Utah has passed a “free-range parenting” bill that frees parents from hovering over their children. Some people thinks this is terrible and irresponsible.
See https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/controversial-free-range-parenting-now-legal-utah-heres-means-203114763.html.
Thanks goodness I was a free-range kid from the time I was six (1944). I walked to school by myself. I walked to playgrounds myself. I went to the movies with my younger brother. And when I had a bicycle I rode many places far from home.
Showing posts with label Cleveland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cleveland. Show all posts
Friday, March 23, 2018
Sunday, January 29, 2017
What I Like in a City
Originally published in the Northland Reader now the Reader Weekly, March 16, 2000
As a newcomer to Duluth, I’m not quite familiar with all the plans for changes to Duluth, for example Vision 2001, but I appreciate many of the things Duluth offers and hope to see these features improved.
Duluth offers some transportation choices that makes a city great and to human scale. Namely, if one is so inclined, one can easily choose to go by foot, bus, or car, in that order.
These choices are not easy everywhere in Duluth, but in Chester Park where I live, I have used all three choices to reach UMD, Mt. Royal, Kenwood, the lake, and even downtown. I much prefer to walk unless time is a factor.
Walking not only provides exercise and fresh air, but it gives me time to observe and experience an area. Walking by parks, houses, and shops, there is much to see that is only a blur when seen from a vehicle.
Taking the bus is a second choice if time is short or the weather is bad. Walking downtown is good exercise but only if I want to spend an hour or more doing so. With a bus, I can be downtown in one-quarter that time. Taking the bus provides conveniences that many don’t consider. First of all, I don’t need to worry about parking. Secondly, even if parking is easily available, a bus may get me closer to the door.
Taking a car is a third choice if time is important, if I have a lot to carry, or if the bus doesn’t go to my destination. Time can be important in two ways. It can take longer to do an errand or the buses aren’t running at that time of day. I often drive downtown for evening events because they might run past the last bus or because I might just miss an hourly bus. I take a bus to church downtown but my wife has to drive; choir practice starts before the buses do.
I do have a historical bias for this opinion. I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio (not one of its suburbs). I walked to school until I was in high school, then I took three buses. The buses were frequent enough that I never had to worry about how late practice lasted. Even when I started college I took a bus and a rapid transit train. We did most of our shopping in walking distance of our home; otherwise we hopped a streetcar to go downtown.
Since then I have lived in Minneapolis, Rome, Stockholm, exurban Philadelphia, and exurban Minneapolis, I have had extended stays in New York, London, Paris, Helsinki, and Basel, and I have visited many other cities from Leningrad to Los Angeles to Osaka. (What’s “exurban”? So far out from the center that there are no sidewalks.) Many of them offered both walking and public transportation opportunities. In fact, those I enjoyed the most were those that had vibrant centers where people walked, shopped, wined, and dined until late in the evening. New York, Rome, Paris, Stockholm, Osaka, and Tokyo are full of lights and activity well past a Midwesterner’s bedtime. Their centers are accessible until midnight or beyond. But my favorite was Basel, Switzerland.
Most of the time that I was in Basel I worked evenings. I could either walk or take a streetcar from my hotel to the customer site and back. Streetcars ran until one in the morning. If I walked, it was not past monolithic buildings and parking lots but past parks and shops with interesting displays in their windows. Within walking distance of the hotel were dozens of restaurants, a couple of grocery stores, many, many shops, an outdoor swimming pool, several parks, and the zoo.
I don’t think Basel was designed; too many of the streets intersect at other than a right angle. I think Swiss efficiency made the best of the situation over the centuries.
Duluth will never be like Basel for a variety of reasons and many of us would not want that. But in our vision for Duluth, we can adapt some of the elements that made Basel interesting.
First, we should make existing sidewalks more user friendly. We could encourage homeowners to cut back overhanging branches and keep sidewalks clear of snow and ice. We could ticket cars that are parked across crosswalks or even in drives but over the sidewalk.
Second, we should have a more aggressive program for sidewalk replacement or repair. We should also examine funding; is it fair to make a homeowner pay for a sidewalk?
Third, we should keep streets drier by repairing potholes and low spots. Why should a pedestrian have to run past a puddle, like on Woodland south of Mt. Royal?
Fourth, we should have more frequent buses and more coverage. Should our only ways to get to the DECC be by driving, walking over a freeway bridge, or walking a long, monochromatic skyway? We should have shuttle buses from DECC to downtown at event times, including Omnimax. We have no skyway to Canal Park but bus service is limited to daylight hours. We should be able to go by bus on a Saturday night to a downtown restaurant or theater.
Fifth, we should plan new development based on how people will get there. Should people have to walk across a windy, dusty parking lot dodging drivers more concerned about looking for a parking space? Should buses have to go in and out of parking lots so that passengers need not walk across said parking lots?
Sixth, we should consider more mixed use like that which some people would like to see on Fourth St. E. between Fifth and Sixth Avenues; that is, shops at street level, residences and professional offices above.
In other words, let’s remember that cars are only a means, not an end. Let’s design for people, not just one of their means.
As a newcomer to Duluth, I’m not quite familiar with all the plans for changes to Duluth, for example Vision 2001, but I appreciate many of the things Duluth offers and hope to see these features improved.
Duluth offers some transportation choices that makes a city great and to human scale. Namely, if one is so inclined, one can easily choose to go by foot, bus, or car, in that order.
These choices are not easy everywhere in Duluth, but in Chester Park where I live, I have used all three choices to reach UMD, Mt. Royal, Kenwood, the lake, and even downtown. I much prefer to walk unless time is a factor.
Walking not only provides exercise and fresh air, but it gives me time to observe and experience an area. Walking by parks, houses, and shops, there is much to see that is only a blur when seen from a vehicle.
Taking the bus is a second choice if time is short or the weather is bad. Walking downtown is good exercise but only if I want to spend an hour or more doing so. With a bus, I can be downtown in one-quarter that time. Taking the bus provides conveniences that many don’t consider. First of all, I don’t need to worry about parking. Secondly, even if parking is easily available, a bus may get me closer to the door.
Taking a car is a third choice if time is important, if I have a lot to carry, or if the bus doesn’t go to my destination. Time can be important in two ways. It can take longer to do an errand or the buses aren’t running at that time of day. I often drive downtown for evening events because they might run past the last bus or because I might just miss an hourly bus. I take a bus to church downtown but my wife has to drive; choir practice starts before the buses do.
I do have a historical bias for this opinion. I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio (not one of its suburbs). I walked to school until I was in high school, then I took three buses. The buses were frequent enough that I never had to worry about how late practice lasted. Even when I started college I took a bus and a rapid transit train. We did most of our shopping in walking distance of our home; otherwise we hopped a streetcar to go downtown.
Since then I have lived in Minneapolis, Rome, Stockholm, exurban Philadelphia, and exurban Minneapolis, I have had extended stays in New York, London, Paris, Helsinki, and Basel, and I have visited many other cities from Leningrad to Los Angeles to Osaka. (What’s “exurban”? So far out from the center that there are no sidewalks.) Many of them offered both walking and public transportation opportunities. In fact, those I enjoyed the most were those that had vibrant centers where people walked, shopped, wined, and dined until late in the evening. New York, Rome, Paris, Stockholm, Osaka, and Tokyo are full of lights and activity well past a Midwesterner’s bedtime. Their centers are accessible until midnight or beyond. But my favorite was Basel, Switzerland.
Most of the time that I was in Basel I worked evenings. I could either walk or take a streetcar from my hotel to the customer site and back. Streetcars ran until one in the morning. If I walked, it was not past monolithic buildings and parking lots but past parks and shops with interesting displays in their windows. Within walking distance of the hotel were dozens of restaurants, a couple of grocery stores, many, many shops, an outdoor swimming pool, several parks, and the zoo.
I don’t think Basel was designed; too many of the streets intersect at other than a right angle. I think Swiss efficiency made the best of the situation over the centuries.
Duluth will never be like Basel for a variety of reasons and many of us would not want that. But in our vision for Duluth, we can adapt some of the elements that made Basel interesting.
First, we should make existing sidewalks more user friendly. We could encourage homeowners to cut back overhanging branches and keep sidewalks clear of snow and ice. We could ticket cars that are parked across crosswalks or even in drives but over the sidewalk.
Second, we should have a more aggressive program for sidewalk replacement or repair. We should also examine funding; is it fair to make a homeowner pay for a sidewalk?
Third, we should keep streets drier by repairing potholes and low spots. Why should a pedestrian have to run past a puddle, like on Woodland south of Mt. Royal?
Fourth, we should have more frequent buses and more coverage. Should our only ways to get to the DECC be by driving, walking over a freeway bridge, or walking a long, monochromatic skyway? We should have shuttle buses from DECC to downtown at event times, including Omnimax. We have no skyway to Canal Park but bus service is limited to daylight hours. We should be able to go by bus on a Saturday night to a downtown restaurant or theater.
Fifth, we should plan new development based on how people will get there. Should people have to walk across a windy, dusty parking lot dodging drivers more concerned about looking for a parking space? Should buses have to go in and out of parking lots so that passengers need not walk across said parking lots?
Sixth, we should consider more mixed use like that which some people would like to see on Fourth St. E. between Fifth and Sixth Avenues; that is, shops at street level, residences and professional offices above.
In other words, let’s remember that cars are only a means, not an end. Let’s design for people, not just one of their means.
Thursday, June 04, 2015
Up in the air about being up in the air
I am not sure when I was first in an airplane, but I am sure when I was last in an airplane. Some of the trips I’ve long forgotten; other I find it hard to forget.
I think my first airplane trip was in a Capitol Airlines DC-3 when I was between nine and twelve. It was out of Cleveland to either Chicago or Detroit. Probably Chicago because my father’s parents lived in Maywood. But I remember more taking the train there once or twice.
My second flight was in a Ford Trimotor from Put-in-Bay in Lake Erie. The Scoutmaster was good at picking sites for a week-long summer camp, and Put-in-Bay was high on his list. I don’t know if I had a flight back to the mainland or just a tourist loop. That airline ceased operations in 1985, but there are still some Trimotors flying, including one in the Port Clinton OH museum.
I don’t remember any flights until the summer between my junior and senior years of college. I had a summer job at Ohio Oil (Marathon). They were considering upgrading their IBM 650 with a Burroughs among others. For some reason the group visiting Burroughs took me along, but this was no ordinary trip.
Ohio Oil had one of the largest private air fleets in the world. We would not be driving or flying commercial from Findlay OH to Detroit. We would be flying in a company DC-3. But we couldn’t leave the ground until we had clearance to land in Detroit. That was over 45 minutes on the runway in the summer in an airplane without air-conditioning. By the time we got into the limos at Detroit, I was very glad to sit in the front with the air-conditioning going full-blast in my face. I think I managed to keep everything down.
In graduate school and at Univac I took many air trips over the next seven years. At Univac, several of us did our best to schedule trips on Caravelles; they were all first class. An incident that stands out was on the approach to Minneapolis-St. Paul the plane (model forgotten) suddenly began climbing. The pilot announced that another plane didn’t get off the runway on time. My wife had a more scary time. She was waiting for me and saw the airplane suddenly swoop up.
Then I spent six years with many trips all over western Europe. One time I went to the wrong airport in Milan and had to take an overnight train instead. One time in Paris Orly was socked in by fog. The airline didn’t keep passengers up-to-date. Finally, they let us send a free telegram. I sent one to my wife in Rome. Later, I think they let us make a phone call. Later yet, they bussed us into Paris to stay in a hotel. The next day I was back in Rome eating lunch with my family when my telegram about my delay arrived.
One memorable sight in Rome was standing on the ground watching a 747 overhead. Would I really want to fly on such a humongous plane?
When we lived in Stockholm we took some vacation flights, mostly in ski season. A warmer flight was to the island of Rhodes. I flew direct to Rhodes, but my wife had gone to Athens with her mother. When they were in the air leaving Athens, Black September attacked the airport, killing at least three.
When we came back to the States, I continued flying wherever for Univac. Sometimes willingly, sometimes unwillingly, and sometimes by my own design. I somehow managed to go to most Univac user conferences and several professional association conferences. I even got a trip back to Europe to give a presentation in Madrid and used vacation time to visit Ireland. Yep, lots of Magrees/McGrees in Kilkenny, but none provably related to me.
When I started my own company, I managed to scrape together money to fly to conferences or to take a few ski trips. Sometimes I took my early Macintosh with me. That now big bulky thing was designed to fit under a airline seat. And it did, and then it did not; signs of coming changes.
Our first flight to Japan was to visit our son who was teaching there. In coach we were almost treated as royalty, on an American plane! Seating was something like 2-3-2 or 2-4-2. We had seats by an emergency door and had plenty of leg room.
Our second flight was out of Chicago with Japan Air. We didn’t have as much leg room but we did have excellent service. The worst part was all the hubbub at Narita Airport to find the right place to checkin and all the restaurants that had prices posted in Japanese numbers.
Our third and my hoped for last flight was a multiple leg trip without much legroom - Minneapolis to Toronto to pick up my mother-in-law. To Chicago to pick up a U.S. airline. To Tokyo for a wonderful time for all. Reverse all that for the return. With the 3-5-3 seating I had it with flying. And I said so.
Then we get a Christmas present to fly to Las Vegas and drive on to Heavenly Valley. OK, daughter, I’ll accept. We had good time, but that was the last time I flew.
Since then, my wife has flown to Japan three times and expects to do so several more times. Whenever I think about it, I get a squeezed feeling in my shoulders and restless leg syndrome.
When Mel wrote this he was sitting at home while his wife flew off to visit her sisters.
Also in Reader Weekly, 2015-06-04 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2015/06/03/5391_up_in_the_air_about_being_up_in_the_air
I think my first airplane trip was in a Capitol Airlines DC-3 when I was between nine and twelve. It was out of Cleveland to either Chicago or Detroit. Probably Chicago because my father’s parents lived in Maywood. But I remember more taking the train there once or twice.
My second flight was in a Ford Trimotor from Put-in-Bay in Lake Erie. The Scoutmaster was good at picking sites for a week-long summer camp, and Put-in-Bay was high on his list. I don’t know if I had a flight back to the mainland or just a tourist loop. That airline ceased operations in 1985, but there are still some Trimotors flying, including one in the Port Clinton OH museum.
I don’t remember any flights until the summer between my junior and senior years of college. I had a summer job at Ohio Oil (Marathon). They were considering upgrading their IBM 650 with a Burroughs among others. For some reason the group visiting Burroughs took me along, but this was no ordinary trip.
Ohio Oil had one of the largest private air fleets in the world. We would not be driving or flying commercial from Findlay OH to Detroit. We would be flying in a company DC-3. But we couldn’t leave the ground until we had clearance to land in Detroit. That was over 45 minutes on the runway in the summer in an airplane without air-conditioning. By the time we got into the limos at Detroit, I was very glad to sit in the front with the air-conditioning going full-blast in my face. I think I managed to keep everything down.
In graduate school and at Univac I took many air trips over the next seven years. At Univac, several of us did our best to schedule trips on Caravelles; they were all first class. An incident that stands out was on the approach to Minneapolis-St. Paul the plane (model forgotten) suddenly began climbing. The pilot announced that another plane didn’t get off the runway on time. My wife had a more scary time. She was waiting for me and saw the airplane suddenly swoop up.
Then I spent six years with many trips all over western Europe. One time I went to the wrong airport in Milan and had to take an overnight train instead. One time in Paris Orly was socked in by fog. The airline didn’t keep passengers up-to-date. Finally, they let us send a free telegram. I sent one to my wife in Rome. Later, I think they let us make a phone call. Later yet, they bussed us into Paris to stay in a hotel. The next day I was back in Rome eating lunch with my family when my telegram about my delay arrived.
One memorable sight in Rome was standing on the ground watching a 747 overhead. Would I really want to fly on such a humongous plane?
When we lived in Stockholm we took some vacation flights, mostly in ski season. A warmer flight was to the island of Rhodes. I flew direct to Rhodes, but my wife had gone to Athens with her mother. When they were in the air leaving Athens, Black September attacked the airport, killing at least three.
When we came back to the States, I continued flying wherever for Univac. Sometimes willingly, sometimes unwillingly, and sometimes by my own design. I somehow managed to go to most Univac user conferences and several professional association conferences. I even got a trip back to Europe to give a presentation in Madrid and used vacation time to visit Ireland. Yep, lots of Magrees/McGrees in Kilkenny, but none provably related to me.
When I started my own company, I managed to scrape together money to fly to conferences or to take a few ski trips. Sometimes I took my early Macintosh with me. That now big bulky thing was designed to fit under a airline seat. And it did, and then it did not; signs of coming changes.
Our first flight to Japan was to visit our son who was teaching there. In coach we were almost treated as royalty, on an American plane! Seating was something like 2-3-2 or 2-4-2. We had seats by an emergency door and had plenty of leg room.
Our second flight was out of Chicago with Japan Air. We didn’t have as much leg room but we did have excellent service. The worst part was all the hubbub at Narita Airport to find the right place to checkin and all the restaurants that had prices posted in Japanese numbers.
Our third and my hoped for last flight was a multiple leg trip without much legroom - Minneapolis to Toronto to pick up my mother-in-law. To Chicago to pick up a U.S. airline. To Tokyo for a wonderful time for all. Reverse all that for the return. With the 3-5-3 seating I had it with flying. And I said so.
Then we get a Christmas present to fly to Las Vegas and drive on to Heavenly Valley. OK, daughter, I’ll accept. We had good time, but that was the last time I flew.
Since then, my wife has flown to Japan three times and expects to do so several more times. Whenever I think about it, I get a squeezed feeling in my shoulders and restless leg syndrome.
When Mel wrote this he was sitting at home while his wife flew off to visit her sisters.
Also in Reader Weekly, 2015-06-04 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2015/06/03/5391_up_in_the_air_about_being_up_in_the_air
Thursday, April 23, 2015
It is around here someplace!
Whenever one of us can’t find something, we say, “It is around here someplace!”
This has not always been effective in retrieving a lost object.
The earliest loss I remember is my wedding ring, the winter of our first year of marriage. When I noticed it missing after a trip to the super market, I was fairly certain we would never find it again. My guess was that it had slipped off when I took a glove off to get my car keys. The snow bank was at least three feet high.
The next memorable loss was in a watery hay stack: the Mississippi River. We were part of a flotilla of the Minnesota Canoe Association. Probably for the vanity of not having a white stripe on my wrist, I had set my high-school-graduation watch on the gunwale of the canoe. One of the kids asked for Kool-Aid and as I reached for the jug, he or she moved. Kerplash! No way would I be able to determine exactly where that watch was.
Books are something that seem to disappear easily. I remember leaving a copy of “Abbé de Tours” on an airplane. I lent “Dieu rit en Alsace” (“God laughs in Alsace”) and the borrower denies having it. I have a vivid memory of John McWhorter’s “Power of Babel” being on my wife’s night stand. Even buying another copy didn’t make it turn up.
A “good” place to lose something is the Essentia Fitness Center. I’ve left behind in the locker room an iPod, keys, earbuds, and other stuff. In almost every case, somebody had turned the item in at the reception desk. Sadly, others have not always been so fortunate.
This winter I lost my cabin keys in Brimson. We looked in every building and in the car, but could not find them. Fortunately we could make copies with my wife’s set. Then the snow started melting and there was a “golden” carabiner next to the sauna door. Although I am paranoid about making sure that the carabiner is securely hooked onto a belt loop, I wasn’t paranoid enough that one time.
A few days before my wife returned our granddaughter to Japan, she lost her cellphone. She and I asked several times at every place she had been if anybody had turned it in. I called her cell phone and all I got was my recorded voice. I went to the provider’s web site and checked for unauthorized usage. There was none but I suspended usage anyway. After awhile I removed the suspension, but I kept checking for unauthorized usage.
We kept looking over and over in some of the same places, especially the kitchen counter where she often left her phone. “It’s around here someplace.”
Halfway through my wife’s trip, I was about a day away from ordering a new phone from my provider or getting one on eBay.
As I do every few days, I was going to get some more groceries at the Whole Food Co-op. It is important to mention the place because I had to determine how many and which of our bags to take. Because we have so many floppy bags that are difficult to pack, I’m often tempted to use the Co-ops paper bags. However, we do have two bags with rigid sides. I selected on of these and then selected what smaller bags and jars I would need for the bulk items I intended to buy.
When I got to the co-op and was at the bin for my first purchase, I reached into the bag for a smaller bag. There were no smaller bags! Nothing! Nada! Ingenting! How did I miss putting them in? As if wishful thinking would put them in the bag, I peered into it intently. I then noticed a red piece of cloth sticking out from the flap that forms a double bottom.
What is this? A closer look and I was holding the embroidered zipper pouch that my wife keeps her phone in. Unzip! There was her phone! Mirabile! It didn’t even have enough power to show the low-power red line. But, you guessed it, it was around here someplace.
Several hours later I had it fully charged, functional, and with all her data.
I emailed her that either she would never take it out of the house with it off or I would buy a Tile to attach to it. If she has it on and we have our computers set properly, we can use Find My iPhone to locate it within a few feet.
I am also guilty of not remembering carefully where I have put something. We have a charger for AA batteries that I was sure had been on the kitchen counter. In fact, I remember clearly that it had been plugged into an outlet above the counter. As with the cell phone, I kept looking on the counter and in drawers, but I could never find it.
This past Saturday I looked in drawers at our cabin for kerchiefs to keep the sun off my neck. I found a couple in the next to the bottom drawer, but I was sure there were more. I opened the bottom drawer and there was… the battery charger.
OK, now where were the batteries that I brought from Duluth to be charged. Nowhere to be found.
When I got back to Duluth and put my laptop on my desk, there were the batteries: “around here someplace!”
Last time Mel looked, his head was still on his shoulders.
Also published in the Reader Weekly of Duluth, 2015-04-23 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2015/04/22/5161_it_is_around_here_someplace
This has not always been effective in retrieving a lost object.
The earliest loss I remember is my wedding ring, the winter of our first year of marriage. When I noticed it missing after a trip to the super market, I was fairly certain we would never find it again. My guess was that it had slipped off when I took a glove off to get my car keys. The snow bank was at least three feet high.
The next memorable loss was in a watery hay stack: the Mississippi River. We were part of a flotilla of the Minnesota Canoe Association. Probably for the vanity of not having a white stripe on my wrist, I had set my high-school-graduation watch on the gunwale of the canoe. One of the kids asked for Kool-Aid and as I reached for the jug, he or she moved. Kerplash! No way would I be able to determine exactly where that watch was.
Books are something that seem to disappear easily. I remember leaving a copy of “Abbé de Tours” on an airplane. I lent “Dieu rit en Alsace” (“God laughs in Alsace”) and the borrower denies having it. I have a vivid memory of John McWhorter’s “Power of Babel” being on my wife’s night stand. Even buying another copy didn’t make it turn up.
A “good” place to lose something is the Essentia Fitness Center. I’ve left behind in the locker room an iPod, keys, earbuds, and other stuff. In almost every case, somebody had turned the item in at the reception desk. Sadly, others have not always been so fortunate.
This winter I lost my cabin keys in Brimson. We looked in every building and in the car, but could not find them. Fortunately we could make copies with my wife’s set. Then the snow started melting and there was a “golden” carabiner next to the sauna door. Although I am paranoid about making sure that the carabiner is securely hooked onto a belt loop, I wasn’t paranoid enough that one time.
A few days before my wife returned our granddaughter to Japan, she lost her cellphone. She and I asked several times at every place she had been if anybody had turned it in. I called her cell phone and all I got was my recorded voice. I went to the provider’s web site and checked for unauthorized usage. There was none but I suspended usage anyway. After awhile I removed the suspension, but I kept checking for unauthorized usage.
We kept looking over and over in some of the same places, especially the kitchen counter where she often left her phone. “It’s around here someplace.”
Halfway through my wife’s trip, I was about a day away from ordering a new phone from my provider or getting one on eBay.
As I do every few days, I was going to get some more groceries at the Whole Food Co-op. It is important to mention the place because I had to determine how many and which of our bags to take. Because we have so many floppy bags that are difficult to pack, I’m often tempted to use the Co-ops paper bags. However, we do have two bags with rigid sides. I selected on of these and then selected what smaller bags and jars I would need for the bulk items I intended to buy.
When I got to the co-op and was at the bin for my first purchase, I reached into the bag for a smaller bag. There were no smaller bags! Nothing! Nada! Ingenting! How did I miss putting them in? As if wishful thinking would put them in the bag, I peered into it intently. I then noticed a red piece of cloth sticking out from the flap that forms a double bottom.
What is this? A closer look and I was holding the embroidered zipper pouch that my wife keeps her phone in. Unzip! There was her phone! Mirabile! It didn’t even have enough power to show the low-power red line. But, you guessed it, it was around here someplace.
Several hours later I had it fully charged, functional, and with all her data.
I emailed her that either she would never take it out of the house with it off or I would buy a Tile to attach to it. If she has it on and we have our computers set properly, we can use Find My iPhone to locate it within a few feet.
I am also guilty of not remembering carefully where I have put something. We have a charger for AA batteries that I was sure had been on the kitchen counter. In fact, I remember clearly that it had been plugged into an outlet above the counter. As with the cell phone, I kept looking on the counter and in drawers, but I could never find it.
This past Saturday I looked in drawers at our cabin for kerchiefs to keep the sun off my neck. I found a couple in the next to the bottom drawer, but I was sure there were more. I opened the bottom drawer and there was… the battery charger.
OK, now where were the batteries that I brought from Duluth to be charged. Nowhere to be found.
When I got back to Duluth and put my laptop on my desk, there were the batteries: “around here someplace!”
Last time Mel looked, his head was still on his shoulders.
Also published in the Reader Weekly of Duluth, 2015-04-23 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2015/04/22/5161_it_is_around_here_someplace
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Ghosts of Christmases Past
Our saddest Christmas was after a trip to Japan.
We escorted my wife’s mother on a multi-stage trip from Ontario to Japan and back to visit our son and his wife, new-born daughter, and many Japanese relatives. I spent so much time crammed into an airline seat that I didn’t want to ever fly again. Although Grandma at 92 didn’t have a lot of stamina for long walks, she greatly enjoyed the sites and the people.
Near the end of the trip, she awoke with jaw pain. Our son took her to a hospital where she was diagnosed with a heart problem, but she was cleared for the return flights to Canada.
After she was home she had more heart problems. She was hospitalized, had surgery that wasn’t successful, and slowly declined, dying at ten Christmas morning.
Almost all of our other Christmas celebrations have been joyous occasions in many different settings.
My earliest memories are great dreams looking at toy catalogs, seeing the train layouts in the department stores, and visits to Santa.
About Santa, I was Santa once at Mariner Mall. Never again. I never lied so much in my life. “I would like a Britney Spears…” “I’ll see what we can do about that.”
Several of our Christmases were spent at ski resorts. Twice with Club Med in Misurina, Italy, once in Kitzbühel, Austria, and once in Big Sky, Montana.
We’ve had many Christmases with a houseful of guests. It always seemed that everybody was sitting in front of the fireplace, eating sweet rolls, and waiting to open presents. That is, everybody, except an adult male. We had to wait for whoever it was that year to get up, shower, and shave before we could proceed. Was I irritated on the kids’ behalf or my own?
When we lived in Sweden, we picked up two winter solstice traditions: Sankta Lucia and julbord.
We had a Luciafest at work in Stockholm. One year I was appointed Stjärnpojke (Star boy), the guy with the pointed hat who was an attendant to Sankta Lucia. After singing a round of Sankta Lucia, we had glögg and princess torta. Glögg is a potent mixture of wine, vodka, raisins, and spices. Princess torta is a layer cake with whipped cream and custard between alternating layers and green marzipan covering the top and sides.
Julbord means Christmas table and is a variant of a smörgåsbord. No, it is not an all you can pile on your plate pig-out. It is a five course meal where you take certain selections for each course. You can repeat a course if you like. And have all the beer and snaps you want. (Snaps is akvavit, vodka, and their cousins.) We had a julbord for many years, but have given it up as too much fuss.
Another Christmas tradition that has succumbed to “too much fuss” is fruitcake. I am insulted whenever anyone refers to fruitcake as a doorstop. People looked forward to the fruitcake I made based on a recipe that my mother had found. One of the secrets is quality ingredients. You can find the recipe at “Fruitcake: Doorstop or Holiday Treat”.
We have given up on gift exchange in our family. We became too predictable: sweatshirts and t-shirts with funny logos or books. I like each of my sweatshirts but the pile threatens to fall off the shelf each time I pull one out. Many of the books are interesting, but I think most of us have only dabbled in some of them. I know I have one by a very famous author sitting on the desk at our cabin that I keep telling myself to read a few more pages of.
For awhile, I printed cards and a letter. Then I got a new printer that didn’t do the colors well. Then I felt I was writing the same old, same old newsletter, some of which would be about grandchildren the recipients would never meet. The good news is that by using different software I can print cards with great color. Now, I only have to finish this column on the Saturday before Christmas and address those cards.
Church Christmas caroling did give my singing career a boost. The choir was going to be singing at St. Ann’s Residence in Duluth, and the director invited others to join. I drove the good singer in our family to the event and joined in the singing. I stood right behind the director and she invited me into the choir! I think it was my energy, not my skill. From there I went from being a timid off-key singer to a singing student to a singer who got invited to do solos to a singer who doesn’t practice much.
I think one of the best things I did for Christmas happened on our first Christmas together. We were living in Cleveland, Ohio, and I knew there was a policeman on foot patrol at Shaker Square, a five minute drive away. I took him some cookies and coffee. He was standing in a doorway and really appreciated it.
However you celebrate this solstice time, may the return of the sun bring you wonder and joy.
Also published in the Reader Weekly, 2014-12-24 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/12/24/4568_ghosts_of_christmases_past.
We escorted my wife’s mother on a multi-stage trip from Ontario to Japan and back to visit our son and his wife, new-born daughter, and many Japanese relatives. I spent so much time crammed into an airline seat that I didn’t want to ever fly again. Although Grandma at 92 didn’t have a lot of stamina for long walks, she greatly enjoyed the sites and the people.
Near the end of the trip, she awoke with jaw pain. Our son took her to a hospital where she was diagnosed with a heart problem, but she was cleared for the return flights to Canada.
After she was home she had more heart problems. She was hospitalized, had surgery that wasn’t successful, and slowly declined, dying at ten Christmas morning.
Almost all of our other Christmas celebrations have been joyous occasions in many different settings.
My earliest memories are great dreams looking at toy catalogs, seeing the train layouts in the department stores, and visits to Santa.
About Santa, I was Santa once at Mariner Mall. Never again. I never lied so much in my life. “I would like a Britney Spears…” “I’ll see what we can do about that.”
Several of our Christmases were spent at ski resorts. Twice with Club Med in Misurina, Italy, once in Kitzbühel, Austria, and once in Big Sky, Montana.
We’ve had many Christmases with a houseful of guests. It always seemed that everybody was sitting in front of the fireplace, eating sweet rolls, and waiting to open presents. That is, everybody, except an adult male. We had to wait for whoever it was that year to get up, shower, and shave before we could proceed. Was I irritated on the kids’ behalf or my own?
When we lived in Sweden, we picked up two winter solstice traditions: Sankta Lucia and julbord.
We had a Luciafest at work in Stockholm. One year I was appointed Stjärnpojke (Star boy), the guy with the pointed hat who was an attendant to Sankta Lucia. After singing a round of Sankta Lucia, we had glögg and princess torta. Glögg is a potent mixture of wine, vodka, raisins, and spices. Princess torta is a layer cake with whipped cream and custard between alternating layers and green marzipan covering the top and sides.
Julbord means Christmas table and is a variant of a smörgåsbord. No, it is not an all you can pile on your plate pig-out. It is a five course meal where you take certain selections for each course. You can repeat a course if you like. And have all the beer and snaps you want. (Snaps is akvavit, vodka, and their cousins.) We had a julbord for many years, but have given it up as too much fuss.
Another Christmas tradition that has succumbed to “too much fuss” is fruitcake. I am insulted whenever anyone refers to fruitcake as a doorstop. People looked forward to the fruitcake I made based on a recipe that my mother had found. One of the secrets is quality ingredients. You can find the recipe at “Fruitcake: Doorstop or Holiday Treat”.
We have given up on gift exchange in our family. We became too predictable: sweatshirts and t-shirts with funny logos or books. I like each of my sweatshirts but the pile threatens to fall off the shelf each time I pull one out. Many of the books are interesting, but I think most of us have only dabbled in some of them. I know I have one by a very famous author sitting on the desk at our cabin that I keep telling myself to read a few more pages of.
For awhile, I printed cards and a letter. Then I got a new printer that didn’t do the colors well. Then I felt I was writing the same old, same old newsletter, some of which would be about grandchildren the recipients would never meet. The good news is that by using different software I can print cards with great color. Now, I only have to finish this column on the Saturday before Christmas and address those cards.
Church Christmas caroling did give my singing career a boost. The choir was going to be singing at St. Ann’s Residence in Duluth, and the director invited others to join. I drove the good singer in our family to the event and joined in the singing. I stood right behind the director and she invited me into the choir! I think it was my energy, not my skill. From there I went from being a timid off-key singer to a singing student to a singer who got invited to do solos to a singer who doesn’t practice much.
I think one of the best things I did for Christmas happened on our first Christmas together. We were living in Cleveland, Ohio, and I knew there was a policeman on foot patrol at Shaker Square, a five minute drive away. I took him some cookies and coffee. He was standing in a doorway and really appreciated it.
However you celebrate this solstice time, may the return of the sun bring you wonder and joy.
Also published in the Reader Weekly, 2014-12-24 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/12/24/4568_ghosts_of_christmases_past.
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Would wood that could become the lost cord?
I had planned to write this third column about wood last week, but the latest blasphemies of ISIS led me to compare them to the blasphemies of other established religions.
I did have what I thought was a better title for this article, but, as too often happens, I didn’t write it down. Like the lost chord, it disappeared.
Other than climbing two trees, one of my earliest memories of wood is from eighth grade. The Cleveland Public Schools required boys to take wood shop, metal shop, and printing. I remember a bit of each of these classes, but it is only from wood shop that I have a tangible, functional memory. I built a two-shelf bookcase from walnut. Other than occasional waxing and once re-gluing its joints, we still have it holding books in our dining room. How many kids can afford to buy walnut today?
At one time, my Dad had forty acres outside Cleveland that was mostly woods. He thought he would sell some of his black walnut, hoping to make a tidy profit. He cut down a few on the side of a ravine, but he couldn’t get anyone to haul them up. i never did follow up with my half-siblings on what happened to the logs.
I also remember my dad sitting in a kitchen chair at a gasoline-powered splitter. He went through quite a pile of wood in short order. I think he may have been in his late sixties then. But a few years later he went to gas heat. It was part of his deal with a company building a gas transmission line through his property. When I split wood by hand in my mid-seventies, I think of his “ease” at the task.
But trees are not always so benign. A year doesn’t seem to pass without at least one front-page picture of parked cars severely damaged by fallen trees.
When I was in junior high, a tornado struck parts of Cleveland. One of the areas was where I had had a paper route. I don’t know what damage it caused, but decades later, some of those streets didn’t have any of trees that I had passed under on my route.
A few years ago our daughter and her husband had taken their SUV to a dealer for some service. When the dealer had completed the service, they parked it outside, right under a tree. A branch broke on the tree and did some serious damage to the roof of their SUV.
Every once in awhile when we go to our cabin in Brimson, we have to cut apart trees that have fallen across our drive or one of our paths. We have been fortunate that any trees down across the road to and from our cabin have been cut up by somebody else before we got to them.
In Brimson, it is a question of cutting up downed trees vs. cutting down trees. We have so many downed trees that we really don’t need to cut any live trees for firewood. We have so many downed trees that we will never get to many of them. In fact, there are probably enough downed trees within ten feet of our paths, that I will not to have to cut much brush to get to them.
We spent part of the last two weekends cutting up a pair of trees that have been down for three years. Most of the wood was nice and dry, but when I split some of it, it was filled with caterpillar tunnels or was rotted. The tunneled wood we certainly won’t bring back to Duluth; the rotted we piled in the fire ring.
Our efforts rewarded us with enough wood to keep us toasty through the night for at least four weekends at the cabin.
But the far better wood for heating is birch, but we would have to wait a couple of years for it to dry out. As I mentioned in an earlier column, birch is a “weed”. It just pops up without any help from us. One birch that I cut years ago had another growing right next to it. The stump of the previous birch has rotted and the current one is large enough for firewood. Many of the birch trees are big enough that splitting them in half would make good firewood. The problems are getting enough burnable wood for now, making sure that we have a clear space for them to fall, and being at our cabin with enough time to cut them down and split them.
Remember how we were disappointed about all the dying birch when we bought the property over twenty years ago? Well, the remains of many of those dead birches are still useful. We have many tubes of birch bark still around. Take a sharp knife, cut in a few inches, tear off, and clean up. A handful of birch bark is the best fire starter of all. One of the locals who did some work for us said birch bark was just like fuel oil. If we don’t have a lot of snow in the next few weeks, maybe we can harvest enough old birch bark to last us through the winter.
Mel thinks three articles on trees is enough for now. He promises not to write about trees for the rest of the year.
I did have what I thought was a better title for this article, but, as too often happens, I didn’t write it down. Like the lost chord, it disappeared.
Other than climbing two trees, one of my earliest memories of wood is from eighth grade. The Cleveland Public Schools required boys to take wood shop, metal shop, and printing. I remember a bit of each of these classes, but it is only from wood shop that I have a tangible, functional memory. I built a two-shelf bookcase from walnut. Other than occasional waxing and once re-gluing its joints, we still have it holding books in our dining room. How many kids can afford to buy walnut today?
At one time, my Dad had forty acres outside Cleveland that was mostly woods. He thought he would sell some of his black walnut, hoping to make a tidy profit. He cut down a few on the side of a ravine, but he couldn’t get anyone to haul them up. i never did follow up with my half-siblings on what happened to the logs.
I also remember my dad sitting in a kitchen chair at a gasoline-powered splitter. He went through quite a pile of wood in short order. I think he may have been in his late sixties then. But a few years later he went to gas heat. It was part of his deal with a company building a gas transmission line through his property. When I split wood by hand in my mid-seventies, I think of his “ease” at the task.
But trees are not always so benign. A year doesn’t seem to pass without at least one front-page picture of parked cars severely damaged by fallen trees.
When I was in junior high, a tornado struck parts of Cleveland. One of the areas was where I had had a paper route. I don’t know what damage it caused, but decades later, some of those streets didn’t have any of trees that I had passed under on my route.
A few years ago our daughter and her husband had taken their SUV to a dealer for some service. When the dealer had completed the service, they parked it outside, right under a tree. A branch broke on the tree and did some serious damage to the roof of their SUV.
Every once in awhile when we go to our cabin in Brimson, we have to cut apart trees that have fallen across our drive or one of our paths. We have been fortunate that any trees down across the road to and from our cabin have been cut up by somebody else before we got to them.
In Brimson, it is a question of cutting up downed trees vs. cutting down trees. We have so many downed trees that we really don’t need to cut any live trees for firewood. We have so many downed trees that we will never get to many of them. In fact, there are probably enough downed trees within ten feet of our paths, that I will not to have to cut much brush to get to them.
We spent part of the last two weekends cutting up a pair of trees that have been down for three years. Most of the wood was nice and dry, but when I split some of it, it was filled with caterpillar tunnels or was rotted. The tunneled wood we certainly won’t bring back to Duluth; the rotted we piled in the fire ring.
Our efforts rewarded us with enough wood to keep us toasty through the night for at least four weekends at the cabin.
But the far better wood for heating is birch, but we would have to wait a couple of years for it to dry out. As I mentioned in an earlier column, birch is a “weed”. It just pops up without any help from us. One birch that I cut years ago had another growing right next to it. The stump of the previous birch has rotted and the current one is large enough for firewood. Many of the birch trees are big enough that splitting them in half would make good firewood. The problems are getting enough burnable wood for now, making sure that we have a clear space for them to fall, and being at our cabin with enough time to cut them down and split them.
Remember how we were disappointed about all the dying birch when we bought the property over twenty years ago? Well, the remains of many of those dead birches are still useful. We have many tubes of birch bark still around. Take a sharp knife, cut in a few inches, tear off, and clean up. A handful of birch bark is the best fire starter of all. One of the locals who did some work for us said birch bark was just like fuel oil. If we don’t have a lot of snow in the next few weeks, maybe we can harvest enough old birch bark to last us through the winter.
Mel thinks three articles on trees is enough for now. He promises not to write about trees for the rest of the year.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Walk on the random side
“Life is a journey, not a destination” - Ralph Waldo Emerson
This concept can be put into a single word: serendipity, coined by Horace Walpole in 1754. It means finding good things where you weren’t looking for them. It comes from “The Princes of Serendip”, an Arabian tale. Serendip was also featured in Prokofiev’s “Love of Three Oranges”.
Ah, this whole column is going to be very serendipitous. I thought of this column as about the twist and turns of my own life. But like my life, this column is going to turn up ideas I wasn’t looking for,
The March from the “Love of Three Oranges” by a Soviet composer was, irony of ironies, used as the theme song for the radio program “FBI: In Peace and War”. One of the FBI’s tasks at the time was finding Communists. On the other hand, many of Prokofiev’s works were anti-establishment. Think of “Lieutenant Kije”!
After my parents divorced when I was about five or so, my mother moved in with her aunt and uncle. Once I started school, I was often free to roam. I knew all the vacant lots and stores, where the library was, and where a super-duper playground was.
When I was nine, my aunt and uncle bought a house on the other side of town. I don’t know which came first, a new job or a new house. Whichever, my mother’s uncle still worked within walking distance.
Again I explored an ever wider area, learning where the movie theater was, a great sledding hill, and the community center and the Y. I had a take a streetcar to the downtown library. I made a new set of friends, and eventually joined some of them in a Boy Scout troop.
After my first year of junior high, my mother decided to get her own apartment back on the other side of town. Again, I had freedom to roam. No sledding hill, but a vacant lot for baseball and an actual ball diamond a bike ride away. I also frequented a drug store for malts, ice cream sodas, and sundaes. That lead me to drop my paper route and work 5-10 after school three times a week.
After I started high school my mother remarried and we moved back across town. I was supposed to go to a high school with about 3,000 students, but I got district permission to go to the high school where my Scout friends went. And this road made all the difference. Would I have gone to Case if I had a different math teacher who didn’t punctuate his remarks with “When you go to Case…”
When still in high school I also decided on my own to go to a Methodist Church within walking distance. I wound up being active in the Methodist Youth Fellowship (MYF) even into my college years. This lead to some pressure to go into the ministry. This and the long daily commute to Case created several conflicts.
While in college I decided to run for the President of the MYF subdistrict. Also sitting on the subdistrict were a couple of attractive high school girls, both of whom I dated. But I preferred the second one. Fifty-six years later, neither of us regrets the choice. And my wife still doesn’t regret voting against me because she thought MYF was not for college students.
During my tenure on the council I didn’t do so well in my junior at Case. I was asked not to come back for the spring term.
I don’t remember what led to my choice of Ohio Wesleyan University other than it was Methodist. Possibly it was my new girlfriend was starting there in the fall.
When I visited OWU before applying, the registrar recommended that I major in mathematics, which I did. Surprisingly, after my dismal last two semesters at Case, I got all As in math except for a single B.
Prior to graduation I applied to Case for a graduate assistantship in the computer center. I also applied for an assistantship at the University of Michigan in communications, which included computer science. I heard from Case right away and was even offered a summer job in the computer center. I didn’t hear from U of Mich until late July or even early August
When I graduated from OWU we got married and rented the upstairs of a duplex in Cleveland. This also meant that my wife would have to go to college in the Cleveland area. She chose Baldwin-Wallace way the other side of the metro area.. Fortunately, she could commute with an instructor who was friend of her mother. By the way, this friend was also the one who recommended the duplex.
We both liked canoeing and made a few day trips to Portage Lakes. But our dream was to go to the Boundary Waters in Minnesota. We did so in August 1961. The trip was a mix of adventure and misadventure. We didn’t know it at the time, but it changed our lives forever by offering a wide range of unexpected choices. Many of them were “the least traveled” and “made all the difference.”
That covered about 25 years of my life. I have notes for the next 50 but have run out of space and have other articles lined up for the next few weeks. If you really, really want more, tell me so when you see me.
Mel thinks he has each day well-planned but something else always arises.
This was also printed in the Reader Weekly of Duluth, 2014-09-25 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/09/25/4105_walk_on_the_random_side.
This concept can be put into a single word: serendipity, coined by Horace Walpole in 1754. It means finding good things where you weren’t looking for them. It comes from “The Princes of Serendip”, an Arabian tale. Serendip was also featured in Prokofiev’s “Love of Three Oranges”.
Ah, this whole column is going to be very serendipitous. I thought of this column as about the twist and turns of my own life. But like my life, this column is going to turn up ideas I wasn’t looking for,
The March from the “Love of Three Oranges” by a Soviet composer was, irony of ironies, used as the theme song for the radio program “FBI: In Peace and War”. One of the FBI’s tasks at the time was finding Communists. On the other hand, many of Prokofiev’s works were anti-establishment. Think of “Lieutenant Kije”!
After my parents divorced when I was about five or so, my mother moved in with her aunt and uncle. Once I started school, I was often free to roam. I knew all the vacant lots and stores, where the library was, and where a super-duper playground was.
When I was nine, my aunt and uncle bought a house on the other side of town. I don’t know which came first, a new job or a new house. Whichever, my mother’s uncle still worked within walking distance.
Again I explored an ever wider area, learning where the movie theater was, a great sledding hill, and the community center and the Y. I had a take a streetcar to the downtown library. I made a new set of friends, and eventually joined some of them in a Boy Scout troop.
After my first year of junior high, my mother decided to get her own apartment back on the other side of town. Again, I had freedom to roam. No sledding hill, but a vacant lot for baseball and an actual ball diamond a bike ride away. I also frequented a drug store for malts, ice cream sodas, and sundaes. That lead me to drop my paper route and work 5-10 after school three times a week.
After I started high school my mother remarried and we moved back across town. I was supposed to go to a high school with about 3,000 students, but I got district permission to go to the high school where my Scout friends went. And this road made all the difference. Would I have gone to Case if I had a different math teacher who didn’t punctuate his remarks with “When you go to Case…”
When still in high school I also decided on my own to go to a Methodist Church within walking distance. I wound up being active in the Methodist Youth Fellowship (MYF) even into my college years. This lead to some pressure to go into the ministry. This and the long daily commute to Case created several conflicts.
While in college I decided to run for the President of the MYF subdistrict. Also sitting on the subdistrict were a couple of attractive high school girls, both of whom I dated. But I preferred the second one. Fifty-six years later, neither of us regrets the choice. And my wife still doesn’t regret voting against me because she thought MYF was not for college students.
During my tenure on the council I didn’t do so well in my junior at Case. I was asked not to come back for the spring term.
I don’t remember what led to my choice of Ohio Wesleyan University other than it was Methodist. Possibly it was my new girlfriend was starting there in the fall.
When I visited OWU before applying, the registrar recommended that I major in mathematics, which I did. Surprisingly, after my dismal last two semesters at Case, I got all As in math except for a single B.
Prior to graduation I applied to Case for a graduate assistantship in the computer center. I also applied for an assistantship at the University of Michigan in communications, which included computer science. I heard from Case right away and was even offered a summer job in the computer center. I didn’t hear from U of Mich until late July or even early August
When I graduated from OWU we got married and rented the upstairs of a duplex in Cleveland. This also meant that my wife would have to go to college in the Cleveland area. She chose Baldwin-Wallace way the other side of the metro area.. Fortunately, she could commute with an instructor who was friend of her mother. By the way, this friend was also the one who recommended the duplex.
We both liked canoeing and made a few day trips to Portage Lakes. But our dream was to go to the Boundary Waters in Minnesota. We did so in August 1961. The trip was a mix of adventure and misadventure. We didn’t know it at the time, but it changed our lives forever by offering a wide range of unexpected choices. Many of them were “the least traveled” and “made all the difference.”
That covered about 25 years of my life. I have notes for the next 50 but have run out of space and have other articles lined up for the next few weeks. If you really, really want more, tell me so when you see me.
Mel thinks he has each day well-planned but something else always arises.
This was also printed in the Reader Weekly of Duluth, 2014-09-25 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/09/25/4105_walk_on_the_random_side.
Friday, August 15, 2014
What did I learn in school?
I learned a lot but I’ve forgotten most of it.
I find I remember the classroom setting more than I do what was actually taught. Maybe this is why so many of us think we were never taught about certain things. I can still picture my first elementary school, buying Victory stamps, and the VE banner that was displayed. I remember reading Dick and Jane and writing the numbers out to 200!
I remember many things about my second elementary school, but the classroom scenario that sticks out the most is the vote on the distance to the moon. What, a vote on a scientific fact? I remember a fourth-grade substitute science teacher doing this. For years, I thought she didn’t know and was asking the class. But she may have only been sampling the class. I remember that incident more than I do how far is it to the moon. Without looking it up, I’d say 250,000 miles. With all the moon shots in the news, you would think that number would stick better in my head. Is this one of those facts that get forgotten because we can always look it up if we really need to know?
I do remember learning typing and driving, probably the two most important life-long skills most of us need and use. I do remember taking French in 8th grade, but I didn’t continue because I would rather learn printing. How many people set type by hand now? I took Latin in high school because I was advised that it was the basis for many other languages. All I remember of that two and half-years was that I was elected president of the Latin club, and we read an abridged “Aeneid” and “Horatio at the Bridge”. I remember a music teacher telling us that anyone with intelligence can learn to sing. I didn’t get around to learning until I was in my 60s, and now I don’t practice enough to keep my voice in shape.
I don’t remember learning much about World War II in school. That may because we might have been using textbooks that hadn’t been updated. Also the teacher was not very inspiring. The only history I remember from that whole year is a picture of the Haymarket Square riot in a text book. The picture was on the right-hand page of the small but thick orange textbook. The picture was an engraving from some archive; I don’t remember if it was a photograph or a drawing. And I don’t remember much about the Haymarket Square riot other than there was lot of police violence. It was probably labor related and took place in Chicago.
Was I taught about Hiroshima and Nagasaki in my American History class? I don’t remember. I had that class in 1954. It could be that the textbook hadn’t been updated. These events have been reported over and over for almost 70 years, and so it is hard to remember where I learned what.
Another digression: “, and so…” Mr. Conrad, my 11th grade English teacher, frequently told us how to use "and so", but I don’t remember exactly what he prescribed. This particular piece of grammar was almost the only thing I remember from the class.
I had Mister Rush for trigonometry and another class. I don’t remember much of the material but I remember his punctuating his remarks with “When you go to Case…” meaning Case Institute of Technology, now part of Case Western Reserve University. Darned if five of us didn’t go to Case. Only two of us graduated, yours truly not being one. But I got to come back for graduate school.
Now, Miss Palmer, I remember her well. She was a fearsome taskmaster, but she taught Shakespeare well. I enjoyed reading an act each day for homework for both “Hamlet” and “Macbeth”, and then we would reread each act a few scenes at a time. She gave me a lifelong love of Shakespeare, but I have yet to read all of his plays.
Interestingly, I don’t remember taking much homework home. I had two study halls most days and got most of it done in one of them. The rest of my study hall time I read science fiction from the school library.
College and graduate school are also a blur. I remember translating “Clementine” into French, I remember reading Candide (English, condensed) and “Brothers Karamazov”. On the latter, what did I care what the meaning of the mortar and pestle was?
How much do you remember of school? For most of us, that is only what we use on a regular basis. I have a Master’s in mathematics and I don’t remember anything from “Functions of Complex Variables” in graduate school. I do remember the book was blue, I think the author was from India, and it is still on the right hand side of my book case, first shelf above the bottom shelf.
What we really learned in school was to learn.
Back to Nagasaki and Hiroshima, I remember reading about the horrible deaths both immediate and years later. I remember that prisoners of war were killed in the blast. I remember the justification that lives were “saved”. I have long questioned how many kids’ lives is one soldier’s life worth.
Where I think I learned this is from reading newspapers regularly. If your only news source is radio or TV you’ll never have time for all there is to know. With newspapers, you have a larger selection of stories, you read them at your convenience, and with the Internet, you have a huge selection to choose from.
One of Mel's high school classmates said, "Learn something each day." Mel often wishes he wouldn't forget it the next day.
Also published in Reader Weekly, 2014-08-14 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/08/14/3890_what_did_i_learn_in_school
I find I remember the classroom setting more than I do what was actually taught. Maybe this is why so many of us think we were never taught about certain things. I can still picture my first elementary school, buying Victory stamps, and the VE banner that was displayed. I remember reading Dick and Jane and writing the numbers out to 200!
I remember many things about my second elementary school, but the classroom scenario that sticks out the most is the vote on the distance to the moon. What, a vote on a scientific fact? I remember a fourth-grade substitute science teacher doing this. For years, I thought she didn’t know and was asking the class. But she may have only been sampling the class. I remember that incident more than I do how far is it to the moon. Without looking it up, I’d say 250,000 miles. With all the moon shots in the news, you would think that number would stick better in my head. Is this one of those facts that get forgotten because we can always look it up if we really need to know?
I do remember learning typing and driving, probably the two most important life-long skills most of us need and use. I do remember taking French in 8th grade, but I didn’t continue because I would rather learn printing. How many people set type by hand now? I took Latin in high school because I was advised that it was the basis for many other languages. All I remember of that two and half-years was that I was elected president of the Latin club, and we read an abridged “Aeneid” and “Horatio at the Bridge”. I remember a music teacher telling us that anyone with intelligence can learn to sing. I didn’t get around to learning until I was in my 60s, and now I don’t practice enough to keep my voice in shape.
I don’t remember learning much about World War II in school. That may because we might have been using textbooks that hadn’t been updated. Also the teacher was not very inspiring. The only history I remember from that whole year is a picture of the Haymarket Square riot in a text book. The picture was on the right-hand page of the small but thick orange textbook. The picture was an engraving from some archive; I don’t remember if it was a photograph or a drawing. And I don’t remember much about the Haymarket Square riot other than there was lot of police violence. It was probably labor related and took place in Chicago.
Was I taught about Hiroshima and Nagasaki in my American History class? I don’t remember. I had that class in 1954. It could be that the textbook hadn’t been updated. These events have been reported over and over for almost 70 years, and so it is hard to remember where I learned what.
Another digression: “, and so…” Mr. Conrad, my 11th grade English teacher, frequently told us how to use "and so", but I don’t remember exactly what he prescribed. This particular piece of grammar was almost the only thing I remember from the class.
I had Mister Rush for trigonometry and another class. I don’t remember much of the material but I remember his punctuating his remarks with “When you go to Case…” meaning Case Institute of Technology, now part of Case Western Reserve University. Darned if five of us didn’t go to Case. Only two of us graduated, yours truly not being one. But I got to come back for graduate school.
Now, Miss Palmer, I remember her well. She was a fearsome taskmaster, but she taught Shakespeare well. I enjoyed reading an act each day for homework for both “Hamlet” and “Macbeth”, and then we would reread each act a few scenes at a time. She gave me a lifelong love of Shakespeare, but I have yet to read all of his plays.
Interestingly, I don’t remember taking much homework home. I had two study halls most days and got most of it done in one of them. The rest of my study hall time I read science fiction from the school library.
College and graduate school are also a blur. I remember translating “Clementine” into French, I remember reading Candide (English, condensed) and “Brothers Karamazov”. On the latter, what did I care what the meaning of the mortar and pestle was?
How much do you remember of school? For most of us, that is only what we use on a regular basis. I have a Master’s in mathematics and I don’t remember anything from “Functions of Complex Variables” in graduate school. I do remember the book was blue, I think the author was from India, and it is still on the right hand side of my book case, first shelf above the bottom shelf.
What we really learned in school was to learn.
Back to Nagasaki and Hiroshima, I remember reading about the horrible deaths both immediate and years later. I remember that prisoners of war were killed in the blast. I remember the justification that lives were “saved”. I have long questioned how many kids’ lives is one soldier’s life worth.
Where I think I learned this is from reading newspapers regularly. If your only news source is radio or TV you’ll never have time for all there is to know. With newspapers, you have a larger selection of stories, you read them at your convenience, and with the Internet, you have a huge selection to choose from.
One of Mel's high school classmates said, "Learn something each day." Mel often wishes he wouldn't forget it the next day.
Also published in Reader Weekly, 2014-08-14 at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/08/14/3890_what_did_i_learn_in_school
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
You’re not from there; I am from there!
The following was inspired by “Why You Lie About Where You Are From” by Jake Flanagin, New York Times, 2014-08-08.
My wife often says that she is from Cleveland and that we lived in Philadelphia. I reply that she is not from Cleveland and that we lived well outside Philadelphia.
Until I went to college I lived mostly within the borders of the City of Cleveland with a couple of years in a rural area and a few years in one of the largest suburbs, East Cleveland. On the other hand, when my wife lived in the Cleveland area she lived in farther out suburb and a small city, Berea. It wasn’t until we were married that she actually lived in the City of Cleveland. Maybe that makes her eligible to be “from” Cleveland.
When we came back to the U. S. from living in Europe, we lived in a township outside the city of Norristown, an exurb of Philadephia. In Whitpain Township, nothing was within walking distance; we had to drive everywhere and there was no public transportation.
Now we can truly say we live in the City of Duluth. Lots is within walking distance, but not so much anymore. Even five years ago I thought nothing of walking home from downtown (mostly uphill). Now I wonder how many years before I’m unwilling to take the slight uphill walk to UMD.
My wife often says that she is from Cleveland and that we lived in Philadelphia. I reply that she is not from Cleveland and that we lived well outside Philadelphia.
Until I went to college I lived mostly within the borders of the City of Cleveland with a couple of years in a rural area and a few years in one of the largest suburbs, East Cleveland. On the other hand, when my wife lived in the Cleveland area she lived in farther out suburb and a small city, Berea. It wasn’t until we were married that she actually lived in the City of Cleveland. Maybe that makes her eligible to be “from” Cleveland.
When we came back to the U. S. from living in Europe, we lived in a township outside the city of Norristown, an exurb of Philadephia. In Whitpain Township, nothing was within walking distance; we had to drive everywhere and there was no public transportation.
Now we can truly say we live in the City of Duluth. Lots is within walking distance, but not so much anymore. Even five years ago I thought nothing of walking home from downtown (mostly uphill). Now I wonder how many years before I’m unwilling to take the slight uphill walk to UMD.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Cars vs. transit - apples and oranges or dollars and cents
Every so often, the newspapers publish a letter or opinion strongly against transit. The current favorite target is the Green Line between Minneapolis and St. Paul. At least the critics are writing about the costs and not about “government taking our cars away”.
I would like to turn the last phrase around and say that “government took our street cars, buses, and trains away”. “Government” did this by building bigger and faster freeways and reducing transit service. Why take a bus that runs every hour or half-hour when you can arrive at your destination in your car in fifteen minutes?
I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio and got around by foot, bicycle, street cars, and buses. I rarely bothered with a schedule because service was rather frequent. By the time I got to graduate school, most service had deteriorated to the point that I could walk to school faster than I could take two buses. In bad weather, I drove.
Those who complain about “government taking our cars away” should look at it as “making room for me”. If more people took the public transit, there would be more room for those who chose to drive.
Think about how a bus makes more space for drivers. Suppose a forty-foot bus has an average load of twenty-five passengers. Suppose a fifteen-foot car has an average load of two passengers. Assuming that all vehicles are traveling at 55mph with a safe-stopping distance between them, then a bus would need less than fifteen feet per passenger but a car would need sixty-eight feet per passenger. See, government can be efficient!
I use the load of twenty-five passengers above because that was my usual load driving a bus between Maple Grove and downtown Minneapolis. If buses were carrying forty passengers instead, which some do, then the comparison would drop to nine feet of highway per passenger. I’ll let you do the comparison for four passengers per car. However, my first figure is generous in that so many cars have a single occupant. Using that figure shows us that a single occupant uses almost ten times as much highway space per passenger as a bus carrying twenty-five passengers.
Think about the parking space needed. A forty-foot bus will need about 360 square-feet of parking space at the terminal. They would all be jammed together. A fifteen-foot car would need over 200 square-feet of parking space in a lot or garage. That is around 100 square-feet of parking space per passenger. On the other hand, if a bus made three runs, it would only need less than five square-feet of parking space per passenger.
It’s a bit of a slog to find CO2 emissions and fuel efficiency figures, but from Wikipedia I found a 2008 Toyota Prius has a rating of 46 mpg and 55-passenger buses in Santa Barbara have a rating of 6.0 mpg. Using the previous figures of two passengers in a car and twenty-five in a bus, we get 92 mpg/passenger for a Prius (worse if we use some other vehicles) and 150mpg/passenger for a bus. If the bus had forty passengers, we would get 240mpg/passenger.
In areas where traffic comes to a standstill and buses drive on the shoulder, the buses would definitely be doing better on emissions.
Every time I drive to the Cities, I marvel at all the land gobbled up by that huge interchange of 35E and 694. How much tax revenue is lost for that land? I took an easier sample. Using Hennepin County’s Property Interactive Map, I selected a few residences on Second Avenue South that were south of Lake Street. Houses on Second Avenue there overlook I-35W Gulch. The real estate taxes there are about $2,500 per year. There are about 31 blocks from Lake St. to the city limit at 62nd Street. I-35W is one block wide. The city, county, and school district taxes lost for that section of freeway are over $1.8 million. For this little article, I am not going to make the effort to calculate the taxes lost for all the freeways that scar the Twin Cities.
Sadly, the freeway is probably used more by people that don’t even live in Hennepin County, but counties to the south.
It wasn’t “government that took our buses away”, but land speculators and corporations. In the Nineteenth and early Twentieth centuries, railroads and land speculators encouraged people to move to the suburbs to get away from “those people” in the city. Then the car manufacturers lobbied for more roads for their vehicles. Roads were a subsidy for cars, but to pay for the roads, governments couldn’t afford street cars and buses.
Ironically, now many affluent are moving back to the cities and pushing “those people” out. First it was land speculators attracting people out from the cities, and now it is building speculators attracting people back to the cities. Pst, hey buddy, I have this nice New York City condo for you, only $25 million.
I would like to turn the last phrase around and say that “government took our street cars, buses, and trains away”. “Government” did this by building bigger and faster freeways and reducing transit service. Why take a bus that runs every hour or half-hour when you can arrive at your destination in your car in fifteen minutes?
I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio and got around by foot, bicycle, street cars, and buses. I rarely bothered with a schedule because service was rather frequent. By the time I got to graduate school, most service had deteriorated to the point that I could walk to school faster than I could take two buses. In bad weather, I drove.
Those who complain about “government taking our cars away” should look at it as “making room for me”. If more people took the public transit, there would be more room for those who chose to drive.
Think about how a bus makes more space for drivers. Suppose a forty-foot bus has an average load of twenty-five passengers. Suppose a fifteen-foot car has an average load of two passengers. Assuming that all vehicles are traveling at 55mph with a safe-stopping distance between them, then a bus would need less than fifteen feet per passenger but a car would need sixty-eight feet per passenger. See, government can be efficient!
I use the load of twenty-five passengers above because that was my usual load driving a bus between Maple Grove and downtown Minneapolis. If buses were carrying forty passengers instead, which some do, then the comparison would drop to nine feet of highway per passenger. I’ll let you do the comparison for four passengers per car. However, my first figure is generous in that so many cars have a single occupant. Using that figure shows us that a single occupant uses almost ten times as much highway space per passenger as a bus carrying twenty-five passengers.
Think about the parking space needed. A forty-foot bus will need about 360 square-feet of parking space at the terminal. They would all be jammed together. A fifteen-foot car would need over 200 square-feet of parking space in a lot or garage. That is around 100 square-feet of parking space per passenger. On the other hand, if a bus made three runs, it would only need less than five square-feet of parking space per passenger.
It’s a bit of a slog to find CO2 emissions and fuel efficiency figures, but from Wikipedia I found a 2008 Toyota Prius has a rating of 46 mpg and 55-passenger buses in Santa Barbara have a rating of 6.0 mpg. Using the previous figures of two passengers in a car and twenty-five in a bus, we get 92 mpg/passenger for a Prius (worse if we use some other vehicles) and 150mpg/passenger for a bus. If the bus had forty passengers, we would get 240mpg/passenger.
In areas where traffic comes to a standstill and buses drive on the shoulder, the buses would definitely be doing better on emissions.
Every time I drive to the Cities, I marvel at all the land gobbled up by that huge interchange of 35E and 694. How much tax revenue is lost for that land? I took an easier sample. Using Hennepin County’s Property Interactive Map, I selected a few residences on Second Avenue South that were south of Lake Street. Houses on Second Avenue there overlook I-35W Gulch. The real estate taxes there are about $2,500 per year. There are about 31 blocks from Lake St. to the city limit at 62nd Street. I-35W is one block wide. The city, county, and school district taxes lost for that section of freeway are over $1.8 million. For this little article, I am not going to make the effort to calculate the taxes lost for all the freeways that scar the Twin Cities.
Sadly, the freeway is probably used more by people that don’t even live in Hennepin County, but counties to the south.
It wasn’t “government that took our buses away”, but land speculators and corporations. In the Nineteenth and early Twentieth centuries, railroads and land speculators encouraged people to move to the suburbs to get away from “those people” in the city. Then the car manufacturers lobbied for more roads for their vehicles. Roads were a subsidy for cars, but to pay for the roads, governments couldn’t afford street cars and buses.
Ironically, now many affluent are moving back to the cities and pushing “those people” out. First it was land speculators attracting people out from the cities, and now it is building speculators attracting people back to the cities. Pst, hey buddy, I have this nice New York City condo for you, only $25 million.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Rural broadband – where’s the truth?
I thought about a month ago I saw a pro and con about rural broadband in the Duluth News Tribune. Those two opinions were the catalyst for this article. But I can’t find them!
As I remember them, one was gung ho that rural areas are underserved by broadband access, and the other was that government should not be involved in providing a frill. The latter indicated people should move into town if they need Internet access.
Knowing that my dial-up speed in Brimson had been 25kbps, almost unusable for today’s Internet, I was sympathetic to the first view. As for government involvement, there has been much government activity to insure better access to many modern conveniences now considered necessities.
Are you old enough to remember RFD as part of addresses? RFD stands for rural free delivery. Instead of going to a post office for their mail, rural residents could get their mail at the end of their driveway.
Few of us can remember REA, the Rural Electrification Act or Administration. It both provided jobs for unemployed electricians and it made life more comfortable for rural residents. This was financed in part by government loans.
Do you remember all the rural gravel roads? My dad bought property outside Cleveland, probably about 1941. When my pregnant wife and I visited him in 1962 the last two roads were still gravel. By the time both our kids were in school, all the nearby roads were paved with asphalt.
On our first visit to Brimson in 1987, many of the roads were gravel. Over the years many of them have been upgraded to asphalt. Only the road to our cabin is gravel.
To us as weekend residents, electricity, telephone, and good roads are a plus. To people who live there, these are a necessity.
And to us who don’t live there, the people that do are a necessity. Think of all the benefits that we wouldn’t have if some people didn’t live in the country.
Where would our food come from? Would we be able to grow all our food in our backyards or on our apartment rooftops?
Where would our wood products come from? Do you think loggers are going to commute to cut trees?
If we go out in the country to hunt, fish, or just loaf, who is going to provide the food and beverages we forgot to bring. Shall the store owners commute?
What if our cabins catch fire or we have a medical emergency? Should the volunteer firefighters and first responders commute to help us? Response time is much better if these people live within a few miles of the fire hall.
Because these people chose to live in rural areas, should they be deprived of good roads, postal service, electricity, and Internet? How would you like to communicate with the fishing resort you plan to visit? Internet or carrier pigeon?
Getting back to my search for articles and letters.
As I was typing this in Duluth, I was waiting for my iPad to open up the full-page version of the Duluth News Tribune. The little gear spun and spun and… This is “high-speed” Internet in the city? I turned the iPad off and on and voila! I wanted to check back issues for the articles I sought. Unfortunately, the full pages available only went back to March 31. What I sought had to be before that.
The Star Tribune full-page version was available back to March 15. The first letter of interest, March 17, was from telecommunications executives complaining about, you guessed it, taxes.
The March 20 issue had an editorial “Grab opportunity for state broadband fund: Greater Minnesota’s future depends on high-speed Internet access”. It gave examples of people who live outside the metro area and depend on internet access. These people came to the capitol to “plead for help in improving Internet access”. They wanted a chance “to survive economically in the 21st century.”
I did gasp a bit when the article stated that one of them couldn’t compete with 12Mbps. He does have a signage business that will need to send lots of images. But 12Mbps per second is something I dream about.
One of the resources I wanted to check was the final report of Minnesota’s High-Speed Broadband Task Force. You can find it at http://www.ultra-high-speed-mn.org/.
Well, well, sitting at my computer in Duluth with a nominal 7Mbps download speed, I watched the download indicator practically stand still for the 3.8MB download. I then emailed the file to myself to more easily read it on my iPad. That too was very slow. According to an Ookla speedtest, I was only getting 0.53Mpbs upload and 2.60 download.
According to the Ookla net index, Japan has average speeds of 42.0 Mbps download and 29.3 upload, mobile is 11.7/4.9. If you live in Tokyo, you can get a great deal – download speed on fiber of 100 Mbps at $30.47 (The Cost of Connectivity – NewAmerica.org). For mobile it will cost you more for less: 40 Mbps for $33.97! Oh, yes, Japanese internet is almost completely private with few government restrictions.
We are paying about $30 for our nominal 7Mbps!
At our cabin where we used to struggle with 25Kpbs, I can get 7 to 10 Mbps with my cell phone. This weekend I used it as a hotspot and my wife and I each read newspapers with our iPads. The cost per month? For the phone and usage charges: $28.50 plus taxes etc. This is with Consumer Cellular who gives me the cost of each service (except for taxes and fees).
Kyle Ackerman, owner of Xtratyme Technologies, wrote that rural areas do have access; his article was in the Star Tribune about April 8. You can find it and reader comments at http://www.startribune.com/opinion/commentaries/254447871.html.
Remember my column “Free Market in Telecommunications?” Guess what? http://www.xtratyme.com/details.html#subscription does not give pricing!
This article is also posted at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/04/17/3236_rural_broadband_wheres_the_truth
As I remember them, one was gung ho that rural areas are underserved by broadband access, and the other was that government should not be involved in providing a frill. The latter indicated people should move into town if they need Internet access.
Knowing that my dial-up speed in Brimson had been 25kbps, almost unusable for today’s Internet, I was sympathetic to the first view. As for government involvement, there has been much government activity to insure better access to many modern conveniences now considered necessities.
Are you old enough to remember RFD as part of addresses? RFD stands for rural free delivery. Instead of going to a post office for their mail, rural residents could get their mail at the end of their driveway.
Few of us can remember REA, the Rural Electrification Act or Administration. It both provided jobs for unemployed electricians and it made life more comfortable for rural residents. This was financed in part by government loans.
Do you remember all the rural gravel roads? My dad bought property outside Cleveland, probably about 1941. When my pregnant wife and I visited him in 1962 the last two roads were still gravel. By the time both our kids were in school, all the nearby roads were paved with asphalt.
On our first visit to Brimson in 1987, many of the roads were gravel. Over the years many of them have been upgraded to asphalt. Only the road to our cabin is gravel.
To us as weekend residents, electricity, telephone, and good roads are a plus. To people who live there, these are a necessity.
And to us who don’t live there, the people that do are a necessity. Think of all the benefits that we wouldn’t have if some people didn’t live in the country.
Where would our food come from? Would we be able to grow all our food in our backyards or on our apartment rooftops?
Where would our wood products come from? Do you think loggers are going to commute to cut trees?
If we go out in the country to hunt, fish, or just loaf, who is going to provide the food and beverages we forgot to bring. Shall the store owners commute?
What if our cabins catch fire or we have a medical emergency? Should the volunteer firefighters and first responders commute to help us? Response time is much better if these people live within a few miles of the fire hall.
Because these people chose to live in rural areas, should they be deprived of good roads, postal service, electricity, and Internet? How would you like to communicate with the fishing resort you plan to visit? Internet or carrier pigeon?
Getting back to my search for articles and letters.
As I was typing this in Duluth, I was waiting for my iPad to open up the full-page version of the Duluth News Tribune. The little gear spun and spun and… This is “high-speed” Internet in the city? I turned the iPad off and on and voila! I wanted to check back issues for the articles I sought. Unfortunately, the full pages available only went back to March 31. What I sought had to be before that.
The Star Tribune full-page version was available back to March 15. The first letter of interest, March 17, was from telecommunications executives complaining about, you guessed it, taxes.
The March 20 issue had an editorial “Grab opportunity for state broadband fund: Greater Minnesota’s future depends on high-speed Internet access”. It gave examples of people who live outside the metro area and depend on internet access. These people came to the capitol to “plead for help in improving Internet access”. They wanted a chance “to survive economically in the 21st century.”
I did gasp a bit when the article stated that one of them couldn’t compete with 12Mbps. He does have a signage business that will need to send lots of images. But 12Mbps per second is something I dream about.
One of the resources I wanted to check was the final report of Minnesota’s High-Speed Broadband Task Force. You can find it at http://www.ultra-high-speed-mn.org/.
Well, well, sitting at my computer in Duluth with a nominal 7Mbps download speed, I watched the download indicator practically stand still for the 3.8MB download. I then emailed the file to myself to more easily read it on my iPad. That too was very slow. According to an Ookla speedtest, I was only getting 0.53Mpbs upload and 2.60 download.
According to the Ookla net index, Japan has average speeds of 42.0 Mbps download and 29.3 upload, mobile is 11.7/4.9. If you live in Tokyo, you can get a great deal – download speed on fiber of 100 Mbps at $30.47 (The Cost of Connectivity – NewAmerica.org). For mobile it will cost you more for less: 40 Mbps for $33.97! Oh, yes, Japanese internet is almost completely private with few government restrictions.
We are paying about $30 for our nominal 7Mbps!
At our cabin where we used to struggle with 25Kpbs, I can get 7 to 10 Mbps with my cell phone. This weekend I used it as a hotspot and my wife and I each read newspapers with our iPads. The cost per month? For the phone and usage charges: $28.50 plus taxes etc. This is with Consumer Cellular who gives me the cost of each service (except for taxes and fees).
Kyle Ackerman, owner of Xtratyme Technologies, wrote that rural areas do have access; his article was in the Star Tribune about April 8. You can find it and reader comments at http://www.startribune.com/opinion/commentaries/254447871.html.
Remember my column “Free Market in Telecommunications?” Guess what? http://www.xtratyme.com/details.html#subscription does not give pricing!
This article is also posted at http://duluthreader.com/articles/2014/04/17/3236_rural_broadband_wheres_the_truth
Thursday, December 01, 2011
To my Ukrainian reader
If you know Yuri from Kiev who was a graduate student at Case Institute of Technology in Cleveland, Ohio in 1960-1962, please say hello. Probably you don't know him, but it is surprising how often there is a connection. Nothing ventured, nothing gained!
I still remember translating English to English between him and a graduate student from India.
I still remember translating English to English between him and a graduate student from India.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Who "destroyed" free markets?
Which of the following do you have in your area?
Independent, locally owned grocery store
Independent, locally owned drug store
Independent, locally owned stationery store
Independent, locally owned movie theater
Independent, locally owned book store
Independent, locally owned department store
Independent, locally owned daily newspaper
Independent, locally owned lumber yard
Independent, locally owned hardware store
By independent, I mean that there is only one location and that often the owner works in the store.
Grocery stores and drug stores are most likely chains, either national or state-wide. Stationery stores are most likely national chains. Movie theaters have been done in by technology, either television or VHS/DVDs. Independent book stores have been done in both by large chains and technology, the latter being e-books. Department stores multiplied with large shopping malls and then got gobbled up by large chains. Daily newspapers have been part of large syndicates before I was even born. Lumber yards have been replaced by three or four large chains. And local hardware stores are dwindling.
So much for a large number of sellers, an integral part of the classical free market.
If it wasn't technology that did in a retail outlet, what or who was responsible?
How about a Republican president? Dwight Eisenhower pushed the interstate highway system which led to urban sprawl. City neighborhoods were decimated when people in large numbers moved to the suburbs. Dwindling neighborhoods led to fewer customers who walked to do most of their shopping.
How about large corporations? With their greater buying power, large corporations can easily undercut small stores on prices. Greater buying power also gives an advertising edge to large corporations. In Duluth, a locally owned group of drug stores went out of business this year. Walgreen's was just too much for it. Only about three or four owner-operated pharmacies are left. When I was a teen-ager, I lived in a Cleveland neighborhood that had three owner-operated pharmacies.
How about development-hungry city governments? Duluth made a big splash about getting an Office Depot to locate downtown. Guess what, the locally-owned, downtown stationer went out of business. Guess what again, Office Depot corporate closed the store within a year or so.
How about ourselves? We would rather go to a big store with a big selection. We would rather go to a chain we know than try something unknown. I know when I travel I favor one hotel chain and too often eat at a chain restaurant. The latter I do because too often the only restaurants around chain hotels are chains themselves. Fortunately, I do find pleasing exceptions now and then.
Take heart, true believers in true free markets. There are many businesses still around that are local and numerous. There are the craftspeople - plumbers, carpenters, electricians, and so on. Despite the proliferation of chain restaurants and coffee shops, there are quite a few local restaurants and coffee shops. There are still plenty of local barbers and hairdressers. Local breweries are making inroads on mega-breweries by providing better taste. And at least in Duluth and Superior, most liquor stores are locally owned. I'll drink to that!
Independent, locally owned grocery store
Independent, locally owned drug store
Independent, locally owned stationery store
Independent, locally owned movie theater
Independent, locally owned book store
Independent, locally owned department store
Independent, locally owned daily newspaper
Independent, locally owned lumber yard
Independent, locally owned hardware store
By independent, I mean that there is only one location and that often the owner works in the store.
Grocery stores and drug stores are most likely chains, either national or state-wide. Stationery stores are most likely national chains. Movie theaters have been done in by technology, either television or VHS/DVDs. Independent book stores have been done in both by large chains and technology, the latter being e-books. Department stores multiplied with large shopping malls and then got gobbled up by large chains. Daily newspapers have been part of large syndicates before I was even born. Lumber yards have been replaced by three or four large chains. And local hardware stores are dwindling.
So much for a large number of sellers, an integral part of the classical free market.
If it wasn't technology that did in a retail outlet, what or who was responsible?
How about a Republican president? Dwight Eisenhower pushed the interstate highway system which led to urban sprawl. City neighborhoods were decimated when people in large numbers moved to the suburbs. Dwindling neighborhoods led to fewer customers who walked to do most of their shopping.
How about large corporations? With their greater buying power, large corporations can easily undercut small stores on prices. Greater buying power also gives an advertising edge to large corporations. In Duluth, a locally owned group of drug stores went out of business this year. Walgreen's was just too much for it. Only about three or four owner-operated pharmacies are left. When I was a teen-ager, I lived in a Cleveland neighborhood that had three owner-operated pharmacies.
How about development-hungry city governments? Duluth made a big splash about getting an Office Depot to locate downtown. Guess what, the locally-owned, downtown stationer went out of business. Guess what again, Office Depot corporate closed the store within a year or so.
How about ourselves? We would rather go to a big store with a big selection. We would rather go to a chain we know than try something unknown. I know when I travel I favor one hotel chain and too often eat at a chain restaurant. The latter I do because too often the only restaurants around chain hotels are chains themselves. Fortunately, I do find pleasing exceptions now and then.
Take heart, true believers in true free markets. There are many businesses still around that are local and numerous. There are the craftspeople - plumbers, carpenters, electricians, and so on. Despite the proliferation of chain restaurants and coffee shops, there are quite a few local restaurants and coffee shops. There are still plenty of local barbers and hairdressers. Local breweries are making inroads on mega-breweries by providing better taste. And at least in Duluth and Superior, most liquor stores are locally owned. I'll drink to that!
Monday, February 21, 2011
What a way to run a railroad!!
Given my reluctance to fly and my growing reluctance to drive long distances, my sister-in-law suggested that we take Amtrak to visit them in Colorado in May.
I checked Amtrak for schedules. The cost for two of us from Minneapolis-St. Paul would be $694, not too bad for two coach seats. But the trip leaves Minneapolis-St. Paul on May 15 at 11:15 p.m., arrives in Portland OR on May 17 at 10:10 a.m., leaves Portland on May 17 at 2:25 p.m, arrives in Sacramento CA on May 18 at 6:15 a.m, leaves Sacramento on May 18 at 11:09 a.m., and arrives in Denver CO on May 19 at 6:38 p.m. That is labeled as the "Shortest Trip".
That would be four days of sitting up day and night. A roomette from the Twin Cities to Portland would be $268 extra, rooms from Portland to Sacramento are already sold out for May 17, and a roomette from Sacramento to Denver would be $436.
I can drive from the Twin Cities to Denver in two days and sleep in a solid bed overnight for less than half the cost of a roomette on the cheapest leg.
Also, the $694 is for one-way. Even though I clicked Round-Trip, the web site only gives me one-way.
Looking at a route map, the alternative is to go to Chicago and then to Denver. So I gave that a go with scheduling, giving a round trip itinerary. The time would be much better with an eight hour and an eighteen hour leg. Unfortunately, there would be a 22 hour layover in Chicago on the way to Denver and a 23 hour layover on the way back. Plus, the web site wouldn't process this any further – "Problem with your itinerary". I gave up. I don't know the cost of this trip.
It seems that Amtrak has almost been designed to discourage train travel. I think that only two groups of people would be interested. First would be those who have time and are traveling between two cities on the same train. The sold out rooms on a May train between Portland and Sacramento may be an indicator that this group will support the current schedule. Second would be those who take trains just to take trains.
It doesn't have to be this way. I took trains as a kid out of Cleveland's Terminal and it was a busy place. Now the Cleveland stop isn't much more than a siding for a one train a day each way. I've taken trains all over Europe, both day trips and overnight, and I have ridden the bullet and regular trains in Japan.
Maybe Steve Jobs will start the train "for the rest of us"?
I checked Amtrak for schedules. The cost for two of us from Minneapolis-St. Paul would be $694, not too bad for two coach seats. But the trip leaves Minneapolis-St. Paul on May 15 at 11:15 p.m., arrives in Portland OR on May 17 at 10:10 a.m., leaves Portland on May 17 at 2:25 p.m, arrives in Sacramento CA on May 18 at 6:15 a.m, leaves Sacramento on May 18 at 11:09 a.m., and arrives in Denver CO on May 19 at 6:38 p.m. That is labeled as the "Shortest Trip".
That would be four days of sitting up day and night. A roomette from the Twin Cities to Portland would be $268 extra, rooms from Portland to Sacramento are already sold out for May 17, and a roomette from Sacramento to Denver would be $436.
I can drive from the Twin Cities to Denver in two days and sleep in a solid bed overnight for less than half the cost of a roomette on the cheapest leg.
Also, the $694 is for one-way. Even though I clicked Round-Trip, the web site only gives me one-way.
Looking at a route map, the alternative is to go to Chicago and then to Denver. So I gave that a go with scheduling, giving a round trip itinerary. The time would be much better with an eight hour and an eighteen hour leg. Unfortunately, there would be a 22 hour layover in Chicago on the way to Denver and a 23 hour layover on the way back. Plus, the web site wouldn't process this any further – "Problem with your itinerary". I gave up. I don't know the cost of this trip.
It seems that Amtrak has almost been designed to discourage train travel. I think that only two groups of people would be interested. First would be those who have time and are traveling between two cities on the same train. The sold out rooms on a May train between Portland and Sacramento may be an indicator that this group will support the current schedule. Second would be those who take trains just to take trains.
It doesn't have to be this way. I took trains as a kid out of Cleveland's Terminal and it was a busy place. Now the Cleveland stop isn't much more than a siding for a one train a day each way. I've taken trains all over Europe, both day trips and overnight, and I have ridden the bullet and regular trains in Japan.
Maybe Steve Jobs will start the train "for the rest of us"?
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Often you really can't go home
"There's no place like home" and "Who say's you can't go home" are popular sayings, but for many people these don't apply because the home of their childhood is gone.
Even if a child's home life was good and the family never broke up, there are many instances where the only place to go back home is in one's memory.
This was "brought home" to me last night as I wandered around Ancestry.com.
I looked up my mother's father and found out that he had to register for the draft twice, once for World War I and again for World War II. In the first case, he had a wife and a young child; in the second he was 55.
This second registration brought back memories for me. He gave his address as E. 152nd St. in Cleveland, Ohio and his employer as Cardinal Drug. I had been wondering about the name of that drugstore a couple of times last month. Before my father built the house in Bainbridge Twp., we had lived above Cardinal Drug. Some of my earliest memories are from that apartment: the first time that I poured milk myself and having a tank that gave off sparks as I pushed it.
I looked up the address on Google Maps and asked for the street view. It was a parking lot! OK, is the firehouse across the street still there? I turned the "camera" around, and sure enough it was. I don't think it is used as a firehouse anymore. The doors are too small for modern fire trucks and there were no signs on the building.
This is not the only home I can't go back to.
Years ago I tried to take a picture of the house on Detroit Ave. that I lived in when I was 9 to 12. I remember our ballgames in the tiny backyard and climbing the tree that was smack up against the garage. In fact, I think I have a picture somewhere of my brother in that tree. When I got back to Minnesota I discovered I had had no film in the camera. On another trip it was gone. The last time I visited Cleveland four years ago, there was only one house left of the group of five in a row.
I think it was last year that I looked on Google Maps for the apartment building that we lived in after the Detroit Ave. house. It had been next to a vacant lot owned by the transit system. We used the lot as a playground. We had many a pickup baseball game in that playground. Then the transit system expanded its bus lot and fenced in our old playground. When I looked on Google Maps, even the apartment building was gone.
The house that my father built? I only lived in it a year or two. I remember the sledding ramp that my father built us one winter and my brother and I pulling each other around in an oil drum in a wagon. The wagon tipped and I had to get stitches in my forehead. My parents split and my mother moved us out and stayed with her aunt and uncle until we moved to the apartment building. My father's house is still there with some extensions and my stepmother still lives there. Some of my half-siblings say they will tear the house down and sell the property when she dies. They will probably sell the 10 or 20 acres for somebody to build a McMansion.
Even if a child's home life was good and the family never broke up, there are many instances where the only place to go back home is in one's memory.
This was "brought home" to me last night as I wandered around Ancestry.com.
I looked up my mother's father and found out that he had to register for the draft twice, once for World War I and again for World War II. In the first case, he had a wife and a young child; in the second he was 55.
This second registration brought back memories for me. He gave his address as E. 152nd St. in Cleveland, Ohio and his employer as Cardinal Drug. I had been wondering about the name of that drugstore a couple of times last month. Before my father built the house in Bainbridge Twp., we had lived above Cardinal Drug. Some of my earliest memories are from that apartment: the first time that I poured milk myself and having a tank that gave off sparks as I pushed it.
I looked up the address on Google Maps and asked for the street view. It was a parking lot! OK, is the firehouse across the street still there? I turned the "camera" around, and sure enough it was. I don't think it is used as a firehouse anymore. The doors are too small for modern fire trucks and there were no signs on the building.
This is not the only home I can't go back to.
Years ago I tried to take a picture of the house on Detroit Ave. that I lived in when I was 9 to 12. I remember our ballgames in the tiny backyard and climbing the tree that was smack up against the garage. In fact, I think I have a picture somewhere of my brother in that tree. When I got back to Minnesota I discovered I had had no film in the camera. On another trip it was gone. The last time I visited Cleveland four years ago, there was only one house left of the group of five in a row.
I think it was last year that I looked on Google Maps for the apartment building that we lived in after the Detroit Ave. house. It had been next to a vacant lot owned by the transit system. We used the lot as a playground. We had many a pickup baseball game in that playground. Then the transit system expanded its bus lot and fenced in our old playground. When I looked on Google Maps, even the apartment building was gone.
The house that my father built? I only lived in it a year or two. I remember the sledding ramp that my father built us one winter and my brother and I pulling each other around in an oil drum in a wagon. The wagon tipped and I had to get stitches in my forehead. My parents split and my mother moved us out and stayed with her aunt and uncle until we moved to the apartment building. My father's house is still there with some extensions and my stepmother still lives there. Some of my half-siblings say they will tear the house down and sell the property when she dies. They will probably sell the 10 or 20 acres for somebody to build a McMansion.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Our teachers have more influence than we credit them with
Jim Heffernan wrote an interesting blog on "battle-axe" teachers. I sent him the following response.
Thanks for your blog on battle-axe teachers.
But our education took all kinds.
My favorite battle-axe was my 10A and 12th grade English teacher, Miss Palmer at West High School in Cleveland. I remember her most for her teaching of Shakespeare. She taught Julius Caesar in tenth grade and Hamlet and Macbeth in 12th grade. I really got to appreciate Shakespeare because she first had us read an act at a time and then a few scenes at a time. We had to memorize passages but the really high point was looking at the pieces as a whole.
She also lived a block or two from me and would drive me to school occasionally and would pay me to mow her lawn. Maybe that softened my attitude toward her. But then when one of our classmates decided to go into the Army, she kept him waiting at her locked classroom door until she was good and ready to sign the necessary permissions. I thought she was being unfair.
On the opposite end were the teachers who had high expectations of their students and expressed deep regret when students went outside their expectations. I remember twice disappointing my geometry teacher when I accepted a challenge to break a pencil on my geometry book and went through to page 70 or so and when I idly used a compass to draw circles on my desk. She just couldn’t believe I would do such a thing.
One of my regrets in life is not keeping contact with such important influences on my life.
Thanks for your blog on battle-axe teachers.
But our education took all kinds.
My favorite battle-axe was my 10A and 12th grade English teacher, Miss Palmer at West High School in Cleveland. I remember her most for her teaching of Shakespeare. She taught Julius Caesar in tenth grade and Hamlet and Macbeth in 12th grade. I really got to appreciate Shakespeare because she first had us read an act at a time and then a few scenes at a time. We had to memorize passages but the really high point was looking at the pieces as a whole.
She also lived a block or two from me and would drive me to school occasionally and would pay me to mow her lawn. Maybe that softened my attitude toward her. But then when one of our classmates decided to go into the Army, she kept him waiting at her locked classroom door until she was good and ready to sign the necessary permissions. I thought she was being unfair.
On the opposite end were the teachers who had high expectations of their students and expressed deep regret when students went outside their expectations. I remember twice disappointing my geometry teacher when I accepted a challenge to break a pencil on my geometry book and went through to page 70 or so and when I idly used a compass to draw circles on my desk. She just couldn’t believe I would do such a thing.
One of my regrets in life is not keeping contact with such important influences on my life.
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