The Course of Tech Love Never Does Run Smooth

I love technology but it doesn't always love me back. And I don't always have the best luck with the devices I invite to share my life.
Take cameras. I have owned at least 6 digital cameras since the kids were born. The most reliable has been a small video/digital camera I paid 60.00 for about 10 years ago.
The pictures are only 2 mega pixels and the flash doesn't work any more but in good lighting I can just turn it on point and shoot. Unfortunately I didn't take it on my trip last spring.
I left it at home because I had a new camera for the trip, a small tax return splurge. Not very expensive but the nicest one I had ever had. There were 2 things I didn't like though: it was so tiny I confused with my cell phone when I reached in my purse, and the built in rechargeable battery. Knowing how tech tends to not work for me I really prefer the security of being able to walk into any drug store on the planet and a buy package of AA batteries. The clerk assured me that once charged the battery would last a week at least, and since it was the only one in my price range, I bought it, took it home and charged it.
We left on Thursday night. The battery died Saturday afternoon in the middle of Petersburg battlefield. I left it on the charger all night and nothing. It wouldn't even turn on while on the charger. The rest of the trip was photographed on my cell phone...which also died a month later. I got the pictures printed though.
Recently my much loved Nook died, and rather than just replace it I decided to upgrade to a Nook Color partly because my laptop had died (another tech nightmare) and I was tired of having to do all my Internet business on my cellphone. So it arrived in the mail and I plugged it in, and nothing. I plug in the charger from the daughter's nook and it at least turned on, though it wouldn't charge as the cords aren't really compatible. I call tech support. They say they will send a new charger and outlet, each of which will come in its own box. Anyone need a small shipping box? I have had three arrive in the last week.
So 3-5 more business days and my cables arrive, I plug it in and lo, it works as advertised. I must in fairness add that the customer service at Barnes and Noble is great. And there's a happy ending to the camera story too, for when I took it back to the store there was a lovely Cannon on sale, larger and using AA batteries. And we have been quite happy together.
But I do seem to jump more hoops than the average person where tech issues are concerned, I haven't even mentioned all the things I own that work but only if you know the right way to jiggle it or smack it to make it work.
Sometimes I think that in a past life I really offended someone with a pocket protector.

About Heroes

This post was going to be a rant about Lance Armstrong and how hard it is for parents when someone your child regards as a hero turns out to be a jerk or a cheat (or both). But just as I was working myself up into a proper state of indignation, word came out that Neil Armstrong had died. My indignation fled, to be replaced with a warm feeling of gratitude and admiration, and musing thoughts about what real heroes really are.

Neil Armstrong was a hero. Because he and his fellow moon astronauts made it back from their missions safely, its easy to forget how many things had to work perfectly for that to happen, including Mr Armstrong taking over the controls and manually flying the lunar lander when the computer couldn't find a good spot to set down. And when he set foot on the moon he called attention not to what he had done (one small step for man) but what we had done (one giant leap for mankind).

All this is burned into my memory because on a summer night in 1969 my father woke my siblings and myself up at 1am to watch this happen. It was,he said on of the most important moments in history, and we had the chance to it live, as it was happening. He said we needed to remember it, and as you see I did. I still have a book he bought me with the history of the space program, culminating in the Apollo 11 mission.

I find I have 3 kinds of heroes. One is a creative hero, someone I admire for the quality of work they put out over a lifetime, and for the effects this work has upon others: people like Jim Henson, John Lennon or Joseph Campbell.

Another kind of hero is one I call a character hero, there is a heroic quality is in the way they live their lives. Often they are people who have overcome obstacles (Helen Keller, King George VI) or advocated for peace (the Dali Lama). Sometimes a person can start something on a small scale that winds up changing the world (Eunice Kennedy Shriver). All of them reach beyond their own individual needs to look to the needs of others.

Then there are what I think of as Achievement heroes, someone is who is faster, better or first. Although I can admire such achievements, to think of someone as a hero I want to see what they do with the rest of their lives as well. For example, one of my heroes has always been Sir Edmund Hillary, ever since I read his account of the Conquest of Everest when I was a child. It wasn't only the achievement itself, it was how he wrote about it, right down to not saying whether it was himself, or Tenzing Norgay, his guide, who reached the summit first, because it was their achievement. As I got older I admired him even more for leveraging his fame to advocate for conservation causes and for the people of Nepal.

Armstrong took a different approach to fame--he walked away. Trained as an engineer before he went into the service, and then to NASA (he was an Eagle Scout too, by the way, you Knew I'd slip that in) he went to the University of Cincinnati and taught aerospace engineering. He seldom did interviews or made speeches, but just went about his business, which is what he maintained he was doing on the moon too. His job.

His family has asked that if people wish to remember him, they take a walk on a clear night and look at the moon and think of him. A hero doing his job.


Update 8/31/12
This morning as I was waiting at the bus stop I observed this beautiful Harvest Moon and did think of Neil Armstrong. I suspect it will be awhile before I look at one and not think of him.

The Pennsic rain stays mainly on the Plain

As previously mentioned it rained a lot while we were on vacation this month. Enough rain in fact for me to work up a few little parodies for my daughter to try out if she decides to busk for her slushies again next year.

Dry Sleeves (To the tune of Greensleeves)

Alas my love it has rained so long

I can't recall a sunny day

I'm sodden now from tip to toe

and don't think I shall ever be dry.

Dry sleeves are my great wish

Dry garb is my desire

But the weather gods are merciless

You cant even build a fire.

Cruel Skies

(to the tune of Blue Skies)

Cruel Skies

Have me on my knees

Nothing but Cruel Skies

Do I see.

Blue skies

are nothing but tease

There are more rain clouds

In the breeze

Never saw the rain

pouring so long

I had enough time

to write this darn song

Never see the sun

coming around

Just lots more water

Flooding the ground.

Cruel skies

gloomy and dark

Any more rain and

get in the ark.

Cruel skies

Have me on my knees

Nothing but cruel skies

Do I see.

Much too late to be dry

(to the tune of "Much too late for goodbyes")

Ever since we've been camping here

We've been watching the skies

Lighting and thunder are everywhere

As the clouds open wide.

And its much too late to be dry

And its much too late to be dry.

Our whole  tent is wet again

And the clothes on the line.

There is rumor of sun next week

I'll bet its  a lie

But its much too late to be dry

Yes its much too be late to be dry.

My heartfelt apologies to all the original authors, including Henry VIII who is supposed to have written Greensleeves.

The Adventure of the Empty House

The kids and their dad left the end of last week to go to grandma's to help with the garden harvesting and canning. The kids will be back tonight to start getting ready for school, their dad wont be back till the tomatoes run  out, and there is a bumper crop this year so it could be a couple weeks. We do the harvest routine every year, so we are used to it, and it certainly pays off all winter as I have mentioned  (Preserving summer all winter)in a previous post.

I have mixed feelings when they go away like this. Just one year I would like to be involved in the harvest, its one of the reasons fall is my favorite season.  But the fact is that my husband, and his mom, and his siblings, all farm raised, have a a far better idea of what needs to be done than I do, and I would be useful mostly as an observer.  (Translation:in the way.)

On the other hand I had  the house to myself for a week.

Every mom knows the only way to really get a break is to be in a different place than the kids. (I have once or twice managed a different state, haven't tried a different country yet, but now that they are both teenagers it is certainly a viable option.) I worked all but one of the days they were gone, but it was nice to come home each night to a quiet house, a long shower whenever I want, a quickly heated dinner of whatever I like  (pierogies and kielbasi anyone?), and sole custody of the TV remote and the absence of both Teen Nick and the Military History Channel from my viewing agenda.

This is good for about 4 days before the house becomes way too quiet, the dog is sick of the sight of me, and I tired of having to do all the chores (I was especially reminded of this when I had to take the trash out Sunday night because the designated child wasn't there).

With a  12th grader and and 8th grader I  know these small separations are only the beginning, and that longer separations lie ahead, but I'm not quite ready yet. So bring back the noise, the laundry, the dishes, and the drama.

Welcome home kids.

Photographing the Middle Ages

It is one of the ironies of life that while I was hanging out in the Middle Ages one of my best friends was hanging out at the BlogHer conference in New York City, and (further irony) we were texting updates on both events back and forth between the 2 millennia. It is yet another irony that one of my chief activities at Pennsic is taking pictures, and indeed as mentioned in my last post, I actually attended a class on how to take better pictures at the event.

My Pennsic pictures seem to fall into 3 categories: First and most important documenting what we as a family are doing, secondly random photos of what makes Pennsic special (Fighters, garb, camp walls and gates) and thirdly pictures that capture the only at Pennsic juxtaposition between ancient and modern.

The weather figured in a lot of my photos this year



dad and kids waiting out a storm

Did I mention the weather?

Eventually the storm would pass and we would go on.

He was flying over the battlefield, not sure that was a good omen

I don't know if he was coming from the battlefield or going to it
but he made an interesting contrast with the tents

One on one combat



Most camps expend a lot of effort on their gates and walls

What I cannot give you is an idea of the scale of things when

10,000+ people all get together in the same place

to camp for 2 weeks. For that you would need one of the aerial photos

that are taken each year. If you are really interested this web site

http://www.oocities.org/toomperscott/photos.html  has photos of

some of many postcards that have been

sold over the years including some aerial views.

Back From The Middle Ages

So the last 2 weeks I have been mostly out of here, visiting the Middle Ages with my family via the Pennsic War in PA. We made it back mostly safe and sound, if a bit soggy, as Mother Nature decided that week 2 was a great time to relive some of the drought issues in western PA. The only casualty was myself, who went down with a nasty case of food poisoning/flu shortly after arriving home. Not getting sick till I got back did at least allow me to be sick in my own (flush) toilet....ah the comforts of home.

When one goes off for 2 weeks like we do, with no connection to the rest of the world except cell phones,  return is a total immersion into the information age. There were 3 weeks of Time and Sports Illustrated on the table, a pile of bills and junk mail to go thru, and a fully loaded DVR of Olympic events I had missed while in the wilderness (Plus all those back episodes of Dance Moms and Project Runway). Then there is the job. We arrived home on Saturday and I was back to work on Tuesday. Should have been Monday, but I still hadn't resumed eating on Monday morning, so I took a sick day, something I hate to do cause you know darn well no one believes you were sick on the first day you are due back to work. (I wish to state for the record that if I had wanted to extend my vacation I would have chosen a far more comfortable, not to mention relaxing way of going about it.)

Largely due to the efforts of my not deathly sick husband, all the laundry and dishes were washed up, the camping gear mostly stowed away, and other post vacation errands attended to. Yesterday we even located the floor of the living room, after navigating around plastic tubs for most of the week.

But an awesome time was had by all. Everybody got some much needed down time My son spent lots of time on the archery range and even more time building some seriously elaborate campfires

. My daughter ran with a "gang" of similarly garbed teen aged Commedia dell Arte performers, and also discovered the fine art of busking for slushie money.

My husband prefers to spend much of his time socializing with all the wonderful friends we see once a year, while I relieved of having to monitor children's activities for the entire war  got to sit in on a lot of classes, everything from a class on Eleanor of Aquitaine to what the well dressed Viking woman was wearing in the year 1000 to the history of the Witchcraft Persecutions.

 Evidence of the weird ways that past and future can collide is that I also attended classes on how to take better pictures at Pennsic, and all but one of the people in the class was using a digital camera (I leave it to the reader to judge if it helped)

I also came home with a large pile of new books...many courtesy of a vendor having a huge clearance sale. One was a book I had sought for a long time, William Manchester's A World Lit Only By Fire.  There were novels and anthologies and a book on the use of the thunderbolt in world mythology, the last signed by its author who happened to teach one of my classes.


When you go to the same vacation spot over and over again, often in the company of the same persons, it changes how on feels about the place. Not only is there feelings for the location  or event, there are also feelings about the persons one spends time with.We have dear friends we only see for these two weeks each year, some of who we have no contact with the rest of the year. And yet when we see them again we are right where we were before. 

The running joke at Pennsic is that we don't really go home at the end of the war, rather we  are  just on 50 week beer run. Next year, due to a scheduling conflict, Pennsic is a week earlier, so its only a 49 week beer run. As I type this  I say to myself "only 48 weeks to go".

Boy at 17

Today is my son's 17th birthday. From babyhood on he has always been a remarkably even keeled and thoughtful person. Even as a small baby he was wide eyed and alert to everything around him. One of his great aunts pronounced him "an old soul. You can tell he's been here before". He barely spoke till he was 2, then he used adult words and complete sentences. Like most kids he would climb things he shouldn't, but he's the only child I ever saw who tested the the next step before he put his full weight on it. He decided early on he didn't like the taste o f meat, rejecting it even as a baby, and was effectively a vegetarian by the time he started school.

At 6 he was a remarkably sweet tempered and logical child, and were he not drawn to tormenting his little sister he might have never gotten into trouble. He did have a stubborn streak, and at times an exaggerated sense of right and wrong--especially resenting times when (in his eyes) the adults in his life (teachers, coaches, youth leaders, as well as parents) changed the rules they had laid down. He loved Legos, K-nex, and any other sort of construction toy, I distinctly remember him, at about 8, displaying a Lego boat that was, he said, an attempt to rebuild the Titanic so it wouldn't sink. He also developed a strong sense of history, both the collecting of historic facts and figures, and the ability to put himself in a time and place and feel what it was like to be there. (Many years attendance at the Pennsic Wars probably helped here, not to mention all the historic sites I dragged the kids to.)
Not surprisingly he was drawn to both baseball, the sport most obsessed with fairness and record keeping; and also to Scouting with its idealistic 12 point program of what boys and men should be (trustworthy, loyal, helpful, etc).

We learned early he was calm and level headed in a crisis--when his dad cut his hand in the kitchen he went for the first aid kit. When the dog had puppies under the porch and wouldn't let the adults help her, he climbed under the porch, calmed her down and handed the puppies out one by one, then got her to come out. When his little sister was knocked down on the playground while he was a monitor he chewed out the kids who did it, then took her to the school office.

For the most part he has continued as he began.  Even the inevitable teenage headbutting passes fairly  quickly.He still tends to see things in black and white and miss the shades of grey, but hopefully that will come with maturity and more experience of the world.

On a recent Sunday morning he stood in the kitchen with us before heading out to another week of camp. As he talked about his plans for his senior year, and for college, I admired his self assuredness, so much stronger than mine at that age, and thought to myself, as he went out the door:  You are all right, Son. I like the man you are turning out to be.