)
Firenze - An evening shot of the Palazzo Vecchio (old palace)
|
)
Firenze - In the Piazza della Signoria is found the famous statue of David by Michaelangelo.
|
March 30, 2002
Dear Family and Friends:
It is a long, long weekend here, as it is where you are. Easter Weekend.
Past
weekends like this have been wonderful things. Time to be with family and
let
down a little. But this year the weekend just seems long. After having my
family
here last week I now am really missing them, and July seems a long way off.
Perhaps it doesn’t help that winter just won’t let go. All day yesterday and
now
today too it has been snowing. Both days, especially today, it is wet snow.
After shoveling 6 inches off the driveway yesterday the snow/sleet has had a
hard
time accumulating, all its combined efforts have succeeded only in depositing
an
inch of clear slush.
Still, when I look out the window, it looks a lot like a heavy snowfall.
Bring on
the April showers and wash us into Spring!
I am finishing off the work in my Native Studies course. One of the things
on my
agenda this weekend is to write an essay. (I have a lot on my agenda,
motivation
is the problem.) I ran into the problem with this research essay of living
in a
remote community and not knowing how or if I could get my hands on any
literature
on my topic. Our Instructor didn’t have any helpful suggestions on this
problem.
I have resorted to conducting interviews. One fellow I talked to yesterday,
our
main alcohol and drug counselor in the valley, told me how to go about it.
But
now I don’t have time to order stuff over university library web sites and
have it
mailed here. So my paper will not be a highly academic piece. It will
feature
the views of my interviewees mixed with my own opinions.
My topic is “Alcoholism in the Nass Valley.” It is a complex problem. I
have
learned that alcoholism here is essentially not a different problem than it
is
anywhere else. And alcoholism in this native community is far less of a
problem
than it is in most other aboriginal communities. Here it is definitely a
minority
of families which are beset by addiction problems.
At any rate, I won’t go in to it here, but I may attach a copy of my essay to
a
later letter for those of you who are interested in the subject.
As I write I hear Dave Cunningham in the background hacking away at his
latest
carving with an adze. Dave is our art teacher and he is very enthusiastic
about
researching and producing native carvings. He makes beautiful stuff. Along
with
a local carver, Warren, Dave emphasizes Nisga’a carving and art in his
classes.
It sometimes seems odd to me to see these intricate carvings that Dave has
made,
carvings which replicate items that once had spiritual and ceremonial value
in
Nisga’a communities. What is odd is that a white man has made them, and I
wonder
to myself, “what are they for?” But this is Dave’s passion and I am
beginning to
see an answer to my question. Many of the objects which Dave makes have not
been
made in many, many years. He takes the designs from old pictures of
artifacts.
And now there is a growing interest among both students and adults in this
community in the work that Dave is producing. Dave is rekindling artistic
interests that have been long dormant. Dave, white man that he is, is
serving as
a catalyst in reviving cultural knowledge and activities that the residential
school dark ages had almost extinguished from Nisga’a consciousness.
I am putting this is grandiose terms, the movement is still a small one, but
it
is not insignificant. Boredom is a big problem in this community. Knowledge
of
what was once done to make life meaningful and rich here has been devastated,
quite deliberately in some cases, by the colonial power. For instance, in
residential schools, where Nisga’a children from age five lived 10 months a
year
away from their parents, speaking the Nisga’a language was corporally
punishable.
The explicit mandate of residential schools was to eradicate native culture
and
turn their students into “Canadians.” A whole generation was subjected to
this
treatment. And now a long and painful cultural and psychological rebirthing
process is underway. Dave is playing a role in that process. That is one
thing
that his carvings are for.
Happy Easter all of you, may you all enjoy rebirth this Spring.
Love,
Tom.
I present my younger brother's birthday email to my baby brother. The only comment I might offer is that I'm a bit more that 1½ years older than Tom and I am constantly amazed at how different are our memories of events.
Celebrating Robert:
It is strange to think now that Robert is 5 ½ years younger than I, because,
as
children, we played together often. I guess this must have been mainly in my
teen
years. I remember, for instance, playing hockey in the basement of 154
Hammersmith. It was more a cellar than a basement; concrete floors and
walls. We
would take turns being “out” and being in goal. I would be Ken Dryden, I
don’t
recall who Robert (Bob at that time) was. Mom was not happy about this game.
Our
scuffing hockey sticks would raise concrete dust that settled onto the
hung-to-dry
bed sheets. There was no rec room. It was remarkable that we could play
anything
at all in that tiny space, with 6 feet of head room.
And then there was our dirt backyard, where Dad had set up a badminton net.
Robert and I played quite a bit of badminton, and I acquired a life long love
of
the game. I think I always won, which was gratifying for me - even if our
age
difference made this neither surprising nor fair. “Pretty good for my age”,
as I
seem to recall, was Robert’s common refrain. We had fun, and that was the
main
object always.
Robert was our singer. He sang to himself as he moved about the house. I
enjoyed that, he sang well.
Robert, unlike me, led a full teenage life. His involvement in Drama at
Malvern
High School seemed to transform him from the quiet kid into an out-there
presence
in the school. Robert won for at least two years in a row the best costume
prize
at the Halloween dance. He acted in plays. His picture, dressed to kill as
prom
queen, hung for years in Malvern’s front hall. Robert had a girl friend,
Kelly. I
wished that I had enjoyed high school like Robert apparently did.
Every summer, from childhood through his teen years, Robert was involved in
a day
camp. He graduated from participant to camp co-director over those years.
His
last year he shared camp directing with a woman named Chrissy. He liked
Chrissy!
But Chrissy had a boyfriend and, as the summer waned, Robert could not bring
himself to declare his feelings. I remember him sharing this struggle as the
family sat on the porch of 31 Maclean. He finally got the courage to say it.
And,
as I recall, Chrissy declined and then, a day later, she dumped the other
guy.
The rest is history and Vietnam, and Crawford, and Thailand, and so on.
It is a sad thing how in our lives we siblings drift apart. I often feel
that
there could be more there, more of our shared history to ponder together and
perhaps enlighten. Much of that history was gloomy. I miss my childhood
buddy
and I’m sad to know now that, despite appearances, he hasn’t always been a
happy
guy. In the tangled and lonely jungles of our childhood I see that Robert
deserved more love and attention than he received. It isn’t enough to say
that we
all needed more of that. That doesn’t change the fact that he was little
when our
world fell apart. In our all out scramble for emotional survival the
adorable,
apparently happy-go-lucky Robert was not given enough of a chance to cry and
feel
that he was still loved.
Like Rosemarie, also the youngest in her family, Robert has asked for equal
standing in the family. At 40 he is wiser, in his own ways, than his older
siblings. I have wanted to give Robert his due, and sometimes I think my
efforts
only appear to be patronizing.
I celebrate you Robert on your 40th Birthday, it is with tears that I tell
you I
love, cherish, and respect you. I hope this half of your life will be your
best.
Brother Tom.
In this New Yorker
by Malcolm Gladwell he reviews the book "The Myth of the Paperless Office"
(M.I.T.), by Abigail Sellen and Richard Harper. In general you use
paper to help your creativity: shuffling it around, making notes, etc. and
leave the the filing to the computer. My colleague is fond of writing
project tasks on "stickies" and re-arranging their order into something he
believes he can accomplish. I like printing articles such as this so I can
read them on the GO train, while I am
waiting for something or, of course, during the daily
With Google around I don't need to keep
the article — just remember a phrase or two. Or I mail myself the url
to stash away, never to be recalled again.
Some random thoughts (random, as I didn't write them down and organise
them):
- There's one colleague who always has a paperless desk. Perhaps one report or a couple of text books are all there is. Perhaps he doesn't need paper. I find him rather anal though. Perhaps his lack of paper usage is a symptom. His desk looks like he has always gone on a long vacation.
- On the hand how do you classify, with respect to creative paper usage, the engineer who not only has papers, but text books from when he went to school 20 years ago, old computers, interface cards, jars of peanuts, old printers, etc? Perhaps it is some sort of attention deficit problem where he can't just organise himself to put things away or throw things out occasionally.
- My wife loves using paper to work out her thoughts. My sister-in-law's husband once commented that our wives abhor a horizontal surface. It must be covered with "stuff", papers, purse, flyers, bills, etc.
- My random thoughts seemed to have wandered from paper to stuff. But that's just me. Maybe I should have jotted something down on paper before I wrote this!
A journalist assigned to the Jerusalem bureau takes an apartment overlooking the historic Wailing Wall. Everyday when she looks out, she sees an old bearded Jewish man praying vigorously. Certain he would be a good interview subject, the journalist goes down to the Wall and introduces herself to the old man. She asks, “You come every day to the Wall, sir, how long have you been doing that and what are you praying for?”
The old man replies, “I have come here to pray every day for 25 years. In the morning I pray for world peace and for the brotherhood of man. I go home, have a cup of tea, and I come back and pray for the eradication of illness and disease from the earth. And very, very important, I pray for peace and understanding between the Israelis and Palestinians.”
The journalist is very impressed. “How does it make you feel to come here every day for 25 years and pray for these wonderful things?” she asks.
The old man replies calmly, “Like I’m talking to a wall.”
Source: www.netfunny.com
)
Firenze - A hazy view of Florence from Fieosole (where the Bell'Arte also performed a concert). You can just make out the Duomo in the centre of the picture.
|
)
Firenze - The Hon. Jean (Canada's Prime Minister) and Aline Chrétien amongst us shaking hands. Very gracious people. He was surprised, and pleased to no doubt, to find a Canadian group was singing at the Noon Mass that Sunday. Photo by Zelda |
At the end of March I am ready for Spring. Some crocuses have been blooming,
the tulip shoots are showing. Instead, last evening we got snow. Terrible driving on the
way back from the Aïda chorus rehearsal,
slippery, and no visible lane markings. The tank was almost
empty so I had to fill it in the blowing snow. Well the
href="http://weatheroffice.ec.gc.ca/scripts/citygen.pl?Client=ECCDN_e&City=YYZ">weather
forecast says a high of 4°C so I hope it will melt away fast.
Note: We didn't get as much snow as shown in the image I grabbed off the 'net.
I needed a couple of things so I looked up the hours for the local Rona (used to be Revy) store and found it opened at 7:00 a.m. on Sunday. After reading my email, Sunday morning, I went to Rona to get new hoses for my washing machine (to replace the 20 year old rubber ones with the stainless steel braid type), and to look for an outdoor light for beside the east side door entrance (this is the second time I have come to replace the light bulb and found that it had shattered inside the fixture). Conveniently, Rona has an in-store Tim Hortons where I could buy a coffee. (I rolled up the rim but didn’t win anything. I could use a brand new SUV.) Quite pleasant to browse there on Sunday morning.
I grew up in a church family and went to Sunday School regularly. I even went to church as an adult on a regular basis but only if I sang in the choir. My wife has been choir director at two churches and she, not too gently, felt she had been made to resign her positions. This rather soured me on mainstream, regular church attendance. I find my spiritual renewal needs are better met in an hour’s run in the paths and woods. Or even shopping, coffee in hand, at a hardware/lumber store. I also got some silicone caulking rated for application to -37°C. Not that it is that cold out but the acrylic latex or polyurethane varieties require +5 or +10°C temperatures. I found the right size cover for the floor drain to replace that rusty one.
When I got back from the store I was going to post this message to my 'blog but the cable was out. The synchronise LED on my Lan City modem was flashing. Finally, after a 15 minute wait on hold to Rogers toll-free customer line I was told “No problems have been reported in your area. I will schedule a call for a technician in a truck to drop by. Oh, the first evening available is Tuesday.” Tuesday! I went for my spiritual renewal, er, run in the park. When I got back the cable modem was synchronised. Don’t you just hate being the first to call. Yah right, sure there was no problem in your area!
My son and daughter-in-common-law came over supper tonight as they will be away in Montréal over the Easter weekend. I made honey-garlic pork ribs, rice and Caesar salad and my wife made an upside-down cake. Mmmmm!
Oh yes, it was Palm Sunday today. Two years ago my uncle died suddenly so it brings back poignant memories. Hello Uncle Dave, we miss you. And how about another refrain of “George Washington Bridge”?
)
Firenze - A view of the Duomo from Piazza di San Giovanni
|
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Firenze - A group shot of the Bell'Arte Singers in front of the Duomo (Santa Maria del Fiore)
|
It has been a big week in Canadian politics. Yawn. Steven Harper is now head of the Canadian Alliance Party which may yet be the official opposition in Ottawa. And, as stated in this article and the Ontario PC Party web site, Ernie Eaves is now the Premier of Ontario, though he doesn’t have a seat in the Legislature — minor details. Oh yes and Mr. Eaves inherits a 45,000 public service workers strike in progress. Ain’t that nice! Goodbye Stockwell and Mike (how long is this URL going to point to Mike Harris' biography?). Hello Steve and Ernie. Gee, I wish someone named Bert had made some news in Canadian politics this week.
These are “reported” to be actual epitaphs on tombstones:
|
Here lies (Ruidoso, New Mexico) Here lays Butch, (Silver City, Nevada) Anna Wallace (Ribbesford, England) Margaret Daniels (Richmond, Virginia) |
Anna Hopewell (Enosburg Falls, Vermont) Harry Edsel Smith (Albany, New York) An anonymous tombstone: (Stowe, Vermont) |
- Romance Mathematics
- Smart man + smart woman = romance
- Smart man + dumb woman = affair
- Dumb man + smart woman = marriage
- Dumb man + dumb woman = pregnancy
- Smart boss + smart employee = profit
- Smart boss + dumb employee = production
- Dumb boss + smart employee = promotion
- Dumb boss + dumb employee = overtime
- A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he needs.
- A woman will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn’t need.
- A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband.
- A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.
- A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend.
- A successful woman is one who can find such a man.
- To be happy with a man, you must understand him a lot and love him a little.
- To be happy with a woman, you must love her a lot and not try to understand her at all.
- A woman has the last word in any argument.
- Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.
According to this article the North Magnetic Pole, found somewhere in the Canadian portion of the Arctic Ocean a “short plane flight” from Resolute, is drifting off to Siberia. It could be there as soon as 2004! I guess now that GPS instrumentation is common the pole no longer feels usefull at the top of North America; so, it’s moving on.
Little Noah came into the house with a new harmonica.
"Grandpa, do you mind if I play this in here?"
"Of course not, Noah. I love music. In fact, when your
grandma and I were young, music saved my life."
"What happened?" "Well, it was during the famous Johnstown
flood. The dam broke and when the water hit our house it
knocked it right off the foundation. Grandma got on the
dining room table and floated out safely."
"How about you?"
"Me? I accompanied her on the piano!"
Source:
href="http://www.shagmail.com/sample/cleanlaffs.html">Clean Laffs Newsletter
Slashdot
recently posted a link to Professor Knuth's lecture in Munich last October entitled
. Several interesting points (ahem, at least to me :-) struck me when I read that
article.
- He uses emacs, my editor of choice on any platform for the past dozen years.
- He sends cheques to those who find errors in his published works and his
software, primarily TeX and Metafont.
I think letting users know that you welcome reports of errors is one important technique that could be used in the software industry. I think Microsoft should say, “You’ll get a check from Bill Gates every time you find an error.”
Would Mr. G. be a billionaire? - A little bit of humility never hurt anyone.
Question: What are the five most important problems in computer science?
Knuth: I don’t like this “top ten” business. It’s the bottom ten that I like. I think you’ve got to go for the little things, the stones that make up the wall. - This isn't in the article but he is also an organist and has his own instrument.
An interesting read if you are a fan of the man. I still use TeX / LaTeX on occasion. It still does far better tables than MS Word, IMHO.
In the Saturday Toronto Star, usually in the New in Homes section, is a gem of a column called Reader Exchange. Most of the stuff is pretty mundane: “I am trying to locate an instruction manual” for an appliance used in the last century or yet another use for the plastic sleeve that the wraps newspapers delivered in rural areas. Anyway there is usually one incredulous item and the March 16, 2002 column was no exception.
Do this twice a week and you’ll see a difference in dull, dry hair: Take one egg, and one tablespoon olive oil or almond oil, one tablespoon lemon juice. Mix together and apply to hair for an hour. Cover your hair with plastic wrap so no drops fall down from your hair. After one hour, wash away with normal shampoo.
- We are getting close to a Caesar Salad dressing recipe. Why not use that?
- You can almost see a Monty Python sketch developing, where Graham Chapman and John Cleese dress up as working class ladies and discuss hair remedies.
I discovered this image in a brief search through Google images using the keyword shamrock.
BTW, Erin Go Bragh roughly translated means “Hurrah for Ireland”. I’m not an Irishman myself but I do enjoy the occasional pint of Guinness, though not many places in Canada seem to know how to properly pour and serve it.
Three families having surnames beginning with 'S' decided to get together this afternoon for a brunch on honey glazed ham, scallopped potatoes, green beans and salad. Lemon meringue pie and Nanaimo bars were eaten for dessert. Coffee, tea, white wine, milk, and water were imbibed. A pleasant way to spend the afternoon I’m sure — I was there.
This could also be classed as humour. Rogers' cable Internet customers were e-mailed this annoucement (full text
in More...). I also got a letter this week saying the monthly rate would go up
by $5 in April.
In the coming weeks you will notice that all forms of communication, like invoices, advertising and Rogers Websites, will now refer to the service as Rogers Hi-Speed Internet. We will no longer be using the Rogers @Home name. Please note that there is nothing you need to do as a customer as a result of this name change. [Except pay $5/month more!]
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Here in North America we use little tiny spoons and forks when we
feed a baby.
What do they use in China?
Tooth picks?
Source:
Joke A Day e-mail
According to this article, a study has found that gum chewing speeds up the heart rate slightly, increases insulin levels and seems to stimulate brain activity. This leads me to speculate:
- I have met some people who chew gum all the time and don’t seem all that bright. Perhaps I should excuse their gum chewing habit; otherwise, they would be complete morons.
- Should I keep some gum in the office in order to boost my brain power when I need to solve a hard problem?
- Instead of donuts and coffee, should we chew gum at “brain-storming” meetings?
- When somebody makes a dumb comment, should I offer them gum?
Chew! Chew!
a-b-a form: a musical convention long preferred by composers who can’t “C.”
adagio fromaggio: to play in a slow and cheesy manner.
a la regretto: tempo assigned to a performance by the conductor AFTER it is panned by the local music critics.
al capone: performing while standing on a neutered rooster.
al dente con tableau: in opera, chew the scenery.
allegro con brillo: the fastest way to wash pots and pans.
anDante: A musical composition that is Infernally slow.
Angus Dei: a divine, beefy tone.
antiphonal: referring to the prohibition of cell phones in the concert hall
a patella: unaccompanied knee-slapping.
appologgiatura: an ornament you regret after playing it.
approximatura: a series of notes played by a performer and not intended by the composer, especially when disguised with an air of “I meant to do that.”
approximento: a musical entrance that is somewhat close to the correct pitch.
baffoon: baboon with bassoon.
barbie dolce: sweet but plastic.
bar line: what musicians form after a concert.
bass lure: a seductive refrain.
basso continuo: the act of game fishing after the legal season has ended.
basso profundo: an opera about deep sea fishing.
basso refundo: the sad but predictable consequence of the ill-fated “Three Basses” concert tour.
brake drum: The instrument most used to slow the tempo in an orchestra.
bull horn: a brass instrument that plays notes you wouldn’t believe.
cacophany: composition incorporating many people with chest colds.
carmina banana: a medieval musical plantain.
concerto con carne: a piece for single instrument played in a “chili” manner.
concerto grosso: a really BAD performance.
contrababoon: the simian assistant of a Latin American revolutionary organ grinder.
Coral Symphony: (see: Beethoven – Caribbean period).
cornetti trombosis: disastrous entanglement of brass instruments that can occur when musicians are not careful exiting the stage.
crashendo: the increasing sense of aggravation felt by band members as those trumpet players keep dropping their mutes on the hard stage floor.
d.c. al capone: you betta go back to the beginning, capiche?
dill piccolo: a wind instrument that plays only sour notes.
diminderwindo: fading of daylight at dusk, as seen from indoors.
diminuendo: the process of quieting a rumor in the orchestra pit.
eardrum: a teeny, tiny tympani.
etude brute: an early form of Roman music performed with a rapid, sharp, repetitive beat.
fermantra: a note that is held over and over and over and…
fermatahorn: an Alpine wind instrument used for playing long notes.
fermoota: a rest of indefinite length and dubious value.
fiddler crabs: grumpy string players.
flute flies: gnat-like bugs that bother musicians playing out-of-doors.
fog horn: a brass instrument that plays when the conductor’s intentions are not clear.
fortississippi: with mighty, flowing strength.
frugalhorn: a sensible, inexpensive brass instrument.
fruitti tutti: a chorus singing together in an exaggerated, overripe manner.
Gaul blatter: a French horn player.
good conductor: A person who can give an electrifying performance.
grace note: the I.O.U. you deposit in the church collection plate when you’re out of cash.
gregorian champ: monk who can hold a note the longest.
ground brass: when someone in the marching band drops a sousaphone.
ground hog: someone who takes control of the repeated bass line and won’t let others play it.
Herbert von Carryon: a conductor who never rides in the cargo hold.
hyperportamento: a tone that soars, bends, strains until it pierces into another dimension and leaves, ever after, a porthole to heaven.
kvetchendo: gradually getting ANNOYINGLY louder.
maestrousseau: at the pace of a wedding march.
mallade: a romantic song that’s pretty awful
matterhorn: an intrument of cosmic influence designed to create something out of nothing.
molto bolto: head straight for the ending, but don’t make it seemed rushed.
mucho caffinato: play loudly enough to wake up those sleeping in the audience.
oeuferture: musical composition commissioned by the National Egg Marketing Council.
oraToro: a lawn mower may be substituted for the original instrumentation at this point.
opera buffa: musical stage production at a nudists' camp.
pastorale: beverage to drink in the country when listening to Beethoven with a member of the clergy.
phollyphonic: badly arranged harmonizations.
pianorama: instrument capable of broad, sweeping musical performances.
pipe smoker: an extremely virtuosic organist.
pizzacato: the act of removing anchovies from an Italian dish with short, quick motions and tossing them to a nearby awaiting feline friend.
Placebo Domingo: faux tenor.
pollyphonic: orchestra made up of lots of parrots
poochini: When singing, to be accompanied by your dog.
Pre-Classical Conservatism: school of thought which fostered the idea, “if it ain’t baroque, don’t fix it”
prelude: a cue, found in some of the earlier oratorios, instructing those singing the roles of the wicked to pray in an offensive or profane manner
presto chango: quickly going from a very fast to a very slow tempo
pseudo-dolce: Nutrasweet
(The) Rights of Strings: manifesto of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Bowed Instruments.
rooti tooti: use of a potato as a trumpet mute.
rubato: cross between rhubarb and a tomato.
schmaltzando: a sudden burst of music from the Guy Lombardo band.
snacktus: Quiet, contemplative music played during the appetizer at Catholic wedding receptions
Sosaphone: a cylindrical wooden instrument used to play smash hits.
spinet: politician’s order .
spritzicato: plucking of a stringed instrument to produce a bright, bubbly sound, usually accompanied by sparkling water with lemon (wine optional).
status cymbal: an instrument to be played at inaugurations and socialite balls.
Tempe Arizona: a hot passage.
tempo tantrum: what a young orchestra is having when it’s not keeping time with the conductor.
timpani alley: a row of kettledrums. Term originated in New York City area.
tincanabulation: the annoying or irritating sounds made by an unmusical person using extremely cheap bells. From Poe’s “The Bells” and “tin cans”.
toiletto: the effect on the human voice of reverberation in small rooms with ceramic tiles.
trouble clef: any clef one can’t read, e.g., the alto clef for pianists.
vesuvioso: a gradual buildup to a fiery conclusion.
woodwind: a noise in the game of golf, made by a club missing the ball on a tee shot.
Source: Bach Organ, Pipe Organ Web Ring
Good friends of ours, Susanne and Matthias, are the proud parents of a daughter, Sarah Gisella, born early this morning and weighing in at just 5 pounds, 1 ounce. She is a new baby sister for their other child, Megan (who is 6 I believe).
The birth went OK but getting to that point was an ordeal for Susanne. When her waters broke the day before, Susanne was at her Dad’s place in Wasaga Beach. This solved the Megan babysitting problem but she had to drive herself, Megan and Dad back home to Guelph and then proceed to the hospital. Because it is March Break, her usual mid-wife was on vacation but she had met the substitute woman. At the hospital, she discovered the on-call pediatrician (required because it was a potentially a high-risk pregnancy) had resigned just the day before and the other two were on vacation. So, now poor Susanne had to be driven by ambulance to Kitchener where she could deliver her baby and receive specialised care, if required. Of course, her mid-wife didn’t have privledges at that hospital. An understanding obstetrician and some paperwork, including a waiver, managed to flatten that bump on the road to Sarah’s delivery. Good thing she had a mid-wife in attendance as it was very busy early this morning — 12 babies! The mid-wife delivered Sarah without the help of the obstetrician, though she came in just after. At present Sarah is being monitored and intubated, frustrating Mom and Dad who can’t hold and cuddle her just yet.
Congratulations to Susanne, Matthias, Megan and Sarah!
An old 200MHz x86 box running FreeBSD acts as gateway and firewall for my
home network. Today’s note discusses the firewall configuration script for
ipfw. One
problem I used to experience is that if I used ssh to connect to my
home box from work and tweaked an ipfw rule and then decided
to execute my ipfw script in
# From Xsession script let's redirect output to a file. Note that
# rc.network should be changed to /bin/sh ${firewall_script} rather than
# . ${firewall_script} so that the direction only occurs here.
for errfile in "/var/log/rc.ipfw.err" "/etc/rc.ipfw.err"
do
if ( cp /dev/null "$errfile" 2> /dev/null )
then
chmod 640 "$errfile"
exec > "$errfile" 2>&1
break
fi
done
Usually I can add or modify an ipfw rule remotely, test it and then
change
/bin/sh /etc/rc.ipfw
Then a quick check of
- O'Reilly's law of the kitchen:
- Cleanliness is next to impossible.
- Lieberman's law:
- Everybody lies, but it doesn't matter since
nobody listens. - Denniston's law:
- Virtue is its own punishment.
- Gold's law:
- If the shoe fits, its ugly.
- Conway's law:
- In any organization, there will always be one
person who knows what is going on. This person should be
fired. - Finster's law:
- A closed mouth gathers no feet.
- Lynch's law:
- When the going gets tough, everyone leaves.
- Muir's law:
- When we try to separate anything out by itself,
we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. - Glyme's formula for success:
- The secret of success is
sincerity. Once you can fake that, you've got it made. - Mason's first law of synergism:
- The one day you'd sell your
birthright for something, birthrights are a glut. - Hanlon's razor:
- Never attribute to malice that which is
adequately explained by stupidity. - Handy guide to modern science:
- If it's green or wriggles, it's biology.
If it stinks, it's chemistry.
If it doesn't work, it's physics. - Green's law of debate:
- Anything is possible if you don't
know what you're talking about. - Stewart's law of retroaction:
- It is easier to get forgive-
ness than permission. - First rule of history:
- History doesn't repeat itself, historians merely repeat each other.
- Oliver's law of location:
- No matter where you go, there
you are. - Harrison's postulate:
- For every action, there is an equal
and opposite criticism.
A good friend of ours sings with the Stratford Concert Choir, under the
direction of Ian Sadler, so we headed out to Stratford, Ontario on Saturday
afternoon for the evening concert. Our first stop was the
wife could look at hand crafted instruments for her pre-school to grade 2
music program. Her purchases included bird water whistles, a "rain stick"
gourd, pan pipes, pottery ocarinas and several other "noise maker" items. We
drove there in the pouring rain and a temperature of 10°C according to a
sign. The lights flickered several times while we browsed in the store and,
as we drove for supper, several traffic lights were out and the wind had
blown down branches and signs. After supper it was windy, less rainy and
that sign said the temperature had fallen to 4°C, quite a change in just
an hour or so. We went to the concert.
The concert theme was "Cow and Sow" referring to the guest artists, a
diary farmer who moonlights as a (very good) pianist and a former pig farmer
(now investment analyst) who plays the violin and viola. The choir featured
various English and Canadian works. Besides our friend and her husband we
know the director and several others whom we had the pleasure of singing
with during the Cathedral Singers of Ontario inaugural tour of Edinburgh,
York and London, England in 2000.
Our friends, the Smiths, have a picturesque, restored 1860 farmhouse in
the countryside between Bright and Plattsville and had invited us to spend
the night. I was glad I had driven the route before, now the temperature
was below freezing and it was snowing — near whiteout conditions at
times. Some towns along the way were pitch black with a scintilla of
candlelight flickering from the houses. Fortunately Hickson has electricity
and the turnoff had its flashing yellow light, my landmark. A restorative
sleep and sumptuous breakfast was had chez les Smith. The wind continued to
blow, the wind chimes clanging all night. (I had my ear plugs, though.)
Today, it was blowing snow on the drive back to Mississauga and very cold
(-6°C). But we made it back and I arrived in time for the Oakville
Choral Society Chamber Choir rehearsal in Oakville (of all places!).
March 8, 2002 Happy IWD!
Dear Friends and Family:
I have been just walking in the woods. I loved it. After last week I was
glad
to be back there again. Last week I took the same familiar route. But last
week
the snow was rotting and soggy and sinking me with each step anywhere from 6
inches to a foot deep. Determined to do my route, I was sick of slogging by
half
way along. By the end I was stumbling with exhaustion and my socks were
soaked
from the snow my boots had swallowed. I despaired that it might be weeks
before
enough of the snow had melted from the woods to allow me to make my way into
them
again.
But this week we had a deep freeze. The snow this afternoon was petrified
all
the way through where last week it had yielded. The going was nevertheless
uneven
as each step crunched through the top crust one way or another - sometimes
turning
my foot. And it was noisy; crunch, crunch, crunch ... But there I was, in
my
woods. I could gingerly step across boggy areas which at any other time are
impassable, now covered in 2 - 3 feet of dense and frozen snow.
This deep freeze has spanned most of BC this week. People here say this is
unprecedented for early March, when the spring thaw is usually in full swing.
The
oolichan (fish) started coming in earlier this week. One crew of men managed
to
fill a couple of boats full of them on Tuesday. But after that the Nass
River
froze up solid and the swarming millions of fish have been shielded from
eager
fishermen by a new layer of ice whose strength is too uncertain to risk going
out
upon. So the community is just waiting for this unusual cold snap to break,
and
with it the ice.
Much of the oolichan will be eaten fresh. More still will be frozen for
later
consumption. And even more will be set aside in the soon to be spring warmth
to
ferment (rot basically) for a week or so. Obviously nothing is going to
ferment
at -10 degrees so the whole oolichan process is on hold right now - except
for
the
fish, who continue to swell in with the tide to their spawning grounds. I
suppose
the catch will be down this year since the weather will shorten the time of
the
catch. From beginning to end the oolichan are in the river in their millions
for
only about two weeks. First the females come up. They make the best oil
because,
with their egg sacks, they are bigger and fattier. Then the males come up to
fertilize the eggs. Then, in the third and last phase of the oolichan catch,
the
fish are swept back down the river by the tide. The best oolichan are caught
in
the first week. And, this year, most of the first week has been a bust.
Oolichan oil is made in a complex process of fermenting, straining, and
boiling.
I don’t know much about it but will know more in a couple of weeks after
Rosemarie
and the girls and I make our tour of Fishery Bay; action central for the
Nisga’a
oolichan harvest. I gather so far that during the fermenting stage the
rotting
oolichan, in large holding bins, yield their oil - which rises to the top of
the
bins. This is then skimmed off and rendered into the much prized final
product,
oolichan grease.
The Greenville guys in one of my classes thought I was foolish to want to
take
my
family to Fishery Bay. “That place stinks!” Their opinion of me was
confirmed
when I told them that the hot springs were also a stop on our tour, another
stinky
place which none of them had ever been to. They smell its sulfureous odor
twice
a
day when they pass nearby it on the school bus.
Sea lion hunting joins in with the oolichan harvest at this time of year.
The
sea lions come into the mouth of the Nass after the seals who are after the
oolichan. Often the orca are not far behind, they too are after the sea
lions.
A
full grown sea lion is a long as two couches and is as big around. Hauling
one
aboard after a kill can be a six person job. Their meat is smoked and then
frozen. I like the taste and texture. Very fatty, but a healthy kind of fat
I’m
told. Succulent would be a good word for it. I’m just hoping we may see
some
sea
lions on our short boat run down to Fishery Bay.
I have attached a picture
of me from last Saturday when a few of us groped
our
way through the woods in the dark to the hot springs, Doug toting the web
cam.
I’ll also have attached a picture
of one of the Aiyansh mountain views that
have
dazzled us all the cold but sunny week long.
Love, Tom.
- Legally drunk
- Silent scream
- American history
- Living dead
- Small crowd
- Business ethics
- Soft rock
- Butt Head
- Military Intelligence
- Software documentation
- New York culture
- New classic
- Sweet sorrow
- Childproof
- "Now, then ..."
- Synthetic natural gas
- Passive aggression
- Taped live
- Clearly misunderstood
- Peace force
- Extinct Life
- Temporary tax increase
- Computer jock
- Plastic glasses
- Terribly pleased
- Computer security
- Political science
- Tight slacks
- Definite maybe
- Pretty ugly
- Twelve-ounce pound cake
- Diet ice cream
- Working vacation
- Exact estimate
- Microsoft Works
Source: The Mouth Piece
My home gateway and my file server at work are both
FreeBSD boxes. I was fixing a
DNS*
problem on the work box and came across the queries category for the
logging keyword when I was reading the
named.conf
man page.
I added
logging {
category queries { default_syslog; default_debug; };
category db { default_syslog; default_debug; };
};
to /etc/namedb/named.conf to see what happens. Interesting. Some web pages
with lots of ads, icons, etc generate a whole flurry of DNS queries. No wonder those
pages take so long to load. If you try it, ensure
newsyslog
has been configured to rotate your named.log file.
Good news for me: The president of our newly wholly owned subsidiary company announced yesterday
during a "Face-to-Face" session about 4Q2001 results that a 10-year lease had been
signed with
the landlord. This time horizon is longer than my earliest opportunity to retire in our
current union agreement. So my office won't be moving if I stay with Kinectrics Inc.
It also says something about the believed
stability of this new "Ontario Hydro successor" company in that they signed a lease for
this length of time. We also get a bonus, something that never happened in my 20+
years working for a public corporation. This calls for an Old Credit ale.
A first grade teacher collected old, well known proverbs. She gave each kid in her class the first half of a proverb, and had them come up with the rest.
As You Shall Make Your Bed So Shall You... Mess It Up.
Better Be Safe Than... Punch A 5th Grader.
Strike While The... Bug Is Close.
It's Always Darkest Before... Daylight Savings Time.
Never Under Estimate The Power Of... Termites.
You Can Lead A Horse To Water But.. How?
Don't Bite The Hand That... Looks Dirty.
No News Is... Impossible.
A Miss Is As Good As A... Mr.
You Can't Teach An Old Dog New... Math.
If You Lie Down With The Dogs, You'll... Stink In The
Morning.
Love All, Trust.. Me
The Pen Is Mightier Than The... Pigs.
An Idle Mind Is... The Best Way To Relax.
Where There's Smoke, There's... Pollution.
Happy The Bride Who... Gets All The Presents!
A Penny Saved Is... Not Much.
Two's Company, Three's... The Musketeers.
Don't Put Off Tomorrow What... You Put On To Go To Bed.
Laugh And The Whole World Laughs With You, Cry And... You
Have To Blow Your Nose.
None Are So Blind As... Helen Keller.
Children Should Be Seen And Not... Spanked Or Grounded.
If At First You Don't Succeed... Get New Batteries.
You Get Out Of Something What You... See Pictured On The Box.
When The Blind Leadeth The Blind... Get Out Of The Way.
There Is No Fool Like... Aunt Eddie.
I have added a text box where you can enter your email address and I can notify
you when I have added something new to this website. This entry doesn't really count
of course. I have categorized the entries so you can decided whether you would like
to read an entry in a particular category. This administrative message is rather boring
and has already gone on too long so let me en
My brother Tom's first teaching position is in the town of New Aiyansh, part of the Nisga'a nation in northern British Columbia, Canada. You can find it on a map by looking east of the tip of the Alaskan panhandle.
As I write, my dear friend Lars, a man whose physical,
intellectual, and spiritual vitality has been a source of
strength for all who know and love him, is in Vancouver
General Hospital battling a rare disease of the bone marrow.
It has been frightening to see his precipitous decline since
the Fall. There is hope that a bone marrow transplant will
return him to health. Please spare a kind thought for my
friend and his family as you read this.
On a happier note, two people close to my heart are glorying
in new love these days. Yippee!
And I am in New Aiyansh, far from you, far from my family,
and far from the madding crowd. Sun and warm weather were
in the air this first day of March, rapidly melting away the
greyish roadside snow mounds. I and many others here harbor
a hope that Spring is making a non-stop bee-line for the
Nass Valley. We have had enough of shoveling out our
driveways. And my wood pile is doing a distressing
disappearing act. I want to walk into the woods again!
Alcohol has been much on my mind these past few days. In my
Career and Personal Planning (CAPP) class we have been
talking about its evils. But I have felt that there has
been a dry, rote quality to these lessons about liver
failure and fetal alcohol syndrome. Today I wrestled my
crew out for a walk up the road, away from the school.
There, we stopped and I exhorted them to become, in whatever
they do, great native leaders. "But I want to be a nurse,"
Diedre said, with a protesting smile. "Yes," I said, "but
you can be a nurse who is a great native leader." I told
them I am not talking about making speeches and leading
hundreds of people through the streets. I am talking about
being examples of strength and integrity.
This message may have fallen on mostly, or all, deaf ears.
Who can tell? I told them that succumbing to peer pressure
and becoming a slave of alcohol is the opposite of becoming
great in this way. Then, yielding to the great temptation
at hand, we lapsed into a snowball fight. Fortunately
Charles, at least, took my side.
Alcohol is a pervasive reality for a large percentage of my
students, some of whom, at 14, are already alcoholics.
Bootleggers do a booming weekend trade in Greenville. A
couple of my students told me that it is common for teens to
spend 50 to 100 dollars each weekend on booze. The hard
stuff is what they go for, vodka for instance. "Where do
they get the money?" I asked. "Steal it from their parents"
is what they said. Yeah, well this isn't exactly a reliable
source of information, but there were rings of sincerity to
what they said.
I am proud that I seem to be winning the battle to subdue my
grade eight Social Studies class. They are falling into
line and beginning to learn something each day as I gain in
the twin pillars of strength of presentation and good
humour.
But it is Friday evening now. I have already been in to
Terrace and back for my biweekly shopping trip. This trip
is an hour and a half plus each way and, though scenic, is
wearing. I am tired and will sign off saying, talk to you
again next week! I am checking my email more often and
don't think twice about writing.
Our concert (see yesterday's entry) went quite well. A colleague from work and his
wife, who also sing in a choir, were impressed with the program. The Dixit Dominus
is especially challenging. Young Handel (he was 22 when he composed this) put in
lots of octave jumps, runs, irregular timings, etc. I think he was experimenting
with different
styles and vocal textures, some of which he would later apply in his more famous
works such as Messiah.
As we were singing in a church and we are a volunteer choir, it was up to us to get
the chancel back in to shape for Sunday: removing orchestra and choir chairs,
putting back
the choir stall rails, helping move the harpischord and continuo organ, etc. After
that my wife and I drove my mom home (she enjoyed the concert, too) and then
went to a post-concert choir party in the east of Toronto. All this driving was in
pouring rain. I really dislike
driving in that kind of whether, especially on multi-lane roads --- lane markings
tend to disappear. I know some
localities in the states have pavement-imbedded reflectors, this would improve
things. But I ramble. :-) Usually we stand around, drinking wine and beer and chat
at these parties as we're all too
tired to do anything else. Then my wife and I had a 50 km drive back home (in the pouring
rain) to the west end of Mississauga before hitting the sack just before 2 a.m.
Being out late wouldn't have bothered me back when I was
in my 20's. Ah well, I'll take a couple of Moitrin and take her easy today.
An article appeared on Slashdot recently referring to a page describing the construction
of a Gauss rifle.
As shown in this image
with just a few ball bearings, some magnets and a 60cm ruler with centre groove, you
can accelerate a ball bearing with enough force to send a plastic tape dispenser flying.
Cool!
Most of the time, our Bell’Arte Singers' rehearsals under Dr. Lee Willingham’s direction are enjoyable. Last night was no exception. Every so often Lee comes up with either a new word or creates a new meaning when he’s trying to make a point about our music presentations. Last night’s word was scruff. Apparently this means the string instruments should scruff when they are to play as quietly as possible while accompanying a soloist singing a pianissimo phrase. Great word. Next time in the classroom, teachers, tell the kids to scruff themselves when they are getting too noisy and see what happens!
After some hard work and two dress rehearsals this week with the Talisker Players the Bell’Arte Singers (BAS), of which I am a first Bass member, will present our 2001-2002 season winter concert this week.
Included on the program:
- Dixit Dominus by G.F. Handel
- Magnificat by J.S. Bach
- Harpischord Concerto in G- by J.S. Bach, soloist Victor Mio, BAS member
The concert takes place at St. Anne’s Anglican Church at 270 Gladstone Ave. in Toronto at 8:00p.m. The church is beautifully frescoed and mosaiced (mosaified ?) by members of the Group of Seven artists and friends. The acoustics are wonderul, nary a “dead spot” in the church.
- Teaching Math in 1950:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4÷5 of the price.
What is his profit?
- Teaching Math in 1960:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4÷5 of the price, or $80.
What is his profit?
- Teaching Math in 1970:
A logger exchanges a set “L” of lumber for a set “M” of money. The cardinality of set “M” is 100. Each element is worth one dollar. Make 100 dots representing the elements of the set “M”. The set “C”, the cost of production, contains 20 fewer points than set “M”. Represent the set “C” as a subset of set “M” and answer the following question:
What is the cardinality of the set “P” of profits?
- Teaching Math in 1980:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20.
Your assignment: Underline the number 20.
- Teaching Math in 1990:
By cutting down beautiful forest trees, the logger makes $20.
What do you think of this way of making a living?
Topic for class participation after answering the question:
How did the forest birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down the trees?
There are no wrong answers.
- Teaching Match in 2002:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $120.
How does Arthur Andersen determine that his profit margin is $60?