Working the Crowd

Part of my work on some days involves visiting places with crowds like these, and taking pictures. Today was one of those days.

Specifically, pictures of smaller groups of people within this larger group, two to four ideally. I also have to get their names and titles, and perhaps ask a bit about their business. I'm not a salesman or politician by inclination, but like public speaking, it's something I've learned to do. All part of journalism in the digital age, since the pictures I take and the information I gather is usually published electronically the same day, or the next one.

July 10, 2012

Yesterday I got up at about 5 a.m. and set to work on a short article that needed to be done, and then worked on a larger article that also needed to be done. At about 7, I went back to bed, not thinking I'd be able to go back to sleep. But I must have, since I got up at 8 surprisingly refreshed. Good thing, too, because I needed to be considering what I had to do the rest of the day.

I finished both the short and the long articles by 10:30, with time for a quick shower thrown in. Then I drove to Glenview, a northern suburb, where I needed to take photos of a lunch gathering of a real estate organization. The event was at a kind of place I rarely see: an upmarket golf club, complete with all the posh trappings.

I took pictures of four groups of people, talking to them about their business, then drove back in time to pick Lilly up from her summer school class. When I got home, I took Ann to no-extra-charge, supervised swimming at a nearby park district pool, and then went home to write most of my daily column about the economy, as well as my next weekly contribution for another publication, along with a phone interview thrown in. I almost finished both bits of writing by about 4, when I picked up Ann and left her at home with Lilly, since I had another event to go to, this one in the southwest suburbs. Traffic was awful.

Never mind the details, the main thing was the event included a 30-minute walking tour of UPS' Chicago Area Consolidated Hub, a 1.5 million-square-foot package sorting and distribution facility. I'd never seen the likes of that. I was going to stay for the dinner, but I had something else scheduled in the evening: a concert to attend, scheduled before I knew I going to be doing these other things on the same day.

So I drove back home -- traffic was much lighter by this time -- picked up Yuriko and drove to the northern suburbs. We got to Ravinia only a few minutes after the concert started, and stood for the whole thing. We didn't mind a bit, because we got to see Natalie Merchant.

We got home by 11:30, and I polished off the work I hadn't quite finished in the afternoon, despite exhaustion. I filed the bastards just after midnight and went to sleep without much trouble.

A remarkable day. But I'm glad I don't have too many like it.

Meeting My Minimum Daily Requirement of Data

Why didn't I know this sooner? Put "unemployment rate: X city or county or state" into Google and it will pull up the current Bureau of Labor Statistics figures. I came to this today after running across a pet peeve of mine: undated data.

The web site I was consulting had all kinds of economic data about a certain place, nicely arrayed in a table, with comparisons to other polities (state and national numbers). Just what I was looking for. Except that it didn't have a date — not even a year. Making it, for my purposes, completely useless.

So, I fed Google a bit. Unemployment rate: Schaumburg, IL: 6.4 percent. Middling. Unemployment rate: Fargo, ND: 3.6 percent. We should all be so lucky, though it took a less-than-clean energy boom in the Dakotas to do it. Unemployment rate: Yuma, AZ: 16.1 percent. Just the first place I thought of that I was sure had a lousy rate, and sure enough it does.

Creating Permanence in a Specific Location

Press releases include many kinds of information, from complete pabulum to surprisingly useful nuggets of information. Rarely anything I see in one surprises me any more, but today I found one that made me think: this can't be for real.

It concerned a residential development. The quality of the release, I hope, isn't a reflection on the property, though very likely the development will be a fine place to live. This following are the first two sentences of the release, verbatim.

The uprise of building projects in general always show a good sign that the market is turning around for the better. The specs of this listed project while as a whole is impressive, it is not what makes this project the standout in Florida, but instead the standout project in all of the U.S and that is something to be excited about."

Mind you, this went out on PRWeb, so someone paid to have it published. Even though, as you continue to read, you can't help feeling that the writer isn't a native speaker of English.

With the housing market being in the current state of turmoil, consumers are seeking alternative options. The other options include luxury residences such as renting, which do not necessarily involve a mortgage payment or creating permanence in a specific location.

The buildings will be an amazing two to three stories high featuring single flats around 800 square feet to 3 bedroom units including parking garages. There will be a mixed population of occupants including families to singles. With 456 units, this green project will touch many different groups.

There are several individuals that will experience building green and others that will be lucky enough to live green. This is the future for building and we are spreading the message of sustainable building and healthy living.

I can see the writer's giving it the old college try in that weird language, English. But it's a slog for us native speakers to get through, and I can imagine releases of this kind being ignored by members of the media, something you don't want if you're paying to get your message across. The takeaway? Hire a writer from within your language group.

(This, on the other hand, is an example of a well-written press release.)

A Shot of That Mayberry Appeal

Recently I happened across an article called "Country Roads," which is about travel in West Virginia. It wasn't published in a travel magazine, but instead one whose ancillary interests lie in that direction -- and it isn't supposed to be an advertorial or ad supplement or the like. It's supposed to be editorial, and I guess it is, but the article is so awful I have to record some of it here. I haven't read a travel article this bad in quite a while, and that one was an advertising supplement.

Some choice lines, all verbatim: "Where there is water, there are fish and fishing. Central West Virginia is no exception to this rule; in fact it exemplifies this old adage."

"Want a shot of that Mayberry appeal? Spend some time in Fayetteville."

"From Cajun food to coffee shops, the town can satisfy nearly any palate with its surprisingly wide array of dining establishments."

"With all the adrenaline-pumping adventure, small town charm, man-made miracles, and natural beauty, there is of course, plenty of camping."

Why read such an article? Usually, I would have skipped it after reading a few graphs, but something about its awfulness compelled me to go on, thinking, Can this get any worse? It did. On the other hand, the article did make me want to read more about Fayetteville by a competent writer, so it was successful in that way.

Things I See on an Un-February Day

Word from my brother this morning is that Deb is doing a little better, though she's still in intensive care and has (as he put it) a "deep dark woods" to go through before recovery. I was glad to hear that she's no worse; every time I've seen a family member on caller ID recently, I've worried that it would be very bad news.

Closer to home, today was a warmish, un-February-like day. I got to see it mostly sitting at my desk, which is my worktable for sentence and paragraph assembly, where they are cut and fit into the overall architecture of whatever article I happen to be working on. My long-working Brother printer had its final breakdown early in January and -- I would never have thought this possible -- much of what I do now never sees paper.

For articles more than about 1,000 words, I still prefer a printed copy for line editing and proofreading before I file it, and so have been printing them out at the public library for 8¢ a page. But that isn't something I need to do every day, so I haven't replaced the printer. I've looked around, though, and I see some remarkable wireless printers for not so much money. I'm not sure they were even on the market when I got the old one in 2005.

Also visible from my window today: a parade of dogs and their walkers. There are always some, but the weather seems to have brought out more. The dogs are very fond of peeing on the two large rocks -- small boulders -- next to the sidewalk in the front yard, which have been visible since we had the bushes growing around them removed last fall. This activity counts as canine texting, I suppose, and the rocks are their medium.

Knock 'Em Down

The February 2012 issue of Boys' Life arrived in the mail today. I was happy to see one of my articles in it, on a two-page spread.

"Knock 'Em is the fitting title, since it's about building demolition. What boy doesn't like to see things knocked down? I enjoyed writing it, too, learning such things as exactly what a shaped charge is.

Nice work by the editors and graphic artists. In these hard times for print magazines, BL is still a class act.

Winter is Nigh, Maude Drove a Truck, and Braces Are Gone

Got a short note from Winter today. Seems he'll be coming soon for a considerable stay. But there's been no freezing temps just yet. We need to harvest those Lilliputian tomatoes still on the vine in the back yard.

I wasn't able to go out among the falling leaves today, but the day wasn't a total loss. I learned (sketchily) the difference between admitted and non-admitted insurance for an article I wrote. Who knows, that factoid might come in handy some other time. Also, I learned mostly by chance -- chance favors the idly curious on the Internet -- that the late Bea Arthur was a truck-driving marine. Who would have guessed that Maude did more time in the service than John Wayne?

Also, Lilly's braces are finally off and she's been fitted with a retainer. The ortho did a fine job. More importantly (for me), I don't have to pay him any more.

How Places Get to Be Iconic

I flatter myself that I don't make a lot of impulse buys, but there's only so much accuracy in that notion. Recently I came home with Landmarks, a set of A+ brand flash cards. Only $1 at a certain big box retailer, which is a steep discount off the list price of $2.95 -- a sum I wouldn't have paid. The sense that you're getting a deal is an important factor in impulse purchases.

Still, I'm out a dollar, so what did I get for it? Thirty-six flash cards picturing famed places around the world. Distributed by Dalmatian Press of Franklin, Tenn. (a suburb of Nashville) but -- I love the precision of the label, right on the box -- "Printed in Ningbo, Zhejiang, China."

Each card features a picture on one side with no description. The other side has the name of the place and a canned description. Wherever it was printed, I assume that Dalmatian Press created the deck, so American landmarks are heavily represented: 11 of the 36 are fully within the United States, with one more, Niagara Falls, being shared with Canada. Nine are in Europe, six are in Asia, and three are in Africa, and I'm counting the Suez Canal as Africa. Three are also in South America, if you count the Moai of Easter Island, and I do. Two are in Australia and one is in Mexico -- count that as North America.

How many did I recognize without looking? The places are so iconic that it wasn't that hard. I suppose that repeated exposure is the real secret of achieving iconic status (or clichéd status, take your pick). Anyway, there were only two that I couldn't name: Kuwait City Towers, because -- what's it doing on this list? Also, Diamond Head on Oahu, because I'd never seen it from that particular angle. It looks like it could be any number of islands in a warm climate. I didn't recognize the Suez Canal immediately, but was able to guess correctly. Likewise with a card with shot of Kilimanjaro.

I've seen 20 of the 36 sites in person, probably because it's weighed so heavily in favor of U.S. sites -- I've been to all of them. I could have taken the pictures myself except for that oddball shot of Diamond Head.

But the cards aren't really for my edification. I showed them one at a time to Ann, then Lilly. They showed age-appropriate familiarity. Ann didn't know many names, except for the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower. She said she recognized more by sight than that, however, such as the Alamo, Mount Rushmore, the Gateway Arch, the White House, Big Ben and the Pyramids of Giza. Except for the Alamo and the Gateway Arch, which she has seen within the last few years, I figure she's seen the others on cartoons or other TV shows.

Lilly knew more places, both recognition and by name, though I didn't keep count. Yet for a fair number of them, the cards were clearly an introduction to the place for her -- the likes of Angkor Wat, Ayers Rock, Christ the Redeemer in Rio, the Dome of the Rock, Hoover Dam, Kilimanjaro, Machu Picchu, the Moai, Petra, St. Basil's, St. Peter's and the Sydney Opera House.

I could go on about this, such as wondering where some of the omitted iconic places are (Great Wall of China, the Forbidden City, the French Quarter of New Orleans, the Grand Coulee Dam, the Panama Canal, Angel Falls, the Brandenburg Gate, the Arc de Triomphe, Pompeii, the strange manmade islands of Dubai, Graceland, etc., etc.) but I have work to do. Still, for all the food for thought we got, I'd say my dollar was well spent.

Apollo Man on the Moon Coloring Book

It's the time of the year again to turn our eyes to the Moon for a moment and ponder humanity's furthest expedition to date, even as the achievements of 30 years of Earth-orbiting Shuttles are considered.

Around 40 years ago, my mother bought me Apollo Man on the Moon Coloring Book, and last year I was astonished to find it at her house, its pages yellowing and its edges frayed, but otherwise in fairly good shape. I brought it back with me to Illinois.

The copyright date, unsurprisingly, is 1969. It's a product of the Saalfield Publishing Co. of Akron, Ohio, and cost my mother 29¢ (about $1.60 now, adjusted for inflation). A subhead says, "Based on the National Aeronautics and Space Administration Program."

According to Kent State University, which now owns the company's library and archives, Saalfield "published children's books and other products from 1899 to 1977 and was, at one time, one of the largest publishers of children's materials in the world." Wiki continues: "During its flourishing, the company published the works of authors including Louisa May Alcott, Horatio Alger, P. T. Barnum, Daniel Defoe, Colonel George Durston, Laura Lee Hope, Herman Melville, Dr. Seuss, Anna Sewell, Shirley Temple, Johanna Spyri, Mark Twain, Johann Rudolf Wyss, and Robert Sidney Bowen."

And also published the works of anonymous staff artists who drew coloring pages about the Apollo program. When Saalfield went out of business in 1977, Kent State acquired what was left. The university now has 171 record storage boxes + oversize, 175 cubic feet, of material produced by the company.

"This inventory is limited to a group of cloth books, picture puzzles, paper dolls, and a variety of activity books," the inventory web page says. "The cloth items include children's books, banners, and promotional materials. Among the activity books are coloring books, follow-the-dot books, pasting and sticker books, wet-a-brush, rub-a-pencil, and stencil books, and sewing cards. Of special interest are a number of Shirley Temple items including authorized editions of paper dolls (including one 32" tall), coloring books, sewing cards, and other activity books."

Quite an operation in its day, but now not even a ghost of a memory except to a number of collectors and archivists. I checked the listing, and Kent State does not seem to have a copy of Apollo Man on the Moon Coloring Book. I doubt that they or any collectors would want mine, since I used it for coloring. Which was, you know, its purpose. I don't quite understand the fetish of mint-condition collectibles.

You might call the book's style Coloring Book Realism. Each of the 96 pages (three 32-page forms? probably) is briefly captioned, only one sentence per page, but still manages to contain a fair amount of information about the Saturn V, the CM and LM, the astronauts, their equipment and a step-by-step description of the journey to the Moon. Curiously, the term "Apollo 11" is never used, though "Columbia" and "Eagle" are mentioned once, and the date of the first moonwalk is specified, so there's no doubt which mission is depicted.

Also, none of the astronauts are named, and none of them quite look like Armstrong, Aldrin or Collins -- they're more generic clean-cut astronauts. Must have been a way to avoid any licensing entanglements. President Nixon, however, does make an appearance in name and visage, talking to the astronauts on the phone.

I colored some, but not all, of the pages. And added some comic relief.

Elsewhere, the astronauts have pointy goatees, green teeth and a few other added details.

Down on the Content Farm

Google search algorithms might as well be sorcery as far as I can understand them, but I was glad to hear about the recent change to the algorithms. "This update is designed to reduce rankings for low-quality sites — sites which are low-value add for users, copy content from other websites or sites that are just not very useful," the official Google blog said last week. "At the same time, it will provide better rankings for high-quality sites — sites with original content and information such as research, in-depth reports, thoughtful analysis and so on."

Like I said, sorcery, but I hope it's true. My livelihood in large part depends on value-add content for web sites. You'd think that any publication, online or on paper, would want that kind of content, but it isn't so. As long as I've been in publishing, there have been publishers with very little interest in the actual content of their publications. Editorial was something to fill the space around the ads, a necessary nuisance.

The migration to electronic media has made no difference to this line of thinking. How else to account for "content farms" that pump out poorly written, or maybe stolen content, with a business model that looks to produce editorial (content) as cheaply as possible. This kind of dumbass publisher would use a random-word generator for content if he could get away with it. Why? Because it doesn't really matter what the content says, as long as eyeballs look at it.

That might be a reasonable approach for a few publications, such as those monthly circulars that feature mostly coupons for local businesses. But for those that need readers to read them? (Then again, I understand that original content is very important to Groupon, which might be one of the elements of its success.)

Naturally, every publisher gives lip serve to high-quality editorial. But it doesn't take long for most editors and writers to figure out which publishers really believe it and which don't. Fortunately, some publishers do care about their content, and pay for it, though of course it's possible to disagree about what constitutes high-quality editorial. I'm glad to say that all of the publishers I write for now strive for good editorial. I hope the shift at Google helps encourage that kind of thinking.

Kup's Statue

Back again on Tuesday. I should take "Presidents Day" seriously, after all. Maybe even call it Washington • Adams • Jefferson • Madison • Monroe • Adams • Jackson • Van Buren • Harrison • Tyler • Polk • Taylor • Fillmore • Pierce • Buchanan • Lincoln • Johnson • Grant • Hayes • Garfield • Arthur • Cleveland • Harrison • Cleveland • McKinley • Roosevelt • Taft • Wilson • Harding • Coolidge • Hoover • Roosevelt • Truman • Eisenhower • Kennedy • Johnson • Nixon • Ford • Carter • Reagan • Bush • Clinton • Bush • Obama Day, but that seems like a mouthful.

The winding double-decker Lower Wacker Drive in downtown Chicago is unlike any other road I know. Astonishingly, Lower Wacker even has its own Yelp page. I didn't know that roads had Yelp reviews, but come to think of it, there's no reason they couldn't. Lake Shore Drive has even more reviews. The category is "local flavor."

I ought to write at greater length about Lower Wacker someday, but I didn't go to there on Tuesday. Instead I spent a while on Upper Wacker, where I took a close look at this statue, which is near the intersection of Wabash and Wacker. The lighting wasn't ideal in mid-morning, but I managed a passable image.

It's Irv Kupcinet, of all people. The world's a large place, but I suspect he's one of the few 20th-century newspaper gossip columnists to become a life-sized bronze on a major metropolitan thoroughfare. Just a hunch. The statue's not that new, having been dedicated in 2006, but Wacker hasn't been a haunt of mine since before that, so this was my first good look at it.

"Kup," as he was known professionally, died at 91 years of age in 2003. Evidently some well-connected Chicagoans wanted, or at least approved of, a statue in his honor. Mayor Daley probably had to sign off on it more than anyone, and he has a quote praising Kup on a plaque on the plinth. Donors are listed below Daley, including some instantly recognizable wealthy Chicago families and a handful of corporations. It's good to see that the Sun-Times chipped in, since in his heyday Kup helped them sell a lot of papers. Preston Jackson, a professor of sculpture at the School of the Art Institute, did the sculpture, though the plaque omits that information.

An article called "The Lost World of Kup," published by Chicago Magazine not long after his death, noted that "at his peak, Kup was a celebrity news machine -- producing six columns a week, moderating a late-night TV talk show, delivering color commentary on radio for the Chicago Bears."

That would have been 50 or 60 years ago. But Kup's Column in the Sun-Times was around long after that, as recently as at the time of his death, when his assistant was actually writing the thing. I don't know anyone my age or younger who paid any attention to it.

By the end, according to Chicago Magazine, " 'Kup's Column' had long since lost its spark... the column survived for the last decade and a half as an echo of another time and another city. That city came alive in the dark. It sparkled with glamour and intrigue and featured Hollywood stars, powerful politicians, mobsters who 'owned the night,' as one woman put it, and grateful press agents who sent crates of loot to accommodating reporters. Kup's Chicago existed largely in a handful of smoky venues with evocative names like the Chez Paree, the London House, the Black Orchid, and Club Alabam..." The entire article is here.

Now the statue carries on a struggle against obscurity on behalf of Kup, as new generations mature who have never heard of him. He stands across the river from where the Sun-Times Building used to be (Trump is there now), holding a bronzed version of a newspaper, a dying medium, under his bronze arm.

Tuesday Listening Selections

Today I happened across "88 Lines About 42 Presidents," which is patterned after "88 Lines About 44 Women." I didn't bother to count the lines, but all the presidents up to Bill Clinton are included.

I was amused. Of course. There's another list-song about U.S. presidents out there. It's almost a subgenre, or will be if a few more are written. Other examples include Jonathan Coulton's song and the one by the Animaniacs.

Also, this is a link to my first podcast. I will be doing them once a week for the foreseeable future. Why? Because I'm being paid to do it.

It's high time that my high school speech and debate experience proved itself useful. Actually, it already has, since I used to moderate panels and make other speeches in front of audiences periodically as a magazine editor. I've heard that a lot of people would rather do anything else besides public speaking. Can't say that I have that particular fear.

Wax It Up, Lay It Out

The other day I saw the first 20 minutes or so of Absence of Malice, a 1981 Paul Newman-Sally Field vehicle directed by Sydney Pollack, and while it seemed like it might be worth watching all the way through, I didn't have time for it and wasn't in the mood anyway. But I did watch the opening credits with some amazement. It depicted a newspaper story being produced from reporter to printing press, all very state-of-the-art.

State-of-the-art in 1981, that is, which is to say completely obsolete. Luminous green word-processing was in use at the time, so the clack of typewriters wasn't part of the montage. But waxing blocks of type and laying them out on a board was; and so was running the layout boards through a camera to produce a negative, which then went to a printing plate. The process might seem ridiculously pre-Quark, pre-PageMaker to a generation who's never known the feel of layout wax on their fingers, but it made me nostalgic for the first-floor press room of the publishing company I worked for as an editor in Chicago in the late 1980s.

Desktop publishing hadn't arrived even then, and sometimes during the rush of deadline, the editors would have to do layout too. Print the text out, cut it into pieces with an X-Acto, run it through the waxing machine, paste it on the board just so, and then -- usually -- remove it from the board and do it again because we were editors, not layout men.

Paul was our full-time layout man, a fellow getting on in years and a well-practiced curmudgeon. Paul often had pithy things to say about Chicago pols and the men in Springfield and Washington running the country into the ground (politicians, businessmen, union bosses). Wish I could remember exactly what he said, but it's been 20+ years, and maybe it's enough to remember Paul the layout man eying the pages, waxing the text down and pasting it up, and airing his complains all at more-or-less the same time.

Doughnuts & Wi-Fi

Most of last week's snow is still around, but there's been some meltage and refreezing, making large patches crunchy underfoot. More like stepping on peanut brittle than divinity, and there's no crunch quite like it.

Sign of the times -- or rather, coupon of the times. The December issue of Moneysaver, a coupon-oriented local ad circular, somehow landed on my desk today, open to the page that features County Donuts coupons. Maybe someone is trying to tell me that it's been too long since doughnuts formed the linchpin of a Saturday or Sunday breakfast. The County Donuts ad has the usual dollar-off-a-dozen and discount for a half-dozen offers, and so on. Bold lettering also says: Now Offering Free Wi-Fi.

On the next page is an ad for the Huge Gold Buying Event at Pyramid Restaurant and Sports Bar. No coupon here, but there is a pic of Santa Claus holding up a wad of paper money.

Something for Boys to Read About

It was a small assignment for Boys' Life -- I've had larger since, ones that are still awaiting publication -- but it was my first one, and the result of an idea I pitched to the editors last year. The other day I got a couple of copies of the November issue, in which the article appears, in the mail. An old-fashioned way to first see your work, since many articles aren't even put on paper these days. As far as I can tell, however, this article will only appear on paper.

"Article" is stretching things. As you can see, it's really a squib. Somewhat shorter than I actually wrote, but the editors did a nice job of making it a full-pager nevertheless.

It's also a lesson in how, in my business at least, it's good to remember the odd things you learn along the way. I first heard about the Firefighters Combat Challenge, the subject of the squib, when on staff at Fire Chief magazine back in the '90s. It seemed like a perfect thing for boys to read about, and the editors agreed.

The One Appointment Everyone Must Keep

Bruce Wasserstein has died. I never met the man. I've met millionaires, but no billionaires, as he was. Some years ago, he controlled an entity that controlled the entity that published the magazine I edited. Or something like that. The exact lines of control and ownership were opaque to me, as these things sometimes are, but I knew he was the prime cheese in some way or other.

The magazine had a kick-off party and a lot of people came, but not Mr. Wasserstein. Instead, he sent a right-hand man whom I spoke to briefly. I suspect we didn't rate highly enough among his properties to fit into his schedule. Other publishing ventures that he eventually bought were more important, at least to judge by what's mentioned in his obits -- New York magazine, for instance.

Later, after I no longer worked for the publishing company he controlled, he sold it. Why he wanted to own publications after being a M&A mogul, I couldn't say, though he had been a student newspaper editor at the University of Michigan once upon a time. Mostly he'll be remembered as the architect of some of the whopping big mergers of the 1980s. Notable activity, certainly, but I have a simple mind about that kind of thing. Besides enriching those involved, the point of all that frenzy was... what?

Sunspots, Planetary Positions and the Effects of the Moon

We've started the early fall pattern: distinctly cool mornings, much warmer afternoons. I ate lunch on the deck today not only because it was clear and warm, but because such opportunities will dwindle in number as September and October pass by.

Speaking of the change of seasons, why is it a news story when the Farmers' Almanac predicts a mild or hard winter? I spied such a story by the AP today. For what it's worth, the FA is predicting a colder than normal winter for much of the nation.

Not sure the prediction is worth that much. According to the article, bylined by Clarke Canfield and datelined Lewiston, Maine, the publication "issues annual forecasts using a formula based on sunspots, planetary positions and the effects of the moon."

In other words, that old editors' standby, "making it up." Canfield goes on to say that the forecast is "at odds with the National Weather Service, which is calling for warmer-than-normal temperatures across much of the country because of an El Nino system in the tropical Pacific Ocean."

Years Discussed in This Post: 1969, 1979, 2004, 2009

Back in late August 2004, on the original blue-and-white blog, I wrote this: "Yesterday was Lilly’s first day of first grade. It was also 25 years to the day after I flew from San Antonio to Nashville to begin college at Vanderbilt, so long ago that I flew on Braniff. Synchronicity or mere coincidence? (Coincidence, I think.)"

Today was Ann's first day in first grade, and it was 30 years to the day that I started at VU. Still probably a coincidence, but one that's appealing. Time to muse on the inevitable passage of time, etc. Which wouldn't be so bad if you could, now and then, relive the best parts of the past.

I don't mean merely remember it fondly, but actually go do it again. I'm not sure the 1979 transition from high school to college would count as a great moment anyway, and in fact the memory is dim. I remember getting rained on while going to wherever it was VU issued student IDs, so for the next four years I carried around a picture of myself with wet hair.

Speaking of living in the past, the other day I passed a magazine rack and noticed a special Time publication devoted to 1969. That kind of thing is, I believe, known in the publishing business as "cut-and-paste for nostalgic suckers." Sure, it was an eventful year, especially because of the Moon landing. But name a year in the last few centuries that wasn't eventful. I also wondered: where's 1979? You can't tell me it wasn't exceptionally eventful, too, personal considerations aside. All the same, I won't buy it even if Time produces one.

Back to the present. Ann was enthusiastic to go this morning. Lilly, who started sixth grade, wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but I knew she was looking forward to seeing her friends on a daily basis.

The pic of Ann and her backpack wasn't this morning, but it pretty much sums up her mood today. Tinker Bell, incidentally, is the centerpiece of a full-court marketing press by Disney these days. A whole world of fairies has been dreamed up to go with her, and she even received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame earlier this year.

Just Another Late Adopter

After a week on Facebook, I can see why middle-aged people have taken to it. Namely, it's too good for kids to monopolize. I've corresponded, briefly of course, with a handful of people I haven't heard from in years -- in one case, 30 years, since we both left high school.

Not that it's going to replace other forms of correspondence. Postcards, especially.

Still a little fuzzy on how parts of it work, but no hurry on figuring it out. I'm also a little fuzzy on people fretting about the privacy of the things they themselves post there. Or anywhere on line. The Internet is publishing. Meaning it's open to the public. Who wants to share embarrassing pics of themselves, anyway?

This is about as embarrassing as pictures get on this site.

I went to the Spam Museum, and I'm not ashamed to publish that fact.