Confessions of a Rocket Scientist

Update: My Heart

2007-08-22T13:19:00.000-04:00

Since my surgery I have had a few ups and downs, but mostly I am on the road to recovery. I really feel good, but it took a lot of work to get here. And I still have a long way to go. But with God's help and my dear wife's constant care, I think things will be all right.
I'm back at work. There's a bit of adjustment going on since my former boss quit. The new boss has a significantly different vision about software quality and where I can best contribute. I have some reservations about it, but I think I can work with him. We shall see.
I started cardiac rehab in April. This is a program of exercise performed while being monitored. It really wasn't so bad. Believe it or not, I actually enjoyed it. Well, I suppose I could have done without being so tired, but I really felt good when I worked out. I exercised on a treadmill, a stationary bike, a recumbent cross-trainer (called the Nu-Step) and a kind of an arm bike called the Sci-Fit. And I also did some resistance training on the weights. Not bad for somebody who avoided exercise like a tax audit.
Sometime in June I developed atrial fibrillation. My heart rate was high and I had some difficulty with exertion. The doctors had to play with my medication and for a while I was not allowed to exercise. They managed to get my heart rate down to something reasonable, but the fibrillation was still there. So they did a procedure called Electro Cardioversion. They shocked my heart.
It's kind of like where they use the paddles and yell "Clear!" on TV, but they used electrodes instead of paddles and I was asleep for it. It worked. My heart went back into a nice sinus rhythm, but now I had to get my medication re-adjusted. For a while I would get dizzy and came close to passing out, but soon I was feeling quite well.
I felt a big difference in my exercise sessions. I could push myself a little harder, especially on the treadmill. I wasn't exactly running a marathon, but I was moving at a fair clip and feeling quite good.
Unfortunately, during one of my sessions, I passed out.
I don't remember much about actually passing out. I was tooling along on the treadmill, having finished nine minutes of a ten-minute workout, when I was suddenly aware that people had caught me and placed me in a chair. I had no memory of losing consciousness. Fortunately, I was being monitored, and the monitor told the tale. My heartbeat had gone from about 110 to 60. It was like suddenly getting half of the oxygen you needed.
My doctor had an explanation. He called it a double block. Basically, my natural pacemaker was temporarily confused and thought my heart had already beat. This can be caused by an imbalance of the very drugs I was taking. So he took me off Digoxin and cut my Toprol dosage in half.
Since the incident I have not passed out again. I finished my cardiac rehab and am now wearing something called a Cardionet monitor. It's like the Holter monitor only it is worn for ten days and it uses cell phone technology. I have had it for a week, and the first unit they sent me broke down while I was wearing it.
I go on vacation in two weeks.

Googling Myself

2007-08-22T13:14:00.000-04:00

Try this some time. Put your name in Google and do a search. I tried it and I was directed to my own blog. Of course, that was the only actual reference to myself in the search. I was surprised to discover just how many William Sullivan's exist in cyberspace. And they appear to have done pretty well for themselves. Several are attorneys, and one or two have been elected to fairly high office. Lots of doctors, and plenty of business owners. So maybe there's hope for me!

Recovering From Heart Surgery

2007-04-09T12:50:00.000-04:00

It has been over a year since I posted anything to my blog. I have a bit of free time on my hands right now due to recent developments. The big news is that I have had open heart surgery. Fortunately I am on the road to recovery.

I suppose it started back in December. I was in NYC for training when I noticed I was having difficulty negotiating that stairs on the subway. It got to the point that I abandoned the subway and used taxis to get to my class every day. I resolved to exercise more and get back in shape. Unfortunately, all of my efforts were counter productive.

By February I was having trouble just walking. I could not walk more than 50 feet on level ground without stopping to rest. I was totally out of breath and my heart was pounding in my chest like I had run a marathon. I knew something was seriously wrong, so I called my doctor. After he examined me he suspected pneumonia and sent me to our local hospital, Grand View Hospital in Sellersville, PA.

Once in the hospital I was given an electro-cardiogram. I had more than pneumonia, I had severe atrial fibrillation with a resting heart rate if about 130. I was in heart failure. My heart was severely out of synch and not pumping efficiently. I was admitted immediately. I soon was hooked up to IV antibiotics as well as heparin and lasix.

I was given a number of tests including a stress test and finally a cardiac catheterization. This test involves inserting probes into the femoral artery and injecting dye. The results told the story. I had about a 50% blockage of two arteries. This could normally be handled with a balloon angioplasty and stents. But I had another problem. My aortic valves were damaged and needed replacement. I would need surgery.

I have to confess that the very prospect of heart surgery frightened me like nothing else could. My father had died on the table getting a bypass. My mother died from heart disease. I really thought I was facing my death. But at this point, arguably the lowest point of my life, I felt a Presence. Some of you may scoff, but I truly believe that God came to me at that moment, to give me comfort, to hold me in His arms and assure me that I was His child and He would see me through this. I can't explain it rationally. I can only tell you just what I felt and how I felt. At that moment I knew that I would be all right.

My doctor tells me that God never closes a door without opening another. But waiting in the hallway can be Hell. I was transferred to Doylestown Hospital where open heart surgery is offered. It would be two more weeks before I had the surgery.

The surgeons who would perform my surgery were the very best around. They are associated with Temple University in Philadelphia. The surgeon who would operate on me was highly skilled. He performs transplants among other things. He explained that I needed two bypass grafts and possibly three sets of valves replaced. He expected the procedure to last up to eight hours. He also told me that there was a 20% chance I may not survive the surgery. I can do math. That meant there was an 80% chance I would make it. I could afford to gamble on those odds. Okay, lets do it.

Now I have to say, the surgeons are incredibly careful and meticulous to a fault. I was examined head to toe to disclose any condition that might be adverse to the surgery, particularly by causing an infection. X-rays disclosed an abscessed tooth, and a CAT scan revealed a kidney stone blocking my ureter. Both had to be taken care of before surgery. Once I was declared infection free, I was cleared for the main procedure.

The night before surgery I had to shower with a special surgical soap. This was repeated the morning of surgery. My family arrived that morning to wish me luck. My wife and my two sisters were in my room as I was wheeled down to the Operating Room.

I don't remember a lot about the operating room. I had spoken with God on my way down and was certain He was watching out for me. I remember moving onto the table, being strapped in, and having IV's hooked up. The doctors and nurses all were upbeat. I caught a glimpse of the surgical instruments over to the side, but by this time the IV drugs had me very calm. A mask went over my face. I caught a whiff of agent in the oxygen.

That was the last thing I remembered. I did not dream. My next conscious memory is of being in my room in ICU. My family was there and talking to me. The surgeon told me it was over and I had done well. I was awake and could hear everybody, but was unable to move or acknowledge them in any way.

Most remarkable, it was only 1 o'clock. The operation was not as complicated as expected.

It took a few hours to come completely out of anesthesia. I had a ventilator tube in my throat that was removed. And I was sitting up out of bed a few hours later.

I have to say that I am surprised at just how good I felt. I was up walking the day after surgery. I soon had the chest tubes removed and could walk around pushing my IV pole. Four days later my IV's were disconnected and I was allowed to go outside onto a balcony. I breathed open, fresh air for the first time in a month. And the next day I went home.

A nurse comes out to visit every few days, and soon will no longer be needed. I am walking up to 15 minutes at a time and can walk up steps. I do get tired quickly and need a few naps during the day, but I can feel myself grow stronger. I start cardiac rehab in two weeks.

Throughout my ordeal, my Dear Wife has been my rock. She has been strong for me and has vowed to whip me back into shape. Without her I know I would never have made it. I am truly blessed to have a true life mate. She has helped me organize my medication, accompanies me on my daily walks, and gives me a good kick in the ass when I need it. Thank you, Betty, for 35 years of marriage and a lifetime of happiness. I love you more than I could ever express with words, and could not repay your devotion had I a hundred lifetimes to do so.

Radical Middle-of-the-Road Arise!

2006-02-28T12:20:00.000-05:00

I am really tired of the national agenda and the national debate being seized by the lunatic fringe.
I live in a “blue” state. This means that I am a communist-leaning unreconstructed hippie liberal who wants to destroy all trace of God in our nation while rounding up all of the pregnant women and tearing the unborn children from their wombs (presumably with a partial-birth abortion.) I want to dismantle the armed forces, forcibly remove and destroy all privately owned firearms, and freely distribute narcotics, pornography, and condoms to all preschool children.
I am a Christian. This means that I am a registered Republican (just like God.) I want our legislature to outlaw abortion, birth control, homosexuality, and evolution. Intelligent design will be taught in our schools, and all godless content will be expunged. Schoolchildren will be required to pray daily and marksmanship will be a required course. This is what Jesus would want.
I am a scientist. This means that I am a secular humanist, an atheist, and want to destroy all reference to God and faith in society. All churches will be compelled to teach Darwin from the pulpits, and heterosexual marriage will be banned.
At least, that’s what people keep telling me.
It occurs to me that most of us, the normal people in America, are not that radical. We want pretty much the same thing. We want a nice home, a decent job, and a bit of protection from our government. There are a lot of things we disagree on, but generally we get along. This is because we have learned how to compromise.
Compromise: according to the lunatic radicals, that means failure. The uncompromising man of principle is to be admired, and the weakling who compromised our precious ideals is to be detested. What a load of crap! Compromise is the American way! It means that you don’t get every little thing you want, but neither does the other guy. You get something, and he gets something. It’s a peaceful and honorable way for reasonable people to solve disagreements.
An “uncompromising” individual should be labeled just what he really is: stubborn. He is like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum because he wanted daddy to bring him a glass of water from the kitchen, not from the bathroom. He should have been soundly spanked when young and taught that such behavior is quite unacceptable in polite society.
Unfortunately, our society has become far too tolerant of petulant children throwing temper tantrums, regardless of their chronological age. We reward the bleating talk-show host who pisses and moans about how the world sucks because it does not conform to his own personal vision. We give unending coverage to nuts that set up picket lines protesting the War in Iraq and Roe vs. Wade every time a new McDonald’s opens.
It is long past time we said enough is enough! It is time to make clear to these nuts that we will no longer tolerate their childish antics. It’s a damn shame that you can’t handle snakes or chant in tongues in the public school! Tough shit! It’s a damn shame you can’t fire up a doobie in the park or burn the flag whenever you like. Boo, hoo, you’re breaking my heart! Suck it up and take it like a man! You will NOT get everything you want handed to you on a silver platter. Your rights end where my nose begins! Grow up and do something useful like the rest of us!

The Shot Heard Round The World

2006-02-20T13:06:00.000-05:00

By now (unless you have been living in a fallout shelter on a deserted island) you have heard the news about Dick Cheney’s hunting accident. Basically he shot Harry Whittington, an associate and hunting buddy, in the face. Just about everybody figures it was a tragic accident. The controversy is in the fact that he didn’t release the news for about 36 hours.

The press is salivating. What’s he got to hide?

Personally, I think this is all a cover-up for the real secret, the one-pellet theory! I mean, who knew Cheney bought his ammo from Arlen Specter?

Deck Us All With Boston Charlie

2005-12-13T18:02:00.000-05:00

One of my fondest Christmas Traditions was the annual recitation of "Deck Us All With Boston Charlie" in the comic strip Pogo. I knew that Christmas was really here when Walt Kelly's cast of characters (Howland Al, Albert the Alligator, and of course, Pogo Possum) trotted out their mangled lyrics and proceeded to argue over just what the real lyrics were. (Grundoon, of course, knew all 168 verses, but only on the drum!)

For those who share my fondness for a certain southern marsupial and his friends and neighbors in the Okeefenokee Swamp, I offer this. Merry Crispness!

Words by Walt Kelly
Music by Traditional (whoever he is)

Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!

Don't we know archaic barrel
Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou?
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!

Bark us all bow-wows of folly,
Polly wolly cracker 'n' too-da-loo!
Donkey Bonny brays a carol,
Antelope Cantaloupe, 'lope with you!

Hunky Dory's pop is lolly gaggin' on the wagon,
Willy, folly go through!
Chollie's collie barks at Barrow,
Harum scarum five alarm bung-a-loo!

Dunk us all in bowls of barley,
Hinky dinky dink an' polly voo!
Chilly Filly's name is Chollie,
Chollie Filly's jolly chilly view halloo!

Bark us all bow-wows of folly,
Double-bubble, toyland trouble! Woof, woof, woof!
Tizzy seas on melon collie!
Dibble-dabble, scribble-scrabble! Goof, goof, goof!

George Bush Joins the "War on Christmas!"

2005-12-02T10:59:00.000-05:00

Jerry Falwell and his Religious Wrong buddies have been bitching for weeks now about government agencies and store clerks saying "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas." But it looks like Jerry forgot to tell President George W. Bush and First Lady Laura Bush, and the Republican National Committee didn’t get the memo about the preferred religiously correct greeting.
The White House's 2005 holiday card is just out, and it doesn't mention the word "Christmas" once. This card, mailed under the auspices of the Republican National Committee and signed by the president and his wife, reads, "With best wishes for a holiday season of hope and happiness 2005." It also includes a passage from the Old Testament Book of Psalms.The front cover is an artist's rendition of the White House and grounds covered with snow while the presidential pets, two dogs and a cat, frolic on the lawn. It contains no religious symbolism. Did the President just sorta forget about Baby Jesus?
Two weeks before Halloween, Falwell attorneys called a press conference and threatened to sue public schools and government agencies that fail to acknowledge Christmas to Falwell's liking. They have also been complaining about department stores and malls using "Happy Holidays" signs and greetings. Most recently, Falwell went apeshit when the city of Boston issued a press release announcing the arrival of its "holiday tree." Fox News Channel commentator Bill O'Reilly jumped right on the bandwagon, carping nearly every night about the alleged "war on Christmas." But neither Falwell nor O'Reilly has yet to say one word about the president and first lady's secular holiday greetings.
Hey, guys, fair is fair. It you’re going to take Wal-Mart and Target to task for secularizing Christmas I would expect you to attack such a gaffe from our country’s leader with equal vigor. We should be especially critical of such a lapse from a self-proclaimed born-again Christian who had no qualms about wearing his faith on his sleeve to get votes. Where is the moral outrage from the fanatic fundies? Or could it be that Falwell realizes he can’t get any contributions from his cerebrally challenged legions by attacking Dubbya?

My Men's Room Test

2005-12-01T15:08:00.000-05:00

So far this new job has been all right. I have been in a sort of limbo while the QA staff plugs away at the latest release. They want to finish it in time for the last deployment which will occur this weekend. This will be the last big release of the year and they want to get it finished in time for the holidays. I don’t blame them. The effect on me is that they can’t take the time to personally guide me through the ins and outs of their test process. They have made a few attempts, but they have mostly had to concentrate on the task at hand and let me fend for myself. I’m taking advantage of the situation to poke around and get familiar with the setup and to improve my own knowledge of xml. Hopefully this situation will improve by next week.

In the process of interviewing for this gig I had to visit a lot of places, from Center City Philadelphia to the far-flung reaches of Boyertown. Bethlehem is not too terribly far a commute compared to some of the places I interviewed. And at every place I interviewed I applied my men’s room test.

Here’s how the men’s room test works. At some point during the interview I ask if I can be excused to use the men’s room. I like to do this just before the interview if possible. I try to use the actual men’s room I would be using if I worked there. You can tell a lot about a place by the way they maintain their men’s room. If the place is well kept, well lit, and well stocked, one can assume that the company truly values its employees and pays attention to minor details. On the other hand, a dirty, dark, and poorly maintained men’s room betrays either a company’s condescending attitude toward its staff or a disregard for details. A bad men’s room indicates a bad work experience.

I have no direct experience with ladies’ rooms, but I assume the test is equally valid.

I ignored my men’s room test only once, and regretted my decision to accept a position at that particular place. Fortunately my association with this outfit was mercifully brief.

Right now I work in a 3-story building. The men’s room is common for all occupants of the second floor. The building management firm does an admirable job of keeping it clean, well lit, and well stocked. I have no complaints for the most part. Occasionally I will find some paper towels on the floor or water splashed on the countertops, but the custodial staff takes care of this pretty regularly. The bathrooms on the first floor are locked, and certain people are given a key. I am one of the privileged. The first floor men’s room seems to be cleaner and better maintained.

To take this analogy a little further, I have noticed that the deterioration of conditions in a company’s men’s room often coincides with the deterioration of that company. The last two places I worked (both of which suffered from that new sort of economic debacle which corporate America euphemistically calls “restructure”) were prime examples: as corporate fortunes declined, so did the men’s room.

So keep an eye on where you crap. It is very likely an indicator of your company’s future.

Putting the "X" in Xmas, or, The Phantom Menace

2005-11-30T13:02:00.000-05:00

Every year about this time we are newly inundated with holiday noise. A lot of folks with the intention of somehow getting your money into their pockets are vying for your attention. Merchants come to mind right away with their admonitions to Buy Buy Buy their stuff. Pickpockets take a more direct approach, relieving marks of their hard-earned cash. And among the loudest noisemakers we find the annual crowd of “religious” types, ostensibly concerned at the alarming secularization of a supposed religious holiday, but actually motivated by a need to augment their coffers.
The latest assault is actually a recycled attempt to “keep Christ in Christmas.” The holy rollers and televangelists raise their electronic voices in righteous indignation at the merchants, government officials, liberals, and the ACLU at their attempt to further secularize this holiest of holidays! How dare we ignore the very reason for this celebration, the birth of Jesus? And they always manage to bring up the use of the letter “X” in place of the name of Christ. Oh, by the way, send us a generous contribution so we can continue to do the Lord’s work and prevent the godless secular humanists and the ACLU from stealing the holiday from Christians.
God spare me from fundies!
Folks, this might be news to you, but the holiday we celebrate in December has always been a secular one. It derives from ancient Germanic observance of the Winter Solstice, Yule. Such traditions as the Yule Log, the Christmas tree, Wassail bowls, and the hanging of boughs of holly and mistletoe are directly lifted from the Northern European Yule observance. The birth of Christ was traditionally celebrated on January 6, and is still observed on this date by Eastern Orthodox churches. Although the early Germanic peoples accepted Christianity, they persisted in observing their Yuletide festivities. The Church was alarmed at their inability to eradicate pagan holidays, so they simply re-designated the celebration of Christmas to coincide with Yule and put a Christian face onto a pagan holiday.
The issue of putting the “X” in “Xmas” is also easily explained. The name of God is sacred to many devout believers in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Among orthodox Jews the name of God is never written, lest it be inadvertently desecrated. In the past, many devout Christians shared this sentiment and substituted the letter “X” for the word “Christ.” This sentiment continues into the early 20th century where many American Christians considered a public display of Christ’s name in a secular context to be disrespectful. In order to show proper respect and reverence for the name of Christ, they would substitute the letter “X.” Thus, the practice of putting the “X” in “Xmas” does not come from a bunch of godless secular humanists, but from devout believers motivated by a sense of devotion and respect.
This argument, of course, does not impress your average fanatic fundie. It is brushed aside with loud thumps upon the bible from which he will quote chapter and verse to obfuscate any logic presented.
Myself, I kind of like the religious observances of Christmas. There is a hobby shop in Lansdale that always has a Nativity scene on display this time of year. I always compliment the proprietor on his display and make it a point to thank him. The proprietor is not displaying the Nativity scene to separate anybody from their cash. His wares are sufficient for that task. He just likes to acknowledge the reason we celebrate in his own way. Whether he displays it or not, many customers will find their way to his shop and gladly part with huge wads of cash still smoldering from spontaneous combustion in their pockets in order to take home a new locomotive, an RC airplane, or (in my case) some new rocket goodie.
Let’s face it, folks, this latest campaign is more about raising money than raising awareness. Falwell and his gang have manufactured this crisis in order to pay for their latest batch of Rolex watches and designer suits. They would have you believe that there is an active conspiracy on the part of those stinking liberals to remove Christmas from public life. They blame the same gang of perpetrators (liberals, gays, the ACLU) that they blamed for the 911 attack. And they are just as full of shit as ever. Make no mistake about it, they are exploiting the human need for a boogeyman to line their pockets, and are proving, in the process, that Boobus Americanus is not an endangered species.
If you really need to give some money to a religious organization this holiday season, might I recommend the ubiquitous bell-ringers of The Salvation Army? This organization might be a conservative Christian church that advocates family values, but they also live the Christian ethic by providing freely to the neediest of God’s children. Your money will do a lot more good feeding the hungry than it will paying for Falwell’s wardrobe.

Panic

2005-11-29T12:05:00.000-05:00

Priorities have this incredible way of suddenly shifting.

Yesterday was a work day for Betty, my dear wife. She works at Grand View Hospital on the 3-11 PM shift. (No, she isn’t a nurse.) I work the day shift. On her work days, if we can manage, I like to take her dinner. Last night dinner was pizza from our favorite pizza joint, Roc and Ray’s in Sellersville. They make great pizza. I also got a pie for two of her co-workers, half plain and half anchovies. I don’t understand why anybody would want to ruin perfectly good pizza by putting little fish on it, but hey, I didn’t have to eat it. Anyway, we had our pizza and I took the leftovers home.

I had a few things to do at home, but I decided to put them off for the time being. I put away the pizza and decided to let the dishes and things go while I indulged myself in a little guilty pleasure. I had just bought the first two Harry Potter movies. They were on sale for $9.99 each.

I was about halfway into the first movie when the phone rang. It was the Emergency Room at Betty’s hospital. They told me she was all right but I had to come take her home.

Okay, that was when I sat on the panic button. One of the things I learned from Betty was that when the ER calls a relative they never say how serious the problem is. This is so that the relative doesn’t panic and kill themselves driving like a maniac to the hospital. Knowing this little factoid caused me to panic. I didn’t drive like a maniac, but I had about a thousand grim scenarios run through my mind as I drove to the ER. I still don’t exactly remember driving there. I think the car knew the way.

I was relieved and thankful when I walked into the ER waiting room and found Betty waiting for me. She was smiling kind of sheepishly, and told me that nothing was injured too badly except her pride. She had fallen getting off the elevator, just after she had left me from dinner. She hit her head and the nurses did not want to take any chances, so they put her in a wheelchair and took her to the ER. The docs looked her over and verified that all she suffered was a nasty bruise, but they wanted to be sure. They thought she was acting peculiarly after she fell. Apparently she was cracking jokes after she fell. I told the folks in the ER that this was normal behavior for Betty.

Anyway, I took her home and put her to bed. She woke up this morning a bit stiff and sore but mostly all right. I told her to take it easy and stay off her feet. Hopefully she listens.

I never did see the end of Harry Potter, but somehow I don’t think it’s all that important right now.

Barbecuing a Turkey for Thanksgiving

2005-11-28T13:44:00.000-05:00

I’m in kind of a holding pattern at work right now. There is a software release due out at the end of the week and the testers are as busy as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. Consequently, they don’t have a lot of time to devote to holding the new guy by the hand and showing him the ropes. I am left to discover stuff for myself.

I have taken advantage of this time to brush up on my knowledge of xml. I got a review book and I am plowing through the lessons. Not all of it will be applicable, but it will be helpful when I finally get useful.

Right now I’m taking a break from my lessons and posting some stuff on my blog.

We got together at my sister’s place for Thanksgiving this year. Next year we will probably go out for dinner. But this year just to be different we gathered for dinner. My wife made her yams, Brussels sprouts, and carrots. I made my cranberry sauce and I barbecued a turkey. That’s right, I barbecued a turkey.

I have a Weber kettle grill that lets me do stuff like this. I put a drip pan in the center of the charcoal grate and stack my charcoal on either side of it. I put about a half inch of apple cider in the drip pan. I light the coals and wait for them to ash over evenly, and then I put the bird on the grill just over the drip pan. The bird has been brushed with olive oil and rubbed with poultry seasoning and just a hint of black pepper. I also put a foil pouch full of Jack Daniels grilling chips on the coals. I set the bottom drafts about halfway open and put the cover on the grill. The cover drafts are fully open.

Then I wait for the turkey timer to pop.

Every 15 minutes or so I brush the bird with some olive oil. This keeps the meat moist and makes the skin crispy and brown. I cooked a 12-pound turkey. It took about three hours, which was just about right.

After two hours I needed to add charcoal to the fire. This was not a problem. The grill has hinged sections that swing up just so you can add charcoal. The key is not to add too much, since we are going for a slow cooking process.

The result is a superb bird with a delectable smoky flavor only charcoal grilling can produce. The white meat was moist and flavorful and the dark meat was delicious.

The only bad part about this is that I couldn’t make gravy. Maybe I could have used the drippings in the pan, but it was unfortunately contaminated with charcoal ash. So we had to use the canned stuff for the potatoes and stuffing.

The meal was good. We are still enjoying the leftovers. It’s a shame that the Pilgrims didn’t have Weber grills to cook their turkey on that first Thanksgiving.

Hope your Thanksgiving was good.

Working Again - Update

2005-11-28T10:26:00.000-05:00

I am once again among the gainfully employed. I started working a contract gig at a place in Bethlehem. It’s a telecom company. The company basically outsources the order fulfillment part of a telephone company. They are the people who complete the orders for new cell phone service. I get to test their software.

There is a lot to this company’s product that most people will never see. When you order new phone service on the web or change your service, this outfit completes the order. It also operates the customer call center, at least the part that’s in the USA. Yep, a lot of customer service is done overseas as you have probably suspected. I won’t tell you exactly which companies use my new company’s services, but they are big. Anyway, I’m not really an employee. I’m a contractor.

The up side of contracting is the big paycheck. The down side is the benefits, as in the complete and utter lack of them. I can get health coverage, but I pay the entire cost. Also, there are no paid vacations or holidays. And the job is not permanent. I know from the start it will only last as long as the work is needed. I am projected to work for at least six months with the possibility of more and a possibility of going permanent. Neither of these possibilities are guaranteed. But for six months I have a job. That’s more that I had last month.

I got some bad news this weekend. I tried getting in touch with a former co-worker and discovered that he had passed away. He was diagnosed with colon cancer about the same time as I was. His disease had progressed to stage 4, which means it was spreading beyond the colon. He had some spots on his lungs. It looked as though he had beaten it, but this was not the case. After 2 years he was experiencing severe back pains which turned out to be tumors on his spine. Things deteriorated rapidly. Those spots on his lungs had spread to the point that he had trouble breathing. His kidneys also shut down. My friend passed away in September. I will miss him.

His name was Mark, and he was the kind of person who always had a smile and just made you feel better whenever you talked to him. He was a fundamentalist Christian, which caused more than a few “discussions” between us. But Mark was the kind of guy who could agree to disagree with you and go on being a friend. I admired that quality. The world is diminished by his passing. And if Heaven has e-mail, he is doubtless clogging it with his humorous stories. I look forward to resuming our “discussions” when we eventually meet again.

Surviving Restructure

2005-10-23T17:42:00.000-04:00

Back in August, just before I went on vacation, we got some bad news where I was working. It seemed that the company had decided to let go of about 25% of its work force and "restructure." I was given a stay of execution. I could expect to work for another month or two until my current project was completed.
I saw a lot of people box up their stuff and leave that day. Just a few days earlier one of these folks, a former colleague from a former employer, was telling me how he felt so fortunate in having found this place when our previous employer had been restructuring and letting people go.
Well I could see the handwriting on the wall. It's time to get looking. I posted my resume on the various job sites and started submitting my name for listed positions. I told my boss right away that I would be looking. He said that I had to do what I had to do, and he understood.
Things started looking up. While on vacation I got a few calls and actually set up a couple of interviews. I kept my boss informed of this all along. As I can now see, that was a mistake.
I thought I could trust him. I really thought we had a professional rapport and mutual respect. My delusions came to an end when he took me aside and told me to pack up my stuff.
Look, I knew it was coming. The work had dried up and there wasn't enough to keep two people on staff. If he had simply said that, I would have understood, shook hands, and gone on my way without an ill thought. But that was not how he handled it. I was scolded for spending too much time looking for another job. This was, according to him, "unprofessional." He insisted on escorting me to my cube to clean it out, and I was escorted from the building. Did he really think I was going to sabotage something? Or is this what he would have done in the same situation?
I am at a loss to explain his behavior. All of the time I took off was vacation time I had coming. I had gone so far as to do some work at home to keep up with the schedule. And all the time I was interviewing, I was under the impression that he approved. If he hadn't, I certainly would not have kept him informed of my activities.
This whole episode has left a bad taste in my mouth. I can understand a company doing what it has to do in order to stay in business. But I can never understand somebody who betrays a confidence.
Well, I was played like a trout. I believed in the basic integrity of my supervisor and payed the price for my naivete. After nearly 40 years in the workforce you would think I should know better. But I still have this childlike optimism that people are basically decent. I now know at least one more person who is not.
So now I'm "between gigs" looking for work. I have enough saved that money isn't a major problem right now, but I really want to find work as soon as possible. As for my former boss, I wish for him that, as he goes through life, he is treated with the same level of consideration by everyone he meets as he showed me on my last day.

Toothache

2005-08-23T17:31:00.000-04:00

I had a toothache over the weekend. One really big honkin' toothache.
A toothache that hurt so bad I felt like my head would explode, and
if it did at least the pain would be over.
It was so bad I was thinking of ways to pull it out by myself. I
wondered if dynamite might work. I thought about opening up one of my
rocket motors and using the black powder to blast the tooth.
When you hurt that bad you don't think straight. All of these ideas
made perfect sense to me.
I lived through the night and managed to pull myself together
sufficiently to call a dentist. One couldn't see me until tomorrow.
Another one could see me right away if I could get over to his office.
That's where I went.
The dentist's name is Dr. Hans Liou. He was pretty intelligent, asked
me a few questions, checked the x-ray his technician had taken, and
dived right in to give me a root canal. He managed to give me a shot
to numb the area. Once it was numb I felt better than I had in days.
The root canal took less than an hour. I didn't feel any pain during
the procedure, and there is suprisingly little pain today. I'll be
getting the second phase of the treatment next week and will be
preparing for the eventual crown. RIght now I'm just glad it stopped
hurting.

Spamming My Blog: Is Nothing Sacred?

2005-08-17T14:58:00.000-04:00

I found a comment for my earlier post about my X-Ray clone. It was an
ad for some health care stock scheme.
Yep, it was spam.
Have these people no sense of decency?
But if you think about it, this is the way that things have been going
for a long time. Advertising cretins really believe that they can
invade our privacy at any time of their choosing, by any means they
might access, and get righteously indignant if we criticise them for
it.
Think about the ways that advertising is seeking to invade every
aspect of your life.
I'm old enough to remember when FM radio did not have any commercials.
Hard to believe, isn't it? The broadcast stations made money by
selling access to the subcarrier frequency on their main signal. This
is a second signal that piggy-backs on the primary signal.
You need a special device called a discriminator to listen to it.
This is how Muzak and other subscription-type services are
distributed.
Well subcarrier signals are still being sold, but FM stations do
indeed play ads on their main carrier. The promise of commercial-free
radio was a hollow one. It makes me wonder just how long this new
commercial-free satellite radio is going to last.
But this only illustrates the mindset of the advertising industry.
They will invade our privacy in any way they can find. Junk mail is
one example. I get a lot more ads in the mail than I get actual
communication, and most of it is unsolicited. I have to go through
the stuff and throw it out. Marketers are taking advantage of postal
regulations that were originally designed to encourage distribution of
newspapers and magazines. It's paid for by our taxes.
Just the other day I was driving and my cell phone rang. Being a
conscientious driver I immediately pulled over to take the call. You
guessed it, it was a telemarketer. He didn't care that he was using
up the airtime I had paid for and had interrupted my drive. All he
cared about was trying to sell me something I did not want.
And we all get spam in our e-mail. The spam spinners keep getting
clever about circumventing spam filters. It clogs our inboxes and
wastes our bandwidth.
And now they have the gall to spam my blog!
It is my fervent wish that, wherever these unscrupulous, ill-mannered
blackguards may exist, in every endeavor they might undertake, that
they themselves are treated with the same disdain and lack of common
courtesy as they exhibit.

Spiderman, Captain Marvel, and Harry Potter

2005-08-15T14:46:00.000-04:00

I finally broke down and started reading the Harry Potter books. I know, it's a kid's book and all that, but I really don't care. I love a lot of things that most adults will dismiss out-of-hand as “kid's stuff.” For instance, I love animated cartoons. I also like comic books. I also notice that a lot of adults dismiss Tolkien as children's literature. It must be for kids, no adult cares about elves or dwarves, right?
Well it took me a while, but I finally picked up the first book and I'm hooked. I'm reading the second one right now and it is delightful. I can't wait to read them all.
To tell you the truth, the reason I started reading the books is more than a little bit unusual. I was mildly curious at the whole Harry Potter phenomenon, but I generally avoid fads whenever possible. But then something happened. Somebody wrote a letter to the editor of our local newspaper condemning Harry Potter as satanic, perverting little minds into rejecting God and worshiping the devil. He wanted the books removed from out local library before they did any more damage to our children.
What a stunning endorsement! I knew I had to read it for myself.
It didn't take long to finish the first book. I read it on my lunch breaks and whenever I had a free moment. It was a pleasant read, entertaining, and it moved quickly. The devil never showed up (unless you consider either Draco Malfoy or Voldemort to be Satan.)
If you haven't read the book, here is a brief introduction with no spoilers. Harry Potter is a ten year old orphan boy living with some really cruel relatives. He is treated quite badly by his aunt, his uncle, and their obnoxious son. Then one day, Harry discovers something quite unusual. He is a wizard. His parents were very powerful wizards. (I will not reveal the circumstances behind Harry being an orphan so as not to spoil it. Read the book. It's good.) And Harry is being invited to study at a prestigious school for Witches and Wizards.
This, in a nutshell, is the appeal of Harry Potter to children. Harry, who feels very helpless and alone in the world, suddenly discovers that he is really very powerful.
Kids all feel gawky and out-of-place in the world. We adults have all of the power, and we run kid's lives. From their point of view, they are at the mercy of the grown-ups and the bigger kids.
Now compare this to some other characters in a very different genre. Think about comic books. Two of the most popular comic book characters ever created were Captain Marvel and Spiderman. Their popularity as comic book characters was phenomenal. (And, incidentally, got the same sort of nasty attention from the Religious Wrong as Harry Potter has garnered.) Why is this? Simply put, they have the same sort of background.
Captain Marvel is, in reality, Billy Batson, a pre-teen orphan boy who is forced by a cruel uncle to sell newspapers. When young Billy comes to the aid of a stranger, he is rewarded by the ancient wizard Shazam. Whenever Billy speaks the name of Shazam, he is transformed into the world's mightiest mortal, Captain Marvel. Captain Marvel possesses the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Hercules, the stamina of Atlas, the power of Zeus, the invulnerability of Achilles, and the speed of Mercury. In other words, a young boy discovers that he is very powerful.
Peter Parker is also an orphan, and while the Aunt and Uncle who raise him are very loving, they are unfortunately limited in their means. Peter is not one of the popular kids. Because he is smart, he finds himself the butt of many cruel jokes. He is, like young Harry Potter, vulnerable and helpless. Then, in a strange turn of fate, Peter is bitten by a radioactive spider. He finds that he has somehow been given the proportionate strength of a spider as well as some very amazing abilities, such as the ability to cling to any surface and to spin a strong web like a spider. Another young boy finds that he is really very powerful.
These are by no means the only such examples. Think of young Jack Hawkins in Treasure Island, or Aladdin. Children can immediately relate to Harry Potter. Maybe they don't live with cruel relatives, but every kid feels helpless and vulnerable in an adult world. They would just love to find out that they are powerful.
Eventually, a child will become a self-assured adult and realize that he or she does have some measure of control over their own fate. But for now, they can imagine themselves to be a young wizard at Hogwart's, and vicariously become very powerful.

The X-Ray Flies

2005-08-09T17:04:00.000-04:00

Two milestones to report. My X-Ray clone finally flew. And I am updating this blog after how many months?
I managed to get out to the launch this sunday. It looked like it was going to rain, but the sun came out, so I took a chance and loaded up the car. I took only a few rockets with me.
The first rocket I flew was my classic X-Ray clone. Finding the clear plastic payload tube and the balsa nosecone and adapter were the hardest part. The design is fairly straightforward. I will post a picture of it as soon as I get it scanned. I have to say it got a lot of smiles on the range. The X-ray was a classic in the Estes catalogs of the 60's. It originally cost $1.75, which was a lot of money back then.
I flew the X-Ray on an A8-3 motor. It's a light rocket and I did want to get it back. It is surprising how much performance this bird gives on such a small motor. The chute ejected but never really unfolded. I used a classic Estes PK-8 chute. The plastic was a but stickier in those older chutes. I must remember to apply a little baby porder next time. But the model itself is so light that it still recovered safely.
My next bird was a Big Bertha. This particular Bertha is a veteran. I flew it at the very first PARA launch in 1990. I flew it on a C6-5. It flew high and nicely, deployed the chute, and drifted down behind a row of corn. It landed between two different rows, so I had no difficulty finding it.
My next rocket was a lot bigger, a Thoy Falcon. It's about 2.6 inches in diameter and five feet long. I flew it on an Aerotech F20-7 White Lightning motor. It just screamed up into the sky on a brilliant trail of fire and smoke. The delay time lasted a bit more than 7 seconds and caused a bit of nail biting, but the ejection charge eventually deployed the chute and it recovered safely.
That turned out to be my last flight of the day. It started raining. I had prepped a Thoy Phoenix decorated with Grateful Dead teddy bears with a Dark Star F62-7 motor, but it never got launched. Save it for next time

Courage Should Be Made of Sterner Stuff

2005-04-13T10:43:00.000-04:00

I've gotten some nice e-mails from people who have read about my colon cancer. Thank you all for the kind words. I have yet to receive a negative comment.
It seems that just about everybody who responds has either had cancer themselves or has had a relative with cancer. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I read somewhere that one person in four will get cancer. With odds like that, it's no wonder that everybody knows someone who either has the disease or has had it. Personally, I like hearing about the people who had it and still are alive. It gives me hope.
But some of the comments I get really puzzle me. They congratulate me for my courage.
Courage. That word is getting a lot of misuse lately.
Courage, in my humble opinion, is exhibited when a person acts for a greater good regardless of the personal consequences. Courage is when a soldier falls on a grenade to save his buddies' lives. Courage is when a fireman rushes into a burning building to save a stranger's life at the risk of his own. Courage is when a lifeguard dives in to pull a swimmer out of an undertow.
In my own case, I was not exhibiting any form of courage. My fight for survival was motivated by the most self-serving of intentions: I wanted to stay alive. Yes, there was some risk to the surgery. One does not consider having one's gut cut open to remove two feet of large intestine without evaluating the danger. I could have died on the table or due to complications. (I almost died of congestive heart failure, but the staff at Grand View Hospital acted swiftly to save me.) I evaluated the risks and concluded that I had a better chance at sustained existance if I got the surgery.
I wanted to live.
The motive was fear of death.
Don't get me wrong, folks. I am grateful for the words of encouragement you have been sending me. And hopefully my experience will motivate you to stop putting off that colonoscopy. Had I gotten mine five years earlier things would be very different today. But I was not being brave or courageous. Courage is the stuff of heroes. I was surviving, plain and simple.
If anybody showed courage in this whole affair, it was my dear wife. This lady was at my side throughout my ordeal, giving me love and support. I know there were times when she wanted to break down and cry, but she neved did so in front of me. Through it all she was and still is my rock. She's the courageous one.

How Fast Is It REALLY Moving

2005-01-19T13:55:00.000-05:00

I was watching one of my favorite cheesy sci-fi movies a few nights ago, "When Worlds Collide." It was made in the 1950's and was based on a novel written in the 1930's. The screenplay basically dumbed-down the already questionable science of the novel and "updated" it to fit the times. The premise is that a huge "star" called Bellus would crash into the Earth and destroy it. Fortunately for the purposes of the movie, it was accompanied by a smaller Earth-like planet called Zaira. A rocket ship would fly a small group of humans to Zaira, along with livestock, seeds, machinery, and other stuff needed to preserve the human race.

Yes, it's a really corny concept. The plot and the acting are just as corny. But it features some really cool special effects of the Space Ark blasting off and then skidding to a landing on the new planet. The Space Ark is one of those great silvery space ships that were so popular in 50's sci-fi, and was designed by one of the great sci-fi artists of that time, Chesley Bonestell.

I have seen this picture so many times that I practically have the dialog memorized. But for some reason, one of the lines stood out. The astronomer, Dr. Bronson, states, "These two bodies have moved over a milloin miles in only two weeks."

A million miles in two weeks. Pretty fast, eh? Or is it?

To satisfy my own curiosity, I decided to calculate just how fast our own planet Earth is moving.

Now the Earth is 93 million miles from the Sun, and revolves about the Sun in 365.25 days, give or take a few minutes. We don't need to be too exact for this example. And to be perfectly accurate, Earth's orbit is not exactly circular but more of an ellipse. But it is close enough to a circle that we can approximate.

So how far does the Earth travel in a year? We can calculate this by multiplying the distance from the Earth to the Sun by two times pi (pi= about 3.1415926535). This equals about 585 million miles. Let's divide this by a year (365.25 days) and we get about 1.6 million miles a day.

So compare the Earth's 1.6 million miles a day to the speed of the approaching planets, a million miles in two weeks, and we see that on a cosmic scale they are really dragging their butts!

Today's cup of coffee is Colombian Supremo, smooth and strong with a medium body.

The Lighter Side of a Colostomy

2005-01-18T13:44:00.000-05:00

I think I mentioned that I survived Colon Cancer. It was over 2 years ago. I was treated with radiation, chemotherapy, and surgery. The surgery was the final part of my treatment.

I knew going in that a colostomy was a real possibility, so I discussed it with my surgeon before the operation. If I had to get it, I wanted it to be below my waistline if possible. It would be easier to maintain if it was below the belt.

Actually things looked good going in. I had a preliminary colonoscopy the morning of surgery, and the tumor had really shrink down to almost nothing. All indications pointed to a successful re-attachment. But this was not to be.

When I woke up in PACU, my first question was "Do I have a colostomy?" The nurse answered that I had. She then told me that I had awakened earlier (I have no memory of this) and asked the same question, but my phrasing was a bit more "colorful." (In other words, it was something like "Do I still have an asshole?")

Okay, so I have had this bag catching my poop for two years now. What's it been like? Actually, it is interesting and in some ways amusing.

I suppose I could have become horribly depressed over the whole thing. I mean, colon cancer is inherently depressing. Imagine having to crap out of your side into a plastic bag for the rest of your life. But I am definitely a survivor. I managed to get this far and by God I would keep on going. And my first line of defense would be humor.

That's right, humor. If you can laugh at a situation, it hasn't beaten you.

Of course, I am always running into crepe-hangers who expect me to be miserable and depressed over my situation. "How can you possibly be so happy?" they ask. "Don't you know that you have a colostomy?"

Like I could ever forget! But part of the fun of being a pleasent fellow is the way that going through life with a smile on your face and a song in your heart can so thoroughly piss off these misery mongers. I just love it when I can laugh off my condition and send them on their way shaking their heads in bewilderment. God, but it is a pure pleasure to screw with their feeble minds!

So here is a list of things that are really cool about having a colostomy.

First off, I never have to worry about sitting on the toilet seat at a dirty men's room. This is really a huge advantage. For some reason, public rest rooms in today's world tend to be disgusting.

I never have to excuse myself from a really long meeting to take care of "nature."

I don't have to turn over for my annual colonoscopy.

No more prostate exams! Yee-ha!

If I ever do time in prison, there's at least one thing I don't have to fear.

I'll never need Preparation H.

I can pass gas and nobody will ever know because my bag has a charcoal filter.

Of course, a colostomy is not all fun and games. A stoma is a high-maintenance item and requires special supplies and extra care. Essentially, I have a hole in my gut that leads to my intestines. It needs to be kept clean and I have to change the bag regularly. I must also be aware of the possibility of the appliance failing. This can be rather embarassing as you might expect. And I need to carry some supplies with me, just in case I need to change the pouch or the appliance comes loose. But with a few adjustments, I lead a moderately full life. The hardest part of having a colostomy was finding shoes to match the bag. {grin and duck :-) }

Incidently, I gave my stoma a nickname. I call it Stinky.

Today's cup of coffee was Colombian Supremo, a mellow, full-bodied coffee with an excellent flavor.

Funerals

2005-01-13T13:11:00.000-05:00

No progress to report on the Space Ark. It's sitting in its box waiting for fins.

My Dear Wife and I were saddened when her cousin's wife lost her mother recently. She was 84. We are kind of close to Bob and Deena, Betty's cousins, so we paid our respects at the memorial service last weekend.

Deena is a soldier in the Salvation Army, and so was her mother. This was the first time I had attended any sort of a Salvation Army function. It was an education. You see, most of my family, including myself, were raised Catholic. Those of us who were raised Protestant came from one of the more mainstream churches, like the Lutherans. We are used to a more sedate form of worship.

First off, there was a brass quartet playing at the funeral home. Yep, it was a Salvation Army band. They actually sounded pretty good and didn't hit too many sour notes. Hearing it reminded me of Christmas in the city, when the Salvation Army plays Christmas Carols on the corner to get you to put some money in the kettle. I usually put something in when I pass a bell-ringer. The other thing it reminded me of was the Broadway musical "Guys and Dolls." I had to bite my tongue a few times when the songs from the show would play in my head. ("I got a horse right here, his name is Paul Revere..." etc.)

The other thing I was not prepared for were the spontaneous shouts of "Amen" and "Hallelujah!" from the congregation.

Like I said, I grew up Catholic, and in a Catholic service NOBODY says anything unless it's a prescribed response. Catholic ceremonies tend to be very ritualistic and well rehearsed with little spontenaity. And when the priest gives a sermon, the prescribed behavior is to sit still, listen attentively, and try not to snore too loudly when you fall asleep. If anybody started shouting "Amen!" and "Hallelujah" during the Homily he would most likely be asked to either shut up or leave.

Another interesting aspect of this has to do with the structure of the Salvation Army. I always thought that the uniforms were kind of neat, and the term "soldier" was also sort of cute, but somehow I always thought it was an honorific, sort of like "Onward Christian Soldiers." But the service was conducted by an OFFICER of the Salvation Army, a Captain no less. Here I find out that they really DO have military-style ranks in their Church. Gives you something to think about. I wonder if they have sergeants? From my own experience in the military, the language employed by most sergeants would be unsuitable for the inside of a church.

Today's cup of coffee is Chocolate Cappuccino, a nice medium blend with a hint of chocolate.

Space Ark Update: Happy New Year!

2005-01-03T13:04:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!

My Dear Wife and I spent a very low-key New Year’s celebration. We watched the Mummer’s Parade. If you want to know just what the Mummer’s Parade is about, click on the link. It’s a uniquely Philadelphia experience, and there is nothing like it in the world.

We also didn’t make a big deal about Christmas. Once again we didn’t get the cards out. I am going to compose our annual Holiday letter and send the cards out late, and maybe join the Procrastinators’ Club.

Progress on the Space Ark:
I am going to make three of the things before I am done, and I have started building the first one. Its basis is the Estes V-2 Kit from back in the 80’s. Here’s what it looks like:Estes V2 Kit It has the basic shape I need for the Ark. I will be modifying the fins into a more sci-fi format, with two sweeping main wings and two opposing tail fins. I hope to be able to include landing pods.

My vision of this particular Ark is more along the lines of the original Ark in the book "When Worlds Collide." The movie was based on this book from the '30s. In this book, Dr. Hendron and company built not one but two arks. They were, according to the book, atomic powered. The first Ark was capable of carrying 100 souls plus animals and provisions to re-establish humanity on Bronson Beta (which was re-named Zaira in the movie.) The second ark was larger and ferried 453 souls. So my plan now is to build BOTH arks as well as the 40-man ark from the movie.

As of right now I have the basic body assembled. I will be cutting out the fins in a week or so.

The basis of my second ark will also be a V-2 kit, this time from the late Atlantic Rockets company. Don't bother looking for them, thay don't exist any more. I bought two V-2 kits from them as well as a Bell X-1 kit, both of which currently languish in my Pile of Unbuilt Kits.

I am also building an Estes X-Ray clone. It is almost complete, with the fins and launch lug glued on and the payload assembled. Ironically, it appears in this link next to an earlier Estes V-2. I still need to seal the balsa parts and paint the model. Then I might build my 2X upscale version I am tentatively calling "Dos Equis." The pun is intended.

Today's cup of coffee was Starbuck's House Blend, a dark roast with intense flavor and aroma and one heck of a caffiene kick. One mug with breakfast and one for the road. Woo-Ha!

The Search for a Really Good Cup of Coffee

2004-12-07T10:29:00.000-05:00

It’s about time I addressed the other reason for my blog (besides providing an outlet for my inane ramblings,) the search for a really good cup of coffee.

I love coffee. I learned to drink the stuff at an early age.

Some of my earliest memories are of mornings at the Sullivan household. Mom and Dad always got up ahead of us kids and started getting ready for the day. Dad would hit the shower and Mom would hit the kitchen. The first thing she always did was turn on the radio in the kitchen. The second thing she did was make coffee. By the time I was waking up the house was filled with the fragrant aroma of coffee percolating.

Naturally, we kids never drank coffee. That was something for grown-ups, like drinking beer and smoking. Kids drank milk. And that’s all I ever drank with breakfast except for an occasional cup of tea until I was sixteen. That’s when I started drinking coffee.

It wasn’t some rite of passage, a cup of coffee to acknowledge that I was now a man. It was because I had a job after school that kept me up until about midnight when I would get home. It was really hard for me to get it together in the morning, and I found myself falling asleep in school. So my mom suggested that I try drinking a cup of coffee to get myself going.

I still remember that first cup, sweetened with sugar and lightened with canned milk. I don’t know what exactly I expected; all I can say is I never expected what I got, a curious mingling of bitter and sweet with that wonderful aroma and the incredible jolt of caffeine.

At this point I was only taking one cup with breakfast, and only on weekdays. I usually slept late on weekends and continued to drink milk with all of my other meals. This pattern continued for many years, up to the time I joined the Air Force.

In Basic Training and Tech School I continued the pattern of a cup of coffee with breakfast and milk with all other meals. Then I was assigned to a fighter squadron in North Dakota, and ended up working the night shift on the flightline.

North Dakota is mostly flat and incredibly cold in the winter. I remember about five weeks in January and February when the high temperature was still below zero. (That’s degrees Fahrenheit for all of my metric friends, and equals about -18 degrees Celsius.) I learned that coffee had another wonderful quality; it was hot! Nothing could beat a good steaming hot cup of coffee when you had just spent a couple of hours in -40 degree weather with 20 knot winds. I learned to enjoy strong Air Force coffee. We brewed it extra strong so it would not slosh out of the cup when we hit turbulence.

A few years later, when I was finally married and stationed in Florida, another milestone occurred in my appreciation of coffee. Mr. Coffee was launched.

Mr. Coffee was the first mass-marketed filter drip brewing system. Baseball great Joe DiMaggio was the corporate spokesman. While drip pots and Mellita filter cones had been available, this was the first time an integrated filter-drip system was marketed. Most people used some form of percolator to make coffee. The filter cones sold by Mellita and others were basically a niche market. Restaurants had used filter drip brewing for years, but the machines were bulky and expensive, suitable for a large production environment and not for home use.

Mr. Coffee changed the way America makes coffee. We bought one just about the time it became available, and we loved the results. The best part of the system was the elimination of coffee grounds in your cup. Coffee drinkers rejoiced.

It was right about this time that I discovered varietal coffee.

A little coffee shop opened in the newly built shopping mall. It boasted an elaborate espresso machine and served cappuccino, espresso, and about ten different varieties of coffee. Now I had heard of espresso and cappuccino, but I had never actually tried the stuff. By the time I was old enough to appreciate a beatnik coffee shop, beatniks had faded from existence and the coffee shops had closed.

I didn’t know what to try and I was afraid of looking stupid, but I also didn’t want to drink something so bad I might never come back. I asked the waitress what she might recommend, and she suggested a cup of French Roast.

It was a delight. The French Roast beans are roasted longer than regular coffee, making the beans darker and bringing out more of the coffee oils. It produces a rich, dark brew with an intense flavor and one wallop of a caffeine kick.

I kept coming back for more. I learned that certain coffees such as Mocha Java and Columbian are better when roasted normally, but Kona was best roasted lightly. Other coffees such as French Roast and espresso were roasted dark for an intense flavor. Then there was Turkish coffee, which is so incredibly strong that it is only served in very small cups. It is also quite muddy in consistency.

I soon discovered the joys of buying whole beans and grinding them just before brewing. It makes a coffee that tastes absolutely alive and fresh. I have a tendency to grind the beans into a powdery consistency so that the grounds look like wet mud when the brewing is complete. Thank the Lord for coffee filters!

Our current home brewing system is a Black & Decker thermal carafe system. Instead of a glass carafe with a warming plate the coffee drips into a Thermos bottle. This keeps the coffee warm without needing to be constantly heated. I don’t know about you, but I find that when coffee sits on a burner for more than half an hour it really tastes burnt and nasty. With this system I can enjoy coffee throughout the day. Provided it lasts that long.

My wife and I latched onto some really big coffee mugs. They were a Christmas present from our sister-in-law, and they each hold about 16 ounces of liquid. (That’s about half a liter for my metric friends.) So our so-called 10-cup coffee maker is usually drained in four cups.

So now, every morning, either my wife or I brew a pot of coffee. The aroma permeates the house as we prepare for the day. I try to enjoy a cup with breakfast, but sometimes the rush of this modern world prevents me from that leisurely cup. I always take a cup with me for that long drive to work. Once at work I refill my cup from the coffee bar in the company kitchen. (Free coffee! What a company!) And with my cup close by, I sit down at my PC and do all of those engineer things I do.

Some More Rocket Pictures

2004-11-24T10:15:00.000-05:00

Heres a few more of my rockets.

This is my NCR Archer.

This is the Archer lifting off under "H" power.

This is The Dancing Bears. Can you tell I'm a Grateful Dead fan?

A Super Big Bertha waiting for launch.

This is my LOC Legacy.

I'll be posting pictures of the Space Ark as I build it. Check in for updates.

Pictures of my Rockets

2004-11-23T17:02:00.000-05:00

Somebody asked me to put up some pictures of my rockets. Okay, here's a few, as they appear on the PARA website.

This is a picture of my LOC Graduator lifting off. This is a veteran of many flights.

This is my V2 sport scale model. This is a nice performer. On this flight it recovered near the highway and I arrived just in time to see somebody trying to make off with it! He claimed that he had no idea that it belonged to somebody! Yeah. Right.

Another shot of my LOC graduator, this time flying with a Dark Star motor.

I'll put up some more pictures later.

Silver Spaceships of the 50's

2004-11-15T13:22:00.000-05:00

I'm 52. I am officially old. This is not necessarily a bad thing. It means that in 52 years I have not died. That's bad? What annoys me is when people ask me how "young" I am, as though I need to be in denial about my many years on this planet. Please do not patronize me. It took me a long time to get this old, and I intend to enjoy it.
One of my fondest memories of youth is the old science fiction movies and television programs. Mine was the first generation to grow up with TV, and I simply loved stuff like Space Patrol, Tom Corbett, and Rocky Jones. I just found a Rocky Jones DVD and was reminiscing about the old time shows with the cheap sets, corny costumes, and hokey ray guns.
But there is one part of these old sci-fi shows I still love, and that is their silver space ships.
Our concept of space travel in the 50's was really naive. We envisioned aerodynamic craft with sweeping fins and silvery metal skin blasting off on a fiery tail and roaring through the stars. The reality of space flight, the utilitarian shape of the Mercury space capsule, the Saturn rockets, the Lunar Lander, and the improbable sideway stack of the Space Shuttle, had just not occured to us. Instead we foresaw a double ogive profile with fins and wings.
Big screen movies fed this image. Films such as When Worlds Collide and Destination Moon reinforced the iconic image of just what a rocketship ought to look like. And Disney's Moonliner decorated the entrance to its famed "Rocket to the Moon" attraction in the late 50's and early 60's.
The reality of space travel, however, is that the silver rockets make no sense. There is no air in space, and a spaceship spends most of its time outside of the Earth's atmosphere. Likewise, there is no real need for fins, which require an atmosphere to do their job of stabilizing the spaceship. Thus, the sleek cigar-shaped aerodynamic spaceships are not very practical. Just look at the Lunar Lander, which had absolutely no aerodynamic qualities at all.
These days, anybody who would try to produce a movie or a TV program that used a silver rocket would be laughed out of town. Movies such as Star Wars and programs like Star Trek and Babylon 5 have created a more sophisticated audience. This was not always the case. One of Gene Roddenberry's biggest battles with the network (besides his battle to keep Star Trek on the air) had to do with the design of the Enterprise. He envisioned something different, a design that was at once futuristic and at the same time reminiscent of the era of wooden ships and iron men. The brass at NBC could not understand his vision. "Come on, Gene, just put some fins on a cigar and you have your space ship. What's the problem?"
I would probably laugh at such a show myself. But I admit to a certain level of nostalgia.
The Silver Spaceships will live on, as long as we have videos and DVD's. And if I can help it, they will fly. The double-ogive shape is not easy to model, but it isn't impossible. So I have decided to make a model based on the Space Ark from When Worlds Collide. And if that turns out well, maybe Rocky Jones' Orbit Jet might fly.

Back To Normal

2004-11-08T17:18:00.000-05:00

Well, the election's over. Everybody is screaming about how nasty the election was and about how divided the country is. Wow, what a short memory these morons have. Don't they remember the last election? Or the one before that? Or the one before that?
Come on, people, do you really expect the average American to consider the issues in a civil manner, to calmly exercise his or her soverign franchise, and to calmly accept the results as "the voice of the people?"
Don't make me laugh.
Elections have always been damn nasty affairs.
Does anybody remember all of the anti-Catholic bigotry that was dished out wholesale when John Kennedy ran? Does anybody forget for one second the famous LBJ Daisy commercial? Can anybody forget the divisiveness of the Vietnam era? How about all of the rabid predictions of doom and gloom promulgated by Rush Limbaugh et al when Bill Clinton got elected? And then he got re-elected! How in a christian nation could this possibly happen?
Fact is, folks, people get a kind of religious fervor over these elections. They get so wrapped up in the correctness of their own position that they blind themselves to reality. We have survived some pretty bad presidents. Like Warren G. Harding, for instance.
Look, gang, I was for Kerry, and I am as disappointed as all hell that he lost. I really think he would have been better for the country than Dubbya. But he lost, and Bush won, and I still have to go to work every day. That's reality, folks.
For what it's worth, I managed to land a new gig when the last one imploded. I hope this one lasts for about 15 years or so so I can retire without having to go look for another job. But it probably won't happen. In about 5 years or so I will probably end up looking for work again. It's not because George Bush got elected, or because I'm a bad worker, or I'm incompetent or anything like that. It's just the new reality, and I can't do a whole lot about it. Except maybe vote for some folks who just might be able to reverse this trend, and hope that enough of my fellow Americans will do likewise. In the meantime, I gotta go to work and earn a living. I hope you can do likewise.

George W. Bush Sent My Job To India

2004-08-31T16:36:00.000-04:00

I'm pissed off.
I just had a surgery to correct a problem resulting from my colon cancer surgery. No, it wasn't cancer. The site of my former rectum was not healing properly so I had to get some skin removed. It's healing properly now. So what happens when I come back from a week of recuperation? I find out that my job is going down the tubes.
I'm a software QA engineer. I spent a lot of years going to night school while working full time to get to this level, and a lot of years getting additional professional skills in order to maintain it. So I don't really appreciate it when I am considered to be just another commodity that can be easily replaced by an entry-level programmer in Bangalore.
I'm not an idealogical Democrat or Republican. I don't really like the idea of one-stop shopping for politics. I generally study the issues and vote for the candidate who best represents my personal ideas.
So here is my current position.

I don't give a shit about gay marriage.
I don't give a rat's ass about partial-birth abortion.
I don't care whether ot not Iraq had weapons of mass destruction.
I didn't get a tax cut so I don't really care about it.
I don't give a tinker's damn abour faith-based initiatives.
I don't care who went to the war, who deserves medals or not, and who showed up for duty or not.
All I know for sure is that Bush sent my job to India.

That's why I'm pissed off. And that's why I'm voting Democrat.

It's STILL the economy, stupid!

Paper Moon

2004-07-30T16:01:00.000-04:00

Is everybody as disappointed in the Democratic Convention as I am?
I'm not putting down Kerry. Truth to tell I rather like the guy, and being a Vietnam veteran myself I feel a kinship with him. He hit just about all of my hot-buttons when he gave the acceptance speech, and I feel that for the first time in a long time I can cast a vote without holding my nose.
But something was missing. Space.
When the hell is this country going to get a real space program again? And when the hell are we going to get a president that does more than pay lip service to space?
I know all of the arguments against space. Its too risky. We need the money here. What are we getting for it. Blah blah blah.
Too risky? Yeah, too risky. We lost two space shuttles already, and fourteen people. That's too risky.
News flash - we will lose a lot more than fourteen souls today on our nation's highways. Does anybody call this a disaster? Do we close down the highways and prohibit automobile travel every time a car gets in an accident? Yes, there are a lot of risks in space travel, but it has a better safety record than any other transportation scheme known to man, including walking.
We need the money here. Let me ask you a question, bunky. Just where the hell do you think the money we spend on space is being spent? Do we send a check to some aliens in Roswell? Surprise, it gets spent right here on planet Earth, on real materials and real salaries for real people. And these people spend the money they make right here on earth, which makes more jobs and more money for even more people. And think about this. We have been cutting NASA's budget since 1970 and putting the money into social programs. Tell me, has this resulted in a lower number of people dependent on government handouts? Has this enhanced the quality of life for the inner city? The truth is, the money has largely been spent to line the pockets of greedy bureaucrats who award huge study grants to their cronies. America, we was robbed! And we are continuing to be robbed every day this farce continues.
I really have to laugh when some spoiled yuppie spawn tells me that space hasn't done a thing for us. This moron usually has a cell phone, cable TV, satellite radio, and a bunch of PC's. If it wasn't for space, we would still be spending ten bucks a minute to make a transatlantic telephone call and would have to wait several hours for the operator to place the call because all ten lines of the transatlantic cable are in use and there are several callers ahead of us.
So I am disappointed in the convention. I really want an aggressive space program with real goals and real timetables. This is how we got to the moon. I want a real program with a real commitment from the president, not a half-hearted politically motivated call from the shrub to "return to the moon" and "explore Mars."
So how about it, folks? Will John Kerry follow the lead of another famous JFK from Massachusetts, who inspired us with the goal of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely by the end of the century? Or will we get another paper promise?
I'm tired of getting a paper moon.

RIP David "Ducky" Klouser

2004-07-27T15:04:00.000-04:00

A good friend of mine just died. His name was Dave Klouser. His friends (and a lot of his enemies) called him "Ducky." I don't know where he got that nickname.

Ducky was a fellow rocketeer. He was a NAR competitor and a champion several times. His claim to fame was in boost gliders, but he also snagged a championship for helicopter recovery. And he had been a member of the USA International Team.

Ducky was a really intense competitor. He would give you the benefit of his knowledge and experience and ask nothing in return except perhaps some of yours. He was also generous with his time, especially when it came to introducing newcomers to the hobby. But on the field of competition watch out! He was fierce, with no quarter asked and none given.

Ducky founded the NAR section I belong to, PARA. He mostly formed it to have a venue for competition, but he also wanted to get some local people interested in flying.

Ducky was not always a pleasant person, especially in his later years. He was a very annoying person, sometimes quite dictatorial in his style, and given to complaining about and over-reacting to some very minor incidents. We didn't know it at the time, but it was the beginning of his disease.

Ducky suffered from something called Semantic Dementia (SD). You can read about it here. He had been fighting this disease for a long time when he died, just one day short of his 49th birthday. That is way to young to die.

As far as I know, he passed away at home with his family. He left behind two brothers and his parents. I felt kind of bad because I had a doctor's appointment the day of his funeral, at exactly the same time. But maybe this is better. I never saw Ducky in the later stages of his disease. My memories of him are those of a vigorous man flying his beloved boost gliders.

I am sure that Ducky is now conversing with G. Harry Stine and the other great rocketeers who have gone before us. And I have a sneaky feeling that, should I be fortunate enough to pass through the Pearly Gates, that Ducky will be there, organizing a competition. I plan to beat the pants off him in parachute duration.

Rest in peace, old friend

First Post - BFD

2004-07-15T10:16:00.000-04:00

By way of introduction, my name is Bill Sullivan. I have been building and flying model rockets since age 13. I am currently 52. So just why does an otherwise sane middle-aged engineer spend so many afternoons burning holes in the sky? Why don't I do something more normal, like plopping myself in front of the tube with a beer in hand to watch a bunch of millionaires lose a ball game? Or why don't I invest about five grand in a set of golf clubs and pay about three hundred bucks a pop to chase a little white ball around the country club and curse at my obvious ineptitude? Beats me. All I can say is, I love the smell of burning propellent in the morning. It smells like...well, like rocket exhaust!

I am currently a member of the National Association of Rocketry (NAR) and the Philadelphia Area Rocketry Association (PARA) I try to get out for most of the summertime club launches.

I was recently sidelined for about two years when I found out I had colon cancer. I got treated successfully with chemo, radiation, and surgery. Just last week I managed to get out for my first launch since my surgery. What follows ia my flight report.

First flight was an Aerospace Specialties WAC Corporal flying on an Estes C11-3. As I discovered, this delay time was too short. The chute deployed while the rocket was still coasting upward. The shock cord separated at the mount. I managed to recover both the nose cone and the airframe.

Second flight was my homebrew design, a cluster of four mini-motors I call Cheap Thrills. I flew it on four A4-6T's. I had successful ignition of all four motors. Chute deployed at apogee and the bird drifted down close to the pad. Good flight.

My third flight was another cluster, this time a Custom Rockets Landviper flying on 3 Estes C6-7's. Again, I had successful ignition of all three motors and a successful recovery. THis time it drifted past the crest of a hill and landed in the low corn. Next month this corn will be a lot taller. I had best invest in a beeper or two.

Fourth and final flight was the maiden launch of my LOC Viper III which I have finished in a patriotic motif (red and blue with white stars). This one has been cristened Betsy Ross by my Dear Wife (who tolerates my rocketry hobby). I flew it on a cluster of three Estes E9-8's. I got more than a few worried looks from the RSO about the long delay time, but he relented and let me load her up. All three motors ignited and Betsy Ross leaped off the pad. Hey, a cluster of three E's is a sight to behold, full of fire and smoke. It flew high and deployed the chutes just as it was arcing over. I got a lot of applause from that flight.

That was my last flight. I had two more birds prepped including another cluster, but I must save these for next month. I will probably prep Betsy Ross for another flight, but I really want to fly her sister, A LOC IV that I call Liberty Belle. This one is prepped with two E9-8's and two D12-0's. This flight should be awesome!

Ad Astra!