On the Passing of an Icon, From Someone I Trust to Do it Right

As most of the English speaking world knows, last week our nation lost one of its longest and most visibly dedicated public servants. Myself being someone--personally and professionally--who takes a deep interest in the public service, I thought that I should comment on the passing of Senator Ted Kennedy. Before doing so, I chose to wait and read the reflections of my brother Ross on his own blog (rosslevanto.blogspot.com).

Ross, a smart man and brilliant writer in his own right, has devoted a substantial portion of his own adult life to serving Boston, MA through various committees and public activities. As such, I consider him a trustworthy source to reflect on the passing of Massachusetts' native son. I feel that Ross aptly captured the life of a man who dedicated himself to serve his nation, state and community. Ted Kennedy was a public servant, and as such there are plenty out there who will challenge his body of work, who will disagree with his decisions and doubt the validity of his accomplishments. That's all part of the job, sadly, and all the more reason to highlight the admirable qualities of a man who would donate his entire life to such a challenging and (at times) fickle cause.

I've said enough, I'll leave you with my favorite line from Ross's blog. A good writer knows when someone else has already said it all:

"I admired his determination for public service, which we need now in a time when our public servants are often derided. While not a perfect person, Senator Kennedy was perfect in that he stood for the very best of government. He believed the government could and should do good."

Chew it Over with a Text

There's a well-known candy company, perhaps you've heard of them, that has a series of commercials designed around the "Chew it over" concept. The basic structure of each ad is rather simple: some oafish (though un-threateningly attractive) man finds himself in a precarious position that usually relates to his "female companion." These magical gems of masculine stupidity include sneaking back into a bedroom after a night of partying with the guys or being caught reading a lewd book in a shopping center. You know, the kinds of things us men just can't turn around twice without doing.

There's a hook, of course. These men are loaded with a non-melted Twix bar, which they pull out and begin aggressively chewing. This is not only a natural action--arousing no suspicion in their girlfriends--it gives them precious few seconds of "chewing over" time to think their way out of the mess. The ads, while ridiculous, do have a logical theme: when you take a moment to consider your options in any situation you are more likely to make a better decision.

Shifting gears a little, I'm a big fan of texting. I've never really taken to talking on the phone, it's something I've done often for work and when I really need a pizza, but I find little recreational value in having my centro pressed against my ear. As such, I've become an outspoken advocate of bringing the rest of humanity into the texting world. I've espoused the benefits of unlimited texting plans to all of my friends, cited data that texters more actively respond to texts than the general public does to voicemail messages and have unrelentingly texted even those friends I know not to have texting plans.

This obviously has a selfish motivation. I like to communicate with my friends and would prefer to do it over text messaging. However, I can't help but see a universal value to society in the text message: it gives you a little time to think. During spoken conversation, your partner will think the call has been dropped if you take more than a second or two to respond to a statement or question. We all want to use our minutes wisely, so wasting any portion of them while "thinking" is ludicrous.

There is no such time pressure with a text. When someone sends you one, you're completely within your rights to contemplate your response for a few minutes. Most likely, they're not on the other end desperately waiting to hear your answer. Here's a magical thing I've learned about myself--and I imagine is true of everyone--when I have a few minutes to think about a response I'm funnier, more insightful and at the very least coherent.

An example:
Spoken Conversation

Friend: Hey, I saw your favorite sports team lost again.
Me: Oh???
Friend: Yes, I did, they are terrible and you are terrible for liking them.
Me: Well you're terrible because you, um, have a car that gets less than 20 mpg.
Friend: I plant a certain number of trees each year to offset my clunker's carbon emissions.
Me: That's very responsible of you.

Text Conversation:

Friend: Hey, I saw your favorite sports team lost again.
Me: Ah, well I saw that your face is still ugly. At least there's a chance my team will win tomorrow.

So, my friends, embrace the beauty of the text message. It gives you a few extra moments to compose yourself. The world moves faster every day, let's try to embrace the few remaining situations in which we can actually take a moment to chew it over. Even when you're not in relationship peril for being a stupid man, it makes life a little better when you can actually think it through.

Remain Seated While the "Don't Be Stupid" Sign is Illuminated

It's clear that I'm an airplane geek. Though I will admit that I don't often blog about aviation-related issues because I generally write about whatever strikes my fancy. This is my little corner of the wired world and I'm not going to restrict myself to limited topics (at least not until someone offers me large sums of money to do so).

Today however, my silence will be broken. My brother Ross forwarded me this from USA Today yesterday (I don't know why he was reading USA Today, maybe he's suffering from dementia). It's an article about a number of injuries aboard a Continental airlines flight that encountered heavy turbulence en route from Brazil to Texas. From the updates, it's relatively clear that a considerable portion of the passengers were not wearing their seatbelts at the time.

This seemed to me to be a good opportunity to discuss the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign, which I think about often. I would assume most people could easily tell you what it means, but I think it is vitally important for a brief reminder of a few things it doesn't mean.

The Fasten Seatbelt sign means none of the following things:

Please fasten your seatbelt...unless you really have to go to the bathroom.

Please fasten your seatbelt...unless you just remembered that you're most recent Luanne Rice book is in the overhead bin.

Please fasten your seatbelt...unless you just realized that trying to wear your coat through the flight was a bad idea.

Please fasten your seatbelt...unless you and your freind need to trade seats because they're not going to be able to sleep without putting their head on the bulkhead.

Please fasten your seatbelt...unless you dropped your pen and it's really important that you finish your Sudoku game before the plane clears 10,000 feet or you'll lose a bet.

Please fasten your seatbelt...unless you know that you're smarter that every pilot, flight attendant, weather forecaster, ATC operator and Airline mission controller AND you've been relentlessly studying the weather charts, forecasts, maps and PIREPS (pilot reports) regarding the air between your exact location (which of course you can't be sure of) and your destination.

I know you think that you're smarter than everyone else involved in the decision to illuminate the sign. Maybe you are. However, the fact remains that the seatbelt sign (and that cute little "bing" that accompanies it) represents an instruction from the crew, which to ignore would be a violation of Federal law...along with an increased possibility that you're going to lose a tooth on the ceiling.

When the Fasten Seatbelt sign is illuminated, SIT DOWN AND FASTEN YOUR SEATBELT. The SkyMall catalog is a great way to pass the time.

Our Wiki-World

Today I was outside of my friend's apartment in Arlington and I saw a window sticker on a car identifying its owner as an alumnus of Johns Hopkins University. Seeing the name reminded me of long minutes spent at my old office (where we dealt often with the names of big research hospitals connected to major universities) trying to explain to coworkers that it was in fact "Johns Hopkins" not "John Hopkins." While plumbing this memory, I realized that I really didn't know what the origin of this interesting name was. Was there one man whose parent's had chosen to name him as if he was a group of Johns? Did two individuals with the last names Johns and Hopkins contribute to the establishment of the university?

Turns out that a single man named Johns Hopkins bequeathed a hefty sum for the establishment of the university in the late 1800's. Twenty or thirty years ago, finding this information would've required some effort and time in research. Today, all I did was check on Wikipedia and found out in all of 20 seconds.

I use Wikipedia often, as I'm sure many people out there do. While it's somewhat beyond my paygrade (I'm a GS-0, in case you were wondering) to consider the implications of an open market for information such as the free online encyclopedia, I have formulated an opinion on Wiki's place in the world of both academic and personal study.

I recently finished my graduate work at William and Mary, and during my time there I heard repeatedly about the taboo nature of Wiki sources in academic research. It's relatively clear that one should never submit a serious academic paper with a citation to the popular website, that would be some shoddy research. However, I think that with the appropriate focus Wiki is both a useful personal tool and also (and I think more importantly) a valuable academic exercise.

What makes me think so is that Wiki contributors are required to offer some type of citation of their own when providing information. Un-cited facts are typically accompanied with some type of warning that a citation is needed. As a result, a conscientious user must check all citations for any information they might choose to depend on. This is a good thing.

There is such a glut of information available to us right now. We can find just about any answer (correct or no) on the internet. Likewise, television and radio are constantly throwing answers to us for questions we haven't even asked. In this world, it can be tempting to just take what people (or machines) tell you and be thankful to finally close the issue.

Sadly, this tempting ease of knowledge is dangerous. We should always be willing to ask where information comes from. Who is sharing? What do they think? Why would they think that way? How can they help us to study the topic more deeply? What we learn in the world is only as valuable as our trust in the tools that helped us find it.

So, I don't think that you should consider a Wikipedia entry on Post-Modernism or the Second World War to be an encompassing education on the topic, but as a stepping off point for whatever you're trying to figure out. If it's a simple thing (like the origin of a university's name) you can probably just find what you need to know and move on. If it's more complex (like the intricacies of European health care) Wiki gives you a friend (or a lot of friends) who can help you decide how to start.

There are a lot of things in the world right now that are very confusing. Our country is struggling to reform its health care system. Every day our soldiers and sailors are putting themselves in harm's way overseas. It is increasingly unclear what type of environment we will be passing on to our children. Our neighbors in this world are struggling through political and cultural turmoil. It can be a lot to try and wrap your mind around.

I don't suggest you try to learn everything about these topics on Wikipedia, certainly not. Instead, I implore you to take the lessons of the online encyclopedia with you as you try to make sense of our challenges. Think about the sources you choose to trust. Dare to ask why you trust them. Most importantly, remember that even Wikipedia entries can be changed, it would be a fool's errand to never allow your mind to do the same.

In case you're wondering, my fact about Johns Hopkins was cited to "A Brief History of JHU" from the university's website.

Hog Heaven

I'm a firm believer that you should often seek out opportunities to experience new things, especially when they force you to exit your typical comfort zone. Unfortunately, this is not something I often do; it's so much easier to stick with what you know and what you're good at. However, this past weekend I got the chance to exit my own halo of understanding and learn a skill that I've long coveted at the same time.

Friday night through Sunday afternoon, I struggled through the 14 hours of instruction involved in the Basic Rider Skills class offered by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation. I say "struggled" because that's exactly what I did. The classroom instruction--over on Friday night--was valuable and simple. Beginning at 7AM on Saturday, I boarded a motorcycle for the first time in my life and things got a little crazy.

I felt in over my head from the beginning: I was the only person in the class who'd never been on a bike before (most were experienced riders trying to get the MSF endorsement for either insurance reasons or so they could get their bike on a military base). Several of my classmates had never been in the front, but had years of experience as passengers behind their spouses/significant others, so they still had an advantage of experience over me. I'd always known that riding a bike was a complicated feat, it is an intricate machine that requires the constant use of both hands and both feet for basic operation...not to mention the required physical effort to maintain upright.

The class started with the most elementary steps (I'm very thankful that the riders with experience were patient). We started with "mounting the bike" and learning the basic controls. It was over an hour into the lesson before we even moved the bike with our feet off the ground. After this first exercise I felt quite elated: I joked with a classmate that as long as my final destination was always a dead-straight line from where I started I'd be just fine.

Of course, the experience became quite humbling from there. We moved rapidly through a series of 16 drills (over two days) that were designed to teach the basics of starting, stopping, shifting, cornering, etc. Each was challenging in its own way and one in particular (the off-set weave) demolished my morale for a short time.

At the end of the first day I gave myself a 50-50 chance of passing the final riding exam. I called my brother Mark (who took the same course in Connecticut years ago and just bought a new bike) to tell him that my hat was off to him for surviving the experience. He laughed and assured me that he "barely" passed himself and that he remembered well his amazement at the difficulties of bike operation. We'd finished our morning lesson at 11AM and I was so drained--physically, mentally and emotionally--that I was basically useless until about 6PM.

On Sunday, things were better. I expected as much; your mind can assimilate new experiences so quickly. In the end, I never dumped the bike and only had a few embarrassing moments. One time I was sitting with my bike in neutral and I was running through the procedure for an emergency stop in my mind. I was so focused on the steps that I unconsciously started doing them: popping my right foot onto the shift lever and engaging first gear. The bike jumped forward a foot before stalling. My classmates got a good chuckle--for which they apologized--I explained that I'm always dangerous if you give me idle time.

Miraculously, I got a 95 on my riding test and 100 on the written. I successfully navigated the U-turn box, the obstacle avoidance swerve, the emergency stop and the corner. After I finish this blog I'm going to the DMV to get my official motorcycle endorsement on my license (passing the MSF course is the same as passing a DMV licensing exam). I'm not sure when I'll get a bike or even if that will ever happen (though I definitely want one today even more than I did before the class). Even if I get a bike, I don't consider myself ready for the street yet. I'd probably practice for a month or two on parking lots and small roads before ever riding in real traffic. None-the-less, four days ago I didn't know how to ride a motorcycle and now I'm licensed to do so in the Commonwealth of Virginia.

In all, I considered the experience to be at once humbling, challenging, exhausting and satisfying. The instructors were great and I'm thankful for their patience and encouragement. It was also a great chance to be around a whole group of people that I don't think I'd otherwise have gotten the chance to know. Typical "bikers" are very different from me...frankly a lot cooler and more grounded. It was also the first time in recent memory when a ten-minute smoke break meant that everyone actually had a cigarette. This was another little bit of being out of my comfort zone, and it was really satisfying.

I'm really glad for the entire experience. I know that hot-shot bikers can be annoying (and oftentimes dangerous) on the road. These are obviously only a small portion of the riding community, though they tend to be the most visible and memorable part of it. From now on though, whether your cursing a bike on the road or just sharing your lane with one, I advise you tip your hat at the very least to the skill required to successfully handle their ride.

Random Chance

I feel like if you've spent a little time studying Statistics (or maybe even if you haven't) it's difficult not to become a bit fascinated with the concept of random chance. In the classroom, of course, randomness is an academic concept that must be defined and implemented as you examine data; it's a bit difficult to wrap your mind around, since our minds are not random instruments but tools that we use to sort out the world into series of discernible patterns.

If you pay attention, though, you can see random chance as more of a metaphysical force in the world. I was reading a book on airline incidents and policy called The Plane Truth by Roger Cobb and David Primo (Yes, an offshoot of my obsession with airplanes is a corresponding morbid interest in plane crashes). The authors, in their introduction to the issue, exorcised our general need to know the "cause" of a plane crash. Knowing the cause, we feel, means that future incidents will be prevented and we as a traveling public will be made safer on the whole.

Cobb and Primo, however, offer a single explainable cause for every air disaster: random chance. Of course, there could be mechanical issues or pilot error, but the possibility of preventing every last one of these misfortunes is non-existent. Aircraft are incredibly complicated pieces of equipment, and a series of concurrent failures will abruptly end a flight in an unpleasant way. When this happens, we search to connect these combined failures in a way that makes sense out of them. Cobb and Primo explain:

"[The public] perceive links between rare events that occur close in time, even if none exists, so they can avoid accepting that randomness is to blame." (Page 10)

Denying random chance inside the aircraft is a helpful way of keeping people flying. It's difficult enough to cede control over your safety to a team you've never met--pilots, flight attendants, ATC, etc.--without having to cede control over your safety to randomness.

On our street right now is a rather striking reminder that it's not just inside the aircraft cabin that your life is subject to the harrowing nature of random chance. A few weeks ago, we were hit with a short but ferocious thunderstorm. During the storm, Holly heard an odd sound outside, which we quickly discovered had been one of our neighbor's trees falling into the street on top of a car. From our perspective, is seemed like an impressive but innocuous scene out in the street.

The next morning, however, we saw differently. The tree had not just fallen over a car, it had basically obliterated it.

Random chance at work on East Cummings Ave.

We later learned from our neighbors that the driver of the car had been sitting in it just moments before the fall. He had waited for a "lull" in the rains before running into the house and had done so a few heartbeats before his car became a carefully crafted paper weight.

The car is still sitting in the road, giving our street a bit of a war-zone feeling to it. I don't consider it an eye-sore, but an ode to the random nature of life. How many times have we heard that inside a car is a "safe place" during a thunderstorm? Yes, safe from lightning, but not from the ton of wood that could be waiting to pounce on your chassis.

The natural human response, as Cobb and Primo note, is to take this as a lesson: "Okay, if I'm in my car during a violent storm, I'll just make sure I'm not under a big tree." This is a valuable bit of strategy, but misses the point of the discussion. There are so many variables that control where, when and how that tree fell that the odds of it falling on top of a sitting car are infintessimal. Being caught by such an event would make you a dazzlingly tragic victim of a magically random event.

Don't get depressed though, because sometimes random chance makes really good things happen. Oh, and keep flying: based upon current FAA safety statistics you'd have to take a flight every single day for 35,000 YEARS before you could expect to be involved in a major incident. You'll be fine.

In Defense of Lameness

In my lifetime, I've noticed a bit of a pattern. New things emerge in the world or become popular on a wide scale and I scoff at them. I might even let loose a diatribe on how ridiculous they are or possibly attack them with my particularly snide brand of sarcasm. Of course, time passes and I find myself with the opportunity to try these new treasures for myself, at which time I invariably fall in love with them.

Historically, the best example of this is with my coffee drinking habits. When complicated espresso based drinks were made popular by such chains as Starbucks, I was still in high school in Eastern Connecticut. Being relatively rural, we were not infiltrated by the tall lattes and venti caramel macchiatos as quickly as more "cultured" areas, so these new drinks kept the sense of "otherness" that made them foreign and dangerous. I can remember defending the simplicity of a Dunkin Donuts coffee (at the time Dunkies did not offer café options, as they do now) as the way a real American drinks coffee, vowing never to succumb to the allure of the new "fancy" drinks.

Now, of course, I often enjoy a grande latte with no foam. If you put foam on my latte I am going to pour it on the drink counter and storm out (not really).

Having recognized this pattern, I would like to share the two most recent things that I have opened my eyes to that I initially dismissed as "lame."

The first is the Wii Fit: the next step in Japanese-based Nintendo's quest to take over the world. It's a video game for the Wii that, along with the accompanying balance board, guides you through a series of exercises and focuses your attention on things like balance, core strength and endurance. My initial reaction to this contraption was that it's ridiculous: yet another way people could make exercising more convenient. Well, I survived enough basketball practices to know that exercising should be anything but convenient. Furthermore, the concept of working out to a video game seems like the kind of thing that would make Red Auerbach roll over in his grave.

Now, Holly and I own the Wii Fit. I used it one morning and I was very impressed. As a former personal trainer, I know that there are some very simple concepts to focus on when building basic fitness, concepts that people tend to ignore. These revolve around having a strong core and building functional strength while balancing your muscle groups. The Wii Fit "trainers" do a great job teaching these basic concepts while helping you work through an exercise routine...not to mention that the balance games are really fun. So, I retract my initial declaration of "lame." I was wrong and I now see the light.

The second example from the past month comes from the TV show "Battlestar Gallactica." (The new one, I'm not interested in the 70's version yet.) Beginning a while ago, Holly became a fan of the show after watching the first season on DVD while on duty on her ship. She became quite involved in the show, to the point of interjecting stories or lessons from BSG into our daily lives. As you can imagine, I rode her pretty hard about this. I'm not necessarily sure why, because I actually like science fiction (Star Wars, Star Trek, Ray Bradbury books, for the most part) but I couldn't help being a little cynical about the whole thing.

So, one day I offered to watch an episode with her. I was confused, terribly confused. The storyline of BSG is ongoing and jumping in at a mid-point is rather difficult. Early on, Holly would have to stop the show and explain to me some backstory item that made the action onscreen understandable. As I got into it, though, the show gathered me in it's momentum. The effects are good and the characters are engaging (an essential component for me) and it's a lot of fun.

Most important, though, is that the writers and producers have used their medium to tackle some major issues: things like how we define loyalty, freedom and justice. Many of the issues facing the crew of Gallactica can be drawn back to the challenges we've faced in our real world over the past decade. If you're willing to let it, the show really get's you thinking.

So, call me a turncoat or a flip-flopper if you want. I just like to think that I allow my eyes to be opened to my own ignorance. I guess the lesson is that stereotypes and snap judgements can be useful (we'd never get anything done if we carefully weighed all information in the world) but every now and then a little investigation will bring you a nice surprise.

If you disagree, you can go frac yourself.