A Promise

To my son Andy, you should consider my home your refuge, for as long as I live, no matter what.

Just Another Morning

I woke up around 6:00 this morning, when I wished I could sleep in longer. Since I couldn't, I did what I do most mornings when I can't fall asleep again. I fired up the ebook reader on my phone and read. Right now, I'm making a second pass through the Miles Vorkosigan series, which is not only one of the most enjoyable SF series it's been my pleasure to encounter, but one of the most thought provoking as well.

After about half an hour of this, I got out of bed, made coffee, and fed our six cats. Well, I did make them wait until I had the coffee started, and only Leonard complained at all. I still haven't seen Tempe this morning, but I'll bet that he and Blazer are back in the bedroom snoozing with Lisa.

We picked Andy and David up at the Charlotte airport yesterday afternoon; they are here for their summer visit. Andy only has a week off from his summer job, David two weeks, and I'm glad that their visits from Indiana have become less events than just a regular part of life. I like my sons, who are both growing into fine young adults, and it's very interesting to spend time having professional discussions with Andy. He's a third year electrical engineering student who is working for a web hosting company this summer. I read just enough about hardware and he about software that we can geek it up together. I can look to my left right now and see him sitting on the sofa surfing the net on his phone.

David is still abed. He stayed up later than his brother, which I think is a pretty usual thing, and watched The Italian Job. He likes going through our old DVDs when he's here.

Sadly, Gigi won't be here this summer. She's very busy with her job search and has to be home for whenever an interview comes up. Maybe later in the year...

In about 10 minutes, I will be logging into work. If things go well over the next couple of hours, a team I'm on will finally complete an on-again, off-again two year project to migrate several applications from four Windows 2000 servers to two Windows 2003 servers. That will save our customers a bunch in IT charges, give them better application performance, and simplify support from IT. Can't wait.

All in all, it's just another morning.

The 32nd

Last night, I did something I've never done before. I attended a reunion of my high school class. In the 32 years since I graduated, I've missed two reunions, at ten and thirty years. With the last reunion only two years gone by, why reunite again so soon?

My first guess is that my classmates simply needed their Eddie fix...nah, probably not.

More likely this is a bunch of people who by-and-large just like each other, who enjoy a lively get-together, and who had enough people willing to organize the event that it simply had to happen. Oh, and we celebrated with quite a few people turning 50 (that may be translated as commiserated with).

David Gore's Bummin' Hole Lodge was the perfect site for our shindig, a very rustic cabin on a pond. It's far enough back in the woods without doubling as the set of Deliverance that we didn't disturb anyone. One of the biggest advantages for Lisa and me is that it's close enough to Dad and Mom's home that we could have made it there in five minutes, if Dad hadn't closed off one of the farm roads a few years ago. As it is, we had to take a couple of county roads, making the trip ten minutes. Twice the travel time, what a burden!

The food and libations flowed freely, and conversation followed. It was wonderful to catch up with old friends unseen in 30 years (yes, Jimmy H. and Jimmy W., I'm looking at both of you), to exchange so many hugs, to compare numbers of children and marriages, to reflect on careers and on missing classmates, and to start thinking about the next time we'll get together.

To Antoinette, Steve, and Susan, (as Steve's wife put it) fellow IT whores -- I hope we can swap war stories again soon.

To Al, Hong, Jimmy H., Kim, and Patti -- I look forward to sharing a table with you again.

To Anthony, Anthony, Sherrie, Tami, and Wanda (with apologies to anyone I left out) -- thanks for the fantastic job putting this thing together.

To Coburn -- I'll probably never top that line about not being able to make a horse put on a bathing suit.

To Kim and Tami -- Thank you very much for your kind words about Babble On.

And finally, to Beatrice -- you still scare the hell out of a lot of us!

50 - 26: Why Country Music?

Country is my favorite musical genre, but it hasn't always been so. In fact, I used to detest it. This is a bit surprising to me today, considering the music I liked when I began to be aware of the wider world beyond myself and my immediate family.

I was just shy of my teenage years when I discovered the pleasures of music. John Denver was the biggest artist around, in that time between the end of the Beatles and the rise of Elton John. Denver's music was sweet, almost saccharine, full of pretty melodies and simple, back-to-nature lyrics. For the most part it hasn't aged that well -- Rocky Mountain High, and perhaps Matthew, being the most notable exceptions -- but it did provide a safe, comfortable entry to American popular music in the early 1970s.

I soon graduated from my "gateway drug" to a more lasting addiction. It wasn't really a great stretch from John Denver's country pop to the country rock of Linda Ronstadt and the Eagles, but especially the latter have proven a deeper lyrical sophistication combined with complex vocal harmonies and outstanding musicianship can stand the test of time.

In case you the reader have any doubts, I remain an Eagles partisan after 35 years.

At the same time that I was captivated by the music coming out of Southern California, I was disavowing the country music largely coming out of Nashville. I thought of it, playing off my father's cues, as empty, twangy noise. This would have been around 1975, and in many ways, musical history has vindicated my views. The biggest days of Johnny Cash and Merle Haggard were over, I had no interest at the time in Loretta Lynn, and the music was produced to be heard on radio, not really to last.

This included, as far as I knew, Willie Nelson. I knew his huge hit Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain, but not his concept album Red Headed Stranger. Discovering this artist, his music, and in particular this album are crucial to my larger point, and I'll revisit the subject again tomorrow.

So You Think You Can Dance

The only reality TV show I watch, generally, is The Amazing Race. It's been the only one that's felt, well, real to me. This week, Lisa's mom Meki has been visiting, and we're just off some of our usual routine.

That's how we came to be channel surfing last Wednesday and ended up watch Fox's dance contest. And guess what? I ended up not only intrigued, but hooked.

This show is vastly different than Dancing With The Stars, which is mildly entertaining celebrity fluff. SYTYCD is actually an intense, highly compressed, and competitive apprenticeship. I watch the dances and react emotionally to the showmanship. The judges are critiquing the dances and dancers on their technical merits, and they are teaching aspiring professionals.

Like every other reality competition on TV, the public votes, with the dancers getting the lowest totals in danger of being eliminated. Unlike every other reality TV competition, the judges decide who goes.

No, the judges are not unbiased, and that factors into the eliminations.

It's extremely entertaining TV, and it's refreshing that there are no product placements.

Toy Story 3

The characters familiar from Toy Story and Toy Story 2, especially Woody and Buzz, are all here. Well, not all, as things change in 15 years, and some toys are no longer with us. In fact, since Andy is about to go to college, things are totally in flux.

Andy intends for all his old toys, except Woody, to be stored in the attic. Woody is supposed to go with him to college. There's a mix up, and all the toys end up being donated by Andy's mom to Sunnyside Daycare. And the toy-in-chief there, Lots O' Hugging Bear, is not the sweet and lovable plush toy he seems to be...

You'd think that the third movie in an animated trilogy would be, at best, silly kid's stuff. And you'd be right if the movie had been made by any other outfit than Pixar. This studio's mantra is story first and foremost, and they have never deviated from this. Toy Story 3 is visually gorgeous, and the tale it tells is by turns hilarious, horrifying, uplifting, and bittersweet. The people who made this movie understand the appeal that looking back on childhood has for adults, as well as the pull adulthood has on children. The transitions depicted here feel absolutely spot on.

Yeah, I'm a Pixar fanboy, and why not? They simply don't miss.

Independence Day

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Of all the sentences that have written, uttered, or thought in the history of the United States, this is the one that most defines the ideal of America. It is the possibility of equality of opportunity that brings so many to our shores. This is the reason for the Bill of Rights.

It was Lincoln's inspiration for Four score and seven years ago, our forefathers brought forth on this continent a nation dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Do yourself a favor, those of you who are, like me, American. Take a break from the fireworks, the cook out, the travel sometime on this 4th of July and look up some of our historic documents. Read the words quietly to yourself, aloud to your spouse and children, or broadcast them to your neighbors. Then, think about what the words really mean.

If you can do this, you are more fortunate than most of humanity who has come before you. Take the opportunity to exercise your liberty and help someone else with their pursuit of happiness. Help pass on the ideal.

Well, I'm Back

In the nearly three years I've written Babble On, the best thing anyone has had to say about it is when my daughter told me she could hear my voice in it. That means I'm achieving one of my goals here, because I aim for simple clarity, for there to be nothing between me and what I set out to say.

I just realized that I said nothing here in June. That, my friends, is not the plan. All I can say is that in the noise of the outside world, the rush and the confusion and the oh-dear-i'm-late-how-will-i-get-all-i-must-done hurly-burly, my write-me voice has been drowned out. There are things going on that are important to me and mine that have taken precedence, and some of them may very well make their way here. But, not yet.

For now, it's enough that I have the mental quiet and calm that gives birth to things I must say here. I've missed the creative rush.