Monthly Archives: April 2008

The Soul’s Mirror

After Mike and I went to the Sixth Floor Museum last Sunday we drove on to the historic district in Forth Worth. He got to see a bit of real cowboy culture and we got a few small souvenirs and a nice steak dinner afterward. While the sightseeing that we did was certainly a good diversion, it was all of the conversation that really defined the weekend.

Aristotle said “Without friends no man would choose to live, though he had all other goods.” In recent years this has become one of my very favorite quotes.

It’s one thing to have a friend. It’s another to have a friend of 20 years. It’s still more to have a friend through 20 years of adulthood. There is a certain perspective and value in that kind of relationship that is inestimable. Among friendships, those are the ones that really ground your life, the kind that continue shining in solitude’s darkness when all other lights go out.

Mike is something of a renaissance man too, so he’s hard to beat as a sounding board. He’s an accomplished electronics and software engineer, an artificial intelligence researcher, an elected official in county government, a community booster and a great dad. I’m therefore a little embarrassed to say that most of the weekend’s conversation related to me – my change of life in moving to Dallas, my frame of mind now that some difficult times are long passed, and the fact that I’m dating again.

Since Mike is now studying intelligence and some other aspects of psychology and behavior that are closely tied to the understanding of brain function, many of these conversations had a pretty interesting backdrop. What might have been a rather mundane and one-sided discussion regarding my experience with dating in mid-life was instead a pretty high-brow exploration of aging and mating behaviors as seen from the standpoint of evolutionary biology and brain chemistry. Sprinkled in were shared observations from our shared past, including high points and low points from years gone by.

It was a gratifying series of conversations on many levels. I’ve been single now for about three years, and happily so for at least half that long. Mike witnessed all of that and many things that went before, so his very honest assessments over time serve as a kind of reflection that gives clarity that I couldn’t possibly get from any other source. Life has become a much, much better place for me than it was over most of my prior adulthood. Our time together reminded me of that and assured me that my present perceptions of peace and happiness are no illusion.

Most of the things that we discussed were purely reflective in nature, but for me one of them was actionable and forward looking. When I started dating again earlier this year I began to really struggle with whether or not I wanted to start another family. I could envision two kinds of happy futures – one in which I would share life’s bounty and challenges with a new partner but no new children, and another in which we added all of the joys and many responsibilities of parenthood to the rest of our experiences. In either case there is the daughter that I already have that remains steadily in the picture, and I was able to see either future playing out well. But there were doubts, especially in the case of starting fatherhood anew.

I have come to believe that the greater measure of stimulation and interest in life flows from the novelty of fresh experiences. I feel pretty certain that this is why I’ve come to enjoy traveling so much, for example. I think it is also why I’ve become so much harder to entertain as a reader these days. Not only does the author have to measure up to the better class of my accumulated reading, but he or she must also be offering me something new. An exquisitely told tale that I’ve already heard before just isn’t as interesting as it once was.

So what happens when you overlay that knowledge on top of the many trials and strains of parenthood?

I’ve long worried that the two just don’t go well together. A child needs and deserves the very best from his or her parents, and I strongly questioned whether or not my best would be on offer the second time around. If I was experiencing parenthood less as a new adventure and more as a rehashed duty, how enjoyable would it be for everyone involved? How likely is it that the bonds between a new wife and I would be made stronger when my perspective might be so very different from hers?

Our discussions sealed it. I decided once again – and firmly this time – that whatever my future holds it does not contain a plan for starting another family. If that limits my options for finding a new life partner more than I would like, well, tough. That’s the way it goes. Life’s clock is not ours to set and we each must do the best we can with the time we have. My time for starting families has passed, and I’m OK with that.

It’s liberating and validating and reassuring all at once to be able to reach those kinds of conclusions on your own. But to then bounce your innermost thinking off of a friend? To have another trusted mind that knows yours honestly assess your thoughts and share that assessment in a way that you can absorb it? Well… that’s invaluable.

Friendships in general are great, but friendships like that are the Soul’s Mirror. “Know thyself” said the ancient Greeks. Without good friends, I’m pretty sure that we’d have much less confidence in any such knowledge.

The Sixth Floor Museum

After breakfast at Hubbard’s Cafe Mike wanted to go see the Sixth Floor Museum at the Book Depository overlooking the site of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination at Dealey Plaza. The weather was perfect for the mood of such a sight – somber, quiet overcast on a Sunday. It was a good call.

The Sixth Floor Museum was not entirely unlike my visit to the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam last month. It too was at the scene of a globally known tragedy, perfectly preserved in some places with many artifacts of the day passed on to the museum. In this case, these including many, many home movies made of that day at Love Field, at Dealey Plaza and at other spots in Dallas.

Mike and I looked down from the spot where Lee Harvey Oswald fired his rifle. We examined the evidence as presented in the museum dioramas. We absorbed the historic context of the day as presented in the museum dioramas.

The books that were published in that year that were on display, the newspaper headlines, the pamphlets and the television clips. Cuban Missile Crisis, Bay of Pigs, cold war, space race, military build up, decolonization, desegregation, birth control… could anything else have been going on during that time? I mean really – I know we feel overwhelmed at times with events in our own era but looking back on that Is it any wonder that the world was about to shudder with civic unrest and war and fear? If there were any time that any one in high office might be assassinated, it’s hard for me to understand how it would surpass that one.

Mike and I looked down from where Lee Harvey Oswald fired down on Kennedy. We read the evidence as presented in the museum displays, including the film, the photos, the rifle, the magic bullet, the back stories behind Oswald and other players in the drama. We walked the grassy knoll. We looked at the “X marks” on the asphalt where the limousine rolled downhill while taking fire.

Here are a few things that Mike and I concluded:

  1. Oswald could have made the shots that killed Kennedy. In fact, I believe that I could have done it myself. Standing in that window and looking down on the roadway it seems to me that the angle, the motion of the limousine and the distances involved would really not have been all that difficult with a telescopic sight. some skill and a little practice. I’ve seen performers split blocks of wood thrown in the air with a rifle while shooting over their shoulders. I’ve seen film of sharp shooters hitting quarter-sized targets over and over at long distances. Oswald could have made those shots.
  2. Oswald’s actions were not solely the initiative of a politically motivated radical. He had help, more than likely as relates to the planning of the assassination. Oswald became an employee at the Book Depository five weeks before Kennedy’s visit to Dallas. We saw no explanation offered of the striking coincidence between Oswald’s employment there and Kennedy’s ride through the plaza a few weeks later. Surely Oswald knew this would happen, but how? Even if Kennedy’s visit was known beforehand, surely the details of his exact route were not published that far in advance? If they were, there was no mention of that specific fact that we could find. It seems likely that Oswald was given information to act on by someone hostile to Kennedy. There would have been plenty of opportunity. Oswald, a former defector to the Soviet Union who had returned to the US as the husband of a Soviet Intelligence agent’s daughter would have been easily connected to spies and moles it seems. The Soviets might very well have collaborated with not just Oswald, but anti-Kennedy radical groups in the US. There was some tangential evidence of this presented in the museum.
  3. The magic bullet is complete and total bullshit. There is NO WAY that a bullet did all the damage that projectile is alleged to have done while remaining essentially undamaged. You can badly deform a bullet by firing it into water, for crying out loud. That thing supposedly passed through two people while breaking bones. There is simply no believable case for that bullet having done what is claimed. Then you have ask yourself – how is it that bullet was found on a stretcher in the hospital, and why?

Time to whip out Ockham’s Razor. My thinking is this – the Soviets sponsored the assassination and manipulated various individuals and groups to get the job done. Ironically, some of those being manipulated would have been apoplectic to realize there were being used as tools of the Soviets. Such is the game of high stakes espionage. The Johnson administration either knew or realized that this was the case as the investigation proceeded, and hastily and forcefully covered it up.

Think about it.

The Soviets were at the zenith of their Khrushchev-inspired belligerence. The anti-communist movement in the United States was at historic highs. Brushfire conflicts were flaring around the globe. As the Cuban Missile Crisis so clearly demonstrated, the world was on the hair trigger of nuclear apocalypse.

If the truth went public events could have and probably would have quickly spiraled out of anyone’s control. Johnson knew it. Assassinating Kennedy was an act of war that would probably have ended civilization had it come to light. Other than declaring war, what could the President be expected to do that would have been an appropriate response under the circumstances? It had to have another explanation – and fast. Everyone needed to believe that Oswald acted alone, and anything he might have said to the contrary under the duress of interrogation or prosecution was silenced forever when Jack Ruby killed him.

I believe that that simplest possible explanations are almost always the right ones. Oswald acting alone might be that explanation, but the timing of his employment at the Book Depository, the nature of his relationship to Russian intelligence, and the magic bullet simply don’t wash. An assassination conspiracy sponsored by an out-of-control Khrushchev bureaucracy followed by an American cover up to avoid Armageddon seems like the simplest possible explanation that withstands those pieces of evidence. It may not be the right explanation obviously, but it is one that doesn’t require a complex conspiracy involving dozens of people, only a handful on each side.

If this is what happened, can you imagine being in Johnson’s shoes? Would it be any wonder that he would cover up the assassination on one hand and be absolutely determined to stop Soviet expansion on the other? Would it be any wonder that he would view Vietnam the way that he did in that case?

Hubbard’s Cafe

In the things that Mike and I did last weekend I was trying to think of stuff that clearly said “Texas” each time, and come Sunday morning there would be only one option for breakfast – go out. After a month gone away my refrigerator had nothing in it that did not require careful handling for disposal. So while winding down the evening on Saturday I was wracking my brain trying to think of what would be a breakfast experience worthy of a visitor’s first pleasure trip to Dallas.

Out of the dark edges of my memory sprang forth a shred of recollection. It was from a business trip I had made years ago. There was an old-school diner that specialized in breakfast business and where the servers were… Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. Yes. That was it. I remembered the place. Gorgeous women waiting on tables – tastefully. This was no Hooters for the morning crowd. The women were not in cheerleader uniform, but just wearing street clothes – jeans, etc. They were just really pretty. And pleasant. And somehow it all had something to do with the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader squad. Breakfast here we come.

It wasn’t easy finding the place. As best as I can tell Hubbard’s (at least this Hubbard’s) has no website. Googling things like “dallas cowyboys cheerleader breakfast” and other such strings yielded all kinds of nonsense and but I was finally able to locate an online review from a regular guy who wrote about an “eye popping” breakfast experience at Hubbard’s Cafe in Garland, Texas. It was enough to go on. When we woke up in the morning I called the phone number listed in the review and asked if their’s was “the place with all the pretty waitresses.” You could hear her grin and blush and roll her eyes as she said “Yep, that’s us.” Off we went.

Seems like Mike got what he always does – eggs and toast. I got an omelet with some hash browns and toast. We both got to see a Texas phenomenon. The waitresses – ours no exception – were uniformly very pretty, very polite and very charming. But again, this was no Hooters. Everyone was tastefully dressed and the cafe crowd was no different than what you’d see in any diner – lots of guys out for breakfast, lots of families with kids of all ages, some grandparents on the way home from church.

On the walls near the cash register were about a dozen autographed photos of Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders wishing their former co-workers well. Apparently Hubbard’s is indeed the farm team for some of the most beautiful women anywhere.

Gentlemen, there are plenty of ways worse than this to get your breakfast. And you can enjoy it with a clean conscience. Hubbard’s Cafe (also goes buy Hubbard’s Cubbard) is at 901 Main Street, Garland, TX.

Silver and Gold

When I was a young kid – maybe five or six – my mom would sing a silly little song whenever I talked about the inevitable playground rivalries that come with friendships in early childhood. It went like this:

“Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver and

The other’s gold…”

I don’t know where that comes from but she was fond of it. I was reminded of that last weekend when I had a full slate of activities with new friends and old.

On Friday night I walked to Black Friar just down the street from the apartment and met a couple of women who are co-workers of mine and their dates. Each of the guys were good people and I had a fine time drinking beers and having dinner with them. The weather was “Northern California Nice” that evening and it was just one of those times when staying in would have been a sad and lonely crime. Being able to meet up with no planning whatsoever was exactly the sort of thing that I was hoping for when I moved to Uptown last fall.

Saturday morning I drove to the DFW airport and picked up my best friend of 21 years at E14. Mike had never been to Dallas for any reason other than business and we had set last weekend for his visit some time earlier this year. As guys commonly do, we entirely lacked any plan other than 1) Mike comes to Dallas for a couple of days and 2) we figure it out from there.

So after dropping his stuff off at the apartment we went to Harry’s and got a little lunch (saving dessert for later) and then found our way on foot to the Katy Trail. We walked almost the whole length of the trail, from Knox-Henderson down to within site of the American Airlines Center and back. Mike’s visit was a great excuse to do that – I had not yet gotten to it even though I’ve been in Uptown since October of last year. The trail is pretty nice I think – arguably on the short side but shady in places and great for pedestrians. When we got back to the top of the trail we returned to Harry’s for custard. Mike was appropriately impressed.

Before getting back in the car I hooked Mike into the Apple Store long enough to get him to hold a MacBook Air and check out the new iPods and iPhone. Like I once was, Mike has been a do-it-yourself PC guy forever. He got a big chuckle out me switching to to a Mac last year. But I can tell that the BS you have to go through dealing with Windows at times is wearing on him a little. When we were in the apartment later checking email and stuff I used my MacBook and let him use my work PC for terminal services back into his machines in Atlanta. Our user experiences were…different. My MacBook, of course, connected to the Internet just about instantly when I opened it up. The Dell? Well, somewhere between 30 and 60 seconds after we jarred it awake from standby it finally became useful.

We both sat there wondering why the hell it’s so hard for Microsoft to make that better. Come on guys! My Dell is a dual core machine with 2GB of RAM and a brand new Windows installation. What’s the excuse? The thing almost takes longer to get an IP address when you switch networks than it takes my MacBook to cold boot. I know Microsoft’s engineering problems have had much broader scope due to the open OEM model but jeez – it’s been more than 25 years now since that got started – sure seems like they’d have a better recipe at this point. I’m betting that Microsoft is making their own hardware within the next few years, but I made and lost that bet a few years ago too. We’ll see.

Anyway, after we got rested up we went out to Chuy’s. I had intended to get Mike some good TexMex (it’s a lot better here in Dallas than Atlanta for sure) but honestly Chuy’s disappointed. My chimichanga was overdone. Mike liked his well enough though, and I guess that’s what counted.

Back in Dallas!

Last Wednesday morning I had a homecoming of sorts when I returned to Dallas. For the first time in a month I arrived with the knowledge that I would be there longer than required to unpack, sleep and repack. I can’t tell you how happy I was to wake up on Thursday morning and simply drive in to the office. No airport parking, no security, no airport food, no cancellations no delays. Just me and my Acura blasting across town at serious citation speeds to the trade show – blessedly in town for once!

And happy at otherwise keeping something like a normal routine at home. A nice healthy breakfast at the apartment with my home made coffee exactly the way I like it. Catching up on personal email with friends. Walking down to the Black Friar for beers with friends on a Friday night. Ah… relaxation.

Now, about getting back into that gym routine….

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Maintenance Required

That’s what the dashboard light on my Honda says here in Atlanta. It’s symbolic. Everything here has gotten to the same point. The house is never cleaned up the way I like it. The refrigerator always seems to have a bunch of questionable things in it. My TiVo receiver died three weeks ago and I haven’t gotten it fixed yet because I haven’t been here. The gutters need cleaning out now that it’s raining again.

When you live in a place only on occasion it’s really difficult to “catch up” when you get behind on taking care of things, and it’s really easy to get behind. Spending time here in Atlanta is all about my daughter – it has nothing to do with truly keeping a household in the way that you do when you live in a place full-time. So when we are here we do things like go camping with friends, see movies, cook together and other adventures. We pack it all in – it’s part of the fatherhood of dispersed intensities that I’ve posted on before.

So I don’t want to make her sit through a long wait at the Honda place while they tune it up when we could be visiting friends, or hand her a broom and have her spend half a day cleaning up a messy house when it’s sunny outside and we could be throwing Frisbee at the park.

If she were any other child I might feel good about those working things as a matter of character building, but you’d have to know my little girl. She doesn’t need that. She might just be one of the most responsible and kind kids around. She does what’s expected without being asked almost all of the time. More so that I do!

So the answer seems pretty clear. I’ve got to hire some stuff out that I used to do myself when I lived here full time. Time to get a maid. Time to hire out cleaning the gutters and fixing the drains and other sundry things that would have been Saturday morning tasks on regular weekends just a few months ago.

Maintenance required. No big deal. Just have to accept that someone else has to do it now.

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Post Haste

Yesterday when I made my “Studies in Hate” post below I was really in a hurry. I was headed out the door to a camp out and running behind schedule. So consequently I did not get take the time I usually do to edit and proof read. How embarrassing when I went back this morning to give it a quick look and saw just how bad I can be when I don’t proof read. Of course the post got a lot of traffic before I realized how badly it needed editing, so there are now at least a few folks out there who think I can’t form a sentence. Ah well. It’s all fixed and I’ll avoid speedblogging from now on.

Studies in Hate

My friend James over at the arc of time makes an interesting post today on the neighbor that wants him dead, and the general sentiments of hate across the political spectrum.

In my experience, the difference in hate between the left and right is, most of the time, as follows: Outward expressions of hate from the right tend to come from the more ignorant and less educated, while outward expressions of hate from the left tend to come from comparatively well-educated (or perhaps indoctrinated?) and even the avant garde.

In other words, your average overt gay hater is a high school dropout. Your average openly intolerant “Christian” is someone who probably didn’t make it through college and doesn’t have a passport. Again, these are on AVERAGE.

The left is quite different. It has a long history of university educated revolutionaries plenty happy to kill off people by the million to achieve their social goals, and not just rhetorically. It also has plenty of modern rank and file that are viciously, outwardly, and visibly hateful toward people with whom they disagree. Let me be clear – this is NOT to say that all people on the left are like this. Quite to the contrary, I believe that for the most part the opposite is true. I think most left-leaning people are broadly tolerant. But those who aren’t can be quite shocking in their dehumanizing rhetoric.

I believe that this disparity in outwardly expressed hate is generally tolerated because the people toward whom the left is hateful are generally not associated with legally protected minority groups. The public is very clearly on guard to hold haters of minority groups such as black people, gay people, etc. to account and even as criminals. This holds true not just for law enforcement, but for employers also. The public at large and these same institutions are NOT tuned in to the idea of being on guard against those who hate Christians, white people, straights, conservatives, capitalists, etc. Popular culture in the form of virtually all broadcast media is tilted the same way. In fact, disdain for conservative values in popular media is palpable. Identifiably conservative, capitalist, Christian, etc. characters in television and particularly film are routinely depicted as evil, conspiratorial and otherwise villainous. Liberal figures, by contrast, are routinely protagonists or sympathetic figures and their values are often presented as the right ones by morality play. This legal and media environment combines to make it absolutely socially unacceptable to express outward hate for groups generally associated with liberals, but (marginally) acceptable to express hate against those generally associated with conservatives.

Don’t believe me?

Try this. Keep a notepad in your car for a month. During that time, count up the number of “F the President” bumper stickers you see, and all others with similar sentiments of disdain or hate which are directed toward groups nominally associated with conservatives. Do the same for how many “God Hates Fags” bumper stickers that you see, or any such similar expressions toward groups nominally associated with liberals. Also, check out the drivers of the observed vehicles. On average I bet the liberal hate is coming from someone that has the appearance of having attended college, while the conservative hate (if you can find it) is coming from someone that doesn’t have all their teeth. By the way, don’t play games of equivocation with this exercise. A bumper sticker that says “Abortion Stops a Beating Heart” is not an expression of hate. A strong viewpoint absolutely, but not hate. “F the President” is a statement of hate. These are your guidelines.

I bet your count is at least several to zero.

While the occasional ooze of hate from the ignorant right nauseates me, I can at least understand that their ignorance fuels their hatred. My question to the left is this: What’s your excuse?