Smiley Face

Buried deep in the paper was the comment that the student pipe-bomber Lucas Hedler was trying to make a smiley face with the location of mail boxes that he used.

For some reason, all I could think about was The Watchmen comic book series.

Making Change

I was buying a bottle of juice Friday morning. I presented a $20 bill. The attendant asked "Do you have anything smaller than that?"

I hate that question. My thought bubble read: "No. I didn't have anything smaller. C'mon!"

I wish clerks wouldn't bother asking for smaller bills. Does it matter? Just make the change! It's not like anyone has to actually subtract anything. The cash machine takes care of the brain work. (My juice was $1.39. What's the difference between $1.39 and $20.00?)

I believe that gas stations, convenience stores, and other high-traffic places should stock up on single dollar bills in the morning. I truly do.

I can appreciate clerks not wanting to break bills for people who don't purchase anything. But I had the obligatory purchase. In my video game playing days (1970 and 1980s), no one wanted the serve the line of kids asking for four quarters for a dollar. I was the kid with five dimes asking for two quarters!

I should confess that the reason for my needing to break the big bill in the morning was to prevent having to break a big bill at lunch. It was the kind of lunch where at the end everyone is fishing for small bills and no one wants to say "All I've got is a $20 bill."

We all have to break a big bill once in a while. To all you clerks out there: just do it, OK?

Celtics Win!

Celtics 120. Sixers 87. Yeah!

The Rain and The Celtics

It's raining. Drizzling steadily. Lightning. Now thunder. Rain.

I'm now anxiously awaiting the Celtics "must-win" game tomorrow night. I said this to myself Tuesday night when I heard the weather forecast: "I don't care if it rains, as long as the Celtics win." Well, it's raining, and the Celtics lost.

I don't have great expectations about this team. But now that they're in the playoffs, I want them to succeed. I want them to advance. Being a sports fan means being a little irrational I think.

Prediction: Celtics win game 5 to get to the second round. I'll be posting tomorrow night. The forecast: A windy cloudy day. But I don't care.

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It's May. Amazing.

No More Ink

My PaperMate pen ran out of ink. Finally.

When I joined my current job last Summer, I grabbed two generic PaperMate pens out of the office supply cabinet. For work, I have used no other pens except these two.

So today was an oddly satisfying day. The pen gave out during a presentation I was attending. I had been scribbling notes furiously, but with about fifteen minutes to go, the ink started thinning out. It produced the recognizable fade of a pen nearing its end. I wrote until the pen scratched invisible notes on my paper, before I put it in my pocket.

At home, I took the pen apart. Its barrel of ink was empty. I felt like the character out of a cartoon I once saw who exclaimed "Yes!" when he gets to the last Post-it Note. I want to announce to my co-workers tomorrow: "My pen died yesterday. I've been using it for ten months straight!"

Being strict about using these pens was an exercise in discipline and restraint. Office pens are in such abundance that it's easy to take their presence for granted. I guarded these pens, however. I carefully watched people who needed to borrow it during meetings. I felt a little odd everytime I brought one of them home by mistake. These were my work pens. They belonged at work.

And now this one pen has gone. I'll be casually replacing it tomorrow, grabbing a pen out of the boxes of fresh new pens in our supply cabinet. But there'll be nothing casual about how I'll be keeping it over the next year.

Ending Mia's First Year Diary

And just like that, I stopped writing Mia's First Year, a daily on-line diary I had been keeping about my daughter's first year of life. I have archived the whole diary for posterity.

I named the diary Mia's First Year because I wanted to record only the first year of her new found life. I also wanted to put a limit on the diary because I didn't think I could keep up the pace of writing every day, even if it was only a few sentences. But as the year marched on, I found how easy it was to think of something to say. Every day, Mia changed in such big and small ways that I always found myself saying "I better put that in the BLOG". Most of the time, I did.

As she starts Year Two (!), I started debating whether to start a Mia's Second Year on-line diary. I kept procrastinating the archiving of the BLOG, and the writing of the last page. Last night and tonight, I made the final cut-over. I even deleted the diary from Blogger, so that I wouldn't be tempted to write to it.

I hope that many years from now, when the time is right, I can show Mia these web pages (probably on some laptop she'll need for the fourth-grade), and she can see what her Dad's been doing the entire time she was turning one.

Tiger's Third Masters

Tiger Woods won his third Masters.

Today, at lunch, someone asked me how Tiger did this weekend. How did he do this weekend? He won, OK? He became only the third player to have won back-to-back Masters. He became the youngest player to have won seven major championships. He solidified his reputation again as the person to beat when leading the tournament going into Sunday's final round. How did he do this weekend? Among other things, he chipped in a birdie to take a stroke back (6th hole), stiffs a wedge to five feet for birdie (15th), then knocks in a critical par-putt to seal the deal (16th). While other players wilted, Tiger bloomed.

After Tiger Woods won his first Masters (1996), I thought: if he never wins another major, he'll have written his name in history. Today, he continues to stamp his name all over the golf history books. And he will not stop.

If you want to look up "the real deal" and "the man" in the dictionary, look under W, for Tiger Woods.

Oprah's Book Club

Oprah Winfrey shut down her famous book club over the past few weeks. She says that's she's having a hard time finding good books that she's excited to share on her popular television show.

By all accounts, Oprah's book club brought about a resurgence in popular fiction. I knew of it primarily from my wife, who used to ask me to pick up books for her if I went to the book store. She would often suggest that I just pick up an Oprah recommended book.

Minor class warfare broke out in the Fall of 2001 when Oprah selected The Corrections by Jonathan Frazen. Mr. Frazen huffed with real disdain about having the Oprah book club seal on his "important literature". But no doubt he enjoyed the additional sales that always accompany an Oprah book club recommendation.

I have read two Oprah books, The Pilot's Wife and While I Was Gone, both wonderful excursions. I am slowly making my way through a third Oprah selection, A Map of the World. I'm amazed at where this book is taking me.

Would I have discovered these books without Oprah? I doubt it.

Since college, my reading has been quite unstructured. I would get a recommendation from my brothers, or some friends, or some work colleagues. Every once in a while, I'll read a book because it "looked interesting" in the bookstore. More often than not, I'll buy a book based on some book review or advertisement in the Boston Globe, or the New York Times. My Visor has an ever-growing list of books that I should buy or borrow.

The reading life is a wonderful life. Thanks, Oprah, for sharing this spirt!

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I turned thirty-four this past weekend. Hurray!

Lent

I gave up soda for Lent. It was a good sacrifice. With the beginning of Easter, and the end of Lent, I had my first Diet Pepsi in almost forty days. It was tasty!

I will probably continue to reduce my soda consumption during work day lunches. One aspect of not drinking soda is that I tend not to munch on chips during lunch (sweety Pepsi and salty chips are a compelling combination), and as a result, I've been avoiding cafeteria food. This is a money savings, and that's not a bad thing.

The Long Bet

David Winer and Martin Nisenholtz placed a long bet to see which will be more relevant in 2007: web logs or The New York Times. Good arguments both ways, but I'll put my money on The New York Times.

(Of particular interest to my house-hold: long bet #8.)

Big Watches

The Times ran a neat article about a new trend: big watches. It seems that superstars like Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger have a taste for "big watches", watches that are larger than 40 millimeters in diameter. The article spoke about watches as being one of the few pieces of jewelry that a man will wear on a regular basis. Hence, a "big" watch, like those made by Panerai are in vogue. It says you have "big" style.

The watch I desire the most is by Jaeger-LeCoultre. It's an art-deco masterpiece called the Reverso. Right after that model is the exquisite Master Perpetual. Both are analog, and both are north of the $10,000 price range. I tried a Reverso in a jewelry store, and Jenn and I marvelled at its elegant beauty (and she owns a gorgeous Raymond-Weil).

Surprisingly, since the start of my present job (June 2001), I haven't worn my watch (your run-of-the-mill Swiss Army). I've always associated my watch fetish with my own climb up the corporate ladder. The higher up I go, the more demands on my time, the more I'll want a good looking watch. Since it's not clear I'm anywhere near the ladder anymore, I don't need a watch to remember when to be somewhere. I just glance at my computer's clock.

Buzzy's Roast Beef

A local eatery is shutting down in Boston: Buzzy's Roast Beef. I never ate there, but I wish I had.

This is a total dive. Set near the Charles Street/Mass General Hospital T Stop, and a busy traffic circle, the restaurant seemed to have the night-owl hours I loved when I was single. It's a place of some "ill repute", some concerning food, some concerning questionable clientele. In 1996, Russell Frye bought the place, and refurbished it somewhat. I remember thinking "I better get over there, before it closes like The Tasty in Harvard Square."

But life is such that the closest things to us are often the things we take for granted the most. I never expected Buzzy's to close, just like I never expected The Tasty to close, or the old Boston Garden, or Fenway Park. (Actually, Fenway is thriving under the new ownership, but you never know.)

I read in an article a few months back that you "belong to a place" when you have witnessed a change in that place. "That hairdresser used to be a tanning salon." or "That sign didn't exist until the tourists started coming here." In a way, this is why my childhood home of Jersey City scares me so much: there's so much change I haven't witnessed, I'm almost disoriented.

Tom Wolfe wrote You Can't Go Home Again, but sometimes home changes out from under you. Make sure to visit!

My Neighbor Died

One of my neighbors died over the weekend. Jenn and I heard the news this morning. His obituary was in the newspaper today.

I spent a bit of time trying to recall the last time I saw Steve, the last time I spoke with him. He and his wife have lived on our street for a long time. They were here when we moved to Arlington in March 1997. I always found him, his wife Diane, and their young son Kobi to be very nice.

I last saw him walking his dog in the early morning. A few weeks ago? I was on my way to work; I waved from inside the car. Did he wave back? Maybe. In the warmer weather, we would stop to chat, him from the street, me from the car.

There's a common lament that we don't get to know our neighbors. I feel that now.

The Boston Catholic Crisis

There is a fierce outcry in Boston over the actions of Cardinal Bernard Law, and his handling of priests accused of sexually abusing children at their parishes. In particular, the flashpoint of this crisis is John Geoghan, a former parish priest who has molested up to a hundred children. Maybe more. Cardinal Law, with full knowledge of Geoghan's pedophilia, moved him to other parishes.

The media loves this story: there are clear victims and clear "villains".

I feel tremendous ambivalence.

Geoghan, and other priests who have now come forward, men who have vowed to be celibate, to represent Christ on earth, they have used their power to partake in a perversion. But is this a story because these men were priests? What about people who are pedophiles who are not priests? The ones propositioning children in AOL chat rooms? The ones peddling child pornography? Are they less wrong? How about those that view these materials? Don't they deserve the microscope of media attention?

Cardinal Law, as an administrator, has made a critical mistake in thinking that Fr. Geoghan could simply be "moved" away from the problem. Cardinal Law has put his hat in his hand, and asked for forgiveness. He is backing up his words by putting into place a task force that will seek policies so abuse like this won't happen again. He is trying to affect change. I am encouraged by this action, and I do not feel he should step down.

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We are all weak. We are all sinners. Out of this whole mess, this is one of the lessons that I'm most sure of.

I won't learn anything fundamentally new from the trial of Geoghan. I won't learn anything from new allegations of abuse from victims, or new admissions of guilt from priests. The sin/crime is the same. Only the details are different. My reaction is the same as when I first heard of these events: weary shock, weary sadness.

What do the abusers want? Understanding. Forgiveness. Perhaps help. Do they know that what they do is aberrant?

What do the victims want? Retribution. An erasing of a memory that can never be forgotten. Perhaps they want to forgive. Perhaps they want to make the priesthood contrite.

There are plenty of lawyers involved now, for both sides. Instead of the language of forgiveness, of healing, of faith and prayer, there is the language of secret testimonies, of settlements, of challenging statute of limitations. My Mom often says "man proposes; God disposes." We're proposing now: we're proposing in our courts how to exact a justice that won't ever be enough. We're proposing how to fix a priesthood that is meant to represent Christ.

I will try to pray for these people: for the victims and for the abusers, caught in an awful cycle of sin then revelation. Caught in the media glare.

One Year of Blogging

On March 10, 2002, it will be one year since I started writing this BLOG.

Gordon Matthews

The inventor of modern voice mail died yesterday. His name was Gordon Matthews. He was 65.

One day, while standing in the rain near a dumpster, he noticed a huge pile of those pink "While You Were Out" slips. He thought "What if we didn't need those slips of paper anymore?"

He built prototypes, and eventually filed the patent (4,371,752) that was the birth of the modern voice mail era. His first systems were bought by 3M. Other companies soon followed. The company he founded to build and sell voice mail systems would eventually earn millions of dollars in royalties on this technology.

I am not a heavy voice mail user now. As it is, I only receive one or two messages a week. At my last job, however, I was a voice mail geek. I changed my greeting every day: "Today is Friday, March 1. You have reached Rick Umali." The five to ten people who left voice mail for me would know I was in. One of my colleagues configured his voice mail box to send a message to his pager, so he knew whenever a voice mail message arrived for him. Despite my dearth of incoming messages, I couldn't imagine working in an office without voice mail.

Gordon Matthews changed the way businesses work. RIP.

Watching Ellie

I really enjoyed Watching Ellie, a new television series starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus.

The show started with a potentially weak gag (running late, Julia's character, Ellie, finds that water is overflowing from her toilet tank), but the show used this device to introduce some funny characters. The show also had a timer, set at the lower-left corner of the television picture, faint, but noticeable. The timer emphasized the 'real time' nature of the show, and it was somewhat disconcerting. The timer started at 21 minutes, and ticked down to 00:00, like watching some sporting event.

The last time I watched something in "real time" was the movie Timecode. And that movie featured four simultaneous screens, each quite watchable. When I saw the first edit in Watching Ellie, I thought "how could this be realtime if there's editing?" But by the end of the show, you really felt late when Ellie finally arrives on stage at the end of the episode, knowing all she went through in the past twenty minutes.

I'm trying to think of a 20 minute block out of my life that would be worthy of television dramatization. I thinking the moments before my wedding (I smoke a cigarette while my brother Ron and great friend (and usher) James try to get to the church in a car that's running out of gas; we eventually stop at a gas station). I'm thinking the ten minutes before and the ten minutes after Mia was born. I'm thinking the twenty minutes I interviewed with the president of the first company I worked for after college.



It will be a challenge for Watching Ellie to match the perfect pacing of their premiere episode. I think it will also be hard to figure out moments in Ellie's life that are suited for a real-time presentation. Good scripts and good editing can help, but for how long?

Paul Kariya and Canadian Gold

I'll admit it. I rooted for the Canadian hockey team for Sunday's Olympic gold medal match against the United States. The Canadian's won 5-2.

I rooted for Canada for one reason: Paul Kariya. This stellar hockey star is plying his trade for the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim. It's not clear to me that he'll win a Stanley Cup with this team. I like to think that the Olympic Gold Medal would be a cherished hockey victory for him. During the telecast, the announcers said that Kariya was the fateful last shooter in the penalty shoot-out between Canada and Sweden in 1994. For the record, he was stopped (by goalie Tommy Salo).

I watched Paul Kariya way back in his college hockey days (early 1990s), playing for the University of Maine. One night, at Northeastern's Matthew's Arena, I watched as he buzzed up and down the ice with frightening ease. His slapper was hard and fast, and it was easy to see that he would be an NHL player. Alas, the Ducks haven't amounted to anything, but Paul is loyal (or biding his time). I'm glad he won with Canada at the Olympics.