Rose City Transit

I came across this illustration the other day. I've decided to commit myself to building a train set for my son-- something I should have done with my daughter a hundred years ago but never did. At any rate, while looking for stuff online I came across this photo of an old bus, a model of which one can purchase to place on a train layout.

This bus is just like one I used to ride except the Rosie was red, not yellow. When I was only 5 or 6 my Mom used to let me ride the bus with my friend Chris, also 5 or 6. The two of us alone. We would get on the Rose City Transit bus, the "Rosie,"sit up front by the driver, and ride from one end of the line to the other and back again. In Portland, Oregon. A city of about 100,000 at that time. A journey of probably a couple of hours or so. Back in that era before car seats, before bike helmets, before seat belts, before baby monitors, before criminal background checks. Back in a time when a kid got scolded or whacked for getting school clothes dirty or torn, not for walking 4 blocks to and from the grocery store with your 8 year old brother, or hopping on a bus at the age of 6 and riding the length of a metropolitan bus route. Risk taking was a part of life. Trashing one's school clothes was another story altogether.

All these years later I am grateful for the many safety devices that have been forged on the unforgiving anvil of sad experience. On the other hand, I have to admire the wisdom of that previous generation: There was the recognition that a parent cannot protect their offspring from cradle to grave, the recognition that independent thought and action come from being placed in situations that required both. I think, too, there was the recognition on the part of the community at large, and on the part of the parents, that a child out on an "adventure" was to be admired, encouraged, and looked after as a part of growing a healthy future.

It's too bad we don't have that kind of social commitment anymore.  It robs our children of a multitude of experiences that make one smarter, stronger, more capable, and provide a wider view of life: like that to be had riding a city bus from one end of the line to the other, sitting up front, watching the citizens of Portland drop their fares in that old Johnson fare box.

Thank You for Caring

A portion of the proceeds?

I received a copy of a workbook for a medical conference the other day. It wasn't the kind of conference where you learn how to fix broken shoulders. Rather, it was the kind of conference where you listen to consultants talk about change in healthcare, what it looks like and how best to prepare. The conference was for administrators, board members, and medical staff leadership. A majority of the course offerings pertained to minimizing costs and maximizing revenues. It was held a Ritz Carleton. The irony is too beautiful.

Healthcare consulting is just one of the reasons the US will never have affordable quality care. The courses offered by healthcare consultants are expensive (20% discount if attended by 5 or more of your board or executive team!). They are almost always held at premium resorts. And, best of all, the information they provide is always changing. It sounds great and makes sense as presented but, poof!, the rules change and we have to start all over again. It's great to be a concerned and caring member of the "healthcare team"…… in consulting.

The movie Pink Ribbons, Inc opens in February. This Canadian film exposes yet another stroke of genius at transforming a worthy endeavor into a financial oilfield. Far more than the gravy train consultants marshall through the troubled American medical landscape, the whole business of the pink ribbon as marketing bonanza is truly a monument to the marketing industry. You have to believe the multiple manufacturers who are tied to the cause, if you will, can damn well hope we never do find a cure! I mean, it just doesn't get any better than breast cancer when it comes to pulling at heart strings and pocketbooks. I've had it up to the point where I'm not sure I even want to wear my pink shirts anymore-- and I have a few!

Whether healthcare or politics, cancer research or education, it's no longer about right or wrong. It's not about justice or citizenship. It's not about fairness or humanity. It's not about caring. It's about cash. We live in a monarchy: Cash is king. And it seems these days that your very humanity and your desire to do the right thing have become one of the most potent weapons of the marketing machine. Thank you for caring. Cha-Ching!

The French Fry Mystery

Getting out of my car the other day I saw this and had to take a picture. At first I thought it was the ultimate American air freshener. After all this is Michigan. It's cold this time of year and we frequently neeed to use the defrosters in our vehicles. What could be more American than driving around with your car smelling like a fast food french fry?

But then I reconsidered: Maybe this was an occurrence like that scene in Grumpy Old Men where Walter Matthau pranks Jack Lemmon by stashing a dead fish in Lemmon's car. Maybe someone slid that baby in there so that every time the car got warmed up and ready to go the driver would go crazy trying to find out why the heck they were smelling food. Building on that I finally thought I had it figured out: That french fry hidden in the recess of the defroster vent is a marketing ploy. The fast food place offers the car owner free food or an income in exchange for planting that french fry: Every time you drive someone around they get hungry for fast food. Each time you drive your passengers thru and cater to their craving you get paid. Brilliant!

After getting into the office I showed my photo to our office manager who I just happened to know was driving that car. She claimed it was her daughter's car and blamed the french fry on crazy teenage girl behavior.  Likely story. I still think they're doing it for the money.

Water Power

I came across this film maker's work via a photographer friend in Houston. He sends an item my way every now and again knowing my taste for the eclectic.

Swimming in the open ocean is a common fear and not without foundation. The ocean is just a whole lot of water and contains just a whole lot of lifeforms of uncertain disposition. I remember one time swimming along the shore in Florida. I stood up in the shallows just in time to see a young very skinny snake-like eel swim by. I did not scream. I did get out of the water. On the contrary, however, I remember swimming in the ocean in Hawaii and watching a sea turtle zipping along in the waves nearby. That moment I felt it was only good fortune to be so close to that big reptile and I loved being in that warm surf.

In spite of those two stories I am not an open water or ocean swimmer. I'm a pool guy. I like my water with boundaries, at or above 84 degrees, and I always insist on being able to at least see the bottom, even if I can't touch it standing. That aside, I do love the ocean and one of my favorite ways to enjoy a beach is to walk along the sandy shore. And in that, one of my all time favorite experiences is the Oregon coast in winter. That's when storms generate massive surf, the sound of which can be heard from blocks away, and the percussion of which you can feel in your chest as you watch from the beach. I may be a pool guy but I love, and stand in awe of that wild ocean; best enjoyed as the storm rages and you walk along bundled in your foul weather best.

Whatever your take on water, there can be no denying that one of the most incredible experiences available to mere mortals is to stand and observe, feel, and hear the awesome power of nature-- to watch the ocean crash and explode. This video takes me there; a direct flight from my desk in Michigan. It's not the raging Oregon coast but it's every bit as humbling. The YouTube version is somewhat degraded vs. the film maker's post on Vimeo. To see this spectacle by Chris Bryan "first hand" in HD click here and skip the clip below. Amazing.

Commuter Stealth

A friend of mine forwarded a recent article discussing methods of increasing the speed and maneuverability of unmanned aircraft. Using a bird model scientists are working to figure out how certain species of bird can rocket through dense forests at seemingly break-neck speeds. According to the studies, there is a bit of intuition involved and a similar process is employed by skiers who venture out of bounds.

As it turns out, a mathematician at MIT has developed an equation to determine this upper limit of speed in a crowded environment. Testing has started with both birds and humans to see if the mathematical model will hold up in practice. If so, drone aircraft will be developed that can fly through crowded environments, like cities filled with skyscrapers and densely wooded areas, at much higher speeds.

This is not the kind of information one needs to believe the end of war is in sight. Every time a new technical advantage like this is developed I think certain groups of people believe this will be the weapon to end armed conflict. Far more likely, however, is a certain group of people thinking, "I'm going to sell a million of these things!"

None of that scares me half as much as the thought of this technology being applied to automobiles. I can see it now: BMW and other high end auto makers offer an option with a uber alta price tag and a name like Automated Sight Single Handed Obliterative Lane Enhancement. Eventually, additional applications may become available for large trucks and SUV's, Driver Improved Controlled Kinetics Systems. Jerks in the morning commute will be lining up like crazy to option their new vehicles with the new ASSHOLE and DICKS technology that will enable them to drive like, well, like they do. Then again, maybe it will become required equipment much like seatbelts. Afterall: If you're going to drive like one you might as well do it safely.

Missed Kicks

Sunday's NFL football championships were great games. Very closely matched teams and exciting endings. One decided in the last few minutes, the other in overtime.

I only caught the post game interviews with the 49er's and the Giants. There was a very nice interview with New York's kicker who won the game with his 31 yard field goal in overtime. The interviews I would love to have heard would be the ones with the kicker for the Baltimore Ravens who missed the tying field goal and gave the win to New England, and the interview with the the punt returner for San Francisco who bumbled two returns. One handed New York a scoring opportunity and the other handed New York the field possession needed to kick the winning goal.

It's only a game. No one got hurt. Still, I'm certain the dread and disappointment in being responsible for the losses to those respective teams must be heart wrenching, even for sometimes cocky overpaid professional athletes. The subject interests me though. Doctors have patients who die, or surgeries that don't go as planned. Pilots make errors that end careers, destroy airplanes, or kill or injure passengers. Heck, captains of ships do dumb things and scuttle large cruise ships, killing passengers and destroying magnificient vessels. People get distracted and crash their cars. The examples are probably innumerable but each is predicated on an event that probably could have been done better. Each is an event the doer would like to take back. Each is an event that will be very difficult to leave behind on the other side of a good night's sleep.

Asking the winning kicker how it feels to make that game winning kick provides little useful information. Asking the losing kicker how it feels to have missed, what went through his head as the ball shanked to the left, and how he'll cope with that; those are the questions I'd love to hear answered. Asking the Captain of the Costa Concordia how he could be so reckless is unlikely to yield much insight. Asking him how he'll live the rest of his life with that event on his head? Now that's potentially useful.

I'm interested in all this because I know how it feels. I've experienced that sense of failure and frustration. I've seen peers experience that sense of failure and frustration as well. Frankly, although I've read discussions on the subject, I've never read a satisfactory illumination of just how one quickly absolves the misery created by such ill-fated actions. I know it  starts with accepting that the event is past and cannnot be undone. But from there, it seems there's just an awful lot of ground to cover between "I caused it" and "I'm over it."

Carry-Ons Must Fit...

I always see those little boxes in the gate area. Usually it's a 5 sided box, open at the top, and the sign says, something to the effect of, "Carry on luggage must fit within the space below." Not that I've ever seen anyone use it or, for that matter, ever seen anyone being asked to use it.  Watching people try to stuff their bags into the overhead bins I'm darn sure they don't make a dry run with any shoe box out there in the gate area. No. They just extend their arms over head, their shirts ride up, their bellies peak out, and push, push, push and finally, slam, slam, slam that lid on the bin. Size? No problem.

Thursday afternoon Tam, Evan and I were in 25DEF. Looking across the aisle at 25ABC another problem with respect to onboard storage quickly became apparent. The man at the window, 25A weighed in at, at the very least, 390lbs. Poor soul, his knees were practically wedged between his chest and the seat in front of him and, for the life of me, I don't know how he was able to breathe. The arm rest was down but I'll bet it was bent after he left the airplane. The guy to feel sorry for on this flight was not the man next to him. No. It was the guy at the aisle, 25C. He was tall and lean and probably weighed all of 220lbs. Problem was, the guy in the center seat, 25B, probably tipped the scale at 290lbs. And he was probably 5'8". One more bump at 35,000 feet and that whole row was going to explode into the aisle!

Years ago I had a similar experience riding on a DC-10 where there are two seats, then 5 then two. I was at the window and had a 2XL guy seated next to me. When I got up to use the restroom he relieved himself by lifting the armrest separating our two seats. I didn't have the nerve to say anything and, instead, took recourse when later he had to use the restroom. Awkward but necessary.

Thinking about it after Thursday's flight I believe what the airlines need to adopt is a frame for the passengers to pass through at the boarding door. "If you cannot pass through this portal in the forward facing position you my not fly in a single coach seat." It's a free country. You have the right to be as big as you want, but not at another's expense. So please, contain it within your 17 inch seat. Otherwise buy two or ride up front. After all, freedom has its price.