Remembering Spaf

With a birthday coming up, and several friends having recently passed on (e.g., been dereferenced), I thought maybe I should write up my obituary for future use. After all, I know my story better than anyone else! So, feel free to use this when the need arises.

And if you have any missing bits to fill in, send them to me — I’ll update this in place.

This is not quite to this level of awesome or to this or to this but I may have a few weeks yet to get there.

Original post 3/14/12; Last update 2014-07-28.


Eugene H. Spafford, noted curmudgeon, died on <date>. It was a stupid accident that was then altered to look like an assassination by a secret government hit squad. But rest assured that he wasn’t important enough to warrant that kind of attention. The medical examiner will officially list the cause of death as “Jello, while interacting with Bambi and Trixie, two performers with Cirque de Soleil, and their pet llama, Julio” — not because it bears any resemblance to the truth, but because it will provide more lulz on Wikipedia.

Although many people believed he was an alien being (after all, the definition of “human” can only stretch so far), Spafford was born in western New York State to poor but proud parents. His birth changed their lives: they continued to be poor, but were never proud again. Two years later, his sister was born, thereafter affectionately referred to by their parents as “our only child.”

Spafford had a largely unremarkable childhood, frequently spending time as the neighbors’ imaginary friend. His parents took him and his sister to many notable and historic places around the country, but unwary strangers would invariably untie him and he would find his way home. In later years he was known to recount some of the happiest moments of his childhood such as having other children finally talk to him (5th grade), and first being allowed to play in the yard without his leash (7th grade),

By the time he had reached high school, he had shown unusual talent for math, science, and getting beaten up for having unusual talent for math and science. Nonetheless, he was named as “school mascot” by acclamation for several years running — until the other students found that despite this status, they could not get him thrown on the bonfire at other schools before football games. It was in high school that he got the nickname “Spaf,” in part because no one bothered to learn his first name.

It was in high school that Spaf discovered girls. Actually, he had known about them for some time, but it was at this time that he first discovered that the majority of them did not actually have cooties. His attempts to be noticed by the young women around him usually succeeded, but only accompanied by finger-pointing and derisive laughter…a pattern that continued through the rest of his life. He fell in love at least twice, but the objects of his affection generally did not return his affections because they had taste and standards…another long-standing pattern.

Upon graduation from high school, Spafford took a few years off school to work to support his family. At least, that is what he always claimed, and the court records are sealed.

Then, Spafford returned to school and completed his undergraduate degrees at SUNY Brockport in 3 years of classes, probably because the faculty voted to resign if he stayed for 4. He awoke in another state after his graduation party, with a note from his family pinned to his clothing, written in crayon, wishing him luck in Atlanta, where they had arranged for him to be admitted. Much to their dismay, “The Ramblin Wreck” was a university and not a psychiatric hospital (although, frankly, that wasn’t always obvious). Thus, he attended grad school at Georgia Tech, where he again showed an unusual talent for math and science, as well as amazingly poor luck with females of any species. After outlasting a department head, dean, two presidents of the university, and several roommates, a clerical error resulted in him getting a Ph.D. despite no faculty member actually serving as his advisor (really!).

As a condition of his immediate and permanent departure, local officials used a rumor of a large trust fund and vast quantities of tequila to introduce a young woman to Spaf, despite her reluctance to date outside her species. After a period of deception, and prolonged hypnotherapy, they were married.

After a short post doc while his thesis committee waited to ensure that the checks cleared, Spafford moved out of state and was hired by Purdue University in 1987 before the stories (and authorities) caught up with him. He spent the remainder of his career there, trying (in vain) to get people to behave nicely online, be kind to each other, and to adopt wearing of bow ties. When informed of his passing, his Purdue colleagues (those who didn’t respond “Who?”) began to chuckle — no doubt from fond and amusing memories, although the mutterings of “At last!” did seem a little too fervent.

Noted for his work in security (primarily as a risk), Spafford was frequently asked to travel long distances to speak — usually requested by whomever was in his near vicinity at the time. A talented programmer as well as researcher, he wrote many large software systems that, (perhaps) regrettably, are in languages for which no compiler or manual exists. This matched his propensity for giving presentations that were in languages unfamiliar to his audiences…and humans, in general. He helped scores of students get their Ph.Ds. — usually by serving as an example of what not to do. He received several “lifetime achievement” awards from professional societies in not so subtle attempts to get him to retire immediately and go away.

It was often observed that Spafford didn’t pay attention to boundaries and frequently crossed them…this was usually noted by others when talking about the fine line between genius and insanity.

In later years, he had medical issues that interfered with his work. Doctors, when not performing unsanctioned experiments on him, conjectured that it was all side-effects of the frequent alien abductions (performed on him, not by him). Consulting veterinarians were similarly puzzled, both by etiology and his species. The diagnoses were all different, but the recommended treatment was always the same: lobotomy. This was never done, because the insurance company refused to cover it, despite the generous and frequent offers of family and colleagues to take up a collection.

Spafford had a near encyclopedic knowledge of useless trivia, bad jokes, and stupid movie plot lines that he often shared spontaneously — this led to him spending a great deal of “alone time.” Besides his hobbies online, he enjoyed gardening, good whiskey, and target shooting — which might explain many missing neighborhood pets and the vigorous growth of the tulips in the back yard. As a lover, he was known to make women swoon…or would have been known, had any of them overcome the nausea at the thought so as to assent. And, he is memorialized in several dictionaries: the words “athlete” and “Spafford” are found together in a sentence under “cognitive dissonance.”

In his final years, Spafford spent a lot of time reminiscing about his childhood as an imaginary friend, and wondering what his life would have been like had be been born human.

In accordance with his wishes, his remains have been freeze-dried, adorned with a bow tie, and mailed to a random address as one last bad joke. He is survived by his wife (who will shortly be disabused of the rumor of the trust fund), a daughter (an only child, because his wife refused to repeat the trauma and horror … not of childbirth, but conception), sister, niece, nephews, the contents of several petri dishes with biohazard labels on board some UFOs, and basically everyone who is reading this. I mean, you can’t read this if you didn’t survive, right?

Donations can be made … oh, who are we fooling? Just go blow the money on chocolate and bourbon.

Results of the Spaf’s Bow Tie Auction for Charity/Non-profits

The auction closed yesterday.  My sincere thanks to everyone who participated.  I was unsure how much interest it would generate, and somewhat concerned about whether it would generate anything significant for the organizations.  Pleasantly, a number of people responded with generous pledges.

Here are the winning bidders, bids, and destinations for each tie:

  1. Jon Loeliger, $175, the Breast Cancer Resource Center of Austin, TX
  2. Bryn Dole, $150, Purdue University/CERIAS
  3. David Elliott Bell, $300,  Purdue University/CERIAS
  4. David W. Baker, $350,  Purdue University/CERIAS
  5. Henrik Kramshøj, $150, UNICEF
  6. Karen Lopez, $501, Purdue University/CERIAS
  7. Bryn Dole, $150, Purdue University/CERIAS
  8. Aaron Lepold, $150, American Cancer Society
  9. Linda McGlasson, $125, Purdue University/CERIAS
  10. Lynn Terwoerds, $150, UNICEF

Additionally, Paul Rosenzweig pledged $100 to Purdue University/CERIAS.  If that bid had won a tie, he was going to donate it to a worthy grad student.  (Paul is a regular bow tie wearer, too.)

As per the “goodies” offer in the original post, Bryn, David. David, Karen, Linda and Paul will each get a CERIAS challenge coin.   Bryn, David, David and Karen will also receive a CERIAS-logo item.  And Karen will get treated to dinner and a bow tie-tying lesson from me if we manage to determine a shared location sometime before too long.  No one made a $1000+ pledge, so I don’t need to reveal what I had in mind for that. :-)

Additionally, although I didn’t disclose this in the original post, I made a personal commitment to ensure that all the charities I listed get something out of this.   Therefore, in addition to whatever I may donate at year’s end, I donated (from personal funds) $150 to each of:

Thus, the total amount raised for these organizations from this mini-event comes out to $3051 — and no one was required to dump anything on their heads!

If you would like to toss in a donation as part of this overall effort, please do so!  These are all great groups and worthy of support.  I will honor my “goodies” offers for any donations made through the end of August!  Contact me for details.

 

Charity Auction — Some of Spaf’s Bow Ties!

Total bids + 6 pledges (no tie):  $3051 – Auction closed!

Read the rest of this entry »

A Family Vacation, Part II

This is a continuation of the story begun in a previous blog post, of a vacation misadventure in 1997.

Travel — August 1

I awoke at 10:30am, a bit bruised and stiff. If you are ever in a car accident, you discover that you tend to pull and strain muscles from the involuntary bracing. Once the adrenaline wears off, you discover you have sore spots where you didn’t even know you had spots. That was my state.

I got up, took some ibuprofin, and then typed a report about the accident into my laptop. I then faxed the whole thing, including the accident report case number and other information, to my insurance agent. I’ll let him worry about it from here. I’m on vacation. To relax. To reduce stress. Yeah, right.

We got packed up and loaded the car. We checked out at 1pm and went to a delayed brunch at a nearby restaurant that was not a pancake place. The only notable thing about this was that Elizabeth really had a nice lunch, and then a fantastic dessert: “Cup of Dirt.” This was a bowl of chocolate pudding, covered with a layer of crumbled oreo cookies (sans filling), with several big gummy worms intermixed. It looked disgusting, so she loved it.

After that, we drove south to Fort Myers Beach, where we have a suite in the Pink Shell Beach Resort, on Estero Island (near Sanibel and Captiva). We directly overlook a beautiful beach on the Gulf of Mexico. It was lovely.

After arriving, I crashed for 45 minutes and took a nap. Then we went in search of food. We ended up at a small restaurant in a marina. The place was called the “Rusty Pelican,” which I thought (and still think) is a great name for the beach, and had wonderful food. I had grouper and Kathy had mahi. Elizabeth said she wanted chicken, but then refused to eat any. In fact, she refused to eat anything. She dropped her napkin and silverware on the floor, spilled her water on the table and on Kathy, spit out some of her food on the plate, and started crying. Then she really began to misbehave. Clearly, the excitement of the past few days had caught up with her. We had to leave without dessert, but even with all that, we still had a table full of strangers come over and compliment us on how pretty and well-behaved Elizabeth was. They did not appear to be angry, sarcastic, psychotic people — they seemed quite sincere. I shudder to think about how their children must act!

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at the grocery store and got some basic supplies for the kitchen in the suite.

August 2

Arose earlier than on previous days. Had breakfast in the room. Then, we applied lots of sunscreen (but later learned we missed some sensitive spots) and went down to the beach. This was Elizabeth’s first experience with the beach, but she loved it (after a few minutes). The Gulf has warm water, gentle waves, and nice sand. She enjoyed sitting at the edge of the surf. However, this necessitated me taking her out into deeper water every 10 minutes and shaking about 10 pounds of sand out of her suit, introduced through the surf dragging her bottom through the sand. We spent an hour on the beach, and then adjourned to the pool for a while.

We returned to the room to rinse off, give Elizabeth a snack, and sort through some items. We also called my Dad and found that we had a new nephew, Liam, born Tuesday. Apparently, the day we left (Monday), my sister went into labor. The next morning, she gave birth to my latest nephew, Liam. Everybody else in her family is ill at the moment, so it has been a somewhat trying time. My brother-in-law, trying to juggle everything else going on, couldn’t find my cell phone number, so he called and left a message on our answering machine back home. Of course, Kathy and I haven’t been checking that…because I’d been carrying the dang cell phone around for the past week, getting it caught in every ride at Disneyworld and restaurant chair I sat in as we awaited the news. (It was an age when cell phones were really large and bulky.)

After lunch and a nap, it was back to the beach at low tide. Elizabeth wanted to look for shells and swim again. However, her approach to gathering shells was to pick up every piece of shell she sees, whether it is whole, a fragment, a rock, seaweed, a bottle cap or whatever. As soon as her hands got full, she dumped the lot in the water, and started again. Needless to say, this is not terribly productive from the point of view of a discerning collector, but it is mildly interesting to watch. It actually is a metaphor for how some people live their lives, I guess (except for the bottle caps). At least she had more fun than searching for the “perfect” shells.

After a quick dip in the pool, we returned to the room, shower, and dressed. Rather than tempt fate too much, we decided to play it safe and not go anywhere for dinner. Instead, we called a local pizza place with a good recommendation by the management. I ordered two salads, a small cheese pizza for Elizabeth, and a “deluxe” for Kathy & myself with green peppers on only half (of the pizza, not Kathy) — green peppers and Kathy don’t seem to get along very well. With that, we turned the TV on to Nickelodeon for Elizabeth.

A half hour later, there was a knock at the door. It was our pizzas. However, there were no salads. We pointed that out, and the delivery guy headed back to the store to fetch the salads. Elizabeth dived into her pizza and declared it “yum” — thankfully. Kathy and I opened our pizza to discover that they put green peppers everywhere. However, in a unique twist on this usual Murphy’s Law result, they have put only green peppers on half of the pizza — no cheese! The delivery man, when he returned, was as perplexed as we were. However, his manager was not on duty, so the best he could offer was to give us a coupon for half off our next pizza order…as if we were there at the beach to keep ordering pizza! Anyhow, Kathy proceeded to pick peppers placed on her pizza (tomorrow, she will sell seashells by the seashore). Then we all went to bed early. (And, to add that special touch to my vacation, Kathy has developed terribly sore bruises across her abdomen where the seat belt got her. She is unable to bend at the waist, or even tolerate even so much as a gentle hug from either Elizabeth or myself. Put your own punchlines here.)

August 3

Absolutely nothing terrible happened today — what a relief. We arose late, had breakfast, and played in the surf and then the pool for several hours. (Well, Kathy was too sore to play, actually, but she did wade.) We made up some lunch in the room (Elizabeth had more cheese pizza), then headed out to a nearby Walmart to get some sunburn lotion, some beach toys, and some additional grocery items. After that, and a short nap for Elizabeth, we headed back out to the beach while Kathy did some laundry. The tide was going out, so after a little swimming, Elizabeth and I walked down the beach a ways, picking up shells. Then we played some with her new beach toys. For her, this basically meant picking up sand and dumping it in the water, then filling her bucket with water and dumping it in the sand. She found it great fun.

Kathy finished the laundry and came out to join us. All three of us walked out through the water to a sandbar, now exposed by the low tide. On the way, the water never got above my waist, where earlier in the day the water was above my head; it was a considerable tide. On the sandbar, we joined lots of people (mostly kids — this is a popular family resort) looking for shells. I guess I’m particularly good at this — I dug up a clam, found over a dozen small hermit crabs and two blue crabs, several anemones, a jellyfish, and two sand dollars. (I released all of them afterwards.) One of the kids who was watching me pull these up found a brittle starfish. Elizabeth displayed her usual focus on such interesting things — by digging up sand and dumping it in the water.

Some of the older girls who were present were fascinated by the parade of sea creatures I came up with and one asked “Are you a scientist?” Afterwards, I realized I should have answered “Not simply a scientist — a mad scientist” and given my best maniacal laugh. However, Kathy quickly explained that I was not only a scientist, but basically a harmless old fart scientist. When I complained about this, she enjoyed pointing out that had the young lady been a few years older, she would have seen that for herself. Elizabeth’s only comment: “Look, Dad: sand!”

We then adjourned to the pool where Elizabeth had a great time with her new water wings. In fact, it took both Kathy & myself to drag her out and convince her it was time to leave (30 minutes after sunset!). By that time, she was exhausted and shivering from the cold. So, I ended up wrapping her in her towel and once again carrying her back to our room. This is why we got a 3rd floor room with no elevators, of course. A quick, warm shower, and we went out for a late dinner. We ended up, by accident, at a nearby restaurant somewhat off the beaten path. We had a great dinner, with Kathy & I each having scallops with crab stuffing. Elizabeth had most of a hotdog, then pushed her plate away and tried to go to sleep on the table. We took this as a broad hint, got our desserts to go, and headed back to the room.

Elizabeth went right to bed. Kathy & I had key lime pie, watched some TV, followed by news & weather, and we also turned in. I had trouble getting to sleep. For some reason, I kept having dreams of being abducted and held for ransom. Each time, the kidnappers couldn’t find anyone to pay the ransom. This kept waking me up. I didn’t get much sleep.

August 4

Elizabeth arose early, so we did too. After breakfast, she and Kathy went out to play in the surf and the pool. I stayed inside and did the dishes (lots of small ants had found the few dirty dishes we had left out the day before), cleaned up some of the things we had been accumulating over the last few days, and read some e-mail.

At noon I went out and joined Elizabeth & Kathy. Elizabeth was having great fun in the pool. When I got there, we decided to go back to the ocean. We had been there about 3 minutes when a thunderstorm blew in and we had to get out. Thus, I got a long, relaxing swim — not.

The storm blew in some cool weather, so after lunch we shut off the A/C and opened the windows. I decided to catch a nap, and Elizabeth decided she wanted one too, but it had to be with Daddy. So, she grabbed her blanket and stuffed animal, and climbed on the bed where I was trying to nap. She was asleep in about 30 seconds but kept moving about, keeping me awake. Sigh. She’s so cute, and she’s growing up so quickly. She looked so peaceful, asleep with her stuffed doggie. It was a magical moment, but a full bladder trumps magic, so I had to get up.

After E’s nap, we drove to Sanibel and Captiva Islands to look around. Some of the houses were absolutely amazing — similar houses in the Indianapolis area run for $1.5 million (that’s in 1997 dollars). I’m sure the real estate on these small islands is considerably more expensive; some of those waterfront lots probably cost many hundreds of thousands of dollars. However, the beaches there didn’t look any nicer than the one in front of our hotel. In fact, some of them looked rougher. The residents probably can afford to hire professionals to do their swimming for them, so it doesn’t matter.

Interestingly, we first noted at Sanibel and Captiva that many of the street signs are in English, Spanish, and … German? Then we realized that the hotel staff here on Estero Island is bilingual in German, our room has a Yellow Pages book in German, all the hotel literature is in German as well as English, and so on. I stopped by the children’s rec room, and the staff is also bilingual in German, and several of the signs on the wall were in German. There must be some logical explanation for this, but I am unable to come up with it, unless there is a secret base nearby with black helicopters and these folks are somehow related. I don’t think it would be wise for me to investigate further, and besides, it probably means the local beer is worth investigating!

We returned to the restaurant we had visited the night before. This was largely prompted by Elizabeth telling us every 30 seconds that she was hungry. So, we got our menus, Elizabeth said she wanted a hamburger, and Kathy & I ordered seafood. So, what happened? Elizabeth ate one bite and proclaimed herself “full.” Despite all our entreaties, she refused to eat any more, pronouncing it as “yucky.” She then had a meltdown in the restaurant when we told her no swimming unless she ate some of her food. So, we returned to the hotel, put Elizabeth to bed early, and watched TV for the rest of the evening.

I think we’re all ready to head home — I know I need a rest from this vacation. I also think Elizabeth has had too much excitement and isn’t sleeping well. Kathy isn’t sleeping well either, and we’re all sporting significant sunburns in patches where the sun block was put on unevenly or washed off. We don’t need heat exhaustion and car accidents — the dreaded vacation attrition effect is doing us in. Another 3 days and I either explode from boredom, or else give up my university position, learn German, and get a job here on the beach. As we must leave for my uncle’s tomorrow, I think the matter is decided.

Postscript

We visited my uncle & aunt, then got back home again with no further incidents, other than some additional sunburn. Nothing worth mentioning happened at all, except we had a relaxing and pleasant last few days. I totally burned out on keeping up my vacation diary, so this is the only text about it. But as it was really uneventful, that’s just as well.

Despite the lack of more adventure, I still didn’t get much sleep and returned much the worse for wear. Clearly, the only reason to go on a family vacation is to amuse Elizabeth, because I sure didn’t get anything out of it, and Kathy is still complaining about the bruises and the accumulated laundry. And we are continuing to find sand everywhere.

Looking back, this was a typical vacation for us. Sigh.

Poor application of risk assessment

I am cleaning out some old email and found a note I sent to our campus office of risk assessment a few years ago.   What prompted the letter was being told that my grant account was automatically being charged for university overseas travel insurance — despite the fact that I already had automatic, free comprehensive insurance through my credit card issuer.

I wrote to complain about the apparent lack of actual thinking about risk that went into the decision:

I want to point out that your insurance policy is actually rather silly, especially considering that I already have travel insurance through my credit card company at a level higher than your mandatory university insurance.

I am not a candidate for suicide or extreme alcohol abuse, and don’t participate in amateur events where I would sprain more than my brain. Because of my advisory positions, I actually have better coverage in war zones under the Geneva conventions than any insurance can provide, if taken prisoner. I am unsure about the AmEx coverage for civil unrest and unlawful acts (which I hope you have covered in the US at a similar level, as it is more likely here than at some overseas locations).

My chief concern is that I have at least partial (if not equivalent) coverage, and I assume many other Purdue faculty do as well. From a risk management point of view, the incident of significant loss for travel to most countries is extremely low, and the overall expected cost for aggregated insurance premiums would seem to be much greater than any anticipated loss where coverage is really needed.

For example, I am currently at Oxford University in the UK — not quite the “Mos Eisley” of world locations (“A wretched hive of scum and villainy”). Coverage for acts of war and natural disasters is really a rather questionable use of funds for this visit, especially given current budgets. Were I to head to Italy or Greece (active earthquake zones), or Russia or Mexico (significant crime problems) or to participate in the running of the bulls in Pamplona, then I could understand the need for additional coverage.

I appreciate that Purdue cares about evacuating my pitiful remains in the event of a disaster, or might possibly intercede if I was thrown into a Turkish prison on trumped-up charges (although please don’t ask my department head or colleagues for their endorsement of that action), but it seems to be an overall waste of my funds to compel blanket hazard insurance for all foreign travel when the risks are either partially covered, or not likely for every destination and traveller. Blanket decisions are usually in response to prior unanticipated, unusual instances and address risk perception rather than actual risk — and I know because I study this area (risk and security).

I encourage you to re-examine the policy.

Sadly, the policy was not changed, and I never got a good response to my email.

Too much security is based on faulty ideas about risk. Bob Courtney recognized this decades ago with his first two laws:

  • Courtney’s first law: You cannot say anything interesting
    (i.e., significant) about the security of a system except in
    the context of a particular application and environment.
  • Courtney’s second law: Never spend more money eliminating a
    security exposure than tolerating it will cost you. (See:
    acceptable risk, risk analysis.)

It is worth listening to Bill Murray explicate all 3 of Bob’s laws in one of his podcasts.

A Family vacation, Part I

Prologue

As I noted in previous postings in this blog, 15-20 years ago I wrote a regular series of essays, most intended to be humorous. This one was written in the summer of 1997, during the course of a family vacation when my daughter, Elizabeth, had just turned 4. I was reminded of this over the last week when we went to New York (city) to celebrate Elizabeth’s 21st birthday. This earlier vacation had some very memorable moments….

Because the story is so long, I am breaking it into two parts. I will post part II later.

This was originally written as a travel diary, day by day. It is very typical of every vacation we have ever taken; and people wonder why I am such a wreck…

The Story

Prolog

It has been 5 years since my last real family vacation — one where I ignored deadlines, didn’t have a business trip piggybacked on my travel, and where Kathy & I were both present in the same place at the same time. A lot has happened in that five years — our daughter Elizabeth was born, both my parents had bouts with cancer and my mother eventually succumbed to it, Kathy and I bought our first house, we sold my family’s house of 37 years (and thus, my childhood home), Kathy’s father died, I got tenure, I’ve been promoted twice, I established the COAST laboratory, I’ve traveled to Australia and Europe on business about 20 times, I’ve participated in the writing and editing of 4 major books, I missed being named one of People magazine’s “50 Sexiest People” every year running, and so on. You get the idea: a lot has happened, most of it adding to the stress level, whether the event was good or not.

So, after missing Elizabeth’s 4th birthday because of my travel, I decided it was important to get some family time away. Kathy and I thought about it and at Elizabeth’s urging resolved to go to Florida, to see Disneyworld and go to the beach.

I was not going to keep a journal because I thought the vacation would be uneventful and boring. Ha! I cannot be so lucky as to have something boring happen. Entropy swirls about me, and my life continues to fall, buttered-side down. Enclosed are my notes from the vacation.

Travel — July 28

Oddly enough, we got everything packed and accomplished in a timely manner. I even managed to get in to my office to dispose of some last-minute chores. The air conditioner didn’t break, as it did before my last trip. No toilets overflowed, as before my last trip (we have had a talk with Elizabeth about learning to use the potty — she does not need to contribute to global deforestation and plumbing problems by using a whole roll of paper each visit). In fact, everything was distressingly normal — an omen, if only I’d noticed.

Elizabeth refused to take a nap. In fact, she had not slept well for days because of all the excitement. She also had developed a cold. This, of course, was not good news. Kathy & I could imagine how enjoyable it would be to be on a plane flight with a child with a bad cold and plugged up ears, especially considering my history of difficulties in that arena. So, after a brief consultation with the pediatrician, we made some preparations. As we got to the airport, we gave Elizabeth a double dose of antihistamine and a few shots of nose spray — with her squirming, we believe some actually got in her nose.

We had gotten to the airport in a timely fashion (surprise!), and got on the plane with time to spare. Elizabeth asked for the window seat, and promptly pulled the shade. For the next 2 hours, she was more interested in pulling the shade up and down than in looking out the window. This about drove us nuts during the entire flight. Next time, she sits in the middle. Anyhow, on the advice of the pediatrician, we gave Elizabeth some bubble gum before the plane took off — the chewing is supposed to help her clear her ears. So, she chewed it for about 30 seconds, then swallowed it. Big help. She got a second piece after a long discussion about how to chew gum. Unclear on the concept, she now refused to chew. Sigh.

Other than that, the flight was uneventful. So was the landing, except for more lessons on chewing gum operation. However, thereafter we seemed to be prone to some misdirection. We waited a half hour for our luggage — only to discover that we had misheard the announcement about the luggage carousel, and had been waiting at the wrong place. So, we redirected ourselves and we then recovered our luggage. Then we went outside into the sauna of Florida to await the shuttle bus for rental cars. Because of construction at the pickup point and some poorly worded signs, we ended up waiting 20 minutes at the wrong spot. After seeing two buses drive by without stopping, we caught on. We relocated and got the shuttle.

So, we got to the car rental place, where another wait ensued. After some discussion, I got an upgraded car — a Chrysler LHS in Elizabeth’s then-favorite color: purple. We strapped her car seat in the back, and off we went. A drive across Orlando and two confused passes by the entrance to the hotel got us to the hotel where we were staying. Along the way, Elizabeth discovered the electric windows, so I had to engage the override lock on them to keep them closed. She also had been telling us during the whole car trip (about 30 minutes) how she was soooo hungry and wanted cheese pizza. Naturally, she fell asleep 30 seconds before I parked the car at the hotel office. So, I left Kathy & Elizabeth in the car while I went to register.

Lots of people seemed to be registering at 11:30 in the evening, oddly enough. So, there was a delay of nearly 15 minutes. However, I finally got through to register. Then, I walked into the store at the end of the lobby where they had … a Pizza Hut! I ordered their last cheese & mushroom pizza, and said I would be back in 15 minutes to get it.

As I exited the store, I saw Kathy coming towards me. Odd, she was alone. She greeted me with those four little words I so long to hear from her: “We have a problem.”

It seems that Kathy found a nice radio station while I was waiting to register. The music partially awakened Elizabeth, who asked for her mommy. So, Kathy hit the switch for the power locks to unlock the door, got out of the front seat, and went around to the back to get in next to Elizabeth to sit next to her. Only to discover that the door was locked. In fact, all the doors were locked. So, the car is running (for the A/C), the radio is on, Elizabeth is alone in the car with the keys, and we’re locked out. (We later discovered that the lock switch was faulty and had a shorting contact — it would not reliably lock or unlock the door on a regular basis, and sometimes would lock itself. Wonderful behavior.)

Kathy & I went to the car, pounded on the window, and tried to shout to Elizabeth to undo her seatbelt and unlock the door. The combination of the hour (11:45pm), the antihistamine, the radio noise, and her being almost asleep rendered this futile. All we succeeded in doing was making enough noise to partially awaken her and upset her. She began crying and refused to open her eyes. Sort of like her father on Mondays before his sixth cup of coffee, actually.

Our shouting attracted members of the staff, who loaned us a flashlight (the car was parked at the side of the building where there were no lights). We tried to use the flashlight to get Elizabeth’s attention. Some of the staff joined us in shouting Elizabeth’s name to try to get her to at least open her eyes to look at us. All this succeeded in doing was to get her hysterical and crying much more. I’m sure that years from now she’ll have some dim memory of being groggy, restrained by straps, hearing odd voices calling her name, and bright lights shining in her face. In other words, she’ll remember being abducted by aliens.

I called the car company, and after a long delay via voice mail (“Press 73 if you are calling from Idaho and wish to talk to an agent who speaks Estonian.”) they said they’d send out a service person to pick the lock. Meanwhile, about 10 of the staff had congregated about the car, bending coat hangers and trying to break into the car. At the same time, Kathy was trying to get Elizabeth to calm down. However, all efforts only succeeded in making Elizabeth even more hysterical — she heard her mother’s voice, sort of, but the radio and her crying drowned out the words, and this huge crowd of maintenance personnel, tourists, passersby, and so on were all shouting at each other on the other side of the car as to how best to break in. With Disneyworld and Sea World closed at this hour, this was the biggest open attraction and was drawing tourists from across the state.

So after many, many, MANY minutes of this circus, the staff got the door unlocked using several coat hangers together with a screwdriver and assorted materials. There were apparently no talented car thieves on staff after midnight. Kathy & Elizabeth were reunited, and I went to call the rental company to cancel the service call. Of course, the truck arrived as I was dialing the phone. And then to top it off, the store with the Pizza Hut had closed during the episode. Luckily, the night manager of the hotel was there. He went into the store, discovered that there was an unsold pizza (not ours — no mushrooms), and gave it to us without charge.

By the time we had unpacked, had some pizza, and got ready for bed, it was 1:30am. Naturally, I had trouble relaxing to get to sleep. I also awoke with heartburn from the pizza twice in the night. Restful.

July 29

We got up at 9:30 or so, missing the complimentary breakfast from the hotel. By the time we got ourselves around, we ended up having brunch at a pancake restaurant down the road. I should say, Kathy and I had lunch. Elizabeth ordered pancakes, and proceeded to proclaim them “yucky” because they didn’t taste right. This may have been because she put 4 different kinds of syrup on them, cut them into little pieces, and built a structure on her plate reminiscent of the mashed potato structure in “Close Encounters.” After apologizing for the mess and paying hush money to the waitress, we traveled on to Disneyworld, arriving at noon. We rented a stroller for Elizabeth, and headed off for “Fantasyland.”

The temperature was about 95 F, with high humidity. There were huge crowds, little shade, and no breeze; late July is not an optimal time to do things outdoors in Florida. About the only thing missing to make it perfectly hellish was some form of blood-sucking parasite, such as mosquitoes, leeches, or politicians. Actually, there was a close approximation — the vendors. Everywhere you turned, they were selling T-shirts at $20-$36 apiece (note: these were 1977 prices), stuffed dolls, or other souvenirs. What was especially galling was the price for bottled water or soda. $2 or $2.50 (depending on location) bought a 24oz bottle of chilled liquid. Considering that the heat and humidity were such that 24oz was approximately the volume of sweat exuded in 10 minutes, this was clearly a moneymaker for the Mouse Empire.

We spent the remainder of the day in basically the following pattern: park the stroller because it was not allowed inside attractions; stand in line for 45 un-airconditioned minutes, and 5 minutes with some partial A/C or breeze at the end; spend 5 minutes on the ride or exhibit; stand in line for 10 minutes to spend $5 for more water to replace what we lost in the previous hour; drag Elizabeth (or Kathy) away from several nearby vendors of overpriced merchandise; spend 10 minutes hunting for the stroller with our tag, parked amidst 100 other strollers; walk 100 ft to the next attraction; lather, rinse, repeat. We broke the monotony by making potty stops and once spending the equivalent of Elizabeth’s weight in gold for a hot dog and a small bowl of grapes as a snack. Clearly, Disney makes the movies to get kids to con their parents into visiting Disneyworld so Disney can perform this slow motion mugging.

An observation based on people watching. Very warm temperatures are uncomfortable. Therefore, people tend to try to dress in a fashion to keep from overheating (except for the Muslim women wearing full, black burkas or chadors — how they kept from bursting into flame from the heat is something that defies physics as we know it). Thus, it would seem to be a field day for a dirty old man in training such as myself. However, two factors came into play: (a) as the heat index rises, so does the level of babe-itude necessary to provoke a second look and the associated expenditure of calories (and the risk of a bat upside the head from the spousal unit), and (b) the 5% of the population that looks outstanding in short shorts and a bikini top other97.jpgis more than offset by the 25% of the population that does not but still abuses Spandex to the point of criminal offense (and structural failure). In general, it is not A Small World After All, but some people haven’t quite come to that realization. It shouldn’t take a trained scientist such as myself to deduce that the reason some women had hair standing on end and their ankles puffed out and draped over their sandals was not because of some odd genetic flaw, but because they had somehow crammed a size 16 body into a size 4 maillot. Not that the men were all that much more clueful — for instance, guys whose strong gravitational affinity would pancake a stout horse should not be allowed to purchase (let alone wear) Lycra bicycle shorts.

Despite all this, we had a good day visiting attractions. Elizabeth got her picture taken with Minnie, Pluto, Chip and Dale, Ariel the Mermaid, and Goofy (the Disney character, not her father). We also stayed for the 9pm parade of characters and floats, which was spectacular, and the 10pm fireworks.At this point, the heat, the excitement, the walking, and everything else caught up with poor Elizabeth and she basically collapsed. After we got to the stroller return, I had to carry her. In 95 degree heat and 200% humidity. For miles. Standing in line 30 minutes for the ferry back to the parking lot. Then to the car. Imagine carrying a 35 pound hot water bottle around your neck and chest for an hour in such heat, and you get the idea. By the time we returned to the hotel (midnight), I was done in and dehydrated.

July 30

Arose around 9:30 (again). Once again, a late start and breakfast at the pancake place. Again, we got to Disneyworld around noon. Only today, it was about 5 degrees hotter, and 150% again as humid. So, the day was like the one before, only more so.

Today, we decided to dispense with the stroller. We spent more time yesterday chasing after it than actually using it. So, we start off with the train ride to Adventureland, where we visited Tom Sawyer’s island, had lunch, and took the cable car to Tomorrowland. There, Kathy went to Space Mountain while Elizabeth and I visited the video arcade. Elizabeth played a “Whack the Alligator” game (she’s surprisingly good), and tried SkeeBall. She was only able to roll gutter balls, and that after abut 10 tries, but she felt it was a great accomplishment. As it kept her occupied and away from the Super Ninja Motocross Space Warrior Interactive Mayhem games, I was happy — I was tired of explaining that her feet wouldn’t reach the pedals, and she’d need to wait another year or two to send atomic photon torpedoes into targets resembling hungover mutant bunnies. Time enough for that when she’s 8. I plunked some quarters into a crane game to fetch her a stuffed purple bear (I’m good with such games); the bear has not left her grip in the 3 days since then, either. Then we sat at the Space Mountain exit to wait for Kathy. Elizabeth took a short nap — she hadn’t slept well the night before, and the heat was really getting to her.

We spent the rest of the afternoon on rides and at attractions in Tomorrowland. As evening fell, we went to Toontown, where Elizabeth finally got to meet Mickey (after 45 minutes in line). She also got to go on a small roller coaster. Then, we decided to leave before the fireworks to beat the rush to the exits. We left the park at 9:50 and got in line for the monorail to the parking area. We got to the top of the ramp as the nightly fireworks show started. We let people walk around us to get on the monorail as we leaned over the rail and watched the fireworks. Then we boarded the monorail and went to the parking lot. We stopped at a burger place for some food (we had skipped dinner), and ended up getting to bed slightly before midnight.

July 31

Real misadventure day. It started okay, but the weather was similar to the days before. We once again missed the complimentary breakfast by arising after 9am. This morning, instead of going for pancakes, I went to the hotel store and got a few snack items. We had a quick brunch and made it to the MGM theme park by 11:30.

Today was not as hot as Wednesday, but hotter than Tuesday, so it was still unpleasant. Luckily, this park was not so crowded. We traipsed around from attraction to attraction. About half of the things were not very interesting for Elizabeth — they were about movies or TV and had references to things she didn’t know about. However, she appreciated the air conditioning in most of them. She also liked the Little Mermaid show, the making of George of the Jungle show, and the backstage tour exhibits. Kathy & I enjoyed most of the other exhibits, too. Elizabeth loved the Muppet 3-D show. So did I. We even went through it a second time, taking Kathy along (Kathy had gone on the Star Wars simulator ride while we saw the Muppets the first time). Actually, of all the things I saw in the 3 days there, it was the most clever and entertaining. Afterwards, we all had lunch at Pizza Planet (really!), and saw more attractions.

Poor Elizabeth was simply exhausted by evening. I had to carry her about half the time, and she was getting awfully whiney. So, we decided to call it a day earlier than before, and started to head out around 7:30, after Kathy had taken the ride on the “Tower of Terror” (no relation to the Math/Science building at Purdue). However, at this point, Elizabeth declared that she was hungry and wanted to eat at the park. So, we went into the Brown Derby (this is the same as the ones in Hollywood). We had an outstanding meal, marred only by the fact that Elizabeth was extremely fussy and wouldn’t eat. With various bits of coaxing, threats, and assistance from our waitress, we got her to eat half her fish — the half that didn’t make it to the floor. We emerged from the restaurant right on cue for the fireworks to start.

If you visit Disneyworld at certain times of the year, there will be fireworks at Disneyworld, at Epcot, and at MGM Studios. I don’t know about the fireworks at Epcot, but the MGM fireworks were clearly better than at Disneyworld. They lasted longer, had more effects, and they choreographed them to classic movie tunes. It was really magical. We loved them.

We left the park and headed back the hotel, determined to get to bed by 11pm so we could get up, have the complimentary breakfast, and check out by the 11am deadline. We planned to drive through the Everglades to our next stop the next day.

As I was making a left turn into the access road to our hotel, a small Suzuki Samurai driven by a local resident sped through the yellow light and right into our car — she came from behind some traffic stopped at the intersection and I never saw it coming. The driver told a bystander that she had sped up to make it through the yellow (and then changed her story when the police arrived). The Samurai totaled the front end of our car, then bounced into a van waiting on the cross street. We were unhurt, except for bruises from our seatbelts. I was burned along both arms from the airbags going off (an altogether interesting experience, but not one I wish to repeat). We are so thankful that we suffered nothing other than friction burns from the seatbelts.

No one in the van was injured, either. However, in the Samurai, there were several injured people who had to be taken to a hospital. The back seat held two young children — neither in a child seat — who received some facial injuries, including one with a broken tooth. More seriously, in the front passenger seat was a teenager who was not wearing a seatbelt — he went headfirst into the windshield and sustained head, neck, and face injuries. He was taken out of the car on a backboard with a cervical collar in place. I have no idea what his condition was/is.

The police came and spent the next 2 hours writing up the report, calling in tow trucks, etc. The Suzuki and our car had to be towed off — they were both pretty much in ruins. Despite 2 or 3 witness claiming that she ran the yellow or red light, she claimed it was green, and the officer didn’t give her a ticket. However, he did indicate to me he was probably going to ticket her for not having child seats, and he might ticket her for not having the front passenger in a seat belt.

The tow truck driver, with the car in tow, gave us all a ride back to our hotel. It was almost amusing at the gate — showing the security guard the parking permit that had been in the car and telling him we’d only be a few minutes. We explained to him that it was best not to criticize Mickey Mouse when at Disneyworld — he has a mean temper. Kathy & Elizabeth went inside to go to bed (now at 12:30), and I went with the tow truck to the rental car office on the other side of Orlando.

At the office, I filled out some paperwork and was given a brand new LHS. I mean, really new. It had only 9 miles on it. And the locks worked correctly. I then added another 23 as I drove it back to the hotel. I managed to get to bed about 2:30. Luckily, Kathy had called the hotel manager and arranged a late checkout for us.

Continued in a subsequent post.

The Gory Details of My Social Media Presence

Over the last month or two, I’ve picked up a lot of new readers/links/friends/stalkers/tails/parasites&symbionts/alien monitors.   I hope it is because people find some of what I am posting to be of interest, as well as the usual infestation of spambots and imaginary beings (about 80% of my followers, I reckon). It is probably time to once again lay out a little about my online presence to help make things clearer to all of you bots (and to help me keep it straight). As it is, you may see multiple versions of me online and question your sanity, instead of spending your time wisely questioning my sanity.  So think of this as a service, to you.

About My Postings

First, I try to maintain three distinct, segregated streams of material in my social media. (Links are given at the end.) One stream is more or less related to my “day job” as a professor at a major university.  There, I post in a blog on an irregular basis.   I also maintain a Tumblr blog where I repost links from various on-line media about security, privacy, espionage, cybercrime, and related topics.  That blog is gated into a Twitter feed to which I sometimes add related tweets.  Along with all of that, I also sometimes put things into a Facebook group page and a LinkedIn group, both of which are for people interested in CERIAS at Purdue University.  I have a LinkedIn account that I use to maintain contact with others. I have profiles at ResearchGate and Academia.edu that I don’t do a good job of maintaining, but may be of value. All of this tends to be  serious and professional, and sounds like more that it is.

A second stream is more play oriented, but sometimes serious.  In my WordPress blog I post items of a personal nature — sometimes intended to be funny (such as my New Year’s resolutions) or quirky (such as my history of my branch of the Spafford family).   I maintain an active Twitter account as myself, and a Facebook account.  In both there will be a range of the bizarre and the unusual that make me laugh or shake my head: basically, things that I think are worth seeing.  Readers will also pick out some of my thoughts on politics, posers, organized religion, and annoying celebrities (among others); I’m not too reserved about some of my views. The Twitter and Facebook feeds have some cross-connect, but the feed-across is sporadic — if you are constructing a psych profile on me, you should probably follow both.  I also post answers to Quora from time to time, and images to Pinterest.  I maintain a legacy mailing list named web-heads that gates into a Tumblr blog, that then dumps into my Twitter feed with the tag #webheads; anything with that hashtag in my Twitter or Facebook feeds thus may have been posted by someone else on the list who is similarly demented.  NONE of my posts in these outlets should be construed as having any official endorsement or connection with official positions or activities of my employer or organizations I work with.  Stated differently, these are my own peculiar views only and I am the only person to blame (well, maybe my family influenced me). Note that these posts may well include items of an adult nature, so beware if you are easily offended.

My third collection is not quite out in the open as an independent stream.  I am past-chair of the US Public Policy Council of ACM, and a member of the ACM Council. I am involved in activities related to ACM, IEEE, ISSA, AAAS and other professional organizations. You may see posts in some places from me related to those.  In particular, there is a shared USACM Twitter feed to which I sometimes contribute.  Those outlets shouldn’t be viewed as related to either of the first two streams.

I do not use Google+ regularly for any of these!  I don’t like their policies of tying everything to that account, and I don’t like the interface and lack of connection to other social media.  In particular, I use some scripts and services to post items across services and at metered “doses” and those don’t work well with Google+. (And yes, I am not overly fond of Facebook, either, but it is the only way of keeping my semi-sporadic contact with some of my friends.)

BTW, I have a bunch of other accounts that you aren’t likely to see active any time soon — Flickr, YouTube, BuzzFeed, and even MySpace, among others.  I set those up simply so there wouldn’t be anyone else sending stuff out as “spaf”. Unfortunately, I got to a few too late, plus a few require that usernames be more than 6 characters long.  Thus, Twitter and others have names such as “TheRealSpaf” as identities.

You may be wondering where I find the time to post all of this stuff.   The answer is in parts.  First, I actually am limited a lot of the time: I have a chronic issue that sometimes limits my ability to type.  I thus have less productivity than many of my peers, especially because it becomes more difficult to hit deadlines. Short posts and mouse clicks are much easier for me when my hands hurt.  Second, I have chronic insomnia, so a lot gets shared with a few mouse clicks when I should be asleep (or sedated).  And third, I use several bots and scheduled jobs to meter out material over time rather than the bursty schedule at which I actually use the services.   This is basically a trick from Mother Nature — I use fluff and timing to make myself appear bigger to potential predators, er, the orderlies.  Note that there are likely to be quiet periods where you don’t see much from me: I’m either busy, my hands are messed up, or I’ve been abducted by a UFO.  Again.

If you have questions or comments on anything I post, please let me know.   If you want to repost any of the items be sure to use the appropriate mechanism.  In particular, if you want to use material from my blogs then either quote excerpts with appropriate credit, or provide a link back to the original.  That is polite, professional, and legal.

Linking to Others

If I don’t know you and have not interacted with you in some significant way, don’t bother to ask that I “friend” you on Facebook.  As it is, I need to trim what I have.  However, you can “follow” my posts if you want to see them — almost all are public.

If you can prove who you are and that there is a reason I should connect with you on LinkedIn, I may.  The threshold is lower there than Facebook, but still non-trivial.  You can ask someone I have as a trusted contact to vouch for you, and that is usually enough if you have a good reason for connecting.

If you try to send me spam, I will report it and block you.   Same general response with things that are intended to insult me, or are full of bigotry or vitriol towards any group not itself devoted to bigotry and/or vitriol.  That doesn’t mean you have to agree with me on everything.   I have many friends and corresponding links where we cannot have a conversation about politics or religion without getting a little spirited.  I value reasoned differences, but don’t expect me to keep quiet with my opinions!

Professional Stuff

Personal Stuff

Miscellaneous

…and…

If you are interested in miscellany about me, you can check out:

Letting Go

Several things all crossed my path recently that have a common theme: letting go. For some people, moving on is simple. For others, it is difficult. And for some people, it is impossible. So, for Father’s Day I thought I’d jot down a few thoughts on the topic.

What do I mean by “letting go”? Many things. Accepting change. Accepting some things have passed. Getting over the death of someone close. Ending a relationship. Leaving a stage of life. Embracing now-grey hair. Saying goodby to hair itself. Accepting getting winded going up the stairs. Giving up seeing your toes while standing. No longer getting through a day without a nap. Selling a family home. Replacing a favorite car. So many other things fit the theme.

By nature, some of us get so used to people and places and states of being that the disruption of change is painful. We also have emotional ties that can make it more difficult. It seems to be the human way for many of us, although a few of us seem to relish change, and there are times in our life when we long for it.

I remember when I was in my early 20s, I was eager to get out into the world, on my own, and start to “live my life.” I didn’t realize until many years later how much I’d miss the actual life I was living, surrounded by my family and close access to places where I had cherished memories. I have new memories, and new cherished family & friends that I did not dream of then, but I cannot help but miss those times. I had to let go — in my case, while driving from NY to Atlanta to begin grad school — but I have never really turned away. I miss those times and people and places, and on the (very) infrequent times I get back to that part of the country I am sometimes overwhelmed with memories triggered by the smallest things (mentioned in one of my earlier posts here). Later, as I left Atlanta to move to Indiana and start at Purdue, I had some of the same “letting go” pains from my time in grad school. And undoubtedly, if I leave Indiana and Purdue for something else, it will be traumatic — maybe more so, as I have lived here longer than any other place — yet it will require letting go to move to something else.

We all handle letting go in different ways, and a lot of that depends on what it is we think we are relinquishing.

I was reminded of this on news of an acquaintance’s much-beloved wife dying, and his hostile reaction to some expressions of solace from others. He didn’t want memories — he was not ready to let go. She is gone, but he has so many memories and such a different life because she was there; she is not really gone in every sense, but he doesn’t yet understand how to let go of the part of her that is no longer there.

I was reminded of this with discussion with a good friend, who is having difficulty coping with his daughter’s pending departure, first to travel, and then to college. He is having trouble letting go of his not-so-little girl. I was reminded how that same situation moved me to tears a year ago….although a chronic illness has brought her home indefinitely, and I will have to suffer that departure yet again. There is a sense of loss at the routine, at the things that I wish we had done together or could do again. Yet, there is a certain pride about her independence and dreams, and a realization that — at some point — she will need to be on her own. But dammit, does it need to be so soon?

I was reminded at Memorial Day of how many people had to let go of someone before their time should have been done. Yet, how different our lives (and the lives of millions of others) been had they not stepped up to the unknown.

Last week, I ran across a gift from a past girlfriend, and I was reminded of the good times we had 40 years ago. She and I are still friends, and I wish there wasn’t such a distance between us because she still makes me smile.

I realized when I stumbled across a picture that my high school graduation was 40 years ago this month.

I was reminded of a former dear friend who, a few years ago around this time seemed to have lost her mind and become a different person. I had the hardest time letting go until I discovered she had been lying to me about a great many things — the person I thought I knew may never have existed. It was difficult to let go of that imaginary person.

I was reminded of several friends who have drifted away in time, and a few special ones who died too soon — LinkedIn and Facebook recently prompted me to remember their birthdays, and a whole set of memories came flooding back. I miss some of the laughter and solace and insights. Some of them are only a phone call away, but we have had to let go because of time and space, and making that call too often would mean having to let go all over again.

I was reminded of this as something caused me (yet again) to think of my own mortality, and the question of whether I will do all I hope to do before then? Some things already slipped from my grasp. Am I ready to let go of some of those dreams?

Letting go is necessary for each of us, to provide “room” for new experiences, and to help us grow as people. There is a saying (Zen, I believe) that anything we cannot bear to lose, owns us; the goal of life is to be free of all owners. Perhaps none of us really requires anything beyond ourselves, but the reminder of the richness that people and routine bring to us makes it difficult for some of us to let go. People who are eager for each new thing can’t quite understand that, it seems.

I know that one of my own faults is that I don’t move on easily enough, at least in my personal life. I get too comfortable with things around me that may not be as good as they could be, but I don’t want to expend the energy to change to something less certain. When I was dating, I was seldom good about break-ups — I couldn’t accept they were over, and (in retrospect) that probably made them worse. I am not good at dealing with the inevitable, either — the cancers that took my grandmother and mother, for instance, or my daughter’s chronic health issues. I react with continual searching for some “fix” and hold out hope for a miracle (not in the religious sense). Again, in retrospect, I probably hold on too long. I know I am not alone in this.

I wonder if there is something genetic in this? When I was blogging about some genealogical research on the Spafford family line, I noted “… family motto has been rendered as Fidelis ad extremum or ‘Faithful to the extreme.’ Another version has been “Rather Deathe than false of Faythe,” which is rather the same thing.” I gather that my forebears were not particularly good of letting go, even of lost causes.

Father's Day 1956May 2007

In one sense, a failure to give up is a failure to surrender to adversity. It is a testament to hope. The people who refuse to let go of hope, of life, of success, of love — they may not always succeed, but sometimes they do simply because they persist when others would have surrendered. There is survival benefit for some of us who don’t let go so easily — there is some chance we may yet succeed. The key is understanding when to continue, and when to let go. As one aphorism goes, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. But then, give up so you don’t look like a damn fool about it.”

Today is Father’s Day. I remember my father, sometimes clearly and sometimes not. I lived under the same roof with him for 21 years, and another 30 years in relatively close touch. He worked so hard to make a good home for us, and to provide whatever he could for my sister and me to succeed. Yet, I seem to have only a few memories I can summon up at will — there are many buried, but I need something to jar them loose. I haven’t let go — time has taken a toll. I realize it will be this way with my daughter, who apparently hasn’t yet realized it is Father’s Day today, and I am a little saddened that I may not be much of a memory to her. Yet, I think about how much of who I am was shaped by my father in all those years, and I know that my influence will be there as long as she lives, and maybe even passed down to any children she may have. Given the nature of life and time, I really can’t expect much else.Me & Liz

Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting.

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there, and to the children who have been shaped by them. Don’t let go of the memories or the opportunity to yet shape them. If your father is within reach, give him a hug. Or heck, if any father is in reach — to let go, sometimes you need to embrace, first!

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