Several weeks ago I received a call at work from my wife. Her friend since high school, Joy, had been taken to the hospital the night before. She had had an aneurysm that ruptured. She was rushed to the Neurological Center at Jefferson University Hospital where she was placed in a medically induced coma.
She lay in the coma for two and a half weeks as the doctors conducted tests and scans and adjusted her medicine to check her brain function. At first there was some initial optimism, they were reducing her medication and the swelling was reducing proportionally. However, it came to a level where every time they tried to reduce the medicine further, the swelling increased. This led the doctors to determine that there was significant, permanent damage.
On 08 July 2007 Joy passed away at the age of 37. She was a beautiful woman, a great wife and mother of three, and a true friend.
I have some great friends, with whom I don't spend enough time, and I've had great relationships throughout my life. But my wife has more than friends. We refer to them as the coven. They can be somewhat unpleasant to outsiders (or, more accurately, intruders) but with each other they share a relationship that defies simple explanation or wisdom. It has been my good fortune that they have accepted (or tolerated) me, and the members have all chosen mates well.
When word came of Joy's ill health, things were dropped immediately and a small contingent rushed to the hospital. This may not seem out of the ordinary, but there was an immediacy and coordination in their action: they acted out of friendship and sincerity; when they offered to her family anything, the family knew the honesty of the offer. And they complement each other remarkably. When one needed a shoulder to cry on, it was there; when someone needed an arm twisted, it was twisted. And even in a moment of crisis, sadness and anxiety not a cross word was said.
The loss of Joy has been devastating for all who had the honor of knowing her. I know the family, in due time, will come to grips with the tragedy. They are good people. My wife used to remark that when the coven would gather and the conversation would turn on their husbands, Joy used to apologize for not joining in; she had nothing to complain about. Her husband is indeed that fine of a man (he is "That Guy"), and they have three daughters that--well, I hope my own daughter is as good as any of them as she gets older.
As for the coven, they will also survive. It's been said that this will really hit them again on their next gathering. I am certain it will.
But there is no way out of that group. She may not attend physically, but Joy will be there.
Forever.
21 July 2007
31 May 2007
Finger Destiny?
According to this story, you can tell which section you'll do (or you did) better on in the SAT.
When I sat for the SAT, I was convinced that I would do better on the Verbal section than the Math; for myriad reasons. Namely that I had a few great English teachers and perhaps the world's worst pre-calc teacher who'd shaken every last bit of confidence I'd had in my mathematical ability clear out of me.
The short version of the article is that you'll do better on the Math if your ring finger in longer; better on the Verbal if your index finger is longer.
I had never really taken notice of which finger was longer than the other on my own hand, but of course I looked. My ring finger is a mite longer than my index finger.
I was as surprised at this as I was when, lo those many years ago, I opened the envelope containing my SAT results. I scored 5.2% higher in Math than Verbal. Whether my ring finger is 5.2% longer than my index is a detail I am not going to concern myself with.
The article goes on to posit that prenatal exposure to testosterone and estrogen determine finger length. Exposure to testosterone is known to make the ring finger longer.
This lends itself to another study of which I've heard that examined testosterone levels in Mathematics majors. Apparently there is no (or little) discrepancy between the sexes when it comes to mathematical ability or interest in the subject in prepubescent children. Upon the onset of puberty however, when the testosterone level in boys increases greatly, boys start to show better ability and interest where girls (again, typically not necessarily) tend to lose interest and grades start slipping below boys'.
This also, to those who study these things, may explain why Mathematics majors are overwhelmingly male.
This does not mean I subscribe to the theory that women are incapable of higher mathematics. But there is definite, empirical proof that hormone levels affect certain areas of the brain at certain stages of development, and that this will obviously affect one's ability in certain fields. Not, however, subject an individual to be excluded from a particular field due to sex.
I have a daughter, and if she's so inclined, I would be as proud as can be imagined if she chose to pursue an advanced degree in mathematics, regardless of whether her ring finger is longer than her index finger. These hormones, taken into account with family upbringing, quality (not cost) of education, incalculable social factors and, of course, her personal interest in the subject, will help determine what field she chooses. And whatever that is, I am certain only of her excellence.
A few years ago I attended an Executive Education seminar at Cornell University. I was in the hotel business at the time and there were hoteliers from around the world at this seminar. In my particular class of about twenty, there were only three Americans.
At my table there were three men and one woman, she from Japan. Two of the men were American, one from Jamaica. One of our tasks, towards the end of our conference, was to design and start our own hotel. One very important aspect of running a hotel is what to charge per room night, and this is very much a science rather than an art, taking into account what I thought was an astonishing number of factors. Charged with this task, we went straight to work, each working individually but talking to each other. We came to our figure.
The professors went about the room, telling each group how far off their number was, why it was wrong and how to correct it. Each group missed one integral aspect, each different from the other.
Our table was last, and as each group was declared wrong our chests puffed a little because we had taken into account what the others had missed. By the time we were called, our colleague from Jamaica, being the appointed one, proudly gave "our" answer.
We were the most wrong.
I can't remember what, exactly, we missed, but it was a doozy. And one of the professors helpfully pointed out that, in the real world, we'd have been lucky to have lasted a month. But the other professor who had been walking about the room during the work phase at which we were to come up with our rate, asked our female colleague what her number was. She was right. To the penny.
The class was on Team Effectiveness, and on the last day we learned that we weren't either. We also learned a bit about certain stereotypes, our female colleague, too. The professor who knew she was right chided her for not standing up and telling three proud dolts how wrong they were.
Lessons learned across the board.
Namely that I (try to) never assume a person I meet, regardless of gender, race, national origin, what have you, has any innate superiority or deficiency in any subject matter in particular.
Usually after being around someone long enough, they'll let you know what they're good at, and what they aren't.
When I sat for the SAT, I was convinced that I would do better on the Verbal section than the Math; for myriad reasons. Namely that I had a few great English teachers and perhaps the world's worst pre-calc teacher who'd shaken every last bit of confidence I'd had in my mathematical ability clear out of me.
The short version of the article is that you'll do better on the Math if your ring finger in longer; better on the Verbal if your index finger is longer.
I had never really taken notice of which finger was longer than the other on my own hand, but of course I looked. My ring finger is a mite longer than my index finger.
I was as surprised at this as I was when, lo those many years ago, I opened the envelope containing my SAT results. I scored 5.2% higher in Math than Verbal. Whether my ring finger is 5.2% longer than my index is a detail I am not going to concern myself with.
The article goes on to posit that prenatal exposure to testosterone and estrogen determine finger length. Exposure to testosterone is known to make the ring finger longer.
This lends itself to another study of which I've heard that examined testosterone levels in Mathematics majors. Apparently there is no (or little) discrepancy between the sexes when it comes to mathematical ability or interest in the subject in prepubescent children. Upon the onset of puberty however, when the testosterone level in boys increases greatly, boys start to show better ability and interest where girls (again, typically not necessarily) tend to lose interest and grades start slipping below boys'.
This also, to those who study these things, may explain why Mathematics majors are overwhelmingly male.
This does not mean I subscribe to the theory that women are incapable of higher mathematics. But there is definite, empirical proof that hormone levels affect certain areas of the brain at certain stages of development, and that this will obviously affect one's ability in certain fields. Not, however, subject an individual to be excluded from a particular field due to sex.
I have a daughter, and if she's so inclined, I would be as proud as can be imagined if she chose to pursue an advanced degree in mathematics, regardless of whether her ring finger is longer than her index finger. These hormones, taken into account with family upbringing, quality (not cost) of education, incalculable social factors and, of course, her personal interest in the subject, will help determine what field she chooses. And whatever that is, I am certain only of her excellence.
A few years ago I attended an Executive Education seminar at Cornell University. I was in the hotel business at the time and there were hoteliers from around the world at this seminar. In my particular class of about twenty, there were only three Americans.
At my table there were three men and one woman, she from Japan. Two of the men were American, one from Jamaica. One of our tasks, towards the end of our conference, was to design and start our own hotel. One very important aspect of running a hotel is what to charge per room night, and this is very much a science rather than an art, taking into account what I thought was an astonishing number of factors. Charged with this task, we went straight to work, each working individually but talking to each other. We came to our figure.
The professors went about the room, telling each group how far off their number was, why it was wrong and how to correct it. Each group missed one integral aspect, each different from the other.
Our table was last, and as each group was declared wrong our chests puffed a little because we had taken into account what the others had missed. By the time we were called, our colleague from Jamaica, being the appointed one, proudly gave "our" answer.
We were the most wrong.
I can't remember what, exactly, we missed, but it was a doozy. And one of the professors helpfully pointed out that, in the real world, we'd have been lucky to have lasted a month. But the other professor who had been walking about the room during the work phase at which we were to come up with our rate, asked our female colleague what her number was. She was right. To the penny.
The class was on Team Effectiveness, and on the last day we learned that we weren't either. We also learned a bit about certain stereotypes, our female colleague, too. The professor who knew she was right chided her for not standing up and telling three proud dolts how wrong they were.
Lessons learned across the board.
Namely that I (try to) never assume a person I meet, regardless of gender, race, national origin, what have you, has any innate superiority or deficiency in any subject matter in particular.
Usually after being around someone long enough, they'll let you know what they're good at, and what they aren't.
20 May 2007
No Thanks
I belong to a local Businessmen’s/Professional association. It’s one of theses places where you spend around two-hundred bucks to join and then get to attend business-card exchanges and “networking” breakfasts. The breakfasts are where we have a fellow member or invited guest talk about how swell the organization is and use the verb “to grow” incorrectly. A quick aside, the organization is fairly decent as it has raised over ten grand for local, township-level charities over the last year and expects to beat that this year.
At a recent breakfast we had a county commissioner join us. Like most counties in my Commonwealth, ours is governed by a three-man commission which must never be more than two members of a particular party, i.e. there can never be three Democrats or three Republicans. Right now, we have two Republicans and one Democrat and the gentleman that came to our meeting is the junior Republican.
He started off innocently enough about how important business is to our county. Then he starts on about the myriad state and county organizations (ABCs, for the mind-numbing fealty government has for initialing every single entity it begets) that exist for the sole purpose of helping business.
Now here’s where I start to get excited. We have a Republican talking about how bureaucracy affects business. Now this guy wasn’t elected, he was appointed because the guy who had the job got elected to a higher office. But his seat was coming up for election and I figured he was going to endorse scraping this nonsense.
Nope. He wants another layer.
His plan is to create another ABC that will help businesses work their way through all of the organizations that already exist to get as many government hand-outs, taxpayer money and tax-breaks (loopholes) as possible.
Because—and here’s the money line—“Helping you succeed, helping you make money, is why government is here. That’s my job.”
No, it isn’t. A thousand time no. That is MY job. To bust my ass and build (not “grow”) my business and turn a profit is why I’m there. Your job is to propose legislation, make sure that enacted legislation is executed and keep the peace.
Reasonable men can disagree on what type of legislation and how far reaching it may go. But seeing government’s mandate as helping businesses succeed seems pretty far off of the reservation. Keep taxes low and regulations reasonable; good, well-run businesses serving a public need should flourish.
Providing tax abatements to woo would-be businesses is a slap to the businesses already in your bishopric. This new business deserves some enticement while your current constituents who’ve already provided your personal and county income must continue to pay full freight, higher taxes? How about lowering all taxes, then businesses would still be enticed to come and you reward the people who’ve already worked to make the county worthwhile to begin with? Cutting all of these ABCs would more than compensate for the possible drop in revenue that a tax cut would entail. But the good news is that if you cut taxes—to a point, I know—public revenues have a tendency to go up. Something the fine elders of the City of Philadelphia have never wrapped their little heads around.
But that’s not the point. The point of cutting taxes is to cut public revenue. So we can’t afford multiple layers of bureaucratic nonsense trying to find new and cool ways of spending money that isn’t theirs.
After this breakfast I mentioned to the gentleman that actually it was my job to make my business succeed, he looked at me like I had two heads. He said, “well, surely the county can try to help”.
No thanks, I don’t need their help nor do I want it. I’m just embarrassed that I’m the exception.
And don’t call me Shirley.
At a recent breakfast we had a county commissioner join us. Like most counties in my Commonwealth, ours is governed by a three-man commission which must never be more than two members of a particular party, i.e. there can never be three Democrats or three Republicans. Right now, we have two Republicans and one Democrat and the gentleman that came to our meeting is the junior Republican.
He started off innocently enough about how important business is to our county. Then he starts on about the myriad state and county organizations (ABCs, for the mind-numbing fealty government has for initialing every single entity it begets) that exist for the sole purpose of helping business.
Now here’s where I start to get excited. We have a Republican talking about how bureaucracy affects business. Now this guy wasn’t elected, he was appointed because the guy who had the job got elected to a higher office. But his seat was coming up for election and I figured he was going to endorse scraping this nonsense.
Nope. He wants another layer.
His plan is to create another ABC that will help businesses work their way through all of the organizations that already exist to get as many government hand-outs, taxpayer money and tax-breaks (loopholes) as possible.
Because—and here’s the money line—“Helping you succeed, helping you make money, is why government is here. That’s my job.”
No, it isn’t. A thousand time no. That is MY job. To bust my ass and build (not “grow”) my business and turn a profit is why I’m there. Your job is to propose legislation, make sure that enacted legislation is executed and keep the peace.
Reasonable men can disagree on what type of legislation and how far reaching it may go. But seeing government’s mandate as helping businesses succeed seems pretty far off of the reservation. Keep taxes low and regulations reasonable; good, well-run businesses serving a public need should flourish.
Providing tax abatements to woo would-be businesses is a slap to the businesses already in your bishopric. This new business deserves some enticement while your current constituents who’ve already provided your personal and county income must continue to pay full freight, higher taxes? How about lowering all taxes, then businesses would still be enticed to come and you reward the people who’ve already worked to make the county worthwhile to begin with? Cutting all of these ABCs would more than compensate for the possible drop in revenue that a tax cut would entail. But the good news is that if you cut taxes—to a point, I know—public revenues have a tendency to go up. Something the fine elders of the City of Philadelphia have never wrapped their little heads around.
But that’s not the point. The point of cutting taxes is to cut public revenue. So we can’t afford multiple layers of bureaucratic nonsense trying to find new and cool ways of spending money that isn’t theirs.
After this breakfast I mentioned to the gentleman that actually it was my job to make my business succeed, he looked at me like I had two heads. He said, “well, surely the county can try to help”.
No thanks, I don’t need their help nor do I want it. I’m just embarrassed that I’m the exception.
And don’t call me Shirley.
02 May 2007
Neil Diamond's Inspiration
I didn't know hew was fueled creatively by his massive hatred of immigrants.
12 April 2007
Fiction
I have been reading a lot of non-fiction over the last few years. The problem has been that until recently, I'd completely excluded any fiction, even coming to the conclusion that there was no good fiction out there.
I had heard this interview with Matt Dillon on NPRs Fresh Air when it first aired and was intrigued. I was in my car and probably got pissed-off at another driver and subsequently forgot about it. Well, when the movie he was plugging was released on DVD they replayed the interview.
I've always liked Dillon and wanted to see the movie, but I first wanted to read the book because the author, Charles Bukowski, sounded interesting.
I loved the book (Factotum). Bukowski is a fantastic writer: gritty, simple, elegant, earthy and completely American. His writing was very reminiscent of Hemingway. The story is of Henry Chinaski and his movement through several cities, several women and several jobs. He can't keep a job for long due to: his drinking, his incompetence, his employer's incompetence or his lack of desire to work. Mostly its the drinking and the desire. The writing throughout is excellent with never a dull moment or a wasted sentence or sentiment. He reminded me of Hemingway with lines like, "My footsteps echoed in the empty street and it sounded like somebody was following me. I looked around. I was mistaken. I was quite alone." His sentences are very much like Papa's, very concise with none but necessary and functional modifiers.
Another great example of Bukowski's insight into human nature is within the dialogue Chinaski has with a colleague, Manny, in an auto parts warehouse. They've been ducking out of work early to rush to the race track to bet on the last race of the day, and they've been hitting the winning horse. Their co-workers want them to place bets on their behalf:
Just fantastic prose like this fills the whole book.
This was the perfect break for me and my being mired in non-fiction. I had picked up Milton Friedman's Capitalism and Freedom, which is great, but it is more of a long essay than a book, yet it was taking me forever to get through it--two weeks to get just over sixty pages in. I zipped through Factotum in a few days and got turned on to a few of Bukowski's other works. He was also proficient in the short story and has penned some excellent poems. Post Office is another one of his novels that I enjoyed. I am also looking forward to Ham on Rye.
Having read his works, and upon hearing of the death yesterday (11 April 2007) of Kurt Vonnegut reminded me that there is still good fiction out there. Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates by Tom Robbins is also very good, though Still Life with Woodpecker is still is finest work in my humble opinion (Thank you, Claudio).
Coming to the end of this much enjoyed relapse into fiction I am looking forward to clearing out my backlog of non-fiction, including Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, recommended highly by Jay, then Duel, American Sphinx, Infamous Scribblers, Andrew Jackson, Lincoln and Chief Justice Taney, The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt and then Theodore Rex. I also have to get through The Road to Serfdom and the Constitution of Liberty to get them off the "To Do" Shelf.
If I'm able to pull this off, hopefully by the end of the year if I don't get distracted, I might need some more fiction. I'm open to suggestions.
I had heard this interview with Matt Dillon on NPRs Fresh Air when it first aired and was intrigued. I was in my car and probably got pissed-off at another driver and subsequently forgot about it. Well, when the movie he was plugging was released on DVD they replayed the interview.
I've always liked Dillon and wanted to see the movie, but I first wanted to read the book because the author, Charles Bukowski, sounded interesting.
I loved the book (Factotum). Bukowski is a fantastic writer: gritty, simple, elegant, earthy and completely American. His writing was very reminiscent of Hemingway. The story is of Henry Chinaski and his movement through several cities, several women and several jobs. He can't keep a job for long due to: his drinking, his incompetence, his employer's incompetence or his lack of desire to work. Mostly its the drinking and the desire. The writing throughout is excellent with never a dull moment or a wasted sentence or sentiment. He reminded me of Hemingway with lines like, "My footsteps echoed in the empty street and it sounded like somebody was following me. I looked around. I was mistaken. I was quite alone." His sentences are very much like Papa's, very concise with none but necessary and functional modifiers.
Another great example of Bukowski's insight into human nature is within the dialogue Chinaski has with a colleague, Manny, in an auto parts warehouse. They've been ducking out of work early to rush to the race track to bet on the last race of the day, and they've been hitting the winning horse. Their co-workers want them to place bets on their behalf:
"Hank, we take their bets."
"Those guys don't have any money--all they have is the coffee and chewing gum money their wives give them and we don't have time to mess around with two dollar windows."
"We don't bet their money, we keep their money."
"Suppose they win?"
"They won't win. They always pick the wrong horse. They have a way of always picking the wrong horse."
"Suppose they bet our horse?"
"Then we know we've got the wrong horse."
"Manny, what are you doing working in auto parts?"
"Resting. My ambition is handicapped by my laziness."
We had another beer and went back to the warehouse.
Just fantastic prose like this fills the whole book.
This was the perfect break for me and my being mired in non-fiction. I had picked up Milton Friedman's Capitalism and Freedom, which is great, but it is more of a long essay than a book, yet it was taking me forever to get through it--two weeks to get just over sixty pages in. I zipped through Factotum in a few days and got turned on to a few of Bukowski's other works. He was also proficient in the short story and has penned some excellent poems. Post Office is another one of his novels that I enjoyed. I am also looking forward to Ham on Rye.
Having read his works, and upon hearing of the death yesterday (11 April 2007) of Kurt Vonnegut reminded me that there is still good fiction out there. Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates by Tom Robbins is also very good, though Still Life with Woodpecker is still is finest work in my humble opinion (Thank you, Claudio).
Coming to the end of this much enjoyed relapse into fiction I am looking forward to clearing out my backlog of non-fiction, including Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, recommended highly by Jay, then Duel, American Sphinx, Infamous Scribblers, Andrew Jackson, Lincoln and Chief Justice Taney, The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt and then Theodore Rex. I also have to get through The Road to Serfdom and the Constitution of Liberty to get them off the "To Do" Shelf.
If I'm able to pull this off, hopefully by the end of the year if I don't get distracted, I might need some more fiction. I'm open to suggestions.
20 March 2007
Bong Hits 4 Jesus
In January 2002, the Olympic torch was carried through Juneau, Alaska en route to the games in Salt Lake City. Joseph Frederick was a senior at Juneau-Douglas High School at the time. Students were allowed to attend the local torch ceremonies, even though they were going on during school hours. Mr. Frederick was late to school that day due to snow, but was able to make it to the ceremony by walking. Whereupon he and a few classmates unfurled a 14-foot banner reading "BONG HITS 4 JESUS" just as the torch and a television crew passed.
His principal, Deborah Morse, told Mr. Frederick to remove the banner. He refused. She took down the banner and suspended him for 10 days. Mr. Frederick appealed her decision.
Oral argument was heard yesterday in Morse v. Frederick in the United States Supreme Court.
Now, I haven't made my way through the arguments yet, nor have I read through both side's petitions (student here, school district here), but when did a case of teen-aged impudence rise to the federal level?
I think what the kid did was frickin' hilarious, but the rule was and is, if you're gonna be a smack, take the heat. The kid got a great score with the banner hitting just as the TV crew went by. Serve your suspension with dignity.
The school won the first appeal to the school superintendant, but the suspension was reduced to eight days; then won in federal district court, where they were taken by Mr. Frederick for surpressing his First Amendment rights (under 42 U.S.C. § 1983), which was applicable because, he claims, that he wasn't at a "school sponsored event."
Mr. Frederick then appealed the district court's decision where he won. The case was remanded to the district court by the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals saying that Mr. Frederick's First Amendment rights were violated and that Ms. Morse could be held financially liable for her actions. Part of the appeal to the Supremes is that she is covered by "qualified immunity."
Like I said, I think what the kid did was hilarious. I think a ten-day suspension was probably a bit much (especially when one of the other kids only got five days and Mr. Frederick claims that he was only given five days; he quoted Thomas Jefferson in protest, then he got slapped with five more). I would absolutely love to be a fly on the wall in the Supreme's chambers when they discuss this one.
A decision should be issued by June.
His principal, Deborah Morse, told Mr. Frederick to remove the banner. He refused. She took down the banner and suspended him for 10 days. Mr. Frederick appealed her decision.
Oral argument was heard yesterday in Morse v. Frederick in the United States Supreme Court.
Now, I haven't made my way through the arguments yet, nor have I read through both side's petitions (student here, school district here), but when did a case of teen-aged impudence rise to the federal level?
I think what the kid did was frickin' hilarious, but the rule was and is, if you're gonna be a smack, take the heat. The kid got a great score with the banner hitting just as the TV crew went by. Serve your suspension with dignity.
The school won the first appeal to the school superintendant, but the suspension was reduced to eight days; then won in federal district court, where they were taken by Mr. Frederick for surpressing his First Amendment rights (under 42 U.S.C. § 1983), which was applicable because, he claims, that he wasn't at a "school sponsored event."
Mr. Frederick then appealed the district court's decision where he won. The case was remanded to the district court by the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals saying that Mr. Frederick's First Amendment rights were violated and that Ms. Morse could be held financially liable for her actions. Part of the appeal to the Supremes is that she is covered by "qualified immunity."
Like I said, I think what the kid did was hilarious. I think a ten-day suspension was probably a bit much (especially when one of the other kids only got five days and Mr. Frederick claims that he was only given five days; he quoted Thomas Jefferson in protest, then he got slapped with five more). I would absolutely love to be a fly on the wall in the Supreme's chambers when they discuss this one.
A decision should be issued by June.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)