            touching fingers of the other hand
    poised and
    expression less
      in my
            starched and
    dry cleaned
    shirt and
    be the space
    between other 
                    people. W h i t e s p a c e.
    Fascin
             ating.