Writing
- The only copy of a wedding video
- A master's thesis
- Twelve years of lesson plans by a middle school teacher
- Multiple instances of people's photo libraries
Nothing Lasts Forever
One of the central tenets of Buddhism is that everything is decaying. Eventually, everything falls apart. One just has to buy a home to see the truth in this. Trust me. Today, lots of people were disappointed that a well-liked Internet service, Omnivore, which allowed you to save articles to read later, subscribe to newsletters without using your personal email, and have some articles automatically archived, was turning off its servers on November 15. Some folks had just transitioned to using Omnivore, only to find that their efforts were now wasted. It was my favorite way to read a couple of my favorite writers, so I had to scramble to come up with an alternative.
People have seen it happen time and again. Huge, popular websites and companies have just disappeared or changed so completely that they are no longer the same: MySpace, Digg, StumbleUpon, Epinions, the list is endless. We are used to it now. That's why I say people were disappointed rather than shocked.
If you look at stats, the average length of time that people stay in a job continues to decrease. In 2024, it's a reality that in order to grow your wages, you often have to move from one employer to another. Pensions are very rare these days. Most of us have self-funded retirement; some are lucky to have an employer contribution, but our accounts are portable, unlike in the past. Even jobs that were once looked at as lifetime opportunities aren't the same anymore. I am a retired state employee, and one of the benefits I earned is lifetime health insurance. Too bad for new hires, though. The Republican state legislature took that away from future retirees, including teachers.
I have seen landmark restaurants close their doors forever. It makes me really sad to think that my beloved Zorbas, the diner at the end of my street where I have eaten for 30 years, will be gone one day. I don't think that one set of my grandchildren has ever spent the night with us without going there for pancakes on a weekend morning. Things can be so central to our lives, and then one day they are just gone.
Some great films from the early days of the movie industry weren't preserved, and the works of people like Rudolph Valentino, Clara Bow, and many others from the silent era will never be seen again. The military records of hundreds of thousands of World War Two veterans were burned in a fire at a VA records warehouse in the '60s, and the information on them is not retrievable. People think that the advent of computers means that data will last forever, but that's not true. CDs, floppy disks, and hard drives all have life spans, and if the data, whether it be pictures or music or books, isn't continually moved from one medium to another, one day it will be gone.
I am of an age where my much-loved grandparents are long gone. Nobody likes to dwell on death, but we know that as we age, the frequency at which we confront it accelerates. Our relatives, our peers, our heroes, and idols begin to leave. I still find it hard to believe that I live in a world without people like Muhammed Ali and Hank Aaron, but I do.
So, as trite as it may be, I'm using this reflection to encourage you (and myself) to savor what we have right now. Call your mom. Eat at your favorite restaurant. Read your favorite magazine. Watch your favorite TV show. Enjoy it all. One day it will all be gone.
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A Meditation on Nice People
A long time ago, a friend of mine told me that in life, you find what you look for. I believe that to be true most of the time. I'm always on the lookout for nice people. Thinking about them is a tool I use in my personal gratitude practice, a daily exercise where I record three things I'm grateful for. I have been doing it for years. There's never been a time in my life when I couldn't find some folks with kindness in their heart. Even during the years when I worked as a prison guard, there were inmates who did kind things in a non-manipulative way. I used to drink coffee continually on that job. You could buy a packet of Taster's Choice in the canteen for a dime in those days. An old con who cleaned the area around my desk gave me some sage advice one day. "Mr Plummer," he said, "Don't ever put that coffee cup down and turn your back on it. These boys will spit in it if you do." It's been almost 40 years since he told me that and I still remember him for saving me from that indignity.
During the years I worked as an IT tech in the school system, I would always be showered with gifts at Christmas. Teachers would bring me baked goods, iTunes gift cards, coupon books, CDs and more. With all that teaching involves, remembering the guy who comes around once in a while to look at your laptop takes some real effort. When I took a mid-career break to get married and go hiking for six months, many of those teachers send care packages to my wife and I with edible treats, socks, bug spray and other things from our wish list.
People with demanding, public facing jobs who maintain their cool and make others feel welcome have a special gift. The wait staff at my favorite diner, even when they are slammed, still acknowledge their regulars. They are still nice and patient with kids. They take a minute to crack jokes and to make fun of me for always ordering the same thing.
So many of the tools I've learned to love on my computer are apps that some developer has made and given away for free. Everything I know about creating a blog is a result of freely distributed guides and tutorials. The number of letters I've gotten from complete strangers on the Internet to thank me for something or to encourage me or to praise me is just astounding. People will go out of their way just to make someone else feel good and I think that is awesome. Yes, I have also experienced some meanness online but it's overshadowed by kindness.
I think often about some of the giants I have know who dedicated their lives to the social justice movement. I know men and women who worked in the deep south during the Civil Rights era at great danger to themselves. I know organizers who survived the 1979 Greensboro Massacre who are still committed to the cause of helping poor people. I know union workers who've left home to travel to other areas to help organize workers so that they might enjoy the same benefits. I know soldiers who, sickened by war, laid down their rifles to speak out to try and stop the senseless killing that our government asked them to do in the nebulous name of freedom.
Look for kind people today. Better yet, be kind. Get your name added to someone's gratitude list.
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I have updated my /now page - What I’m reading and watching, plus links to this week’s blog posts, the week’s best purchase, and the links I added to my personal bookmarks.
Inevitable Things
I'm turning 60 in a few months and though I wouldn't say it's messing with my head in any kind of negative way, it has prompted me to think about aging and mortality more than I have in the past. It's so weird to be getting ready to start my seventh decade on earth while simultaneously being able to recall events from the past as if they happened yesterday. In some ways, it is almost inconceivable that high school happened 40+ years ago. I had dinner with my brother (58) and sister (56) the other night along with my mother (77) and we were recalling events from growing up as if they just happened last week.
I've been going gray for years. Not only that, but I wear a full beard and it is 100% white. Wonder Woman told me today that one of our grandkids said to her recently, "Nana you might be old, but at least you're not as old as Papa." For the record, we are less than two years apart. Still, there has been more than one occasion when we've eaten together, and they've extended a senior discount to me (I'm not old enough) and not to her. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a Sci-fi novel, married to an immortal who doesn't age. She was furious when Kamala Harris first named Tim Walz as her running mate because she thought he was just another old white man. Once she found out that Kamala and Tim are are the same age that he is cool AF, she calmed down.
I charged full steam ahead through my 40s and early 50s, hiking the Appalachian Trail and completing 83 century rides on my bicycle. I thought I'd be going like that for decades until arthritis brought me to a screeching halt and I had to have both knees replaced. Plenty of people go on to have very active lives after that surgery, so there is still hope that I'll get some of that mojo back. My mom walked across England and hiked the Camino de Santiago in Spain in her 70s.
Our oldest grandchildren have graduated from high school now. It won't be long before we are great-grandparents. It's funny because all of my siblings, none of whom got married or had kids early like me, all have children the same ages as my grandchildren. I grumbled for years that I didn't like kids, but it was all a facade. I worked in primary and elementary schools for two decades, and being a grandparent has been one of the best experiences of my life.
I'm trying to be OK with the fact that I don't feel like my time on earth is unlimited like I have for most of my life. Not being a religious person, there are no thoughts of an afterlife. Every time I do something unhealthy, I immediately have the thought that I'm robbing myself of time. I wish I could say that I am them immediately motivated to then eat some spinach and power walk around the block, but so far that has not been the effect.
I have got to say that I enjoy having been around enough to be retired from my career job. It's cool going to work these days because I want to, not because I have to. I could stop at any time. That's pretty empowering. It makes the crappy days that inevitably happen at work more bearable. I'm not even the oldest person in my office. Our database manager is three years my senior, and she takes no shit from anyone. She's my role model.
I can accept my eyes getting weaker and my gait getting slower. As far as I can tell, my mind isn't slipping yet. Both my parents are still alive, so family history indicates that I probably have quite a few years left. I hope so. There is so much more to write about.
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Being Wonder Woman's Husband
At 8:00 AM Saturday morning, Wonder Woman and about 70 others will begin running a 2.2-mile course over and over for 24 straight hours. Whoever covers the most distance in that time period will be declared the winner. Those completing 50k, 50 miles, 100k, 75 miles, and 100 miles will receive special awards. Some races are entrepreneurial money-making events for the organizers. Ironman, the titular sponsor of triathlons, is a for-profit company. The race Wonder Woman is in is a fundraiser. The money raised goes to an organization in the greater Williamsburg, VA area called The Arc. This is a wonderful inclusive organization offering programs to adults with developmental and intellectual disabilities.
The name of the race is The Greensprings 24. The start/finish line and crew area (I'm crew) is at Jamestown High School. If you want to follow her, you can do it here. Her race number is 204, and her actual name is Carol Plummer.
I'll be set up in a pop-up off to the side with her supplies. I'll be in charge of filling bottles with both water and a liquid nutrition product called Tailwind. She has prepared packets of sports nutrition products that she will pick up every five laps or so. I have a small backpacking stove to heat up some real food for her to wolf down later in the day and through the night. It consists of things like plain white potatoes and soup. I'll be making coffee for us both.
Today has been kind of ritualistic. We live about four hours away, so we had to travel and check into a hotel. She's stayed off her feet for the most part, although I did have to talk her out of going out and doing tourist things today. She has a more restless nature than I do! It's important that she stays extra hydrated today and that she eats some extra carbs. Her favorite pre-ultramarathon meal is pho, the Vietnamese rice noodle soup made with a salty and savory beef broth. She got into bed at 5:30 to read and hopefully doze off early. We will sleep as late as we can tomorrow before driving the 15 minutes to the racecourse in time to get the crew area set up.
My duties will be pretty minimal. I'm mostly there as a cheerleader and motivator. If she gets blisters, I'll play medic, and as she gets progressively more tired, I'll help her with socks and shoe changes. I'll probably get yelled at a time or two. Ultramarathon runners are known for being grouchy crybabies sometimes because it's a terribly stressful sport. I'm experienced enough to let the abuse roll off. If blowing up at me makes her feel better, she's welcome to call me names any time. I admire her not just for competing in these events but also for all the training and disciplined training, eating, and sleeping she does on top of working an important job full-time, being a wife, a mom, and a grandmother. I don't call her Wonder Woman for nothing!
When the race is over, we will have to pack the car and drive back to the hotel. We've arranged a late checkout so we can both get some sleep before driving home and going back to work on Monday.
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Generation X Isn't Mad, It's Tired
The dividing line between Generation X and Boomers is New Years Day, 1965, fifty-two days before I was born. Over the next 15 years my cohort, smaller than the one that preceded it and the one that followed it (Millenials), began to reap the meager rewards our parents bequeathed us, single-parent families, careers as latch-key kids, run away inflation and coming of age with Reagan in the White House making it easy on rich folks and kicking off the decline of the middle class by breaking unions and kicking income inequality into high gear.
The oldest Gen X-ers are only five years from retirement. Everything seems to have changed for us. We bought records we traded in for tapes that we traded in for CDs before we downloaded MP3s that we stopped listening to when we had to start paying a subscription fee to listen to music. After graduating from high school, I supported a wife and a baby by cooking at a Shoney's and serving in the National Guard one weekend a month. By the time my youngest reached maturity, two adults working full time at entry level jobs could barely make ends meet.
We experienced a few cool things, like getting to watch MTV when they played music video. We've had some great music. We got to transition out of a world that worried about nuclear holocausts. Unfortunately we got to see AIDS put in an end to the free love we thought we were going to get. I've lost count of the financial crises we've endured.
Generation X | Origin, Years, Characteristics, & Facts | Britannica
Gen X is next up for retirement. Are they in denial?
Gen X Research | Environics Research
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Living Lowbrow in a Highbrow World
Back in the days when people still bought encyclopedias, my parents were confronted by an especially good salesman who sold them not only a full set of the Book of Knowledge but also a collection of classic literature. When I was in elementary school, I tackled many of those books because I thought they sounded interesting. I mean, Gulliver's Travels was about little people, and Pilgrim's Progress was about (I thought) American pioneers. I plowed through the books with as much understanding as I could muster at that age, and can today truly state that I've read them. The problem is that it's been years since I felt any urge to approach that kind of book. When I see people reading The Scarlet Letter or Dante, I'm in awe. I would feel like I was back in high school senior English if I picked up one of those books. I'm even inherently suspicious when an enthusiastic reviewer claims that a novel in one of the genres I like these days—English detective novels, science fiction, military fiction—rises to the level of literature.
I'm generally OK with my lack of formal education. I managed to learn enough on my own to support myself through retirement. I can talk to anybody and don't suffer from low self-esteem (quite the opposite if you ask Wonder Woman). I just regret not being exposed to classes like music appreciation and art appreciation. I enjoy some classical music. I've listened to Vivaldi enough that I can generally recognize his compositions, but I don't have any background in theory. Opera is a mystery, and I've only got a rudimentary knowledge of the development of jazz, although I do have a good collection of Miles Davis and John Coltrane.
When it comes to art, well, I've been to one exhibition—Norman Rockwell. I thoroughly enjoyed it, but I know that hardly qualifies me as a connoisseur. I can name famous artists and tell a Rothko from a Jackson Pollock, but I still feel under-qualified. My son takes trips to Boston and New York just to visit art museums. Considerable space in his tiny Austin bungalow is given over to his collection of art books, and the walls are covered in originals he's purchased at galleries. My walls are covered in pictures of my grandkids and Wonder Woman's photography, which is admittedly pretty arty.
I rarely like any film that wins the Best Picture award from the Academy. In fact, I am still mad at myself for sitting through The English Patient all those years ago. It's not that I'm a fan of superhero movies—not that there is anything wrong with them—I just seem to lack the gene that lets people discern symbolism in films. I'm very much an on-the-surface kind of guy. My most common reaction to reviews of arty movies is WTF?
At this point in my life, I'm not likely to summon the energy to improve on any of this. I've learned to live with my shortcomings in appreciating things the way the more cultured folks do. I feel proud of myself for reading the occasional book of poetry (full disclosure: my son buys them for me) and for reading The New Yorker, Harper's, and The Atlantic. That will have to do, I suppose.
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The Best Pharmacist in the World
For one reason or another, I've taken some kind of medication on a daily basis for almost forty years. I am an expert at swallowing pills. I'd hate to estimate how many I've taken over the years. Despite the attempts by my insurance company to strong-arm me into using a mail-order pharmacy, I stubbornly cling to a locally owned one that I lucked into by being hard to get along with.
I used to use various big box pharmacies. One thing I quickly learned by doing that was that the people there do not care about you. You might occasionally run into someone with a heart for people, but by and large, the pharmacists and techs there don't form relationships, and they stop seeing their customers as human beings after a while. That's been my experience. They will tell you to come back tomorrow in a minute. They will tell you that counting your own meds after they short you is your responsibility. Furthermore, they won't make the extra effort to deal with frustrating insurance companies. I pretty much would rather die a thousand deaths than deal with one.
Luckily, a local pharmacist with good business sense saw an opportunity to draw business away from them by starting his own pharmacy in a good location. He hired nice, competent people, and most of the time, you could go in there with a prescription in hand and walk out within 15 minutes with your medicine. It was glorious. Unfortunately, he had two giant TVs right behind the cash register tuned in at all times to Fox News. I was in there when they were covering a story about poor people trapped in a flood after a hurricane. The owner of the pharmacy was ranting that it was all their own fault for not leaving. I disgustedly asked him if he thought maybe they should have just driven their Maserati out of town or something.
I went home, went to the pharmacy's Facebook page, and left a scathing review, where I said they had good service but bad politics, and they weren't getting any more of my money as a result. I resigned myself to living in Big Box Hell. Some period after that, I got a message through Facebook from a name I didn't recognize. The writer, first name LeRoy, told me that he'd been a partner in the pharmacy but that he was leaving to go out on his own. He let me know that there would be no giant TVs playing Fox News in his new business and asked me to give him a chance, so I did.
These days, when I go to a doctor's visit for med refills, LeRoy has them filled before I can get out of the parking lot. If I have a question or an issue about one of my prescriptions, I can message him via Facebook or text him to get an answer or a refill. He's fought every insurance battle that's faced me for a decade. When big pharma jacked up the price of one of my meds by 400%, LeRoy figured out how to get me a better price. If I'm late picking up a refill, he doesn't put my meds back on the shelf and yell at me on my next visit; he just holds on to them for me, secure in the knowledge that I will get there eventually.
We are social media friends, and both of us are big baseball fans. I've followed his son's career from club ball through our local high school and summer ball. He now plays for the university where I work, which has one of the nation's best NCAA D3 baseball programs and a legendary coach. LeRoy's wife is a nurse practitioner with her own clinic, and she's treated me for everything from multi-day hiccups to a sliced finger.
In a day and age where so many businesses seem as though they exist only to extract money from you, LeRoy and his pharmacy are a total exception. He gives unfailingly polite service and always makes me feel welcome and cared for. He inquires about my wife, asks about my job, and tells me about his last baseball trip. Everyone should be so lucky.
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Should You Eat at Chick-fil-A?
LGBT Activist # 1
If a restaurant was taking the money they make and giving it to organizations trying to dissolve your marriage and take your kids away from you, you wouldn't give a shit if they"have really good lemonade."You wouldn't eat there. - FAITH NAFF
LGBT Activist # 2
"If gay rights advocates permanently withhold our business from Chick-fil-A, we'll send the message that stepping away from hateful causes was a mistake, and companies will be less likely to listen to our demands in the future."Nate Morris (CAS '27)
I don't eat at Chick-fil-A. I like chicken sandwiches OK, but I prefer the ones from Bojangles. Hell, I eat the ones they sell in gas stations. Every Chick-fil-A I come across is always super crowded. They have a reputation for dealing well with crowds, but you have to go be part of a crowd to find out if that's true. No thanks.
The biggest reason I don't eat there though is their reputation for being homophobic. Someone in my area had a Chik-fil-A Support Day a couple of years ago and lots of ostentatious Christians that I know made a big deal out of going their and posting it on social media just in case they hadn't done enough in their lives to be shitty to LGBT people.
In doing some basic research for this post, I found that the hate-chicken people quit giving money to homophobic organizations a few years ago. The owner doesn't even use his personal fortune that way any more. Most people think the motivation behind that is to stave off boycotts and bad press and they are probably right. Right-wing organizations accused Chik-fil-A of caving the the Gay Agenda, if you can believe that.
I know some principled leftists who patronize them now, partially because out of all the fast food chains, they offer more for people with celiacs. Since I don't personally have celiacs, I'll keep on eating at Bojangles though.
VIEWPOINT: Stop Asking Us to Boycott Chick-fil-A – The Hoya
Chick-fil-A and LGBT people - Wikipedia
Chick-fil-A “woke” controversy: Why conservatives are calling for boycotts | Vox
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The Culinary Misadventures of the Long Distance Hiker
The year Wonder Woman and I hiked the Appalachian Trail, we were away from home for 156 days, from early May to mid-October. At the beginning of our journey, I weighed around 230 pounds. By the end, I had dropped to 180 pounds and was wearing medium-sized clothes for the first time since high school. For most long-distance hikers, the two overriding feelings are ravenous hunger and fatigue. The trail involves over 400,000 feet of climbing, stretching from Maine to Georgia and covering just shy of 2,200 miles. It’s almost impossible for hikers to carry enough food to sustain their weight, though some manage better than others for physiological reasons I can’t quite grasp.
In preparation for our hike, we spent a lot of time packing boxes of food for my daughter and son-in-law to mail to us at various hostels, outfitters, and general delivery post offices along the way. We bought cases of oatmeal, Pop-Tarts, energy bars, corn chips, and other pre-made food. We also dehydrated large quantities of sweet potatoes, black beans, and several London broils to make beef jerky. Since Wonder Woman has celiac disease and can’t eat wheat, we were concerned about finding adequate food for her along the trail. In hindsight, we shouldn’t have worried—or prepared so much food. We ended up giving away large portions of it when it became monotonous. To our surprise, finding gluten-free food wasn’t as challenging as we had anticipated.
A guy my size, carrying a 25-pound backpack and climbing mountains all day in hot weather, can burn upwards of 5,000 calories a day if he hikes long enough. We typically woke up around 5:00 AM to eat and pack our gear. My breakfast usually consisted of two large honeybuns thickly covered with peanut butter or Nutella. Occasionally, I’d indulge in a bagel. I drank instant coffee boiled over the beer can alcohol stove I packed. While hiking, I’d consume a Snickers bar or a couple of Nature Valley granola bars every hour. I also ate quite a few Clif bars, but I found they tasted progressively worse the more I had.
For lunch and dinner, I often wrapped my meals in a big flour tortilla. My fillings included tuna, cheese from a block I carried, dried beef or Slim Jims, hot sauce, and maybe some crumbled Fritos. I always had a second tortilla with peanut butter. For dessert, I enjoyed candy, usually Whoppers or dark chocolate. I also devoured countless bags of pork rinds—they weigh almost nothing and pack a whopping 900 calories per bag. Sometimes I’d eat a couple of family packs of instant mashed potatoes or instant rice or pasta dishes from Lipton. I’m proud to say that, unlike most of my fellow hikers, I didn’t eat any ramen noodles. I like them just fine, but they simply didn’t appeal to me at the time. After returning home, I discovered that I had royally messed up my electrolyte balance by not getting enough sodium, so maybe some ramen would have been a good idea after all.
Hiker hunger is truly on display at restaurants in the towns along the trail. Every few days, hikers need to find a place to buy supplies, wash their clothes, and grab a shower. However, they don’t do any of that until they’ve filled their bellies at whatever establishment they can find. There were times when I’d order a meal, quickly finish it, and then order a second meal before feeling even slightly full. Alongside the food, I’d drink entire pitchers of Coke, or, when we were in the South, sweet iced tea. We were always on the lookout for any AYCE (all you can eat) places, although I was asked to leave a Chinese buffet in Pittsfield, MA, after my sixth plate. In New Jersey, there’s a stretch of trail that allows you to hit quite a few delis in a short span, and I certainly took advantage of that. In New England, I savored a delicacy we don’t have in North Carolina: gigantic full-belly clams. Of course, in Maine, I enjoyed fresh lobster during a memorable meal in Millinocket, the town near the northern terminus of Mount Katahdin.
Most of the weight I lost came back within a year. To this day, I haven’t had another Snickers bar, and I went a decade without eating a honeybun. I’m not a Nutella fan anymore, although I still enjoy a fair amount of peanut butter. Whenever we travel to trail towns during hiking season, I always nudge Wonder Woman if I see a hiker come in, so we can watch them order the prodigious amount of food they typically get. It brings back such fond memories.
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Make Your Internet Better Today
Make Your Internet Better Today - A free service can block ads and malware before it ever gets to your computer. Start using it today. I did. - linkage.lol/make-your…
Civic Duties
In North Carolina, where I live, early voted started this week. On the first day, we set a record for voter turnout. Even in the western portions of the state where a recent hurricane destroyed roads and where many people still don't have power, the number of people who turned out exceeded the numbers from four years ago when conditions were not impeded. Wonder Woman and I always try to vote early, partly to get it out of the way and partly out of excitement.
This year we went to a recreation center located about three miles from our house. My kids went to dances there when they were in school, and I have taken my grandchildren there many times to play on the playground. Today I went to defend democracy from the fascists trying to take over my country. Donald Trump recently called people like me "radical left lunatics" and said we are "the enemy within."
We were met by campaign volunteers from various candidates, who are allowed to approach voters as long as they stay 50 feet or more from the front doors. I gratefully accepted a voter guide from a guy who had a list of all the Democratic candidates and offered polite "no, thank yous" to everyone else who wanted to hand me literature. I usually try to research all the obscure races ahead of time, but I was glad to have the guide nonetheless. We used to be able to do straight party voting here, but the Republicans eliminated it because they thought it would help them.
Most of the people in line were younger and there were lots of POC. One dumb ass showed up in full Trump rally regalia and people were staring daggers at him. I wanted to catch his eye and mouth "I'm canceling your vote" but he kept staring at the floor, too embarrassed, I hope to feel like he could hold his head up amongst his perceived enemies. In my mind, whenever I am in line to vote, the happy people are always Democrats and the sour pusses are Republicans. Unfortunately, 60% of white men are probably going to vote for Trump, citing many different reasons but the primary one, I am convinced is to perpetuate white supremacy. Yeah, screw that. Not this white guy.
We had one extremely stupid constitutional amendment to vote on, one that would make excluding everyone under the age of 18 who isn't a US citizen from voting. If you thought there was already a law in place that did that, you would be right, but you underestimate the idiocy of the Republican Party who wants to plant the idea in their pitiful voter's heads that the Democrats are getting ready to allow children and illegal immigrants to cancel Bubba's vote. These people are pitiful.
I will be glad when the election is settled. I expect there to be all kinds of controversy and dirty tricks from the other side. Another insurrection is certainly a possibility. They are losers but they don't lose gracefully.
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For the Sake of All that is Holy - Back Up Your Computer
In my 30 years in the IT business, I have been approached by people with tears in their eyes many times, always because of lost data. The things I have been asked to restore include:
I have been successful in a few cases and I've struck out in others. I preach backing up your stuff to everyone I care about. In this day and age, doing so is relatively easy and straight forward.
If you have a Mac, you should be using Time Machine, even if you have a laptop. All you need is a cheap external drive. Everything else is built in to you computer.
Back up your Mac with Time Machine - Apple Support
If you have a PC, you can back up your data and settings to the cloud (but not your whole hard drive) with built in tools.
Back up your Windows PC - Microsoft Support
To back up your entire hard drive, you need a third party tool. Here are some options.
Best Windows backup software 2024: Free and paid options reviewed | PCWorld
Everyone should use some sort of cloud solution like One Drive, iCloud, Google Drive or Dropbox to back up anything that wouldn't want to lose if their house burnt down. If you don't know how to sign up for these solutions, all of which have a free tier, get some help or pay some one. It's that important. I have been able to keep track oof some of my files since the 1990s, through multiple computers, jobs and houses. Don't lose your important information or memories because you didn't back them up properly.
(Note - if you aren't 100% sure that your photos on your phone are backed up, get someone you trust to verify it for you.)
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Shooting Down Stereotypes
I'm not going to pretend that I don't make assumptions about people from time to time because, as much as I try not to, I fall into the trap occasionally. I'm glad that, for the most part, plenty of other people and I seem to be less inclined to do it these days. We are learning not to assume that when someone is married, it's necessarily to someone of the opposite sex. We aren't as surprised when we find out that our friend's new love interest is from a different race. I love meeting someone who is into technology as much as I am who doesn't play video games, so I don't feel like such an outsider.
At the university where I work, the Dean of the College of Arts, Humanities & Sciences, who is a Professor of Religion & Philosophy, is covered in tattoos. The university chief of staff, a diminutive ex-banker, swears like a sailor. The football coach, who looks for all the world like a defensive tackle, turns out to have been a record-setting quarterback in college. The best network engineer I ever worked with talks with an accent that would fit right in "The Dukes of Hazzard" or "Hee-Haw."
People from other regions of the country (or the world) can easily have stereotypes of those of us from the South here in the US. That stereotype is that we are conservative, a little (or a lot) racist, old-fashioned, and uneducated. I always feel that I need to establish my progressive bona fides quickly, especially if someone knows I'm also a veteran or that I worked in manufacturing. I have to do that for my fellow Southerners too, just to keep the ones who actually are conservative racists from trying to include me in their conversations. I am not the type to ever hide a single facet of my personality or beliefs from anyone. I want people to know exactly who and what they are dealing with.
It seems to be a driving force within conservatism to work towards putting people back into stereotypical roles. Organizations that have used DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) are routinely attacked by Republicans, who paint the whole idea as a disturbance to the natural order of the world. They want women and people of color to stay in their traditional places. They make no secret of their disdain for same-sex marriage. When they try to practice inclusion, they use unqualified bootlickers like Herschel Walker or Mark Robinson or someone with the flawed party loyalty of Nikki Haley.
Learning how to escape thinking in stereotypes can be a lifelong process. Some people seem to naturally escape those kinds of attitudes, while others, like me, have had to be deprogrammed throughout our lives. I'm sure I have a long way to go, but I'm happy with how far I have come. Being open-minded is the goal.
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I made the weekly update to my /now page - Joan Westernberg, Bad Monkey, cheap but good earbuds, lots of blog posts, some links I added to my personal collection
📝 Procrastinator’s Anonymous - My favorite time to do anything is “not right now.” - louplummer.lol/procrasti…
My Letter to a Homophobic Friend
I'm a digital pack rat who enjoys browsing through decades-old emails and blog posts from the 90s when I was on GeoCities. I recently found a letter I wrote to a homophobic friend in 1997, where I tried to disabuse him of some backward notions and challenge some of his beliefs. I won't reprint the whole thing because parts of it are cringeworthy, and I use language in it that wouldn't fly today. However, I am glad to see that most of what I believed 27 years ago, I still believe today.
My friend was unhappy that the use of the word "homophobia" was becoming common. He said no one was afraid of gay people and that there was no fear involved. My response dipped into armchair psychology mode, but in hindsight, I still see it as a valid argument.
There is a fear of homosexuals in our society. I believe almost everyone has, at some point, either had some sort of homosexual experience (rarely) or had a homosexual fantasy (commonly). This act or thought provokes such shame and guilt in some people, usually men, that a strong aversion occurs—one that is so psychologically entwined with self-identity that an overemphasis occurs in denying or rejecting the act or thought. We all know men who are so insecure they can't carry their wife's purse for her, buy her tampons, or admit that Tom Cruise is handsome. Why? Because someone might think they are gay, and since they once had a homosexual fantasy, they might be gay. So they better tell some [gay] jokes, buy themselves a four-wheel-drive pickup, a shotgun, and a Pit Bull, and put that rumor to rest right now.
His other complaint was that the "homosexual agenda" was being pushed and promoted. I think the people doing the promotion were "the liberals" and "the media." This was during the Clinton administration, when the culture wars were just getting started, but the flames of it were already burning brightly.
Since I live in North Carolina, prime Bible Belt country, I don't get to see this homosexual promotion everyone is talking about. In fact, I see the opposite. People may not use the N-word much anymore, but calling someone the other F-word happens all the time. Some of the gay people I know are ridiculed, shunned, and ostracized. I've never known a gay recruiter sent by the National Gay Headquarters to a lonely post in my town to convert school children to the cause. I do know my company doesn't fire openly gay employees as it did ten years ago, but I also know people who don't feel sorry for AIDS victims. Logic tells me that no one chooses to be gay any more than you choose to be straight. Who would pick a lifestyle that offers the possibility of harassment, discrimination, the loss of family ties, and the small chance of ever being a parent?
Thankfully, some of my arguments seem simplistic today. Maybe they are even regarded as common sense. As a straight guy with the privilege that entails, I have the luxury of only thinking about the subject when I feel like it or when I see some backward behavior. Unfortunately, the right wing has chosen to ramp up its attacks with things like banning books about LGBT issues and making Tim Walz's sponsorship of the Gay/Straight Alliance at the high school where he taught into an issue.
Since I wrote that letter, some positive things have happened in American society. Same-sex marriage was legalized, and lots of people now know same-sex couples. Contrary to the fearmongering by conservatives, none of us straight folks had to get divorced, nor is it now legal to marry your pet. You can also be gay and out in the military without jeopardizing your career. Last time I checked, the US wasn't threatened by another country due to the weak state of the Army and Marines. I'm glad both of those things have happened, and I hope that an inevitable future conservative win in an election doesn't undermine them.
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📝 Doing the Best We Can - For once, pop psychology gets it right. We are doing the best we can do with what we have to work with. - louplummer.lol/doing-the…
Doing the Best We Can
One piece of pop psychology that actually seems to be true is the premise that at any given time we are all doing the best we can. Football coaches and motivational speakers may beg to differ, but they have a vested interest in making people think that they can always just try harder to achieve success by whatever definition is popular that day. I don't buy it. I believe that people want to succeed. They want to be good parents, good employees, good spouses. Hell, they just want to be good. In the real world though we are faced with all kinds of mundane challenges, from differing energy levels, differing states of mental clarity and motivational levels that rise and fall on a sea of different inputs.
I'm not advocating using this sentiment as a cop out for slacking. I'm advocating it as an explanation for the human condition. There are healthy methods of self-criticism, and then there are unhealthy feelings of low self-worth or guilt that serves no purpose. A certain amount of staring at one's own belly button is OK, but excessive bouts of obsessing over previous life choices is a self-centered exercise that serves little purpose. Learning how to be easy on yourself is the first step in extending that same level of acceptance to those you feel have let you down in life, whether it be your parents, former bosses or the bully in third grade.
I started my parenting journey as an 18-year-old living in a trailer park making $4.25 an hour, riding a Sears bicycle to work. By the time my oldest left to join the Navy, I owned a home, a couple of cars and had a state job from which I retired. Today that kid (now 41) manages a team of 600 people, talks to me all the time and has a life that would make plenty of people envious. He turned out just fine. I made plenty of mistakes with my kids. I don't say that lightly at all. Of course, I wish I'd been better in the Dad game, but I know longer wallow in any kind of guilt. My love for them never wavered, and that is what's important.
As a four times married recovering alcoholic with bipolar disorder, you better believed that I have regrets. I just don't have self-loathing. Life can be incredibly hard for the best equipped among us. Throw in a few handicaps and we all become miracles very quickly.
Everyone has a story. Everyone has things in their life other people don't know about. You can't tell who is recovering from a family death, who suffers from chronic pain, or who is desperately searching for an antidepressant that actually works. Some people make a big deal about not being judgmental, but I don't buy it. Being judgmental is a survival skill. I make judgments all the time, but I try not to do it in a way that lets other people live rent-free in my head. In my line of work, I deal with people who don't like or understand technology. Some get frustrated easily and act out when their computer doesn't do what they want it to. I don't like being treated rudely, who does, but I understand where they are coming from. I just file them in the appropriate mental category and I move on, or at least I try.
I don't pretend to love every one. I can't use "they're doing the best they can" to solve all my issues with the world. It doesn't help me understand or forgive Trump supporters, uncaring bosses or various flavors of mean people, but it definitely helps me deal with the people I care about.
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Bump Up Your Meme Game
Bump Up Your Meme Game - A good meme says a lot. Here are some famous ones to study and a website to make your own. - linkage.lol/bump-up-y…
