Slipping the Surly Bonds of Earth – Why Space Matters

At 11:58 PM on Saturday night October 29, 2016, something happened that almost no one noticed.  Three people returned to earth after 115 days on the International Space Station.  These brave astronauts hail from the United States (Kate Rubins), Russia (Anatoly Ivenishin), and Japan (Takuya Onishi).  Taking their place on the ISS are three more pioneers, one American and two Russians.  I follow the missions to the station regularly.  I have had the NASA app on my phone for years and I love reading my Twitter feed and seeing the updates from the individuals on board.  But I realize I am in a small minority these days and I can’t understand why.

For me, the fascination with space began at a very early age.  I am not old enough to remember the first moon landing since I was just over a year old.  I do distinctly remember at the age of four when my father took me out into the back yard late one evening and pointed up to the moon and told me that men were walking around up there.  Even at four I had all sorts of questions.  How did they get there?  Why were they there?  How would they get home?  We sat and watched the grainy footage of the lift off of the lunar module.  My father told me he was not sure we would go back any time soon.  We both hoped that was not true.  But this four-year-old was firmly convinced that he was going to be the one to go back. 

Through the seventies, I latched onto any news I could find.  I was mesmerized a few years later watching what coverage there was of the Apollo-Soyuz mission.  Not only were we still in space but we were doing it with what I was told was the enemy.  At the time, I had little idea the depth of what that meant.  I was just excited that we were still flying.  I tried to follow Skylab until it met its untimely end.  But, it seemed like the news from NASA went silent for a few years.  Maybe the whole world just lost interest? 

By this time, I was in my early teens.  Much of the current news about space involved unmanned probes to other planets and it was not holding the attention of the general public.  We had a tease in 1977 when the Enterprise made its flights, but these were all within the atmosphere.  So, I began to look back.  I had not yet learned how we had gotten to this point.  I started with Sputnik.  Everyone knows about Sputnik but few know more than it was the first object launched into space.  The original satellite was intended to function for just a little under two hours.  It actually stayed operational for 1440 orbits of earth.  I think it was an unqualified success.  Incidentally, the stage of the rocket that deployed the satellite remained in orbit for two months. 

After Sputnik, the information that can be found on what would come to be known as the space race is copious.  I read everything I could get my hands on and watched every program I could find related to space.  Yuri Gagarin became every bit the hero to me as any of the Mercury Seven.  Valentina Tereshkova became the first woman to fly almost twenty years to the day before Sally Ride.  (What took us so long?)  Canada became the third nation in space in 1962 deploying a satellite from an American rocket.  Alexi Leonov and Ed White would each make historic EVAs or space walks only months apart.  Then there was the tragedy of Gus Grissom and his crew on Apollo 1.  Grissom who was to be the first to fly in all three phases of the space program, the afore mentioned White and Roger Chaffee are heroes of mine to this day.  The Soviets lost Vladimir Komarov a few months later in equally tragic circumstances.  Yet they still pressed on to very lofty goals. 

Then came April 12^th, 1981.  The Space Shuttle program would launch with Columbia.  The world was paying attention again.  John Young and Robert Crippen were the first of the new generation of space flight astronauts.  Now I was certain I wanted to join them.  I tried my best to convince my parents I needed to go to Space Camp in Huntsville, Alabama.  I sent for all of the material.  I knew exactly what was required to attend.  I was ready.  I wanted to use this to propel me into the space program.  I even entered the contest to name the orbiter that would become Endeavour.  I did not win, although I still think Horizon would be a great name for a new vehicle.  Neither the trip to camp nor the career in the space program were in my future but I was not about to drop my interest in all things space.  Even the horrible day in 1986 when we lost the Challenger could not deter me.  Quite the contrary.  By this time, I was completing high school and preparing for college.  I was now well aware of the human side of the program.  Dick Scobee and his crew died as I watched them ascend.  I was home that day; school was cancelled due to snow.  I was excited that I would get the chance to watch the launch.  Then at almost the two-minute mark, it happened. That is still one of those rare days that I will always remember every detail.  I sat there the entire day and listened to the analysis and thought to myself, please don’t let this end the program.  Thankfully, it did not. 

It took more than two and a half years, but the shuttles were flying again.  We had learned from the tragedy and adapted the information to future launches.  We became very good.  So

 good, that no one noticed any longer.  Launches were not covered.  Details from missions were buried deep into newscasts.  All of a sudden I had to work to find information again.  Even the news in 1998 that the first section of what is now the International Space Station was put into orbit was almost an afterthought.  The cold war is over; the space station is an effort among several nations.  This is a wondrous, unifying accomplishment and almost no one is paying attention. 

The world briefly came back to watch with the loss of Rick Husband and his crew when the Columbia disintegrated on re-entry.  We now had 24-hour news channels and the internet, so news was not hard to find.  It just faded from public view as the next big story pushed it out of the way.  The program kept going though.  Again, we learned from the data and improved our equipment.  More missions would be launched.  We would get better yet. 

The shuttle program ended with the retirement of the Atlantis but we are far from done.  Cape Canaveral and Baikonur Cosmodrome still send a constant stream of vehicles up to the ISS and many other locations.  We have active probes that study everything from our sun to the moons around Jupiter and Saturn.  We have rovers sending back endless information from Mars.  The Hubble Space Telescope continues to send us amazing pictures into the universe even as we prepare to launch its replacement, The James Webb Space Telescope.  This is a great time to pay attention.

So here we are in 2016.  Seventy countries have space agencies including the cooperative European Space Agency.  Nine countries have successfully launched vehicles into space.  Forty nations have sent people into space.  Even the United Nations has gotten involved in planning a space flight.  We are contemplating missions back to the Moon and Mars.  We are searching for inhabitable moons around other planets.  The ISS continues to add modules and perform meaningful experiments.  Why are more people not looking up?  I have no idea but I invite you to join me in following space exploration and becoming excited about the possibilities again. 

As for me, no, I never made it into space.  Would I like to go, absolutely?  Do I bring a unique talent to NASA? No.  Do I ever see it happening?  Of course, not.  I will have to include Gene Kranz as another hero since he was an integral part of the program without ever flying himself.  I have followed the global space program for years and have no plans to stop.  For now, I will continue to track the ISS and occasionally, when the orbit and cloud cover cooperate, go outside to watch it pass overhead.  I am thankful that another team of astronauts has safely returned.  I also am thankful that there is a new team working up above.  Best of luck and enjoy the next few months Shane Kimbrough, Andrei Borisenko, and Sergey Ryzhikov.  I look forward to seeing you on my NASA app and my Twitter feed.  I may never fly myself, but that will not stop me from doing it vicariously through you and your successors.

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air… .

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue

I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

— John Gillespie Magee, Jr

Have you been inspired by anyone in the Space Program?  Please leave me a comment and tell me who it was that had an impact on your life.

Hello My Old Friend, I’m Glad You’re Back

About a week ago, my information stream was brought to a screeching halt.  My trusted old Samsung Galaxy 4 decided it had given me its last email, box score and instant message.  The screen went dark and alas, it was no more.  Before you judge me for not having upgraded sooner, I felt no need.  My Galaxy 4 had been reliable and performed every function I asked of it.  So, I had no burning desire to keep up with every new version that hit the market.  I am now up with the latest technology having received my new Galaxy 7.  Yes, I know the 8 is only months away, I am okay with that.  In another three and a half years or so, I look forward to the 11 or 12 or whatever 2019 holds in the marketplace.  But enough with this tangent.

I mentioned the passing of my old friend because my typical routine was disrupted during the time I was forced to revert to the dark ages of the twentieth century.  During my lunch break, I typically go to the café in my building and sit with my phone and do a little personal multi-tasking.  I will check my email, read a little news, peruse my Twitter feed and hold a text conversation with my wife.  We are not exactly on the same schedule.  I leave for the office around 6:30 where she works from home starting at eight or so. Needless to say, she is not up with me in the morning.  I wouldn’t be either if the tables were turned.   This time allows us catch up and say hello.  I will remind her to print out the form she needs and she will remind me to pick up my prescription on the way home.  It is a peaceful little getaway in the middle of an otherwise hectic day. 

On the day after the catastrophic event, our new phones on order, I was getting ready to head to lunch and realized, I have nothing to do.  Without a second thought, I grabbed a notebook and walked down to the café.  I sat down, opened the notebook and put pen to paper.  Yes, kids, this is how we made notes, conveyed information, and even told stories before the ever-present devices.  As I began to write, I started off with an old exercise of just making a journal entry.  I jotted down my thoughts on what had been going on that morning.  I quickly moved into ideas for new posts, including this one.  I wrote out opening paragraphs and followed with a few key points that I could use to expound on my premises. 

Before I knew it, my hour was about done and it was time to head back up to the sixth floor and jump back into my other routine.  The one that pays the bills.  As I was walking back to the elevator, several thoughts hit me.  I missed my daily conversation with my wife.  After nearly seventeen years, I still enjoy every conversation be it in person or via text.  I did not really miss my email, news or Twitter feed.  I did however, fill nearly five pages and I felt satisfied.  I noted that nothing I wrote would ever have me compared to Hemingway much less see the light of day.  The flexing of the manual muscles made for an enjoyable hour though.

That evening, as I was ready to go to bed, I again realized another routine was broken.  I usually end my night with a quick recap of the evenings scores, one last check of my email and maybe a few minutes playing a game then it is off to sleep.  What would I do this evening?  Here is an idea, how about reading a book?

I used to be a voracious reader.  At any one time, I would have about three books in progress at once.  I would usually have a novel.  My book of choice would be something new from Dan Brown or John Grisham or it could be from one of my favorites, James Michener or Tom Clancy.  My second book would be historical in nature.  Usually a biography or a history of a country or people.  Third, being the hopeless fanatic that I am, I would have a book on sports.  I am happy with either fact or fiction here.  However, I seem to have gotten away from reading the way I used to.  The pitfall of endless information and I fell into the trap.

At that moment, I looked over to my nightstand to rediscover what was sitting there.  I had a book that I had been meaning to start reading for some time.  A history of the Vikings (the real ones, not the show) if you are interested.  I cracked the cover and went to town.  About two chapters in, I felt my eyes getting heavy.  I place my bookmark in the page and drifted off to sleep.  When I woke the next morning, I spent my time over morning coffee thinking about what I had read, rather than getting my first look at my email and the overnight news cycle.  How wonderful was this?  I was beginning my day happily thinking about the origins of a people and their culture and the misconceptions surrounding their reputation. 

I repeated my daily writing and reading for one more day before my new phone arrived.  While I sat on my couch, loading all of the apps I was sure I needed, I made a decision.  Yes, I would still keep most of what I used to have.  But, I want to finish my book.  I want to read another.  I realize that every book I read can be had in digital form.  I embrace that.  I don’t want you to misunderstand what I am trying to say.  I do not want to go back to a time without our devices.  For the most part, they make our world a better place.  I am all for it and I love being connected.  What I realized I missed was the time I spent with the words.  I made certain I have a reader app installed.

In the week or so that has passed since I received my new friend, I have inevitably fallen into some of the same habits.  I still rely on my phone in the morning and at lunch.  I still keep up with ball games while we watch something else.  I have however, kept up my time reading in the evening.  I may only get through a few pages, but I am reading again.  Will I get back to keeping three books going at the same time?  Who knows?  For now, I will focus on one.  Thanks to the brief blackout I revisited an old friend and I am better for it. 

I am already planning my next few reads.  I know what is next.  I have a Christmas gift that has sat idly for far too long.  After that, maybe a re-read of “The Source” or “Poland” from Michener.  I have not read the latest Stephen King thriller and I still have a Dan Brown on the shelf I have not read.  Doris Kearns Goodwin always has a great history ready for me or I could reach back to one of my early favorites, H.G. Wells’ “The Time Machine”.  Maybe I will look forward and download something brand new.  But now, what is important is, I have found my way back.

I would love to hear your thoughts.  I would also like to hear any recommendations you have for my next book.  I am always looking for something new.

Who’s Got Next? (Or,What Sport am I Watching Now?)

As a sports fan, these are the greatest few months of the year.  It is the only time when all four major (US) sports are active.  Baseball is reaching its zenith.  Football is in full swing.  The college season is at the midpoint, while the professionals are about a third of the way.  Hockey has dropped the puck on a brand new season and Basketball is just days away from their own tip off.  What a time to be a sports fan.

But is this really it?  Is there more out there?

I grew up in a place geographically located to give me exposure to multiple television markets.  Even with the limited channels we had, I had exposure to seventeen different “big four” teams. I loved it and was riveted to all four sports.  I also stayed glued to the set for all of the Tennis and Golf I could find.  This was usually limited just to the majors with the occasional special event like the Ryder Cup or Davis Cup.  We also had the Olympics come around every four years.  But they only showed a few events geared to what the American audience wanted to see.

About the time I was moving into high school, a wondrous thing happened, ESPN.  It was nothing like it is today with wall to wall college and pro games on multiple channels.  In the beginning they had to be creative with programming.  It was the greatest thing any true sports fan could wish for.  They had sports that were, shall we say, different, with the likes of Billiards, Bowling, Lumberjack games, Pro Rodeo and a favorite of mine Australian Rules Football.  This was to help fill programming around the staples from the NCAA like the College World Series and March Madness. 

It was the exposure to the “alternate” programming that really caught my interest.  Nothing was going to change my love for the big four sports, but here was a whole new world of competition.  That is what it is really about for me.  I love the competition.  This only became stronger when I left for college.  I went to a school that has all of the traditional sports.  It also has, a full complement of smaller sports.  Since my school was committed to the smaller sports, we were good in a few and that gave them some well-deserved exposure.  It was at this time that I added soccer (football) and lacrosse to my list of favorites.  At first I was only mildly interested.  Then as I learned the rules, what was happening on the field was making sense.  I began to understand strategy and movement.  I thought, “Hey, this is great!”

It was then I realized that there is much more to see to give me that thrill.   I began to seek out new sports.  Shortly after college, the Olympics made a change.   In the past both the Summer and Winter games were held the same year and there was the long four year wait for the next go around.  Now, the Winter Olympics would stagger with the Summer games and we would have them every two years.   Television coverage improved and became much more extensive.  We began to see more and different events.  Ah, more for me to absorb.   

Then, somewhere in the nineties, someone realized that women play more than Tennis and the programming opened up even more thanks in no small part to the US Women’s Soccer Team and the WNBA.  Finally, the LPGA would make it to television and get the exposure it richly deserves.  The Women’s College World Series would join the men on ESPN each year.  I thought this was wonderful, and long overdue.  Keep it coming.

So here I sit, in a virtual paradise for sports programming.  All four major sports have their own networks.  Tennis, Golf and Auto Racing each have networks dedicated to their own niches. Regional sports networks are everywhere.  The English Premier League and UEFA matches are telecast in the United States.  We have live coverage of the Australian Open.  I can see the LPGA event from South Korea or this week’s European Tour stop.  One click away is the Formula 1 race from Monaco or the Ryder Cup matches from Hazeltine.  It is great sitting with my wife, also a sports fan, watching the MLB playoffs or this week’s NFL matchup.  It is wonderful and I do spend hours flipping from one channel to the next, mostly when my wife is out of the room.  But with this saturation of our most popular sports, I no longer get to see Irish Hurling from Dublin, Rugby from Auckland, Curling from Winnipeg, or Cricket from Johannesburg.  Thanks to the internet I can still get my fill when I want it, but I do miss those days on ESPN.  The gold blazer days.  (If you are old enough, you will understand that reference.)

What is it that has me looking for more?  Looking for new and different sports?   The competition.  As I mentioned above, I love the competition.  I have friends who are dedicated to one or two sports.  The guys who are totally immersed in football or basketball.  They watch the film breakdowns on the NFL network.  They are in several fantasy leagues.  They can tell you any stat from last night’s games.  I am good with that, but it is just not me.  I, in my OCD influenced world, have levels of fandom.  From the completely compulsive to the mildly fascinated, I have my sports organized.

I will admit, for my favorites, baseball and golf, I will get much more in depth than I will for other sports.  For baseball I follow the minor league system down to its lowest levels.  I also keep up with college baseball and softball up until tournament time when I dive in head first.  Golf, my other top sport keeps me busy.   I have been a lifelong follower of the PGA Tour.  Along the way I began to obsessively follow the LPGA Tour.  Then came the Senior, now Champions Tour.  I now follow the European Tour with the same fervor that I have for the American tour.  Let’s not forget about the Web.com Tour where the stars of tomorrow are coming from.

Then there is the next level where football, basketball and hockey reside, where I am content in knowing detail, but I don’t need it to the nth degree.  There is a lot I follow with each of these sports and I want the broad knowledge, just not to the same level.  I love football and am just about as detailed with the NFL as I am with baseball.  However, while I keenly follow both the FBS and FCS levels of college football, I cannot revel in the stats beyond the Heisman candidates and top schools.  Basketball and Hockey are much the same.  I follow the NBA and NHL but other than March Madness and the Frozen Four, I don’t follow beyond the pros.  I love these sports though.

Level three are the sports I like but don’t hang on every game.  Soccer lands here.  Since college I have been a fan of soccer.  I follow the English Premier League, UEFA and the MLS, but only to know the teams.  I do not get to the player level, other than the true stars.  I do make an exception to this when the World Cup comes around.  This is my every four-year guilty pleasure with both the men’s and women’s tournaments.  I love the World Cup. I will also include Tennis, Motor Sports, and Horse Racing in this group.  I was once much more interested in Tennis, but somehow drifted away a bit.  I still know the top players and will be sure to watch the majors and occasionally stop on the Tennis channel.  While I am not a great racing fan, I still find myself stopping to watch the big races.  I watch all of the circuits and will be sure to watch at least part of the races from Indianapolis, Daytona, Monaco and a few others.  As for Horse Racing, everyone loves the spectacle of the Triple Crown.  A beautiful well trained horse is a sight to behold.

Level four is where I group the sports that I have watched and enjoy but don’t always know the players.  Lacrosse, Rugby, Cricket, Australian Rules Football all fit the bill here.  As does a fading favorite in Boxing and the relatively new MMA.   I will also include several Olympic events.  swimming, track and field, various skiing and snowboarding events and I love to watch rowing.  I know all of the rules but don’t need to know the participants to enjoy the event. 

Level five have the curiosities.  These are the events that are only ever seen at the Olympics, On ABC’s Wide World of Sports or the early days of ESPN.  The Good for a lark sports like polo, curling, handball, field hockey, wrestling and the list goes on and on.  Once every few years and I am perfectly content.

I have one more group.  A group of sports that are beloved by millions.  I too enjoy many in this group, but I will never be able to be as fervent as all of the others.  My reason, these are judged sports.  Please do not get me wrong.  I consider each of the individuals athletes in every sense of the word.  They are highly skilled and well trained.  I just cannot seem to muster the same enthusiasm for these as other sports where the players determine the outcome.  In this group I give you gymnastics, diving, figure skating, and many more.  I like them, I just can’t love them.

Did I leave anyone out?  I am sure.  Will I develop new loves and obsessions?  Without a doubt.  When I find a new sport, the first thing I will do is learn the rules, at least the basics.  That makes the watching so much more enjoyable.  Then, if it stays with me, I will continue to follow it.  It may move up in my ranks.  It may not.  Either way, I am certain I will continue to watch. 

Do you enjoy a sport that is not in the mainstream?  If so, and I have not mentioned it here, I would like to hear about it.  I welcome your comments and maybe you will give me my next sports obsession.  

To Trek or To War? That is the ‘Star’ Question

I have always been a fan of science fiction.  As a child I remember watching Lost in Space, UFO, and Space 1999.  I watched The Twilight Zone and the Outer Limits with the same fervor that people today watch Game of Thrones.  I remember sitting on the edge of my seat the first time I saw 2001: A Space Odyssey and heard HAL 9000, our first real foray into runaway AI, utter: “I can’t do that Dave.”  But as riveted as I was in these stories, these are not the bedrock of my sci-fi fascination.  The year I was born, Star Trek: The Original Series, would begin its final season of an all too brief run.  I would go on to watch every episode over and over when it was in syndication.  This made me a fan of The Animated Series as well.  I was in my adolescence so this was right in my wheelhouse.  I now had a strong foundation for what was about to happen.

In the summer of 1977 the sci-fi game changed forever.  No longer would a toy flying saucer dangling from a string, rubber monster masks or giant foam rubber boulders work to hold our interest.  Modern special effects were born with the overtaking of the Tantive IV by an Imperial Star Destroyer in the opening scene of Star Wars.  Like most every nine-year-old boy, I was completely mesmerized and in my case hooked for life.  I would be remiss if I did not give mention that later the same year Close Encounters of the Third Kind further stoked my growing love of the genre.  I wanted more.  Little did I know, just two years later, Star Trek: The Motion Picture would bring back my old friends and two of the greatest franchises in movie history would be competing for the attention of a very loyal fan base.

It is at this point that I have to pause and discuss said fan bases.  Both are intensely loyal to their particular franchise.  Both have great heroes and villains.  Both have incredible stories, character interaction, music and let’s not forget special effects.  Both have fan conventions where the faithful dress as their favorite character and immerse themselves in the makeup and even the alien languages. (I am talking about you, Klingon speakers.)  Now I have never dressed as any character from any movie nor have I learned an alien language.  I have never been to one of the conventions, although I would like to one day.  But I still feel I am as much a fan as any of these people.  But when I say I love both franchises, fans think I have committed some sort of sacrilege.  No, it is not like that at all.  These movies were brought to the theatre for our consumption, and I consumed.

I have never quite understood the blind allegiance to one franchise to the dismissal or even hatred of the other.  They are alike in so many ways.  Both are essentially morality tales.  Both have the hero and villain dynamic.  Both have deep back stories that touch all of the characters.  We have the cowboy that needs guidance (Captain Kirk and Luke Skywalker).  We have the former ally who feels wronged and turns evil (Darth Vader and Khan Noonien Singh).  We have the sages (Spock and Yoda).  We have strong women (Princess Leia and Nyota Uhura).  There are iconic ships (Enterprise and Millennium Falcon).  Even the music is instantly recognizable.  So why can’t you love both? I do. 

I love the close friendships that bind Kirk and Spock, Luke and Han, Data and Geordi, Sisko and Dax, and Janeway and Tuvok. Each of these relationships are unique in their own ways and for their own reasons.  I love the fantastic seemingly brought to life with light sabers, tri-corders, communicators, warp drive, hyper-space and even tribbles.  The language permeates our lives.  “Make it so.” “Do or do not. There is no try”, “Beam me up Scotty.”  It is all around us.  You know something is huge when it becomes the subject of parody such as Spaceballs or imitation like Battlestar Galactica.  There is merchandise everywhere, although I think Star Wars has the edge in market saturation.  I also love how Gene Roddenberry and George Lucas embraced their fan bases.  Fan fiction is encouraged and has become so important to the continued growth of both franchises. 

I say, celebrate what is different in both.  I think you will discover how much is the same.  I also think you will realize how much they have and continue to influence each other. 

There is much more to come from both franchises.  The Force Awakens and Beyond gave us new reasons to keep coming back.  We have a side story from Star Wars with Rogue One and a new television series from Star Trek with Discovery.   I can’t wait. 

In the meantime, I will continue to re-watch as many of these old shows and movies, in every incarnation as I possibly can.  I will continue to laugh at what Dr. McCoy is not.  Marvel at the duel involving Darth Maul versus Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi.  Fight back a tear at the death of Spock and gasp at the words “Luke, I am your father.”  I still do look outside my two stalwarts.  I have begun my journey into Dr. Who.  Yes, I know I am late to the party on this one, but I am slowly coming up to speed.  I am hardly at the same level of fandom, but the Tardis ranks pretty high on the cool sci-fi scale.

So, in closing I would like to pass along some words to live by: “May the force be with you” or was it “Live long and prosper”?  Either way, you will be very fulfilled.

Please feel free to leave me your comments on why you love both franchises.

Guess Who's Coming to My Dinner

The other day I was settling in for what was to be another long and tedious training meeting.  I knew the topic was dry and unexciting, but one that I already had a high level of understanding.  So I was in for a long two hours.  The facilitator began with an ice breaker.  My first thought, well there is 15 minutes that will hold my interest.  Then came the topic.  Unfortunately, this is an oldie but a goodie with corporate trainers.  Name the three people, living or dead, that you would want to have for dinner.  Now most people have these three names on the tip of their tongue and they are ready for the discussion within seconds. 

You have the true family people who mention Grandma, and Uncle Bob who have been deceased and are dearly missed.  They usually round out the table with a favorite teacher, pastor or a sibling.  I admire these lists.  They are personal and have meaning for the individual.  These sound like great conversations that go well past desert and drinks and over to the corner table until the restaurant closes.  Good choices.

Then there are the folks who want you to know how PC they are.  These list will include Abraham Lincoln, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa, and eventually someone will name check Mahatma Gandhi.  All of these people are incredible choices.  Each could spur deep and insightful conversation.  Here is my issue with these lists.  There is little commonality to keep the conversation moving forward.  It would turn into a Q&A with each individual, not a group conversation.  You sound like the great altruist for including these people, but where does it go. 

We move on to the look how smart I am crowd with Friedrich Nietzsche, Socrates, Immanuel Kant and the like.  I have no issue with any of these individuals.  But most of the people who drag out this list have a philosophical limit at Joan Osborne’s “One of Us”.  Stop trying to impress me with your list and be honest. 

Every so often when you do this exercise, and I have done it more times than I can count, you run across this person.  The person who is not based in reality.  I am not talking about those individuals who would invite Tyrion Lannister, Darth Vader, and Harry Potter.  (They come along occasionally also.)  No, I am talking about the person who wants to sit down with Vladimir Putin, Petro Poroshenko, and Jimmy Carter to put an end to the crisis in the Crimea.  They think one dinner will solve thousands of years of unrest in the Middle East or end an African dictator’s genocidal reign.  While I admire the desire, is this in any way a dinner anyone would enjoy?

Then there is me.  In icebreakers like these, I usually volunteer to go at the beginning of the exercise so that I can get it out of the way and just listen to everyone else.  This question is and always has been very difficult for me.  Therefore, I stall and listen to others.  I scratch off one name and add another.  By the time I present my list, the entire restaurant would be filled with my guests.  Why is this so difficult for me?  Because I do not fall into one of the above categories.  It depends on what mood I am in at the time.  I could be motivated by what is happening in the world.  I may have recently read an interesting book and am enthralled by the author or the subject of a biography.  But no matter what direction I am going in, it will all start with the first invitee.

For me, I want to have a dinner discussion where it is not me interviewing three other people but a group discussion.  This is my issue with a few of the lists above.  Listening to the interactions of the other guests would be just as valuable and endlessly interesting as my own exchanges with them.  For instance, my list from this past week was inspired by the sad loss of The King, Arnold Palmer. 

I have been a lifelong golfer and devoted fan of the game.  I have been to a number of PGA and LPGA events.  I am as interested in the discussion I can pick up as they walk by or stand in the tee box, as I am with the masterful shot making that I have only dreamed of duplicating.  So, my list was started with Mr. Palmer.  Now, where to go from here.  At the risk of boring any non-golfers reading this, here are snippets of my internal dialog.  I thought I would add Lee Trevino and Walter Hagen and hope I could stop laughing long enough to contribute.  I could go with the big three and add Jack Nicklaus and Gary Player and hear some of the greatest competition and personal friendship conversations I could ever hope to hear.  I also thought, since Arnold was such a great supporter of the women’s game, I would bring in fellow Pennsylvanian Nancy Lopez and Big Mama JoAnne Carner.  There are others, Raymond Floyd, Tiger Woods, Annika Sorenstam to name but a few.  You can understand my process so I will move on.

You can see the self-imposed challenges I have with this question.  I can remember wrestling with many such lists.  I want to throw out a few of my ideas for your amusement.  Each has depended on what was going on in my mind at the time I had the question posed to me.  Each changed many times before it was my turn.

Gus Grissom, Dr. Sally Ride, and Ed White.

George Lucas, Gene Roddenberry, and Rod Serling.

Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and Ben Franklin. 

James Michener, Tom Clancy, and Dan Brown.

Jim McKay, Bryant Gumbel, and Dick Schaap. 

These are just a few of the lists I have put together.  Some for the formal exercise, many more in my head afterward.  I always try to create my list so the conversation will be lively.  After the fact, I would learn, some of my guests did not like nor did they get along with other.  I would have to rethink those choices.  Adams and Jefferson got on famously in later life, so I would cling to that.  However, Franklin was not a particular favorite of either.  I am not convinced Franklin cared what they thought.

No matter the subject matter I am using to create my list, I always try to “invite” the group that will give me the most enjoyment for the evening.  Remember, the dinner is for me, not everyone else’s eavesdropping.  So I want the group that will make me think, make me laugh, fascinate me with their stories or motivate me with their own inspirations.  Limiting my guests to three people is what causes me to think, this person brings different insight or that person would have better stories.  This one was the first or the greatest to do something, they are the one.  Every person I consider would, quite literally, bring something unique to the table.  How do I choose? 

Maybe I just need to invite more people.

I would love to hear your list of dinner invitees.  Just like me, your list can be subject to change.

Throw the Ball Already and Other Things I Can’t Live Without

I’m just going to put it out there.  I love dogs.  I have almost always lived with at least one member of the canine variety and I plan on doing so until I am no longer able to care for a furry friend.  My early years were spent with a Cockapoo named Maxie.  She was a miniature in size only.  My parents adopted her before I was born and saved her from an abusive environment.  Because of that she was a bit skittish around unfamiliar people.  We usually had to keep her in a bedroom when company was over to avoid any incident.  She was a loving dog and loyal to the family until canine parvovirus finally claimed her at about sixteen.  After a few years of a pet-less house, my father surprised the family with an amazing ball of fur and fury that would grow into a 200 plus pound St. Bernard, Bernie.  She was too smart for her own good and would use her size and strength to escape the back yard sending me sprinting through the neighborhood after her.  She was the family’s center of attention for about three years.  Then came rescued sisters.  A Smooth Collie already named Lassie and a Shepherd, Malamute mix aptly named Rusty, would grace our home and create a circus for many years to come. 

I mentioned they were sisters.  Yes, they were litter mates.  Two completely different dogs from the same mother.  Ah, biology.  I will let you do the research.

These three amazing animals kept the family company, entertained, protected and comforted for the next decade, even as I left for college and then moved out to start my adult life.  No visit was complete without at least a few moments of play with each one of the three.  They were each unique with their own personalities.  They went through rawhide treats like Double-Mint gum. They patrolled the house for intruders.  Most were birds, squirrels or just traffic going by the house.  There was never a burglar, but we made them all feel like they had kept out Danny Ocean and his crew.  The only real crime that ever took place was the untimely death of a new vacuum every year.  Cause of death, dog hair. 

As I transitioned into my adulthood, I began with a few rescued cats.  I loved each of them dearly.  They were affectionate and great companions.  But, there was something missing.  My cats never poked me with a cold, wet nose to get up and play ball.  They never greeted me at the door with manic joy, even if it was just a short time since I had seen them.  I missed that.  Then, after a while something magnificent happened.  I met my wife.  She is without a doubt the best thing that has ever happened to me.  By this time, I was again pet-less.  So with my new girlfriend, came a wonderful Black Labrador Retriever mix by the name of Melanie.  I rediscovered what I was missing.  Shortly after I fell in love with both of them came some news that hit close to home.  This ball loving, bed hogging, cool floor seeking companion was diagnosed with diabetes.  Just like me.  My soon to be wife was devastated and began to talk to me about how hard it would be to put her down. 

I have never been one to put my condition out in the open. People know, I will talk about it, but it does not define me.  But now, I had to stop and open up.  I drew parallels between the two of us.  And she began to see that this could be manageable for her too.  It would require a little extra attention, but she could live a rich normal life.  And she would.  She stayed with us for another six years, making it beyond her twelfth birthday.  As time passed and we moved to Phoenix, after four years, our girl developed cataracts.  We checked into getting the removed, but were told they would only grow back.  Instead of giving up, we took a different route. 

After looking at a number of dogs, we had decided on a Siberian Husky.  We wanted to be sure he was the one, so we looked at a few more.  I was satisfied but my wife wanted to look at one more that caught her eye.  It was all over.  This dog chose us and I don’t think there was any way we were going home with anyone but her.  We got the living breathing Ajax tornado.  She was a bundle of puppy energy wrapped inside the fur of an American Bulldog.  We named her Abby.  For those of you who are familiar with this breed, she was of the Classic variety.  She took to Mel immediately.  She would lead her around the yard and through the house.  At night they were always together.  Abby would go off on her own to burn what seemed to be an endless amount of energy.  She always came back to check on her big sister. 

As Melanie began to age, Abby needed a new playmate.  We were looking like we had before and this time I connected with a Boxer.  It took a little convincing but she came home with us.  This would be Sophie.  She fell right in with what we could now call a pack.  Unfortunately, it was only for a short time.  Our beloved Melanie, welcomed her newest sister with open paws, but was only able to stay with us for three more weeks.  We all felt the pain.  But we had a new addition to the family.  Sophie would not let us stay down.  As a puppy, she was a true clown.   In trying her best to keep up with her sister, she grew into a gorgeous, stout Boxer.  She was my constant companion. 

We had a few new challenges with our changing family.  Abby was diagnosed with severe hip dysplasia. This meant, we had more frequent vet visits, new, special food and supplements to keep her healthy.  They worked.  As Abby grew, she became stronger and would only occasionally show outward signs.  Sophie had her own heart murmur.  As we learned, this is fairly common for Boxers.  These challenges only brought us closer with our girls.  So, with Abby at four and Sophie at two, we decided it was time to expand the pack. 

Again we looked at many dogs and were undecided.  On the third or fourth trip to visit, I had decided I wanted to take a close look at one dog in particular.  On our prior visits, there was one dog who was not the one at the front of the kennel begging for attention.  She was quiet and still but our eyes had met.  I decided (on my own) if that dog was there she was coming home.  If she was not, we were going to put the search on hold.  I guess I don’t have to say, she was there.  The cutest little Boston Terrier was cowering in the back.  I asked to see her.  When she was brought out to us, she was handed to my wife.  We named her Maggie. 

Maggie started life with a severe case of giardia. We did not care.  We took her to the vet almost weekly at first.  We could not cure her.  We got to the point that the vet told us she needed a series of injections that would either cure her or kill her.  We took the chance and Maggie is still with us. 

As Maggie grew, she wanted to be the alpha.  Abby was having none of it and Sophie just did not seem to care.  Abby ruled the house, Sophie was the nursemaid and my close confidant.  Maggie became my wife’s BFF.  We had a happy mostly healthy pack for another five years.

About three years ago, my heart was ripped out when Sophie was diagnosed with pancreatitis and lymphoma.  I still have a tremendous amount of guilt that I did not see symptoms in time to help her.  We put her on medication that gave her a brief remission and made her feel like her old self for a few more months.  We gave her one more Christmas, but it was not to be.  Our Sophie lost her fight a little over a month later.  Abby was nine by this time and her hips were beginning to bother her again and then she blew out a disk in her back.  In what seemed like the blink of an eye, a year and a half later, Abby left us also.  My soul was crushed, and so was my wife’s, but we still have Maggie.

Here we are, the two of us with our daughter.  That is what all of our girls are, our daughters.  Maggie is eight and in good health.  We have a long list of breeds we want to look at for the next member of the pack.  Our next son or daughter could be a pure breed.  It could be a cross breed, or even a mutt.  It won’t really matter because I know when that next dog connects with us, our list goes out the window and we will have our new child.  I look forward to spending time with a new one, seeing the bonds that they will build.  I also look forward to seeing Maggie with a new brother or sister.  I want to watch her bond with a new furry person, like her older sisters.

I know with every new addition to the family, there is the inevitable pain that will one day come.  Would I trade my time with any of my kids to take the pain away?  Do not even suggest it.  Like any human member of the family, the pain, after time, is easily outmatched by the pure joy they bring.  I can’t wait to see who is next!

I would love to hear about your family and I encourage you to donate to the ASPCA or your animal friendly charity.  Look into adoption.  You will never regret it.

My Roadmap to Obsession

One of my earliest recollections of diving head first into reference books goes to a vacation we were about to take when I was seven.  It was the summer of 1975 and I was excited about our upcoming trip through New England.  We talked about the places we would go and what we would see.  I remember hearing about Paul Revere’s house and the USS Constitution, Rockefeller Center and Kennebunkport.  I was excited because the family was excited.  I didn’t quite know why. So, at some point a few days away from piling into our Buick Skylark and hitting the road, I walked up to my mother and said “Where is New England?”  I was expecting a short answer and I would be on my merry way.  No, that is not what I got.  My mother looked at me and said, come with me. 

A moment later we were in front of a bookcase and she pulled a volume of Encyclopedia Britannica off the shelf. She showed me how she chose the correct volume. (This would come in handy for years to come.)  We opened it up and found the entry for New England.  We began to read.  More precisely, my Mom helped me understand what we were reading.  In the pages we went over was a brief explanation of where it was and why it was so named.  In the minutes or hours that followed, I am not really sure since I was so completely involved, I heard about the Pilgrims, the Boston Tea Party, and The American Revolution. We read about Mystic and Providence, Acadia National Park, Ethan Allen, The Berkshire Mountains and much more.  It was about this time that my father arrived home from work and took over for Mom. 

I need to take an aside for a moment to give you a small background on my father.  He was a CPA by trade and OCD master by need.  He was the most hyper organized person I have ever, or will ever meet. He had lists for everything.  He knew how much we needed to pack and how much room we were each allotted in the trunk to make it all fit.  He had planned out wake up calls and departure times for every day of the trip.  He knew where we would be at all times and even had contingency plans for how to get back on schedule should something interfere with our plans.  Spontaneity did have its place, but only at the pre-determined times.  Have I inherited some of this from him?  Well, yes.  But despite what my wife thinks, I am nowhere near the control freak my father was. 

Now where was I?

Dad came home and immediately pulled out the briefcase he had already packed with the itinerary and maps.  When he unfurled the first map in front of me it was as if it glowed.  I instantly became obsessed with maps.  I still am to this day.  We started at our house in Pennsylvania and he showed me the roads we would follow.  He showed me how to read the exits on the highways.  He showed me when there is a box drawn around a city, I would need to find the detail of that city in another box along the edge of the map.  When I said “I don’t see any of the places Mom told me about.” Something exciting happened.  Dad pulled out the next map!  This one was of New Jersey.  He told me we would not be here very long because we were headed to New York City.  I had no idea what to expect since this was my very first trip there.  I knew we would see the Empire State Building and we would stop at Rockefeller Center.  I had become familiar with the latter because my sister wanted to see where the skating rink was and Dad’s corporate headquarters (or as I then knew it, Dad’s other office) was across the street.  He was very careful to show me where we would be going because this was a very big place and the maps were much more detailed.  After our day in New York, we then moved into what I kept hearing the trip was all about, New England. 

Around this time, I was getting the hang of reading the maps and I asked Dad where we would be going next.  As he gave me the destinations, I would show him how we would get there.  If I strayed off course, he would explain why we were taking other roads.  So up the coast we went.  We would stay in Plymouth to see the Mayflower.  Then it was off to Boston.  Again we would pause and look at the more detailed map.  The Constitution and Old North Church were in the details now.  Leaving Boston, we went through Salem and headed north.  The next day it was off to Maine.  Lobster dinner in Kennebunkport.  Then it was inland to Concord and over to Bennington.  We would then re-cross the Hudson River moving west to Binghamton and Elmira and then turn south to Pennsylvania to complete our trip. 

I recall that trip with so much clarity because I asked my father if I could help with the trip and he told me I would be his navigator.  I held each map in my hands and watched the exit signs go by and knew exactly where we were at all times.  When we reached the end of the map, I would carefully fold the current map and open the next.  I also had the realization that I could take advantage of my sister when it came time for our unplanned adventures.  By seven, I already had my obsession for baseball in full effect and I mapped out the routs to Yankee Stadium and Fenway Park.  Dad agreed as long as I also put us back on course afterwards.  

I still have my affinity for maps.  I can sit and scan Google maps just to look around.  There is no more folding, no more changing to another map when you reach the edge.  No more looking for the city detail on the edge or other side of the map.  All you have to do is zoom in and out now.  There is no edge.  Technology is a wonderful thing.  I pore over maps when I see a story on the news, when I hear a mention of someone’s hometown that I am not familiar with or just because.  My habit still draws the occasional eye roll or head shake from my wife.  That’s okay.  I still know where I am. 

I would love to hear your comments on how you found your passion(s).  It could be when you were a child or even as an adult.  I still find new ones as an adult.  Oh, I also received straight A’s in Geography.