Sharks Jumping Nigh

I love a good book. And I love a good book on tape on my drive to work. I've mentioned it before. My unscientific method is when I find a good author, I go back for more.

Double dipping is when my book on tape and the actual paper book I am reading are both by the same author. As I read at home, the same author is playing on my car stereo on my drives to and from work. I don't do that often, but on occasion. Really, it all depends on the library ...I'm at the mercy of what I find on the shelf at the time.

 But not all books and not all book on tapes are created equal. Case in point, my current literary pair.

Both 'Gideon's Corpse' (Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child) and 'The Monster of Florence' (Douglas Preston, Mario Spezi) share the same author. 'Gideon's Corpse' is a novel that I'm reading as a book on tape. Simultaneously I am reading 'The Monster of Florence' in hardback. It is non-fiction.

'The Monster of Florence' is not too bad. It documents the hunt for a mass murderer that tormented Florence Italy during the 70's and 80's. Mario Spezi is an Italian news reporter who covered the crimes for several decades. Douglas Preston was living in Florence and came across the story...and the book is a collaboration of the two that charts the crimes and attempts to uncover the true villain. The writing is pretty good actually. But there is something about the format that just sort of grinds on me. I think what it is is that Preston has inserted himself into the story uninvited. Spezi, as a reporter is already a second hand account for the of events in the story. And that makes Preston's personal accounts come across like here say. Though Preston and Spezi do interview witnesses, suspects, and police...their accounts just don't pull you into the story as deep as desired. You feel like a shadow watching a shadow as you read the book.

In 'The Monster of Florence', Preston does mention that his family is living in Florence at the time so that he can work on a novel set in Florence. It is almost a teaser, if this writer can make non-fiction come to life, he probably can really pump out good fiction, right?

Well, not exactly. Gideon's Corpse was for me a real disappointment. The main flaw seems to be a trend permeating in many contemporary American Thriller novels. This is the Clive Cussler style, throw us an infallible hero or heroine and inundate them in a book full of implausible shark jumping plot twists. The main character in Gideon's Corpse, Gideon Crew...is (in no certain order) handsome, intelligent (a nuclear physicist and spy), resourceful, fast, good with guns, able to do computer networking and security breaking, an excellent gourmet cook, good in hand to hand combat, quick on his toes, ethical to a fault, a jazz music connoisseur. Oh wait, there's more. His mission is to save an American city from a terrorist nuclear attach, single handed, with the evil folks against him...and oh yeah...all of the FBI and CIA and local crime enforcement on his trail.

Yes, so far (not yet finished), Gideon has crash landed in a plane (safely), fought off villains with a chain saw, escaped white water rapids, lived through a mine explosion, escaped an explosion on a movie set, made love to a beautiful and gifted stranger, hacked a computer, kidnapped a desperado, saved two children from a mad gunman, etc. etc. etc. And there are still chapters to go.

Please!

If I want to read about Super Humans, I can read a Marvel Comic or any book from the Twilight Series.

I want my characters human and flawed. I want my suspense intelligent and believable. I can handle tongue in cheek or sarcasm, but I can't handle these type of books where the main character makes Indiana Jones look like a slacker.

The writing is also pretty bad folks. I am not kidding when I tell you the author uses the actually phrase 'well nigh' in dialogue in the story. Who speaks like that???? One line has the main character 'reaching for the Python in my glove box, Fordyce tells me '...put away the 357 Magnum'). Do we really need the full name of the gun make and model in dialogue? Again, who speaks like that????

The reader 'David W. Collins' is actually pretty good. He will make you roll your eyes when he attempts a Liverpudlian accent' for one of his characters. Stick to this side of the pond Collins! The accent sounded a bit like the butler on Downton Abbey if an American CPA was trying to impersonate him. Think Sir John and Ringo, if you must Mr. Collins. The reader is important for book on tapes, and Collins does pretty good as long as he stays stateside with his dialogue.

One personal piece of advise I would have for the publisher is...if you have to have transition music on the recording, please limit it to at the beginning or end of each CD. If you put it in the middle of the CD, the reader (that's me!) may think it is time to flip to the next CD. Personally, I don't need music on my recordings., .if I want to listen to music, I can do that on my own.

So, in a word....One thumb up for 'The Monster of Florence', and two thumbs down for 'Gideon's Corpse'.

Cheers, NCA

Tar MacTartans

US Airways has a yearly Jet Pull competition in Philly, Charlotte, and Phoenix to benefit the United Way. Teams of 20 people compete to manually pull a jet down the runway.

This year, a few of us IT jobs joined a team from the Revenue Accounting division. I had a new employee on the team, a Scottish National, so when asked what our team should wear for the competition, I jokingly said a kilt. Mostly to tease the new employee. However, it caught on, and our team actually did wear kilts. See the video.

Our Scottish teammate, keeping in the spirit, actually brought his bagpipes and we marched out on to the tarmac with him playing. It was a grand time. Our team name was the Tar MacTartans ( a play on the word Tarmac).

Since our competition was in Phoenix, you see the Phoenix Cardinals theme jet, and one of the pictures shows the mascot for the Cardinals.

 Our team was under 8 seconds for the pull, but the really really good teams are sub 5 seconds. The best team each year is usually a Philly ground crew team.

Cheers, nca.

Joy In Movie Making

I played hooky today, working from home and taking care of my daughter who was ill. I had been to the Library a few days ago and grabbed a couple of DVDs off the shelf. One of these as purge joy.

"The Artist", starring the charming and charismatic Jean Dujardin and the beautiful and sweet Bérénice Bejo was just that a; joy to the visual senses. Shown in theaters in 2011, the film was set in the late 20's, early 30s. Filmed entirely in black and white and semi-silent, the film relied on all that charm and beauty to reach for the stars. The story chronicles the moment in time where silent films are supplanted by talkies. There are many visual references to silence and noise, and the motif is used throughout. Though mostly silent, there is a wonderful musical accompaniment throughout, and a few occasional and appropriate uses of sound scattered throughout.


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Nominated for 10 academy awards, the movie garnered 5...and worthy of each.  I thoroughly enjoyed this movie, and would watch it again and recommend it. Remarkable for me, besides the effective lack of sound and color, was the fact that true romance was demonstrated by a few tender, non-explicit moments, some silent tears, and truly loving gesture...and not the heavy handed naked bed scenes in so many other modern movies.

Two Thumbs up...check it out.

Liberal Conservative And Billy Beer

I have mostly been successful at avoiding lighting myself up like a Vegas billboard with brand-name advertising. Since those early 80's Jordache Jeans I talked myself into during those embarrassing disco days of my young debauchery. Sure, the name Levi's still gets my attention, but it stops and ends there. You won't see me with swoops on my shoes or Polo Ponies on my pocket.

It probably stems back to my poor Catholic Parochial upbringing...why try to keep up with the well off kids in my school while I was wearing rummage school seconds and hand me downs from my brother. If you can't keep up with the Jones' (Or Murphy's or Bakers, etc.), then why try. Mom would buy me a couple pair of jeans and a couple t-shirts at the start of the school year....if it was good enough for me then...it's good enough for me now.

Somehow, I was lucky with my daughters too. Aside from a few name brands here and there, they were always satisfied with the easy going store labels and brands. They never were and never have been brand name addicts.

From some perspectives...the labels people wear speak volumes about there tastes and preferences.

There is something about seeing a girl with 'Pink' labeled shorts on....

That reminds me of baboon butts

Or, how about...for $60.00 less then a Billabong brand shirt...

You can buy a vintage Billy Beer T-Shirt and speak so much clearly and deeply about just who you are. Are you a man, or a consumer?

Now, the people that can afford and buy designer....they probably feel that I'm just jealous. Maybe they are right to some degree. I remember the time I wore a second hand shirt my parents had bought for me to school only to have one rude boy walk up and say, 'that used to be mine, my Mom gave it to the rummage sale'. OUCH!

So sure, that would make a difference. Perhaps there is some jealousy in my makeup. I remember when my buddy Steve broke his forearm, he had this cool cast with tons of signatures....

I know at the time...I was thinking ...who the heck would I get to sign my cast...my brothers and sisters???? Ouch.

So, I admit, there was probably some culture class influences to my personality from early on. But even then, even admitting that....I just don't see the enjoyment one gets from walking around in clothes with 'designer labels' featured prominently in the attire. It's no longer a matter of being able to afford the attire. I think I could budget a couple hundred for some designer shoes, or perhaps a couple thousand for an Armani suit....but to what purpose? Where is the rush from flaunting some flamer fashion boy's name on my pocket?

Labels.

Tomorrow is the Presidential Election. Many people think this is one of the most important elections in the 21st Century. I feel a lot of that is still racial, personally. Too many white people intimidated by a black president. I know, that is oversimplifying things. But on occasion, the racism thing does seep out. I heard a family member one day say that the President should be shot. All politics aside...what exactly has our elected president done to deserve such vitriolic ire? 

 But labels has become such a big part of our culture that throwing labels around is like confetti.

Liberals.

Socialists.

Extremists.

Right Wing Nut Jobs.

Tree Huggers.

Republicans.

Democrats.

The list goes on and on...

In this election day, I hope that I, and those of you out there...can set aside all the labels and monikers, and prejudices, and hard-heartedness. Please seek candidates with character and integrity. Seek humble men and women who can lead our nation and the great State of Arizona with dignity. Seek leaders of men, not mere labels.

A great American once said...

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

Cheers, NCA

Miracles Are All Around You

At the time I was working at Scottsdale Public Library part time, I think I was a library page. I was going to school at ASU full time. I lived in a little apartment near Papago Park, close to Oak Street and 52nd, in Phoenix.

I owned a 1978 Kawasaki 350, which was my only means of transportation. It was one of 3 Motorcycles I would own during those youthful years. It was a pretty good ride, and living in Phoenix Arizona poor weather days were rare, so it was pretty reliable.

Sometimes I would wear my helmet, sometimes I wouldn't. It was not a law at that time in Phoenix, so it was a hit or miss thing. I did pick up my helmet and wear it one fall day, back in the early 80's.

This particular evening, I had got off work at the Civic Center Library, and it was that twilight hour, just as the sun was going down. I had turned on to to Thomas, west bound. Some big Lincoln pulled out of Gas Station directly in front of me without seeing me at all.

My experience on my years of street biking was that the rider (yeah, me) was more or less invisible to cars. Car and truck drivers did not expect me, and therefore could not see me. I had learned to think fast and always expect the unexpected.

But I did not expect the Lincoln Towncar directly in front of me. I had barely even tried to brake as I plowed into the side of it. I actually flew over the hood of the Lincoln and landed on the other side...head first.

Miracle one, that I was even wearing my helmet.

But I was hurting, immobile. Someone called 911, I don't know who. Some lady nurse was at the gas station and saw the entire thing. She was one of the first people on the scene. She would tell me later that what she saw and heard and led her to believe that my accident could be fatal. She said she saw the bone in my forearm was exposed, bleeding. She said she saw me land head first, over the top of the Towncar. She told me that she said a prayer over me. I heard all this when she came to the hospital to check on me later that night.

I had on a down jacket, I remember seeing feathers all over the place. It was a comical image that still makes me smile to this day.

The paramedics came and cut off the jacket, immobilized me and sent me to Scottsdale Memorial.

After XRAYS and examinations, it was confirmed...nothing at all was wrong with me. Not even one broken bone. My Care, from the paramedics to the ER staff was at all times professional and caring. I felt safe and in the best hands at all times.

Miracle two. Or Three...(do I count the nurse who was there on the scene, the good Samaritan...the prayers?). Nothing. Outside of soreness, stiffness, some bruises and contusions...there was nothing at all wrong with me.

The curbside nurse who came in to visit said she could not understand how my arm was not broken in the least. She told me that it must have had healed itself. I can not dispute or confirm or deny...I was only barely conscious.I only know what she told me.

I still have a scar and a dent in the arm where she said she saw the bone. My motorcycle was totalled in the accident. My helmet had a dent in it where my head hit the pavement, it too was never usable again. The bike and the helmet were done. I had lots of soreness and had to go stay with my Mom and sister for about a week...but outside of that...nothing else was wrong.

I do believe in Miracles. I don't know for sure that one happened to me that day, but maybe. I do believe that there are good Samaritans and angels out there...I met more than one that day, and I have met others over time.

There are strangers that I owe my life too, so if people ask me if I think people are basically good or basically bad...I am a half full guy. You can see that I have my reasons.

Oh, and nurse lady...good Samaritan...and all you Scottsdale paramedics and ER workers out there...keep doing what you are doing. The world needs to know that there are people like you out there.

Cheers...nca

A Good Read

I have an eclectic taste in novels. I am addicted to books on tapes that I can 'read' on my way to work. So besides the Swedish Crime novels I mentioned in a previous blog...I have found another type of book that I like.

I am not sure what to call the genre, they are sort of kind, quirky folks (not in the mainstream) doing service to others. These are feel good stories mostly, clean and positive, yet at times brutally realistic.  The theme of these to me is best described as Christian Service to 'do unto' others. Not preachy, more sort of teaching; as in teaching and describing people doing service to need youths.  The best ones of this slightly different genre in my opinion are Plainsong and Eventide by Kent Haruf.

Recently, though, I picked up a book on tape version of "Made in the U.S.A." by Billie Letts. Similar to Plainsong...it speaks toward out of control troubled but redeemable youths being helped on the road to stability by the kindness of out of the usual characters. In Plainsong, the unusual characters were the two awkward but kindhearted McPheron brothers, elderly bachelor ranchers. In "Made in the U.S.A", the helpful character is a crippled ex-Circus performer and his unusual family.

If you are interested in reading something different and positive, I would recommend any of these books.


The version of "Made in the U.S.A." I 'read' was read out loud by Cassandra Morris. Part of the joy of books on tapes is experiencing a really good reader. The reader selected has an impact on how the story is internalized, a great reader enhances the reading experience.  Cassandra Morris really seemed to be perfect for this particular reading. I really enjoyed the experience.

Cheers, nca

Happily In the Dog House again.

On a previous post on this blog, the author mentioned the nature of his pug infestation. To be fair, there should be no surprise for the author that he married into a family with deep love for friends of the canine variety. If the author had simply taken the time to peruse family albums in early stages of his courting, the evidence was direct and undisguised. The author, invites blog readers everywhere to view the evidence and decide for themselves.

Cheers....nca

Beach Volleyball

I admit, I have always been a bit biased concerning the Olympics. I still prefer the days when American Olympians were amateurs. The Dream Team is a Yawn for me...give me those American Amateur Basketball teams any day. And I still have a hard time with any 'sport' that has to be 'scored' by judges. I like amateur athletes in the competition, and I like sports were a winner is judged by his time, or with a tape across a finish line.

But, I can be open minded to some degree. I watched the 2012 London games and I have to admit I enjoyed this year's women's gymnastic all around competition...even with the judges out there. Just seen the precision and the joy and imaging the immense training these athletes have gone through...just impresses me.

I can find no fault with glimpses of personal excellence.

But please....Beach Volleyball. Oh, I get it, I am a hetero male and I get the bikinis and the long legs. But the Olympics? I'm sorry, but they already have volleyball...real volleyball. What is next, mud volleyball?

 Jello Volleyball?
Greco-Roman groping?

I think it is fine to find sports that more people in the world can enjoy. Cricket? Rugby? Finding true international sports, sounds like a great idea. But synchronised swimming? Are the standard swimming and diving competitions not enough?  And rhythm gymnastics? Please. It's girls dancing with ribbons.

If you are going to do that, why isn't square dancing or ballroom dancing not part of the Olympics.

A friend of mine at work asked me which Olympic sport I would want to do if I had the ability.  The answer was easy. Men's 100 meter dash. Power against power. Muscle against muscle. Speed against speed. Bring it on! If only...

Just my thoughts, for what they are worth.

Cheers, nca


p.s. concerning the disqualified badminton players....I have one problem with this. I saw swimmers laying back at the end of qualifying rounds once they knew they had qualified. I see sprinters doing the same thing...I've seen Michael Phelps do it in qualifying rounds. Please tell me, what is so different about this? They had qualified, and now were looking for seeding. This happens in all sports. How can we judge these athletes, we should be judging the rules that put them in that position.

Virus Software Is Extortion

Having to purchase Virus Software for my Workstation is extortion. Bill Gates and company, if you can't write a browser and an operating system that can fend off viruses and malware, then you are in the wrong business.  Some research I did showed that we are spending $16.4 billion yearly on Virus protection software. Those of us who can afford it. Those of us who can't are suffering the results. Malware downloaded to our machines, our CPU slowing down, strange emails going out. And worse things, like dish crashes or phishing.

Windows 8 is supposed to come out with Window's defender, which supposedly will be free, part of the operating system, and could make Norton and McAfee obsolete.

But what stops Microsoft from supplying a few hackers out there with a new virus, imperious to defender (or Norton or McAfee), then charging us for the cure...

I love conspiracy theories....

And hate having to pay for something that should be part of the make up of the computer.

It's like having to pay for my own white blood cells.

Cheers, nca

p.s. I did have to pay for blood cells...when I was in the hospital. Seemed kind of funny, all those gallons I donated all through the years, I should have built up some credit.

Origin of a Pug Infestation

It always starts with the first one. In our case, it was Marjerle. My brother had bought him at a pet store for his family, his boys. Marjerlie was a little boy pug.

Pugs are shedders. They shed. My brother's son had asthma, and they could not keep Marjerle. They asked my wife if we could take Marjerle. Ground Zero. The root of all evil. The starter's pistol. All hell breaks loose.

We are now on our 4th and 5th pugs.  Marjerle, Baxter, Daisy, Samantha, and Linus. Marjerle was free. Baxter we found in the paper for $100.00. Some friends called us on a litter with Daisy in it, she was $300.00. Samantha rounded up to $400.00. Linus topped the charts at $1500.00, he came from a pet store. I'm very worried about the price tag on the next one. The pattern is pretty clear now.

My favorite is when people knock on the door. The two we currently have start howling and crying and carrying on like teenage girl's at a Justin Beiber concert. And they don't stop until our visitors leave.

Then there are other annoying habits. Did I mention they shed? One of these two also likes to pee indiscrimately. In a thunderstorm they go beserk. If it is raining, they refuse to go outside. More pee then. They gotsa go somewhere.

Still, they are sweeties, part of the family. We are the pug family. I am sure people talk about us that way.

Now worries. They could talk worse things about us.

Cheers, from pugville. nca

Hard Metal Table

Reading my daughter's  post about her labor and delivery, I felt inspired to put my hospital experience down in 'ink'. Like her, more to just express the thoughts and feelings of the time, not to bore someone with medical tales.

It was March of 2011, and I was in Chandler Regional Hospital for open heart surgery. I had a condition called IHSS, and the procedure would be to open up my chest, disconnect my aorta, and do some internal work on the wall of my heart.

When I was first diagnosed with the condition, I was completely in denial, and I kept thinking that the entire situation would just go away.  But as the winter months flew by, and my March time period got closer and closer, I became much more scared and nervous. To make matters worse, a few weeks before the surgery I developed a sinus infection and was on anti-biotic. For some reason, my wife was in a real hurry to get me in the surgery, so right up to the day of the surgery I thought my sinus infection was going to cause me to have to reschedule, and I knew that that would really disappoint my wife.

The morning of the surgery finally arrived, and we had to be at the hospital very early to check in. I still had symptoms from the sinus infection, so I suppressed them as much as I could that morning. Again, I did not want to have to postpone and aggravate my wife. So, knowing I was going into a major surgery with a cough, and that I had already cheated death a couple times in my life, I really felt that I would not survive the surgery. Through my daughter's help, I had written up my last will and testament before the surgery.

At the hospital they called my name and I was taken back to the surgery prep room. I stripped and they laid me on a table. A technician shaved my chest and thighs, and they gave me some medicine. It was odd being shaved all over. They also prepped and cleaned me. The surgeon and the anesthesiologist came out to meet me and chat with me. I did not tell them about my cough.  Soon, they were wheeling me into the operating room. I had several IV's hooked up to me, one of them must have had the medicine to put me to sleep. I remember meeting the surgical staff, and I remember the bright lights, and that is all I remember as I was soon under the influence.

I don't remember anything more about the surgery. The next thing I remember is waking up in the ICU. I had a respirator in my mouth, and they were working on getting it out. I could see my wife, my oldest daughter was in the room too. I remember only being able to nod my head, and I remember feeling very emotional seeing my wife and daughter there all concerned. I remember that the next few moments were very tense as they removed my respirator and checked to see if I could breath on my own.

As it turned out, and unbeknown to me, I had been in surgery for 7 and 1/2 hours. After the initial procedure was done, they determined that my heart valve was damaged and had to be replaced with a mechanical valve. 1 funny side to that was that I tick like a clock now.

My wife was alone in the waiting room for those 7 and 1/2 hours. She had preferred to wait alone, but I know she did not expect the surgery to go that long. I feel for her, she has been through a lot with me as her chosen husband. Through the surgery, through the following ICU, recovery, through the 6 days in the hospital, through my subsequent home convalescence, through physical therapy she has not wavered or faltered. She is my champion, my rock.

P.S. I always find humor in all situations, major surgery being no exception. After the surgery, while I was in ICU, I really wanted to get out of there and up to a room. One of the conditions to get out of ICU was I had to be disconnected from my catheter. My recovery nurse had unhooked me and handed me a container and told me I had to make water. I tried and tried, but the dang plumbing was not working. He came in and checked a few times, but no go Mario. Finally, he came in and told me that he'd have to hook me back up. The thought of having that tube shoved up me and stuck in ICU for another day was killing me. I asked him to give me a few more minutes. I prayed, I begged, I thought of pools of water, finally a few dribbles came out. I can honestly say, I have never been prouder in my life when I held up the jug with the dribbles in it to my nurse, my face was beaming. Who would have thought how joyous a little pee could be. 

Cheers, nca

Who is Cooler - Zen or Draper?

I started watching old episodes of Mad Men this year, and have to admit Don Draper is the epitome of cool. But I have also enjoyed the Zen miniseries on PBS, and no doubt Aurelio Zen is also pretty darn cool. So, which one is cooler.

Cool Factor                                     Draper                                                Zen                                            Edge
Cool Suits                         Cool 60's wear, Brooks Brothers Suits       Italian Designer Suits             Zen     

Chevy S10 Long Bed

My history of cars during the years of my youth speaks to both my inexperience and lack of funds. I drove what I could afford and I was not too picky. One of my first 'rides' was a 1957 Chevy S10 Long Bed. This time period would have been around 1980, and the truck was two years older then me.

My brother John, who loved to tinker, bought it off my step-dad for a couple hundred bucks. He dickered around with it, but then sold it to me for $250.00. It was not my first car, but it certainly stays memorable.



This picture is not the actual truck, but a pretty good likeness for shape and color. John had been doing lots of sanding on it, but we never had it painted. I kept it for a year or two (no modifications), sold it back to John for $250.00. He sold it back to my step-dad for the same amount eventually, and my step-dad fixed it up, painted it canary yellow, and sold it for a couple grand.

It was a rough ride. It had a reliable straight 6 engine in it, the hood was spacious making the little narrow engine a piece of cake to work on. It had four on the floor, the big gear shift bending up over the bench seats. Key ignition, but a push button starter. While I had it it could have used a new set of tires, but I was on my college budget at the time.

I actually took it on a memorable date. I was going to NAU at the time and I asked out a friend from Phoenix. She was the daughter of prominent Dr. who had a house over on Lafayette Blvd. Lafayette Blvd. is one of those classic Phoenix streets where you would drive down just to look at all the fancy houses back at that time. Actually, that neighborhood is still pretty classic if you want to drive through there. Yes, I showed up at her beautiful house with that old truck. A cloud of exhaust and a pop of backfire.  I did the 'meet the parents' thing, and her daddy the Dr. had to come out and check out the truck. He actually went easy on me considering....he was into old trucks and it was a conversation starter. I'm sure he was a bit uneasy about the whole thing, but how much more nerdy could I be taking his daughter out in that thing? :)

We went out to dinner and a show. I then drove her up to a 'look out' point up on Squaw Peak (Piestewa Peak now), parked and put my arms around her. That was the extend of my 'moves' at the time. Me and that old truck then drove her home, and that was my one and only date with the young lady. :)



To this day, I have a fondness for old trucks. There is something graceful and utilitarian about their bulky shapes. I don't think trucks made today have as much character and style, they seem to go more for the 'macho' high off the ground power look.

To Melissa x, I apologize for taking you out in that old thing. And if I had it to do over again, I'd have snuck a kiss into the entire date package too.  :)

Cheers, nca

P.S. I learned years later that my wife's Grandmother had a house over on Lafayette Blvd....so maybe I ended up with one of those fancy Lafayette girls after all. Smiling...Cheers.

My Favorite Son-In-Law

My Mother-In-Law passed away a few days ago. As I knew it would be, this has been a very difficult time for my wife and daughters. Joyce was a loving and influential woman, indeed the family matriarch in every sense of the word. Before she passed away, she lived with us for a year and 1/2, moving back to her home about 3 months ago.

My daughters, their cousins, my wife and her brothers may have many more great  memories of her then I do. As a son-in-law, my relationship was not as close, and I may not claim to be as marked by her passing as they are. However, I have only terrific memories of her.

It would have been easy enough for her to not like me from the beginning. I was from a different background and a different religion. I was an outsider in every sense of the word. And I had eloped with her daughter on a very storm Thanksgiving weekend without even a word to the wise to her Mother or family.

Sure, when we told her, she was devastated and hurt. But I was her daughter's husband and soon the father of three of her Grand kids. So at all times she treated me with respect and kindness. A funny story my wife and I remember from that first month of marriage was Christmas Eve we were at my mother-in-laws house (this was very soon after the bomb shell of our elopment was made) and my wife and I had fallen asleep on the carpet beside her Christmas tree. In the middle of the night she came in and covered us with blankets.

She tried to help at times too, though I was too proud to take much help. I had to learn to swallow my pride when she desired to shower my daughters and wife with gifts and luxuries my salary could not afford. Both of my wife's parents tried to help us through struggles as best they could. I eventually was able to deal with these small blows to my pride by assuring myself that their help was for the benefit of my kids, not me.

After many many years, through much heartache to my wife and her family, I eventually joined the church of my wife and her family. This was of great joy to my wife and her mother, as this religion places great emphasis on family togetherness and exaltation. And, over time, as I became more financially stable I was able to 'pay her back' for all her sacrifice over the years. We took her on many family trips, including Hawaii and Texas. We laughed often over the Hawaiian name our family, including my Mother-In-Law,  were given in Hawaii (The Liki-Liki Family) And for that 1 and 1/2 years, she lived under our roof and partook in our family life.

From her, I learned a lot about patience, and acceptance, and kindness. She was a good example of those things. As a mother and grandmother, she was exceptional. I will miss her greatly.

Cheers to EJ

From her 'Favorite Son In Law'

nca

Hobo Signs

I was watching a couple old reruns of AMC's Mad Men early this morning. I have yet to figure out whether I like the show or not, but the two reruns I watched were on the very cool side. One of the episodes I watched was called "The Hobo Code". Part of that episode was particular flashbacks to Don Draper's childhood, and to a Hobo visiting his homestead at that formulative time in his life. The Hobo teaches the young Don (aka Dick Whitman) some Hobo Signs.

 From the late 19th 1880's thru WWII, hobos left graffiti to inform fellow hobos of local conditions. Typically, these signs would be scribed in chalk or coal., or as in the above, episode, carved in wood.

In this particular episode, the flashbacks to his childhood teach the viewer something about Don's character, and something about his past.  The visiting Hobo carves a sign toward the end of the episode as a judgement made on one of Don's family members. No, I won't play spoiler here, but I will make a brief comment on this as  to how the details of the episode reflect upon my life.

I was a bit of a 'hobo', in my youth. I did some thumbing, freight car hopping etc. in my time. I did not think of myself as a hobo, and I knew nothing about these 'signs'.  Interesting though, we left our own signs in our own fashion. My travelling companion kept a coloring book and crayons in his backpack as something to keep him occupied during lulls of our trip, downtime before catching that next ride.   My companion also kept a journal, which we both logged words in from time to time.  And there were times when other thumb-travelers out there had left messages on the underpasses which we would read. I particularly remember reading some clever 'underpass poetry' from some creative fellow traveler. Somewhere, I remember I wrote the verses down, if I come across those lines again I will let you all know. It would not surprise me if we had seen 'Hobo Signs' and not recognized them for what they signified.

So, it was pretty interesting seeing these 'codes' on TV, and likening it unto my own life. The episode was clever and thought provoking. As I ponder on the episode, and how it relates to my own life, I am forced to ponder what 'Hobo' sign might be left to mark my life, my personality. If my life were judged by other fellow travels who passed through my life, what Hobo  code would they leave to define me and my mark upon their visit with me?

Cheers, nca

P.S. For an Interesting Article about Underpass Poetry, click here.

Unbroken

I highly recommend the non-fiction book, "Unbroken", by Laura Hillenbrand. It is a journey through the life of Louis Zamperini, Olympic Athlete and former POW. Interesting, I also attending a US Airways Leadership meeting this year with another Olympic Athlete, John Naber, so 2012 must be the year of Olympians for me.

I won't go into details on the book, but "Unbroken" is aptly titled, it details the amazing trials in the life of Zamperini, and his ability to remain 'Unbroken" through trials and tribulations that would have knocked most men on their bums.

Hillenbrand also wrote another book you might have heard of, "Seabiscuit: An American Legend". Both books will leave you awed at the ability of beasts and humans to get through adversity and achieve greatness.

Highly Recommended

Cheers, Nicholas

P.S. I had to laugh when the author mentioned in the acknowledgments that someone had named a big racehourse 'Zamperini' some years ago. Interesting to think about the 'ties that bind'.

It's a long dark highway and a thin white line

Connecting baby, your heart to mine

We're runnin' now but darlin' we will stand in time

To face the ties that bind Bruce Sprinsteen, Ties That Bind

I invented the Internet

Well, not really. It was me and Al Gore. And thousands of other Baby Boomers. And all the generations since who combined the need for speed with the need for feed (live real time feed). But I was certainly there at the beginning.

We all played around with some form of computers during those early days. Pong came out in 1972. I remember my High School had some type of punch card reader, and we had to write some type of algorithm to feed through it for a Math class. That was around 1975 or so. Those were my first experience with computers, and I was less then enthusiastic.

Then came the Star Wars movies in 1977, and everyone (and oh yes me) was on board the digital revolution. That was the year I graduated High School and entered the 'force of the damned' armed with 'The Force'.

Programming got into my blood early in the 80's. I think I was working at Scottsdale Library and they had an Atari personal computer down in the basement. I picked up the 'Basic' Manual and built a program that caused a little digital dude to dance across the screen. To be truthful, I was not all that skilled at programming from scratch, but I was good at looking at other people's code and modifying it to do what I wanted it to do.  But by then, I knew I liked computers and programming. I knew what I wanted to do.

A few years went by, and I was married, one daughter and one on the way. I needed a job really bad. One with benefits and steady income. Within a week I had two offers. One was working at an Insurance company doing work with microfilm. The other was working at ASU, driving a Cushman Cart around campus delivering computer printouts. I took the ASU job because it seemed to have the most potential of getting me into the computer field.

Boy Howdy, I was on my way.

From Cushman driver, I became a Remote Site worker. Remote site workers helped Students operate the DECWRITERS and other UI available back then. They also separated out the Greenbar coming off the line printers and stacked it in little boxes for all the CS and MIS majors working out in the remote site. At that time they had standalone IBM PC's at the remote site. While working there I was able to see the first PCs networked together. So Cool! I remember writing a program that used a SUPERCALC macro to allow us remote site workers on varying shifts to leave messages for each other on the network. A crude early wanky version of 'E-Mail'. That is where my claim begins and ends. In my own little corner of the world, I had just invented 'E-Mail'. Well, sure, I'm sure it was done elsewhere and better. But isn't that what the WEB was all about....survival of the fittest? How many people out there developed versions of e-mail, or BASIC, or Spreadsheets....and which version survived?

From Remote Site Operator, I then became a Computer Tape Librarian, then a MVS Operator. Next I worked in Production Support, which was the pinnacle of my technical progression at ASU. I had to leave ASU and go to another company to be actually allowed to develop code, and my career profession to a developer was finalized.

So, like millions of my baby-boomer comrades I became a part of the digital revolution. My career in the software development industry has spanned 30 years right out of the heart of the rise of the nerds. You could plot my life's timeline right next to Steve and Bill and the gang. I can actually show you code I now support that dates right back to 1978. What goes around comes around.

Funny thing though. I think I have kind of reached the saturation point with the digital age. With another 20 years to go before I can seriously contemplate retirement, I find myself kind of beat up with technology. Acronyms and version numbers and release numbers, 2G to 3G to 4G...I'm not sure I give a FIG anymore. It all sort of blends together, and not in a good way.

The big buzzwords at my work are 'Agile', and 'Cloud', and 'OutSourcing', and it all makes sense to me still...I can spout buzzwords with the best of them....but I'm just not that into it anymore.


Strapped to my waist I have the Blackberry. I have the high speed Internet connection and a router in my house for wireless access. I write clean good code and I have automated manual processes that no-one thought could be automated. I have built relational databases and have built graphical interfaces, and I've written code that looks pretty as a poem.

But, I think I could be done.  I may be just looking for a graceful exit. I may have written my last GO TO.

Cheers, NCA

Lucky Friday the 13th

Video dedicated to my wife on her birthday :)

Opposable Thumb

The dollar figure changes every time I tell the story. Sitting here typing, I honestly can't remember. It seems to me it was $6.00. Why not. It was under $10.00 for sure. So, say $6.00, several packets of Lipton's Onion Soup Mix. A brown potato. My backpack, with sleeping bag etc. I was right outside New York City and that is all I had.

On foot.

I dared not go into the city, I was fearful that I would get stuck there with no way out. My companion was going into the city to catch his flight home to Europe. He said his Dad would wire him some money, but I was not sure of that and I did not really want to blow his money.

I wanted to go home.

New York City to Phoenix on $6.00 (less then $10.00, even if my memory has failed). A potato and some onion soup mix.

Raw peeled potato dipped in Onion Soup mix is not bad. You will have to trust me on that one.

Not that I was completely on my own. In Delaware Ohio, a Catholic family with about 8 kids put me up for the night, fed me. In Evansville Indiana a Salesman dude dropped me off at my Aunt's house. She fed me, washed all my clothes. My cousin drove me to Grandma's house for a huge meal.

In Texas, some perv put me up in a Hotel for the night. I had to bail on that one when he decided to get too friendly at night.  The traveler was travelling, not trolling.

The rest of the time, I was on my own. Thumbing back to Phoenix.

I was crazy. It was crazy to have done that. It was a different time. I was a different person.

Who thumbs now? I do not know. I do not pick them up. Who picked me up? Strangers I did not know, do not know. Ships passing in the night. What is the power of the thumb? What is the draw of the thumb? Who stops because of the thumb? Well, we know why the perv did. The Salesman in Indiana was just a good guy, no motive but to be of service and not be so lonely on his long drive. The father in Ohio may of saw something of his kids in me, traipses of my lapsed Catholicity...a kid from a large family like his. I don't know though, I could only guess.

My thumb was out a lot back then. Phoenix to Anchorage, 3664 miles. Anchorage to New York City? 4431 miles. New York to Phoenix?  2412. Then the trip to California, Utah, Colorado and back?  2500. Then all those times I hitchhiked to Phoenix College when I did not own a car. And all the other times. My thumb was a busy beggar.

 Powerful magic, that thumb. I think it was the right one. When I stick it out now, right one feels right.

Not trying to brag or build myself up here. It was my thumb, not me. Me just trying to look just needy enough, just honest enough, just safe enough, just young enough, just interesting enough that the thumb sparked something in someone. Sparked them to stop, offer a lift.

 Just thinking about all the people that had to have stopped for me back then, boggling. But to put it in perspective, all the people who passed me by...would be 10's of thousands. 100's of thousands maybe.   Zooming on by, maybe some of those with a thought, maybe most with no thought at all to the nerdy post-teen going who knows where or how far. And why should they?

What if one of you saw me, out there with my thumb. Would you have stopped. What about my wife? I don't think she would stop. She is not that type.  Frankly and truthfully, I am not the type who stops.

The type who stop.

Thanks for stopping, those that did. Thanks for seeing something that made you stop. To those that almost stopped, hesitated just a second, thanks too. It was kind of you to at least think of me. For those that did not even hesitate, thanks too. If you had stopped, time and place would have bent and nothing would have ever been the same. So honestly and from my heart, thanks. To the salesman...you are a man of great kindness and worth, thank you. To the father in Ohio...you should be very proud of your family, it is a great family.  To the perv, I hope it fell off.


Cheers...nca

La Cage Of Folly

Ok, real quick....

Nick Cage has got to be one of the most overrated actors in America (and that says a lot). Yeah, 'Nick', not going to even let him assume the 'Nicolas' (gives all us Nicholas a bad name). I mean, the guy is a Coppola, so I could give him a break...but why? If you have not seen him in Con Air, or Ghost Rider, or City Of Angels...then surely you've seen him in National Treasure. The guy just over-reacts, over-acts, and hacks his way though every B movie he can get his hands on.

Take a look at this video if you don't believe me.

Tone it down Nicky Boy.

Still don't believe me? Then tell me why his Uncle Francis did not even pick him for Godfather III, where he had to settle for Cuban Andy Garcia to play Vincent Mancini?  Or why would Cousin Sophie choose Bill Murray to whisper in Scarlett Johansson's ear instead of Cage in Lost in Translation? Could it be Nick could not manage to tone his overacting down to the required whisper?

OK, OK, this is supposed to be a fairly positive blog....so I won't trash him to death. Even I like a loose blow-em-up movie from time to time. And some of Cage's movies fill that bill, absolutely. But let's never kid ourselves that Cage is ever going to emote beyond his limited talent level.

enuff said

Cheers, nca

Who is this guy.

Who is this guy?

Really?

In December, I will have worked for the Airline 20 years. Before that, it was the University for 8 years. 28 years working in IT. Which means....desk jobs, more or less. Programming, Development, Production Support, Pagers, Databases, COBOL, JCL. But it was not always that way...

I worked for the YMCA (youth Camps) for some five summers. I worked libraries, restaurants, Forest Service, worked for a plumber digging ditches, and I worked as a Page at the library. I mowed lawns, painted apartments. Most of those jobs were on my feet, some were outdoors, almost every job much more physical then what I do now.

How did this come to be? Where did I make the turn in my life from a physical worker to a sedentary worker?

Daughters, I suppose. At the time I met my beautiful wife, I was a nomad of sorts. I lived from paycheck to paycheck, job to job. I sought adventure, I sought the outdoors, I led a physical existence. I drove a Motorcycle and was never in the same place more then 5 or 6 months. With marriage and two quick daughters...the need for responsibility/grounding/clipping of wings had to take place. My daughters needed health insurance, a home, some degree of stability. They needed a Mother and Father. Not to mention, I needed all that too.

All good. No doubt. Every responsible Father needs to turn that corner if he is going to be of worth. Cowboy up!!!

Still, looking back at the change in my personality, I sometimes miss the nomad part of myself. When I hear a train-whistle, I can't help but think of riding freight cars across California, Nevada, and Utah. When I smell the pine, I can't help but think of leading groups of youth on hikes into the Bradshaw mountains or down Havasupi. When I see graffiti, I think about writing short poems on a highway underpass is Canada while waiting for the next ride to pick me up.

How far have we evolved from the nomad tribes of our ancestors? As men, where do we draw the line and divorce ourselves from our testosterone induced heritage...fight of flight, pick up our tent and move on, conquer our enemies, plant our staffs upon the earth and piss around to mark our territory? 

Is this why it is so difficult for some men to turn the corner, to put family first? To hang up the spurs and strap on the baby shoulder harness? How, as men, are we to balance this duality of our spirits? The need to be men verses the need to be husbands and fathers. Some do this so well. I'm not sure I did, and sometimes I fear I may have gone too far toward losing my masculinity, while other times I thought I could have been a better husband and father.

One thing I know, is I don't know one thing.  :)  As Bill Cosby once said..."If the new American father feels bewildered and even defeated, let him take comfort from the fact that whatever he does in any fathering situation has a fifty percent chance of being right."

Cheers, nca

P.S. To Read A Little More About the Role of Fathers, I recommend reading "The Family: A Proclamation To The World

Little Women

We'll be mad, and explore. We'll recline a loft upon the breeze.
Dart about sail on with with ease.
Pass the days doing only as we please, that's what living is for.
Some things are meant to be, the tide turning endlessly,
the way it takes hold of me, no matter what I do,
and some things will never die, the promise of who you are,
the memories when I am far from you.
All my life, I've lived for loving you; let me go now.

These were lyrics from "Some Things Were Meant to Be" from Little Women the musical. This particular scene was poignant and touching.  My daughter and I saw a performance of it at Chandler/Gilbert Community College a few weeks ago. Sure, it was not Broadway quality...but it was charming and enjoyable and I rejoice in people willing to get up on stage and sing, dance, act...celebrating the arts at every level. These young actors were using their talents, singing from the heart and with great spirit. And they were loving the applause.

My daughter and I had one favorite moment: During the curtain call, one older lady was standing and applauding and joyfully shouting...'that's my granddaughter, wasn't she wonderful'. She was wonderful.

The performance was at Chandler-Gilbert Community College Performing Arts Center . A nice cozy theatre that seats about 300. My daughter and I had excellent seats at a reasonable price. Over the years I have attended various High School and local plays. My daughters have performed in a few small plays. I have also seen the big Broadway productions that pass through Phoenix. I love the theatre and get great joy in attending. But big or small, famous actors or high-school students....get out and see a play today!!! Support your local High School and Community Arts programs.

Cheers, nca

The Troubled Man

For sometime now I have enjoyed reading the Kurt Wallander series by Henning Mankell. Mankell is a Swedish author, the books are translated into the English, and I find them very engaging stories. I first got subjected to the stories through the PBS Mystery series starring Kenneth Branagh. Between the Wallander series, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo series by Stieg Larsson,  and "The Hypnotist", by Lars Kepler, I feel I have found a treasure trove of new novels that I love and recommend. Kudos to you Swedish authors out there. I admit, not being able to read these books in the original Swedish means I probably miss a lot of the language originally intended by the authors, and I also probably miss many of the cultural references in the novels, but I love them never-the-less.

"The Troubled Man" was my most recent read. Apparently it is the last in the Wallander series, and the author through plot and device ensures that for the reader. Slight spoiler there, but only slight since the method the author ends the series is unique to me. But let me say, "The Troubled Man" was troubling. Perhaps because I am only 10 years younger then the Wallander of the story. And perhaps since I have been dealing with health problems and dealing more directly with my own mortality, the book really hit home. The Wallander character has had to deal with divorce, dumping, health issues, alcohol abuse, wondering about his purpose in life...through a total of 13 books now...I was sort of hoping the author would grant Kurt a break in this final book. Give him a steady girl to stand by him, give him a rewarding and active retirement,  give him a break....

....but no....you won't find that in this final book. I won't tell you more....but just between you and me...after reading a series this good and this powerful, I think the author could have thrown Wallander and me the reader a bone...something small we could sink our teeth in.

Two Thumbs up for a great story, middle finger up for the author not giving Kurt a break.

Cheers, nca.

December 12, 2012

There is a website with a countdown to December 12, 2012. (there is a website for everything isn't there?)This to some people is the 'end of the world'. The countdown currently says 0303 days, 3 hours, 28 minutes, 25 seconds. Amazing. In many ways. But the direction I am going with this blog entry is...if I have 0303 days left on this beautiful earth, how wisely would I use them? Wise does not have to be in the equation really. Just how would I fill those last days as they count down.

As I was going into March of last year, I had surgery coming up. At the time I had doubts I would survive all that. I won't go into those reasons now. But at that time I had a real live mental clock counting down. Did I use those days 'wisely'. Well, perhaps. Maybe not. Not sure.

My daughter and her husband helped me write my Will and last requests. That was good, I had not taken the time to do that before.  We have that to show for my surgery, along with my scars and my heart that ticks like a clock.

My wife and I had gone out to some nice restaurants. We did have a nice Christmas that year...though with a beautiful wife, three beautiful daughters, and Grand kids...I think a nice Christmas will always be penciled in for me. My cup overflows with love for my family.

But is a nice Christmas, a few great date nights, and an completed will enough to put all my chips on the table and cash in?


Probably not. Not then, not now. Boy, do I need to get busy! I don't know when my clock will run out. None of us really do. My middle daughter teases me that I need to get writing my 'Novel'...one I started years ago. I also have ideas for screen plays, poems, and maybe another novel.

I started this blog out to sort of get the writing bug rolling, good start...but not quite enough.

And there are places on the globe I really want to visit before I check out. There are things I want to do. And I really need a few more adventures before I can call this life full. ADVENTURE. I have long held the belief that life, with all it's bells and whistles,  is the greatest of all adventures. But it is made up of a bunch of little adventures...and sitting around the TV after working for 10 hours each day is not living the adventure.
I'll let you know what I come up with. Wink Wink. Watch what happens.

Cheers, nca

p.s. Leap Day is February 29. That gives us all an extra day before the end of the world. What mischief can I get into between Leap day and the Ides of March? I'm telling you, there's going to be something to blog here.

Irreverant Earth

If I knew then what I knew now. How often have us quasi-adults thought that same thought. But not just what we now know, but the tools we now have at our fingertips. I've talked about apps on this blog before. But my goodness,  what havoc some of today's apps would have done to my character if they were let loose upon my formulating childhood!

I was born chock full of mischief. Staying after school writing lines was a regular occurrence in my elementary days. I somehow always sought that which was most mischievous and embraced it with a vigor. But if I had some of the technological tools available now back in my day, oh the trials I could have put the nuns at my school through.

Google Earth comes to my mind today. It amazes me that I can type in an address anywhere in the world and pull up satellite or street images with a few key strokes. What an amazing bit of technology that is. And oh so useful.

I remember as an elementary youth trying to sneak through the oleanders down by the baseball field to get a peak at the swimming pool on the convent property. Yes, those sassy nuns had their own swimming pool, and by golly my youthful imagination wanted to know just what went on back there while we were out sweating on the sports fields.

Were the nuns doing Busby Berkley synchronized patterns out in the pool?

Were they secretly dressing in sleek bikinis with their habits amiss?

Was Father D#^&* throwing ribald raucous swimming parties like a pious Hugh Hefner behind our very backs?

We just had to know. It was one of the playgrounds greatest mysteries and we, like countless classes of boys before and after us just were dying to know. What went on back behind the oleanders at the convent swimming pool?

But low and behold, a few clicks on Google Earth, and there it is, as plain as day.

         

I can now view, with mystery deflated like a thrice punctured bicycle tire, from my lofty perch from a satellite orbiting earth....exactly what was going on in the convent swimming pool. Absolutely flipping nothing.

Maybe some mysteries are better left...without an app.   :)

Cheers, nca


p.s. (editors note) ... This is the second Kotkas posting involving a risque picture of a nun. Hmmm. What's Freudian drivel could that be ? :)

If u dont eat ur meat u kant have ne pudding

Time to do taxes again.

Whip Out the newest version of TurboTax and go for it.
Fed Tax, State Tax, Deductions, W2, W4, 1099, Long Form Short Form
Itemized, Receipts, Donations, Health Deductions, Dependencies, Mortgage Tax Credit

Fine. Uncle Sam, Governor Jan, and Sheriff Joe...what's mine is yours, what's yours is.....
Oh, but there is $400.00 they are not going to get. $400.00 I can feel better about.

I'm talking the Arizona School Tax Credit. $200.00 individual, or $400.00 for a married couple that I can donate directly to the school extra curricular activity or character education program of my choice. With recent cuts to education funding in the Statue of Arizona, Teachers and students need all the help and funding they can get.

The kicker is, you can't think of it as a donation. Because the $400.00 ($200.00) check you write is a Tax Credit. That means at the end of the year when you are doing your income taxes and you owe money to the State...you can directly subtract this 'donation' from the taxes you owe. Sort of a no-brainer if you believe in any of the extra-curricular or character eduction programs offered in the Arizona School Districts. Band or Orchestra, Sports, Clubs, Choir, Field Trips, Science Camps...the list goes on and on...there is bound to be some organization at a local school near you that floats your boat.

The last couple years my daughter has been pretty involved with the FFA program at Highland High School. This is a terrific program, character building, skill building, social skills building. I never knew anything about this organization until she dragged me to a couple meetings. Very very much more worthy of my $400.00 bucks then the state general fund. Then in years past, there was band and choir, and science camp. All worthy of my $400.00. It helps me feel much more connected to my community when I know my tax dollars are being spent on something worthy, something local, and something educational.

So, you don't have a school age child? That's ok. Relatives, neighbors, people in your church, bunko buddies, ask around, someone can direct you to a worthy school fund. I think it is a great investment of your tax dollars.

Did I mention it was a TAX credit?

Cheers, nca

No Deposit No Return Amended

The great Non-Rev Water Deposit Scam
In Oregon, bottled water bottles carry a 5 cent deposit.  You can see a reference to it on the label of water bottles.

So while downing one of the Fry's 500 ml bottles I think back on the Seinfeld episode where Kramer and Newman come up with a plan for driving a mail truck to Michigan full of Cans for deposit return...hysterical episode.

You can click on the picture to view the episode. But the premise is that Newman comes up with a method to solve the logistics of driving a mail van full of cans to Michigan to get the 5 cent deposit. Mayhem reigns, as typical in Seinfeld.

What occurs in my warped mind is that the formula is altered when you consider the water bottle. I looked it up and the average weight of a 500 ml drinking bottle is only 12.7 grams. So, if I were to fill luggage that could hold 50 pounds of squashed water bottles, in theory I could get 1785 water bottles into 1 piece of luggage. Testing would be required.  That math says that for each piece of luggage I could slip  non-rev on a flight to Oregon, at 5 cents a bottle, I could achieve deposits of 89.25 in Oregon.

Now, the flight to and from Oregon is about 6 hours round trip, adding an hour to get a city bus to a recycling center and getting the deposit, that means about $11.17 an hour. You would have to also figure the time allocated to accumulate the water bottles and squashing them.

However, this formula gets better when you add in what you could fit on your carry on, and if you get a bit bigger piece of luggage, etc.  Come on readers out there, help me max the profit on this.

"Newman (nca), you magnificent bastard, you did it!"

Cheers, nca

p.s. Seinfeld was one of my all time favorite sitcoms. Barney Miller was right there. 2 and 1/2 Men was pretty funny, but the raunchy level is heavy. Check out episodes of Fawlty Towers on U-Tube also...very funny.