Air Conditioners

Today, Jenn and I put up our air conditioner. Whew! This week will likely feature five straight days in the 90s. Our house doesn't have central air conditioning. Every once in a while, I entertain thoughts of living in Florida (golf all year round), but the constant heat and humidity would be a big adjustment.

Decalogue

Over the weekend, I finally finished Krzysztof Kieslowski's Decalogue, an epic film composed of ten one hour films, each film based (loosely) on the ten commandments. It took me nearly five months to watch all ten movies. Thanks to Netflix, I was able to 'rent' the two DVDs for all this time.

Somehow, I lost track of the exact impulse for why I decided to watch this 'film'. I must have been looking at film recommendations ("if you liked this, then look at this..."), and saw it there. Roger Ebert lists it as a "great movie". I would agree that this is a most impressive body of work.

Of the ten films, I enjoyed Decalogue V ("Thou shalt not kill") and VIII ("Thou shalt not bear false witness") the most.

V was a haunting, searing look at capital punishment, and that seems to be a theme I'm exploring this year (An American Tragedy and The Executioner's Song both deal with capital punishment). Petty crimes lead up to murder, and the murder in this film is particularly brutal and random. I won't be forgetting that painful execution scene, nor the defense lawyer's own anguish ("I abhor it! I abhor it!").

In VIII, a little Jewish girl during the World War II seeks refuge in a Christian safe-house, with the requirement that she have a Christian baptismal certificate. The girl is rebuffed by a stern woman who would not "bear false witness" by doctoring false baptismal certificates. Fast forward forty years: the little girl is now a woman, and she visits Poland to confront the stern woman (who is a professor of ethics), in a meeting of the minds that was wonderfully moving.

The other eight stories are no less compelling. All of the stories pose questions about God's commandments, but it was not a dry catechism-like treatment. Ordinary stories were dramatically portrayed with the commandments as a backdrop. The entire work is amazing, and well worth the effort to watch.

Learning My Tools

The only New Year's resolution I'm doing well at is "learn more about Microsoft Office." I've been using Microsoft Word and Excel for many years. I take their presence for granted. In fact, I haven't once cracked open a book about Word (although I do own Word 97 for Dummies).

Last year, I saw someone (OK, my wife!) doing a highly repetitive task in Word 97. Her task was to search for a word denoting a section, delete the next twenty lines, then reformat the remaining 'block' (something along these lines). There would be as many as thirty sections in this document. During that weekend, I copied her document, and tried to get Word to do this task for me. That weekend, I scratched the surface of Word macros.

Fast forward to today: I subscribe to Woody's Office Watch. This e-mail newsletter is chock full of nifty behind-the-scenes stuff on Word, Excel, PowerPoint, Access, and Outlook. I try to learn a new 'feature' every time I'm in one of these Office tools.

This is the crux of my New Year's resolution: learning my tools. Microsoft Office is a big beast. I'm on an ancient version (Office 97). But it's a beast that's worth learning, because it's ubiquitous, and it contains features that can often save you time.

Ron's Birthday

Yesterday was my brother Ron's birthday. He was the best man at my wedding, and he is the godfather of my daughter.

The Executioner's Song

I'm presently reading The Executioner's Song, by Norman Mailer. It's a long book (over a thousand pages), and it somewhat mirrors the story line from Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy.

Last night, I read a powerful sentence by Mailer:

The violence of Portland licked right up to the edge of the store and left a spew like that yellow foam on city beaches where old rubber dries out with jellyfish and whiskey bottles and the dead squid.

What an amazing sentence! Such imagery! You feel the words when they're strung together so superbly.

How did I chance to be reading this? A few months ago, I read an article about Louis Menand, who recently wrote The Metaphysical Club: A Story of Ideas in America. Mr. Menand was asked what his favorite books were, and one of them was The Executioner's Song. He had high enthusiasm for this book, and I made a mental note to pick this up as soon as I could. I have not been disappointed so far, and I don't anticipate being disappointed.

I once thought it'd be an interesting exercise to describe the various threads between the ten books I've read so far this year, but the leading spark has been, more often than not, whimsy. Still, it delights me when whimsy leads me to text like I've read in Mailer's book. I'm savoring every bit of it.

Concord and Merrimack

A few weeks ago, the Boston Globe ran an article on Henry David Thoreau, the famous recluse/philosopher who wrote Walden. The article was about how people misunderstood Thoreau's writings. I read articles like this, and it makes me want to hole up in a library for a week reading Thoreau. What is there to misunderstand? What was his main message?

So over the past few nights, I've dipped into A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers. This was his first published book (1849). I have one of those 'handsome home-library three-volume set' of Thoreau's work from the Book-of-the-Month Club: Walden, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers, and The Maine Woods.

The Boston Globe article said that A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers is fairly impenetrable. The foreword to my edition states that reading this from cover to cover would be a tough diet.

I would somewhat agree with both of these. He spends a good portion of the book ranting. He goes from a detailed look at the specific biology on these rivers, to a discourse on various religions. Sprinkled throughout are pithy wisdoms ("He who resorts to the easy novel, because he is languid, does no better than if he took a nap."). This was a man who thought, and then wrote it down.

Every weekday, I go over the Concord River, on Route 3. It's a short bridge. Now I find myself looking down the river, as I pass by. It is so peaceful. And Thoreau canoed past this spot once.

I don't necessarily plan to read all of this book, but I will be dipping into it. I need something to think about when I go over that brief bridge.

Nicola's

I spent $6 on a tee-shirt from place where Jenn and I get take-out pizza practically every Friday, Nicola Pizza House (1215 Massachusetts Avenue, Arlington, 781-646-6090). We've been eating pizza from here since we moved to Arlington, over four years ago.

The owners know me by now. Nicky always gives a big hello whenever I place my usual order. I once didn't have money, and they let me get on their tab.

At Nicola's, they also make pastries: cannoli, tiramisu, cheese cake. Sometimes, I'll splurge and grab one of these, much to the delight of Mary, the sharp-tongued matriarch who occasionally slings pizza boxes with her boys. Nicola's has also brought us great sandwiches, pasta dinners, salads, and fish and chips. Lately, we've been getting mozzarella sticks with our pizza.

There was much kidding when I announced Jenn and I were having a baby. They thought I'd be ordering a few more pizzas every week. As it is, I can't wait to share Nicola's with Mia when she gets old enough to appreciate pizza. Anyway, I have the tee-shirt.

Trip to Graceland

I posted my trip to Graceland web page on Yahoo! a few months ago. Every once in a while, I get a note from some Internet visitor, saying the pictures were nice. Today's e-mail was from New Zealand, and the writer expressed gratitude because she said she was not likely to make a pilgrimage to Memphis.

By the way: The final song in Cast Away? "Return to Sender", as sung by Elvis.

Casting Work Away

I finished listening to the DVD commentary of Cast Away.

Tom Hanks was on Sixty Minutes last December. He said something that I think about regularly: do what you love to do; that is half the battle. He said from his experience, one cannot go into film or television hoping for fame, money, or even power, as those things are often fleeting. He said go into film/television because it's something you enjoy, and you'd be doing it anyway.

Of course his comments extend beyond Hollywood: if it's something you enjoy doing, and you'd probably be doing it anyway, then it's a likely profession/avocation/vocation.

I ask myself often: Is this what I'd rather be doing? There are a lot of grays in my answer. It's not a resounding yes; it's not a distasteful no. And I'm sure if I ask myself this during work tomorrow, my answer would vary.

Are we working at what we want to work on? That's a fair question.

Fondly Remembering Cycling

The Tour de France started a few days ago. As I write this, American Lance Armstrong is 6th in the GC (for you cognoscente).

I was a fan of bike racing so long ago, it's not even funny. Example: I had the issue of Velo News that announced Greg LeMond was going to France to ride with Bernard Hinault's Renault team. Example: I own a copy of a Bud Greenspan's documentary on Eddy Merckx, cycling legend.

I recall being amazed at the movie Breaking Away. I read Sam Abt's Tour de France stories in the NY Times, because when I started to follow the Tour, it wasn't on network TV (today it's covered daily on The Outdoor Life Network).

All this was in the early eighties, during my teen-age years.

I had log books detailing all of my riding. I dreamed of becoming a racer. Despite my fervent interest in bike racing, I only competed in one race, and on that rainy day, I got a flat. It didn't stop me from attending races though, and the highlight of all this interest was watching a criterium near Central Park in New York City. Greg LeMond raced that day, and when he finished, I got his autograph.

I trained with a pack of boys (Jose, Shawn, Dave) sharing the same innocent dreams. We rode hard and fast up and down Bayonne Park, and stalked all the bike stores, driving the owners nuts with our demands to see Campagnolo bike parts. As boys, we didn't own bike shorts, or real cycling jerseys. Whenever we saw "a real rider" wearing these clothes, we'd watch them warily, wondering just how fast could they go.

Like most boy-hood interests, this one faded away. By the time Greg LeMond won his second Tour de France, cycling had already left my life. Sometime before college (1986), I got into an accident: I looked down to shift, and next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, having run into the suddenly-stopped car in front of me. My bike (Panasonic DX-2000) was broken beyond repair, and on a "spare" bike, it was hard to go fast.

Fast forward to today: I do own a dusty racing bike, bought with practically my first paycheck out of college, but I never rode with the same fervor like I did. In fact, I hardly ride at all. Golf has filled the places in my heart where bike racing used to live. I used to be able to recite the winners of the Tour de France, and the years when Merckx and Anquetil won their five Tours, but now I look that up, like everyone else.

"On va! Allez allez!", people would write, on the roads the Tour de France riders would race over. I have gone, but I fondly remember.

Paying Off My College Loan

I received confirmation today from the lending bank that they have received my final student loan payment. My student loan towards Rensselaer is now "paid in full". I called the bank and inquired about the final payoff amount (almost $700), and wrote them a check in the middle of June.

The loan to pay off my college education was $16,000, but thanks to simple interest (8%), I owed a total of $23,000. I started paying off this loan in August of 1991. I knew from the notes that it would take ten years. And here I am, ten years later: absolved of this almost-$200 monthly obligation.

I can recall times I let the monthly payment 'slip' a few weeks, but I never failed to pay the full monthly amount every month. I like to think that Jenn and I were able to get a mortgage because of my dutiful payment of this loan through the years.

Was college worth all this though? Yes. Absolutely. It's true I don't need to use physics, chemistry, or advanced calculus, but I am always learning using the methods I picked up at school. My perspective and sensibilities about technology and science were gained at Rensselaer.

I first logged into UNIX at RPI, and I still refer to my school-aged battered copy of The UNIX Programming Environment. I wrote hard software there (a C-like interpreter, a shell). I attended a co-op at JPL, where I discovered what I could contribute as a computer professional.

But even beyond all the 'school' stuff were the people, and experiences: learning to ice skate at the Houston Field House; being a college radio dee-jay; going to midnight movies; road trips; absurd drinking games; bonding over ice hockey, pizza, dinners, and late-night studying. Many of good friends are from RPI, class of 1990.

College was where I tried growing up. College was where I gained some perspective. College was my launching pad.

My student loan, pricey as it was, pales in comparison to the actual value of my collegiate experiences.

An Artifical Heart

Today, a human heart was replaced by a fully enclosed artificial heart.

As I read about this ground-breaking surgery, I was amazed that the doctors and engineers who built the heart don't expect the patient to last more than a month. I was also amazed that the company who built the heart is located in nearby Danvers, Massachusetts.

The patient wishes to remain anonymous, but I frankly have a hard time believing he'll stay anonymous. If it were me, I'd be on TV as soon as reasonably possible.

My other thought about all this: we are soon going to be able to make cyborgs: half-human, half-robot beings.

Abysmally Hot

Abysmally hot day today. Over ninety degrees! But in the late afternoon, the bright blue sky disappeared, and dark clouds thundered in. Before you knew it, a drenching rain was on hand. I drove in it to get take out, and it was a fabulously active sky: lightning, thunder, swirling clouds. It rained urgently.

As I write this, mild conditions prevail. Tomorrow will hover around ninety degrees again. Then relief on Monday: high seventies!

IM

My wife and I have been using Yahoo! Messenger to communicate to one another during the work day. If you are on-line and feel like sending me an instant message, download Yahoo! Messenger, and look for Yahoo! ID rick_umali.

When I was in college, I used to chat on-line all the time using Connect, an ancient dumb-terminal chat program. Later, I was a fervent user of mIRC, which is Internet Relay Chat. My login then was bitflip. Recently, I thought about grabbing the bitflip domain name, but it was already scooped up.

I briefly flirted with ICQ (my number is 58388303), but it always felt like a heavier application than Yahoo! Messenger. At my last job, an older version of the ICQ client wouldn't work behind the corporate firewall, but that's since been fixed.

As if e-mail wasn't enough!

Boy, The Way Glenn Miller Played

Theme from All in the Family

Boy, the way Glen Miller played. Songs that made the hit parade.
Guys like us, we had it made. Those were the days.
And you know who you were then, girls were girls and men were men.
Mister, we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again.
Didn't need no welfare state. Everybody pulled his weight.
Gee, our old LaSalle ran great. Those were the days.

Carroll O'Connor

With the recent death of Carroll O'Connor, the actor who portrayed Archie Bunker, TV Land broadcast forty-eight hours of All in the Family this past weekend.

I didn't watch this show when I was growing up, but I know that it brought my parents much laughter. At the time of the show's run (1971-1979), I wasn't even a teen-ager, and besides, All in the Family seemed to be full of 'adult' humor. By the time I got to college, Archie Bunker was just so much trivia.

But a few months ago, TV Land ran an all-weekend marathon of All in the Family. Jenn tuned in, and we watched almost twenty episodes. I was amazed at the marvelously current, and direct humor on the show. I was also touched by the poignant episodes, most especially the one in which Archie has to say good-bye to Mike, Gloria, and Joey, because they were moving to California. There is one moment in this episode in which Edith comes from the kitchen, and sees Archie wiping away tears. She doubles back into the kitchen, then calls out to Archie "I'm bringing you a beer! Here I come!". Archie has collected himself, but still can't bear to look at Edith. "Here's your beer, Archie." "Just leave it there, Edith". They then turn inward, realizing just how much they're going to miss their daugther, son-in-law, and grand-son.

I saw this episode again tonight, and damn if I didn't start crying. Would I have gotten this at ten years old? Maybe. But I definitely 'get it' now. Good-bye Carroll O'Connor.

Start the Commotion

I subscribe to EditorsNet, an online magazine and a free daily e-mail newsletter on the world of film and television editors.

I bring it up because I read an article about Steve Prestemon, the editor for two thirty-second television commercials that have stuck themselves in my head.

The commercials are car commercials for Mitsubishi. The Eclipse commercial features a bunch of youthful people driving around, singing to a song which ends with a clip "Wind it up baby!" The Gallant commercial features a mellow tune, sung by passengers and drivers. It starts "I wish that I knew what I know now when I was younger."

I was drawn to these commercials, and I've always wondered about the songs. Well, the article lists them as "Start the Commotion" (Eclipse), by The Wiseguys, and "Ooh La La" (Gallant), by The Faces. Yes, I downloaded the songs with Napster.

Like all good commercials, the song is catchy, and so is the mood. The combination of images and music puts you in 'a certain place' for less than one minute, and I'm fascinated by the process of how these are mixed together.

Axel

I read an article this morning about an abandoned boy who ended up living in a cave with wild dogs. Unbelieveable. Axel, the boy's name, lived with these dogs for two years, subsisting on a bitch's milk and scraps of scavenged food. I'm stunned that such a situation even exists.

Ellen Degeneres did a comedy riff on a woman being raised by wolves, who would end up having to call the 800 number printed on the shampoo bottle. Axel was five when he was abandoned by his parents, and he escaped from his foster care situation.

Keurig

My new job features coffee served by the Keurig Premium Coffee System. Insert the K-Cup, and out comes fresh coffee. I so enjoy this device!

My Commute

Work was good! There's so much to talk about: the new technology, the people, my return to working in a cube (I had an office in my last year at my previous job).

The biggest thing to comment on for now is my commute. Jenn and I were blessed with really short commutes. It only takes her ten minutes to get to her office. It used to take me fifteen minutes to get to my office.

Today, it takes about thirty minutes to the trip. I now spend time on Route 3, a stretch of road that eventually takes drivers into New Hampshire, cutting through Lowell. My trip total is about seventeen miles, according to Yahoo! Maps.

Route 3 is a set of two two-lane roads, running North/South. Thankfully, I travel against traffic: In the morning, when traffic is backed up going South towards Boston, I'm racing North, towards Chelmsford. In the evening, when traffic is backed up going North to the various bedroom communities along Route 3, I'm racing South, towards Burlington/Lexington (and eventually to Arlington).

The Route 3 Improvement Project proposes to 'widen' the lanes, so I'll get to witness the progress of adding two full lanes to a heavily trafficked road.