Why I Write

About a year ago, I made a decision to begin applying myself to the discipline of writing - an exercise that by and large I had set aside several years before due to other interests or preoccupations. Granted, you could say I never truly stopped writing, given that concept and documentation development is a major part of my job. But as an extracurricular activity, I was severely "out of practice." So I committed myself to the restoration of a personal pastime, in the hopes of regenerating and renewing what creative gifts I have. E-Walker's Parade represents that attempt.

I write in many voices. Sometimes I write conversationally, at other times I write academically (although differentiated from scholarly). I find these to be the most simple for me. Higher scholastic writing, along with what I describe as more literary or poetic voices, these are more difficult for me. Yet every so often, when the words come together on the page in just the right order and in just the right tenor, it leaves a flavor on the tongue that fills me with pleasure. While everyone who writes longs for some level of peer recognition of the product, it is certainly possible to enjoy the formulation without the praise of man.

Writing helps me to anatomize the content of my mind, the cacophony of thoughts that frequently clutter my consciousness. (Perhaps that phrasing is too magniloquent, but then again, even using the word magniloquent is in itself, magniloquent). These thoughts are ignited by what I read, what I see, and what I experience. As they take fire, so does the imagination. This fire is fed by an undeniable need to understand the abstract, to interpret what I observe, to emplace a framework that describes the discovery or revelation of a truth. Left within the mind though, even for the most disciplined among us, maintaining that framework over time can be a futile effort. It further calls into question whether my perceptions, formulations and conclusions truly have substance.

Allow me to put this another way. I shared the following paragraph in a different venue not long ago:

When we apply ourselves to the task of observation and discovery, being not afraid to ask why and how, the imagination roars to life. Yet this construct, even with a disciplined mind, remains in the abstract - until the moment pen is put to paper. Capturing these thoughts on paper not only refines, but allows for a level of self-scrutiny - do my observations, deliberations and conclusions hold up to the light of day? Are they defendable, are they understandable, are they beneficial? A painter paints, a writer writes. It is both art and skill, inherited and learned. Putting thought to paper captures that thought, and refinement and editing polishes that thought. Without the act of writing it down, you may find that the thought is never expressed the same way again.

I suppose, then, I write because the activity gives me pleasure, and I write because the result has a purpose or is "unto something." Like the runner who runs because "he needs to run," I write because I need to write. Let others judge the value of the effort as they see fit. I am enjoying myself, and coming from me, that is saying something.

Summer's Too Short

Summer's too short. No, I'm not talking about the weather, especially since we continue to "enjoy" 100+ degree heat indices - and have been since June. My boys start back to school next Wednesday, the first week of August. By the time they walk through the doors to a new year of intellectual expansion, they will have had only a mere 9 weeks of "summer vacation."

Somehow, this just doesn't seem right to me. Granted, our school system schedules a week-long "fall break" in October, and a longer December holiday break than I remember having. Nevertheless, I regret the quick passage of a summer that affords me so little time to craft distinctive memories for my family.

My recollection may be faulty, but my early adolescent summers were highlighted by week-long Minnesota fishing trips, outside adventures (all day, be home in time for dinner affairs), long bike rides on country roads just to go bowling at the base bowling alley, little league, swimming, reading and whatever else I could do to fill the time. I don't recall complaining severely about "being bored," although I'm sure I probably did (my parents likely have a very different recollection about this point). Summer was about freedom and fun; each day was a new opportunity. Yes, clearly my glasses have a rose tint to them.

In talking with my wife, and with other parents, the biggest concern (and guilt factor) seems to be an ever increasing tendency to over-program our kids. Aside from the school year, my children do Scouts, piano, karate, and baseball. Their summer days are also programmed through a summer holiday care facility, as we are a dual-income household. Sure, they get to do fun activities, but it's all a part of the program. And we do take annual vacations as a family, but these are usually targeted for fall break, with each day scheduled fairly tightly. I honestly think one of our highlights this year was a simple weekend at a hotel about 40 minutes from home. That weekend had no real plan, just relaxing in the room, swimming in the hotel pool, and a restaurant meal or two. We've tried to squeeze in a few family movie nights and family game nights as well.

I'm certain that all those parenting books and articles that I don't take time to read likely have advice on this point. But what I've concluded is this: the reason my kids are over-programmed is directly attributable to the fact that I, myself, am over-programmed. I have beaten whatever spontaneity I have left into whimpering submission to the callous calendar of responsibility. In my parenting, I focus too much on creating experiences for my children, instead of giving them the freedom to create them for themselves. What they need are relationships, and room to learn how to cope with their own unique challenges.

I can't do anything about the school calendar. But perhaps there is a balance that can be struck. De-programming doesn't have to mean complete detachment or becoming uninvolved. My children still need me around, I'm sure. The truth is, however, they probably need me a little less.

That will be a difficult adjustment for me. The teenage years are right around the corner, though, so I suppose I'd better start sooner rather than later. Still, like so many other things in life, summer is just too short.

Citizens, Not Subjects

During my travels last week, I bookmarked a short article about a recent discovery made by the Library of Congress' Preservation Research and Test Division. (I didn't know the LoC had any such division, but I digress). Through the use of high resolution cameras and spectral analysis, the LoC discovered a key editorial change in the original draft of the Declaration of Independence (emphasis mine):

Jefferson originally had written the phrase "our fellow subjects." But he apparently changed his mind. Heavily scrawled over the word "subjects" was an alternative, the word "citizens."

The correction seems to illuminate an important moment for Jefferson and for a nation on the eve of breaking from monarchical rule: a moment when he reconsidered his choice of words and articulated the recognition that the people of the fledgling United States of America were no longer subjects of any nation, but citizens of an emerging democracy.

The correction occurs in the portion of the declaration that deals with U.S. grievances against King George III, in particular, his incitement of "treasonable insurrections." While the specific sentence doesn’t make it into the final draft, a similar phrase was retained, and the word "citizens" is used elsewhere in the final document. The sentence didn’t carry over, but the idea did.

Check out these images from the BoingBoing article on the LoC press release:



For those of us who have the blessing of birthright, and for those who have been legally naturalized, we would do well to remember that indeed, we are citizens - not subjects. We are subject to no king but the One in Heaven. Our political class would also do well to engage in some remedial education on this point, since they seem to have forgotten this reality in their push to govern what private businesses pay their employees and to conduct political background checks against citizens seeking information through the Freedom of Information Act - among so many other small, but significant intrusions by what is increasingly looking like the formation of a "ruling class."

A reclamation of the mantle of citizenship (and its rights and duties, thereof) by the general population may be the last hope to shore up an increasingly shaky system of checks and balances.

(h/t: Sense of Events)

Travel Woes

The art of storytelling is as diverse as the people who tell them. Some are gifted in the oral presentation of a narrative, captivating their listening audience through timely changes in tone, improvisation, and the occasional embellishment to maximize the enjoyment of the experience. Others tell their stories through the visual or media arts, still others through the written word. It has been said that in my own anecdotal offerings, that at times I may have moderately exaggerated or minimized a fact or two, turning an otherwise ordinary sequence of events or circumstances into a hair-raising tale of daring and adventure. Yet in the experience I'm about to relate to you, I fear that no prose I proffer can feign away the fact that every twist and turn of the travel nightmare that was Monday's trip to Maryland is undeniably and incontrovertibly true.

Normally, I prefer to do my airline travel early in the morning. Summertime in the South is frequently marked by afternoon thunderstorms, oppressive heat, and frustrating flight delays. Were I to get out in the morning, the probability of avoiding all that and getting to my destination early is usually pretty good. It allows me the opportunity to get to my hotel, get settled in and get a good night sleep before the next day's meeting or conference. On Monday, however, nary did I navigate my way North before noon. A fellow co-worker coming from a point further west was to meet me in Atlanta, so that we could share both the flight to Baltimore and a rental car to save on our travel budget. Those arrangements forced us into a late afternoon flight from Atlanta. My plan was to leave North Alabama around 1:00, and arrive in Atlanta with roughly 2.5 hours to spare. We'd get to Baltimore around 7:30 and to the hotel an hour later. Everything was going to plan, indeed right on schedule, until the time I actually arrived at the airport.

Mother Nature descended upon Atlanta with a fury. My 1:00 flight did not leave the ground until after 5:00. In the interim, we got on the plane, then got off the plane, got on the plane again, got off the plane again, with interminable delays and chaos in between. To be sure, I'd rather be stewing in the terminal during a delay than being turned into stew on a sweltering CRJ sitting on the tarmac. By the second deplaning event, I knew that making the connection to Baltimore would be all but impossible, even though it was delayed as well due to several ground stops in Atlanta (no flights in, no flights out). So after standing in line behind an increasingly edgy crowd of passengers, I asked the gate agent whether the better option would be to reschedule my departure to the first flight out the next morning. True, I would miss a half-day of my meeting, but it seemed to me preferable to the risk of getting stranded in Atlanta overnight. But no, my heroic gate agent informed me that I could still make it to Baltimore that evening, on the last flight out of Atlanta, scheduled for 9:30, putting me at my hotel shortly after midnight. Within 10 minutes of that conversation, we were instructed to board our plane for the third time - we had a 15 minute window to get the flight in the air, or it would be cancelled. Fortuitous, perhaps. But in the air, we did get.

As expected, upon arrival in Atlanta, I learned that I had missed the connecting flight. My travel partner was successful, however, and upon arriving in Baltimore he called me with an offer to wait until I arrived so that we could share the car. At the time, I was meandering between gates, as the gate assignment for my 9:30 flight kept changing. Then, my 9:30 flight was rescheduled for 10:55. I called my co-worker, and advised him to forget the cost and get himself a car, which he did. Meanwhile, I tried to contain my envy. The 10:55 departure then slipped to 11:50, and again to 12:55. Note that this is 12:55 a.m., Tuesday morning. By the time the wheels came up from the Atlanta runway, it was 1:15.

Mind you, this undoubtedly was frustrating enough, but nevertheless completely out of my control. As I winged my way over North Carolina, however, I realized that there was one decision I could have made differently today, that could have changed everything. Upon checking in at the airport, I was offered the chance to take an earlier flight into Atlanta - it was about to board, but I could have made it. Had I taken that earlier flight, everything would have ended differently. But hindsight is hindsight, and there was no sense navel-gazing about it. While sitting in Atlanta, I had called to verify that my car reservation and my hotel reservation would hold. I was assured in both instances that everything was taken care of, and my reservations would be waiting for me upon arrival. This would prove not to be the case.

I landed in Baltimore shortly after 3:00 a.m. You would think that a 5 hour delay in Atlanta would be sufficient for my luggage to find its way onto my plane. Apparently, fate and the baggage handlers weren't quite done with me yet, for those fine men and women determined that my luggage was desperately needed in Bloomington, Illinois. How did it end up there, you ask? Someone misread my label on my bag. Instead of sending it to BWI (Baltimore), they sent it to BMI (Bloomington). The baggage office at BWI was able to track it immediately, but noted it would not arrive back to BWI until 3:00pm Tuesday at the earliest. Given that there was nothing else I could do, I headed off to the rental car center by 3:40 a.m.

At this point, you would understandably think that with everything that did not go right for Jim so far, what are the chances that there would be a problem with his rental car? Can this story really get worse? Yes, it can! I walk up to the guaranteed 24-hour (name redacted) car rental service, to find all the registers closed, the lights off, and no one to direct me to a supposedly waiting car reservation. I spoke with the bus driver, and with the only other human being in the place (an agent for a competing car rental service), and both confirmed to me that my preferred service never stays open all night. By this time, it is 4:20 a.m., and I'm beginning to wonder whether I will even make it to my meeting at 8:00 a.m. So, although I had previously sworn off the competing service (another story which involves a 3-month harassment by that service's European office that I pay 352 euros for a car I never rented), I asked the agent if he had anything left. To my joy, he had two minivans left. The first he gave me did not have the key in the ignition, so I ended up with the other, which turned out to be the last vehicle available. By 4:50, I was on my way to the hotel.

Now, you can imagine what was going through my mind by the time I arrived at the hotel at 5:45. Was my reservation still there? By this point, I had been awake for 23 hours, and probably not looking or smelling my best. But I figured that the fact I had a preferred membership with that hotel chain would be something in my favor. So much for my figuring. The manager on duty informed me that my reservation was cancelled as a no-show. I think that the events of the previous 17 hours conditioned me in some way, because I did not lose my cool, but calmly explained that I had called to specifically request and ensure that my reservation held, and that my arrival could not be determined due to my troubles with air travel. I even had the phone record to prove it. With Murphy sitting on my shoulder, the manager told me that no note was placed into the system by the hotel clerk from the night before. So the night manager had no record of my request or my travails. So after giving me a gentle lecture about proper procedures, she then took pity on me (I suppose), and put me in the one room they had immediately available (clean, in other words). She erased my no-show penalty fee, and created a new 2-night reservation to replace the 3-night reservation. Without a doubt, I was tremendously grateful.

By 6:00 a.m., I was in my room. I washed my face and then rested for not quite two hours. I did not fall asleep, however. I got up about 8:30 a.m., drank some coffee, sent an email to let my co-workers know my status, and then drove a short distance down the road to Target to buy a change of clothes. I went back to the hotel, got showered and dressed, and arrived at my meeting shortly after 10:00. I would work the whole day, all the while marveling at the number of consecutive hours without sleep and its impact on my cognitive abilities. I tried to rest that early evening, but simply could not unwind enough to sleep, so I stared at the television without really paying much attention to what I was watching. I ordered room service, hoping that the meal would help relax me, all the while wondering about my suitcase. I decided to use the guest laundry to wash my clothes from Monday, just in case. Joyfully, after the 10:30 p.m. arrival of my luggage (which I learned was not waterproof), I finally drifted off to sleep sometime past 11:30 p.m. Tuesday evening, nearly 41 hours after I had woken up Monday morning.

The day Wednesday went well, despite only getting about 6 hours of sleep. I got another 6 hours Wednesday night. Thursday was another travel day, and was by and large uneventful. Even my luggage made it this time. I was home by 3:00 pm. It should not surprise you that I elected to take today (Friday) as a day off.

You may be tempted to believe that the above cannot possibly be all true. Believe me, I looked for the opportunity to add a trademark embellishment or two. But it simply wasn't there to be embellished. How disappointing, really. It takes some of the fun out of the telling. Sigh. I will say this, however. I have to make a return trip in August. You can be sure, travel budgets and travel companions notwithstanding, I'll be taking the early flight out.

Update 7/23: I decided to redact the names of the car rental services and hotel as not pivotal to the story.

Your Next UFO Sighting ...

Military technology is not a topic I generally visit, but as I sit here in the airport waiting on the first leg of my weeklong sojourn to Maryland, I came across this: a new prototype UAV (unmanned air vehicle) built by BAE. Actually, this is a UAV on steriods; technically it is referred to as a unmanned combat air vehicle (UCAV). Check this out:


Haven't we seen this movie before? You know, the one with Will Smith. About aliens. With that guy from Jurassic Park. And with that other guy in all those chick fli ... er, romance comedies.

Welcome to Earth. (I gotta get me one of these!)

Morning People vs. Evening People

I read an article a few days ago that made me seriously question the value of some of the research genetic scientists are engaging in these days. Apparently, the determination of whether men and women become "morning people" or "night owls" is of great scientific import. These scientists alleged that, indeed, we are genetically predisposed to enjoy certain times of the day, although they grudgingly allow for personality and environment-based influences. I cannot tell you what a difference this knowledge will make in my life. Eh.

Now mind you, I don't take the article seriously - if you read it you'll understand why (it's about marketing). Nor should you take this blog post seriously. But let's play along. According to the article, morning people are those who take charge, make decisions, have energy, and as a consequence are described as proactive, optimistic, and conscientious. "Evening people," however, have the desirable traits of creativity, intelligence, humor and sociability.

If this is true, does it then follow that non-morning people tend to be lazy, pessimistic and careless? Does it follow that non-evening people are dull, average, and reclusive? Morning people are stereotypically described as a happy, outgoing, bubbly bunch. Night owls are similarly stereotyped as an unserious, partying posse. Indeed, when I was in college, a number of us got into just such a discussion about morning people vs. night owls. The debate lines were drawn, and to my surprise, I found myself taking an unexpected Third Way.

'Tis true! I am a unique composite with neither a morning nor evening predilection. I staked my position thusly: Bubbly, morning people should be popped. Party-hardy late night types should be forcibly relocated from the block on which I live. My mornings begin with a coffee mug firmly affixed to my hand, and my evenings filled with peace and quiet solitude (allowances made for close family and friends, sometimes). I'm up by 5:30, by 10 am I hit my stride, which carries strongly until about 2 or 3 pm, at which point I begin to long for the evening, hitting the bed no later than 10:30 if I can help it. Between those magical hours of 10 am and 2 pm, I am productive, optimistic, creative, and sometimes even sociable. I consider myself always intelligent, decisive, and conscientious regardless of the hour. So if I am neither a morning nor an evening person, then what am I?

Quite clearly, the most appropriate description is that I am a grouch. A grump. A right old Ebenezer Scrooge. Except of course, between the hours of 10 and 2. Then, I surmise that I am almost tolerable to other people.

It must thus be concluded that I am an amalgam, or perhaps an enigma, clearly suffering from some sort of gene mutation. If it is true that I am at my most pleasant, most productive, most creative and most optimistic during a genetically predisposed window of 10 am - 2pm, then I suggest you catch me during lunch. How about Mexican? You're buying.

It's Like ...

I've been taken to school today, courtesy a brief essay published by Wolfgang Grassl entitled "Loss of Language, Loss of Thought." In this piece, Grassl laments the apparent degradation of critical thinking and the ability to express coherent arguments and abstraction. A few choice excerpts (emphasis mine):

What is being lost is the capacity to think in terms of cause and effect, of distinguishing between differing levels of argument, and particularly any appreciation for abstraction. Increasingly, students expect to be spoon-fed with concrete examples, operational instructions, mechanical repetitions, and pictorial representation. The loss of language is but a symptom of the loss of thought -- and losing thought means losing much more.

...

There is a curious reluctance to think about the nature of things, maybe as a result of decades of teaching that there is no such nature apart from what one wants them to be. Rather, students increasingly see the world phenomenologically -- as a haphazard arrangement of "stuff" and of events informed by the sensory impressions of their own experience but devoid of any structure.

...

Surveys show that the average American receives some 5,000 external stimuli per day and spends more than eight hours a day in front of screens -- television, computer monitors, cellphones, gaming consoles, and so on. Where in earlier ages people worked in their gardens, played an instrument, went fishing, read books, entertained guests, or engaged in conversation with family or friends, they have become passive and speechless consumers of canned content. These screens help produce a people that is losing its language. But more importantly, these people no longer see structures in their world but rather a bewildering juxtaposition of seemingly unrelated events.

...

The phrase "it's like" itself seems, well, like a trifle. But it is a symptom of an underlying and more serious malaise: The loss of an ability to think clearly and express these thoughts perceptibly is no trifling matter. It makes our younger generation, and possibly those generations that succeed them, susceptible to boilerplate thinking and ultimately manipulation by others. A speechless society, or one that can no longer enunciate its will clearly and with a large register of distinctions, is reduced to an ant heap.

That final statement is rather provocative, and I believe the conclusion it represents to be hyperbolic. I confess to a certain conceit with regard to written communication - indeed, I am frequently the "go-to guy" in my office for composition and editorial services on important proposal work. Yet I readily admit that at times I fail to apply myself to the discipline required to fully and succinctly articulate an abstraction or thought. In years of writing, I have been intentional about ensuring the accessibility of the topic to my audience. I have not so much focused on the impartation of those necessary thought processes that would enable the audience to construct and frame responses after their own fashion.

Perhaps the scourge of multiple-choice testing, not to mention the plethora of SAT/ACT study aids designed simply to help students prepare for and pass the test, is merely a symptom rather than the cause of this loss of language and thought. As I have often told the engineering interns I've had under my watch from time to time: being able to apply the formulas and solve the problems are important skills to be sure - but the ability to communicate your findings, both orally and in written form, is absolutely essential to future success and achievement. Further, the ability to communicate well enhances your opportunity as one who influences, rather than as one more likely to be manipulated by another.

It takes effort, to be sure, and the exercise is at times exhausting. It is also true, however, that exercise leads to agility, and agility positions us for increase in understanding and wisdom.

Then again, I may be completely wrong, as I have much yet to learn. I encourage you to read the whole essay, and draw your own conclusions.

The Essential Cohan

Today, I indulged myself to an all-too-infrequent treat: I sat down and watched James Cagney in Yankee Doodle Dandy. In this 1942 film, Cagney plays the part of George M. Cohan, the great Broadway actor, playwright, composer and producer from an era long since past. Many of the patriotic songs we grew up singing in grade school were penned by this giant of the stage, whose statue stands opposite Times Square.

I had hoped to pen something special to commemorate Independence Day. However, I found myself being the one needing a lift. As my leaky eyes will attest, there is no question that Cohan tapped into the essential American Spirit. May your celebration today be joyous, full of gratitude to God and to those who laid the foundation of our freedoms.


And be sure to click here, for the essential Cohan favorite, "Over There".

Update July 2012: Apparently Warner Bros. disapproves of developing a wider audience for classics such as these. The original YouTube account that I had linked to for the above videos was apparently terminated, meaning we can no longer enjoy these scenes online. I'm all for copyrights, mind you, but you'd think that a little common sense could be turned into a positive marketing strategy. Oh well, my apologies for the lack of videos. The blog post will remain, however.

Four legs good, two legs .. better?

Several months ago, during the healthcare debate, the House of Representatives considered a procedure that would allow the House to "deem-and-pass" the Senate version of the healthcare bill without actually voting on the Senate bill, but rather on a substitute bill. Eventually, they decided against the procedure, mostly due to the uncertainty of its constitutionality.

In the past few weeks, it has been reported that the current Congressional leadership had decided not to produce a budget for fiscal year 2011. Congressional budgets are not explicitly required by the Constitution. Article I, Section 8 enumerates the powers of the legislature, which includes this (emphasis mine):

The Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States; but all Duties, Imposts and Excises shall be uniform throughout the United States;

I don't want to bore you (any more than normal) with all the legal precedent, but a Supreme Court ruling in the 1987 case South Dakota vs. Dole, 483 (U.S. 203) sheds some additional light on the power of Congress to spend. In essence:

(1) the spending power must be exercised in pursuit of the general welfare, (2) grant conditions must be clearly stated, (3) the conditions must be related to a federal interest in the national program or project, and (4) the spending power cannot be used to induce states to do things that would themselves be unconstitutional.

So Congress has the power to spend money, and traditionally (albeit loosely) aligns that spending to a budget. Representatives and Senators haggle over the amounts originally submitted by the President, until agreement is reached, at which point a series of spending bills, called appropriations, are passed by the Congress and signed by the President - at which point money flows.

This year, for various reasons - all political and likely directly related to the 2010 mid-term elections - the majority party has "cancelled" the traditional budget resolution process. Instead, they've decided to go the "deem-and-pass" route (emphasis mine):

Last night, as part of a procedural vote on the emergency war supplemental bill, House Democrats attached a document that “deemed as passed” a non-existent $1.12 trillion budget. The execution of the “deeming” document allows Democrats to start spending money for Fiscal Year 2011 without the pesky constraints of a budget.

Those "pesky constraints" are designed to maintain transparency and accountability for how Congress spends taxpayer money. And you thought the government was a fiscal disaster before.

Never before -- since the creation of the Congressional budget process -- has the House failed to pass a budget, failed to propose a budget then deemed the non-existent budget as passed as a means to avoid a direct, recorded vote on a budget, but still allow Congress to spend taxpayer money.

No one knows what's in that $1.12 trillion "budget" - or even that it only represents a percentage of the spending. (Note: The President's FY11 budget was totaled at $3.8 trillion.) There is simply no traceability to something that doesn't exist. To me, it goes beyond reckless - it reeks of incompetence, and a cowardice that strongly suggests an inability to legislate, lead, and govern.

Seriously, are there any grown-ups left up there? I'm starting to have Animal Farm and Lord of the Flies flashbacks.