Prose on a Stormy Day

The clouds over the lake bed had grown to their darkest in the early afternoon. A thousand shades of grey churned slowly in large, defined shapes. The air below the clouds was as clear as it could ever be, revealing shapes and patterns in the mist only possible before great rainstorms. Soon, heavy drops broke the reflection of the clouds from the glassy surface of the lake. He grabbed the thick handle of his axe and pushed himself to his feet, starting the ascent back up to the cabin. Clearing the last trees from water’s edge would wait until the morning.

The creek served as a wise but haggard guide. As the thin stream of water cut away soil to rock over the years the brambles, roots and moss had filled as far as it could. The thickness of wildlife along the crags belied a desperation to reach the retreating stream. Slowly, he and it wound together along the hillside for a quarter mile or more, keeping each other company in the wilderness. As he climbed, the stream began to fill higher with water carried down from the northern slope.

He said goodbye to the stream as he climbed the steeper path east toward home while the stream turned west in favor of gentler ways to ascend the mountain face. Only a little way left to go, but the audible, growing roar from the west meant the rain would beat him there. He quickened his pace, zig-zagging and jogging up through the more worn path of dirt and leaves while hopping around the roots and jutting rocks memorized from so many walks down to the lake.

He made it to the edge of the trees just as the deluge began; the skies opened a torrent of warm rain in what felt like drinking glass-sized drops. His feet kicked out mud and leaves behind him as the sky soaked him from the knees up on that last dozen yards to the cabin. He laughed as his feet knocked their first two steps onto the hardwood porch, now catching his breath under the protection of the cabin roof.

It wasn’t as old as some in the forest. The thick log frame still bore the youthful, light color of the pines used to frame it. The edge of the heavy-shingle roof rested contentedly on large, round logs along the porch edge. The absence of wind permitted two worlds to coexist within inches along that perimeter: chaotic, uncontrollable wild behind sheets of water and the still, dry air of civilization.

He lowered the ax to the floor, leaning the handle firmly against the wall before returning to the edge of the porch. He stood under the broad awning and leaned up against a post, eyes searching just above the treeline. All of the definition he saw earlier in thick cloud formations had been brushed and sanded down into an unknowable haze. The sky’s expansive palette of grey had turned to mere shadows and suggestion of dark against darker. He questioned the stillness of the air despite the thick downpour. It was unusual, certainly.

His eyes sank into the trees as he took in the effect of the water on his forest. Large-leafed branches pelted with rain too far away to see clearly. In a storm, he mused, you must assume the strange pantomimes of distant trees are caused by the same rain you see and feel in front of you. It is both unnatural and entirely expected as one watches boughs drooping slowly and tentatively under the weight of the water until until a heavy shudder shakes the rain to the ground. The pines do not bend and sway. Proud and straight in the storm without wind to buffet and shake, the needled branches quiver slowly as what little water caught the tree falls down and away.

It is remarkable how many storms these trees have seen, he thought. Even in this young forest, the trees had stood for sixty years or more. When his father was a child they would have been saplings and sprouts, but in the years since then they’ve weathered thousands of dark days, many far worse than this. Sixty years of the snow and sleet that laid on their roots. Sixty years of the frozen winds and ice that wrapped around every branch. Sixty years of tasting the sweet gifts that each rainfall brought into the soil. It was a lifetime of storms as much as it was a lifetime of sun. He wondered if the trees were grateful for this fact.

His father had been a lumber man long before a patriarch. As such, a rainfall was a blessing for which his family was charged to give thanks for tending their wild crop. He remembered how his father would say how exciting it was for a tree to weather a storm and how, to a tree, every test from mother nature was a way to prove how strong and powerful it was. In his youth he and his father felled the largest tree he could remember seeing. Before moving on, they sat on the edges of the stump and counted the rings. His father showed him the years of healthy sun and rain, then years of fire and famine.

This tree had seen devastation in the forest and came through to stand alive and healthy. His father, a man whose dry smiles and hard hands hid a soft and nostalgic heart, remarked at how proud this tree must be to have done all this and be chosen to build something lasting. Thinking on this he now looked to his cabin posts supporting the roof. He wondered if that tree built another home, or another porch. He wondered to what family that proud tree had been given.

The first cracks of thunder could be heard in the distance, first passing from the west then echoing back off the mountainside. Occasionally a strong, single clap would break through the air sharply, but this was not a storm of sharpness and clarity. The thunder rippled like a thousand explosions tearing high across the sky. It would start in the southwest with faint bursts and grow louder as it arced above the cabin and out to the north. There was no lightening visible in the air; it was too high in the clouds to see anything. There was only the heart-shaking rumble of each new volley, the gods quarreling out of sight.

He turned and slid into a thick oak chair in the corner, rubbing his forehead lightly with the tips of his fingers. He thought for a moment about the remaining trees he’d finish in the morning. Then he smiled and imagined the dock he’d lay out along the beach and the boat he would drop onto that glassy water. He smiled, and exhaled sharply. Reaching his hand out he broke the solid sheet of water at the edge of his world. Below his hand he created a clear window out into the rainstorm. He smiled and breathed in deeply, leaning back in the chair. His father’s once-hard jokes had sweetened after all these years; it is hard to justify a writer’s salary when poetry writes itself so well during summer storms.

2012 In Memorium

It’s that time again folks! Well, to be fair I’m about 3 weeks too late. Don’t tell my mother.

Every year at New Years my family has a tradition: reflect on the year with a series of preposterously invasive questions about the ending year that only my mother enjoys asking or answering. At least, that’s what I used to tell her. My mother has always been a good sport with her children’s irrational reaction to family traditions and discussion. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for her poisoned genes to take root in my warped brain. It’s been her plan for the last 25 years to weave targeted pathways in my cerebrum with her genetically engineering Trojan horse of a chromosome set. All so that she had somebody else to derive pleasure from these twisted games. And I love the evil genius all the more for having succeeded.

So here we are again…Raymond sits in a deli in Georgetown, and on a train, and in his apartment sipping a winter-battling whiskey….and tries to remember what the heck happened this year. As usual, my memory is terrible and my mind rusty. But we will uncover the memories, dear friends. We will.

As I say every year, I strongly encourage you to try these questions out for yourself. Be honest, be thoughtful, and be clear in your responses. If you feel bold enough to post them in a comment or on your own blog, I encourage you to do so. Otherwise, please email me if you’d like to share your answers with someone else. Until then, I hope you enjoy a snapshot of my year.

The most beautiful place I saw this year :

I was lucky enough to get to Alaska this year to visit my charming younger brother. Since ‘Alaska’ is kind of a cheap answer I will narrow it down to the Colony Glacier in the mountains above Girdwood, Alaska. It was the first time I saw a glacier up close….and I even got to walk around on it.

See for yourself:
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Glacier Helicopter Tour

I don’t really have words to describe how awesome this trip was. We chartered through Alaska Alpine Air out of Girdwood. They were both reasonably priced and amazing. Our pilot was the most chill dude I’ve ever met, and we loved him. If I go back to Alaska this is the only thing I’m not leaving without doing again. Check out all five videos below the cut! Or just watch the playlist now:

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Northern Lights – Photog Nightmare/Miracle

I’ll probably have a lot of Alaska related material coming out on my video and photo sections in the next few weeks, but the one I wanted to develop first was my set of Northern Lights shots. We saw the aurora borealis on our way somewhere, I have no idea where. My brother new to pull off toward a lake in the middle of nowhere, amazing idea.

It was probably -10 when I took these shots. The amazing thing was that the lights had all but dissipated for our eyes, but the lens picked them up. To have gotten them 30 minutes earlier when they were 10x as visible would have been magnificent.

The nightmare is that my lens had just lost its autofocus, and I quickly found out that night shooting is impossible (in general) to focus with. Each exposure takes up to 30 seconds, and as you can see in these shots I had a hard time getting the horizon in focus the whole time. Not NatGeo by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m glad I got my “shot at the shot”. Looking forward to my next opportunity. 

Resourcing Strategy: What Strategy?

I’ve had my share of crazy experiences in my last five years within the corporate world. Most recently I switched from my temporary “vacation from stress” position back to my “holy crap, since when is everyone selling pumpkins and turkeys?” job. Before I was teleworking as often as I wanted, showing up in business clothing for key meetings, and defining my own workload. Now I’m in person every day for ~9-10 hours, plus working most nights and weekends just to keep up with the demand.

The weird thing isn’t that I’m working at this pace; it’s that I had absolutely no transition time. In every other transition it’s taken 2 weeks for me to get fully up to everyone else’s pace. Plenty of time to orient myself to the new politics and the demands on the team. In this case I was pulling overtime shifts on the first day back. It’s given me an amazing contrast with no “this is normal” bias. Every single activity has come as a shock and even orienting myself has become a “task” that gets prioritized along with all the others (i.e. close to the bottom).

So, as I fly off to Alaska for my first vacation in 6 months I will write a few of these ideas down to hopefully get you thinking about your own work. Each of the following 4 items are tools/tips that I have used and will use to manage myself and others.

Knowing “Who is Doing What” is Critical
My management had done a decent job of writing down all the major tasks on a whiteboard in the boss’ office. Each task had a person assigned to it and had been classified with some kind of “type”. Unfortunately, I quickly noticed that the tasks on the board had started changing without getting updated, and employees didn’t go into the boss’ office as often as he did. While he may have been oriented to his list, everyone else was oriented to the demand.
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Delta is Killing it in Minneapolis International

I had a 1.5 hour layover today in Minneapolis International Airport. This time around I’m flying Delta, which I do for about one out of every four flights. I never expect all that much on air travel, but when I got to the G1-7 gates I was blown away. Two restaurants, Mimosa and Minnibar, have these amazing set ups.

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Every table has one or two iPads that flash the delicious menu items and Delta advertisements. Every iPad has an app which monitors the nearby gate flights so you can check statuses without getting up. They also have USB and traditional wall jacks to power your devices and free wifi via which I’m currently watching a bunch of YouTube videos about Richard Feynman.

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I’m sure this is a great partnership between the restaurants, Apple and Delta. Apple gets users being hooked. Delta shows how awesome they are, and Mimosa gets people to spend a ton of money on mimosas, soups and Caesar salads ($38.00…yes). Regardless, Delta is showing me the future, and it looks amazing. Expensive, but novelly amazing. You better believe that novelty is worth something.

Plus the soup was pretty great.

iOS Maps Continue to Disappoint, Gain Enemy

I must have been shielded from the terrible product that is iOS maps because I live in Washington D.C. Maybe they feared a congressional investigation or similarly epic backlash if congressional staffers couldn’t find coffee shops near the hill with their nifty devices.

Now that I’m in Atlanta clearly the claws have come out. The first night we were here, it sent us 6 miles the wrong direction, located the restaurant but could not manage….for the life of it….to actually navigate us to the target. Fortunately, the iPad navigated us back to the hotel downtown.

Last night, we looked up our breakfast location…only to double check this morning with Google….which informed us that iOS put the restaurant in the wrong quadrant of town. Luckily, I stopped using my iPad and switched to my Android phone. Which safely, efficiently, and proficiently directed us to deliciousness.

Let me also mention that when I search for locations, I often get duplicative and conflicting results. I now have no confidence in the iOS mapping application. I’m extremely glad that I only own one Apple device, lest I be lost forever in the back-alleys of the south.

I might add that in the 3 years since I’ve started using Google products I have only once been misdirected…and that was by 3 blocks in Arizona for a new development that just went up. I hate your maps and your closed minded-ness, Apple. Seriously. Stop this.

** Update **
In Tuscaloosa, Apple almost got us killed AND ruined our lunch. We tried going to a restaurant for some BBQ and it directed us to a dark location deep in the Alabama woods. Fearing for our lives we fled back to civilization to find options limited. We found a really, really terrible Chinese buffet to sate some of our hunger (some being the key term). Mere moments after we left the buffet we drove by the ACTUAL location of the stupid restaurant, parking lot packed with hungry patrons. Drives me crazy. If it had just directed us there we would have surely been full and happy instead of hungry and at risk for heart disease and/or food poisoning. And yes, Apple, I blame you for this.

Minnesota lashes out against new education models and free knowledge

This is a big deal. I still think of Minnesota as my origin and a potential place for me return….this is a great reason for me to change my mind:

##Notice for Minnesota Users##

Coursera has been informed by the Minnesota Office of Higher Education that under Minnesota Statutes (136A.61 to 136A.71), a university cannot offer online courses to Minnesota residents unless the university has received authorization from the State of Minnesota to do so. If you are a resident of Minnesota, you agree that either (1) you will not take courses on Coursera, or (2) for each class that you take, the majority of work you do for the class will be done from outside the State of Minnesota.

Is Minnesota worried that their education can’t hold up under the strain of students motivating themselves to print certificates for themselves at home. Booo, Minnesota….booooo.

Drumeoke Episode 9 – Feat @supadupdip

No Fluff, we’re serious here!

 

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Put it in your calendars, next Monday at 7pm EDT.

Drumeoke Episode 8 – Feat @supadupdip

We’re way behind so I’m going straight to the music. Check us out.

Put it in your calendars, next Monday at 7pm EDT.

 

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