Another Humbling Moment

The last year that I was in the classroom I was teaching one day when a student, a 10th grader, said to me, "Mr. Sweasy, how old are you?"

"It's rude to ask anyone that," I said, "but I'll tell you anyway. I'm 35."

There was an audible gasp in the classroom. One of the other students said, "Mr. Sweasy, there is NO WAY you are 35!"

I smiled a smug smile. I honestly wasn't surprised at the reaction. I worked out every day, and I ate a low fat diet that included almost no meat. I was just about to say "Thank you" when the student continued.

"You are WAAAAAAY older than that!"

Nothing of Substance

For the first time since I re-started by blog a few weeks ago, I actually have pretty much nothing to say today. At least, nothing of substance. So here's some stuff of almost no substance:

1) I don't understand why no other peanut butter is as good as Jif peanut butter. I mean, the ingredients in traditional peanut butter are the same on EVERY jar: peanuts, oil, and sugar. How can Jif be THAT MUCH better? But it is.

2) I used to think Mila Kunis and Emma Stone were the same people. It was when I was watching EASY A and telling someone how great Emma Stone was in FAMILY GUY--and was then informed that she's not the voice of Meg from FAMILY GUY--that I started to get a clue.

3) My favorite show on TV right now is on Univision. It's called TERESA, and it's on weeknights from 8 to 9. I don't speak Spanish, so I don't really know what's going on on the show, but I love trying to figure it out. My family comes downstairs and finds me watching it, and asks me what in the world I'm doing, and I'll say something like, "OK, so the old man has Alzheimer's or dementia or something, and when Teresa"--she's the only character I know by name--"came to the door, he said something that offended her, and she stormed out, and now this young couple that's taking care of the old man are going to have to go and apologize to Teresa." It's fascinating stuff, and much better than English language soap operas.

Parent Preview

This post is for far-flung family and friends who couldn't make the trip to Northern Kentucky Saturday...

Every year my daughters' high school marching band premieres its show at the "Parent Preview" in late August. After a day of rehearsal, the students (and their parents, grandparents, etc.) are fed by the band boosters, and then they take to the field to perform their ALMOST completed show. There are always some glitches and flubs, but it's a complete run through.

Below is that performance from a couple of days ago. As another parent posted on Facebook, it's the first performance of the NEXT state champion marching band:

(I can't see the video.)

Glitch in Google Maps Street View

There's an interesting glitch in Google Maps Street View that I've known about for a little more than a year. It's kind of fun, and I thought I'd share it with you. And--this is the best part--it's actually at MY house.

Our house is fairly close to Interstate 75. We're maybe 100 yards from the interstate. Despite being that close, though, we're not the closest house on our street. There are another six houses on our street that are closer than we are. And for all seven of us, you can't get in front of our houses using Google Street View. Try it. Here are the steps:

1. Click THIS LINK RIGHT HERE to go to the house BESIDE my house. 
2. On the right side of the web page above will be a map. On the left side will be a photo of my neighbor's house. Click that house, which will change the map on the right to a 3D Street View of the house. You can "turn" to the right and see my red brick house right there. 
3. Try to move toward my house, though, and you'll very quickly end up sitting at a precarious angle in the middle of the Interstate. 

I'm glad that doesn't REALLY happen whenever I try to go home!

Poorly Written Copy, part two

Those silver-tongued poets from Kroger are at it again!

I wrote a previous post about the ability of Kroger's marketers to put text on a box that makes even ice cream unappealing. Well, I found another example recently, and it's on the Kroger generic version of Vitamin Water.

Before I show you their version, though, let's consider for just a moment the real thing. What genius lies in the name Vitamin Water! What a terrific pairing of words: "vitamin" and "water." It sounds both healthy and clean. Never mind that Vitamin Water is neither of those things. It's basically overpriced Kool-Aid in a bottle, but what marketing chops!

Compare that with the Kroger knock off:

Zero Calorie Vitamin Enhanced Water Beverage. It sounds neither clean nor healthy. It sounds like exactly what is is, chemicals in a bottle. Maybe it's just that the Kroger people are too honest. Or maybe they're just stupid. Because I don't know about you, but I NEVER catch myself saying, "I am DYING of thirst. Does anyone have a bottle of zero calorie vitamin enhanced water beverage sitting around?"*

I think it's the term "water beverage" that really gets to me. "Vitamin Water" sounds like water...only better. "Water Beverage" sounds like it's some kind of liquid sort of like water. Completely different effect.

Sadly, I still drink the stuff, though, 'cause it's cheaper...

In the Checkout Line

Yesterday afternoon, on my way home from work, I made a quick stop at the local Kroger. I went in for one item but--as usually happens--I ended up with about twelve items in my basket. I went to the checkout lines and picked the line that I thought would be the shortest. Most of the lines had two or three carts in line. In my line there was one man in front of me, and he had a full cart, but all but a few of his items had already been rung up. I put my 12 items on the belt behind his, placed one of those little, plastic separator thingies in between his items and mine, and turned to look at the gossip magazines, hoping--I suppose--to learn a little more about Kim Kardashian's wedding.

I was deeply engrossed in the magazine covers so that I only barely heard a voice say "Excuse me." It definitely didn't register with me. I then heard a much louder and more insistent "EXCUSE ME!" It startled me quite a bit, and I turned and saw a rather impatient looking woman with four or five items in her hand standing directly behind me. She pointed to the people on the other side and said, "Can I slide by you?" (Those were her EXACT words.)

I looked at her. She was maybe in her mid 30's, and--How can I delicately say this?--a little frumpy in her demeanor. I then turned and looked at the man in front of me in line, who was a little older and dressed similarly. "Oh, I'm sorry!" I said as I slid aside, understanding now that this was the wife or girlfriend of the man in front of me. No doubt they had forgotten one item, and she'd run back to get it, only to pick up a couple more items on the way. No judgment on my part. After all, as I mentioned in the intro to this story, it happens to me all the time.

The woman plopped her four or five items down on the belt and then--get this!--she picked up another of those little, plastic separator thingies and placed it between her items and the man's. What the hey? I thought to myself. But then it occurred to me--they probably just live together, and they're keeping purchases separate. Or maybe they don't even live together at all; maybe they just drove to the store together, and she wanted to get up in line with him. Whatever the case, I didn't have a problem with it.

That is, until the man finished his transaction, said "Thank you" to the cashier, and then rolled his groceries away. That's when I REALLY understood: These two people didn't know each other at all. This woman had just forced herself in front of me in line.

I thought about causing a scene right there in the store, asking her what she thought she was doing, where did she get the gall, what made her think she had the right. But I couldn't figure out what good that would have done. She only had a handful of items--she'd be finished in just a few minutes. And she had to have known what she was doing, how wrong it was. After all, you learn about standing in line and not breaking in preschool. It's a basic human skill, like making eye contact when you speak. If she was brazen enough to ignore this most basic of human conventions, my confrontation wasn't going to convince her otherwise. So I did nothing. I just looked at the cashier, who rolled her eyes and smiled. I shrugged back at her as if to say, "I don't understand this moment of my life."

I didn't. And I still don't.

A Brave New World

A co-worker forwarded me the video below yesterday, along with the message, "Think we will live to witness this?" Here were my thoughts when I opened the video:

1. Oh, I've seen this before. My assistant-superintendent ALSO forwarded it to me about six months ago.
2. Of course we'll live to see SOMETHING like this. I'm actually not that blown away by this video. The see through glass monitor doesn't exist yet (at least, not in any consumer-affordable store I've ever been in), but as far as the other technology goes, there's very little in this video that isn't already possible today, if you were willing to purchase a giant touch screen TV with Microsoft Surface technology built into it. The video is guessing at the evolution of software (i.e. the ease with which the dad transfers the Skype-like video call from his cell phone to the computer built into the kitchen counter) and counting on some things that don't exist yet (such as, to go back to my prior example, what kind of camera on the kitchen counter is capturing the kids for the grandma to see???), but overall, there's really not much new here. We're living in this world already, and these advancements are going to come incrementally, so that you're hardly aware of them. Isn't 2011 Skype pretty darned cool? Or Facebook? Or the Internet on your cell phone? It's all the stuff of science fiction movies when I was growing up!
3. I don't want work emails popping up on my mirror while I'm trying to get ready in the morning. I don't know if Corning was trying to get me excited about this new future or ticked off at them because in this future I can't even go into the bathroom to get away from work. Jennifer should have pretended she didn't get the message and had another hour to enjoy the morning!

(I can't see the video.)

The Technology Graveyard

A new principal at one of my schools sent me an email stating that there was a bunch of technology in one of his rooms that I needed to come and do something with. I walked into the room and--on the top of the closets--this is what I saw:

All told, there were 14 overhead projectors in this room. They all worked. It's just that no one wanted them anymore; they've been replaced by document cameras and LCD projectors. When I started in my current position as CIO of my school district just eight years ago, there was ONE room in the district--ONE!--that had a dedicated LCD projector (The computer lab where I taught web design. We also had a SMART board!). Today nearly every classroom in the district has a projector (A few of the smaller rooms don't), and these old overhead projectors became unwanted.

And that made me sad. I thought about--in 1978--how enthusiastic some teacher must have been to have her new overhead projector carried into her room by the building principal. How exciting that must have been...to think that she was getting a top of the line, cutting edge piece of technology. And oh! If she were given one of those standard four color sets of overhead markers, too! No more white chalk on a black board. Now it was black, green, red, AND blue on a white screen!

And now they've been relegated to the technology graveyard, replaced, just like the above mentioned chalk board (replaced by SMART boards and marker boards) and the mimeograph machine (replaced by the photocopier and laser printer).

Technology marches on.

Ding Dongs

It occurred to me a few months ago that I hadn't had a Hostess Ding Dong (or King Don, as they used to be known in these parts) in years. I'd mention it every now and then to my wife and friends: "Hey, you know what I haven't had in a long time? A Ding Dong?" It's a great conversation starter (for many reasons). A good friend finally took the hint and bought me a box of Ding Dongs, and I shared them with family and co-workers (I set the box out in the communal eating area at my office).

And it's funny because everyone pretty much had the same reaction*. The first thing people would say was, "Ding Dongs! I haven't had one of those since I was a kid! I LOVE those things!" Then, after eating one, they'd say, "You know what? They really weren't that great..."

I guess there's a chasm between what we remember about our childhood and reality.
-----------------------------
*Except for my kids. They took one bite and both said, "Awesome! These are awesome!" So maybe it's just that Ding Dongs taste different once you get out of your teen years. 

A Protected Minority

I was listening to NPR just now, and there was a story about an effort to make the unemployed a protected minority. It would become illegal to deny a job to someone solely because they had been unemployed. In tough economic times, when 10 percent of the country is out of a job, I'm sure this bill may resonate with many people.

I'm not one of them, though.

Yes, it seems wrong to--as a news article I read stated happens often--place a want ad that states that "unemployed need not apply." That seems a little unfair. On the other hand, while many people may have been furloughed from jobs, there are also a lot of people who are unemployed because, to be frank, they weren't good employees. Even people who may have been TOLD that they weren't being fired, that it just came down to the fact that there were five people who had jobs and that three of them had to go, even those people may have been fired via a layoff. After all, in the fictional situation I mentioned above, TWO of the five employees kept their job. If the laid off had been one of the top two in his/her role, he/she would still have a job.

With that in mind, if I'm screening job applications, and someone's been unemployed for four years, whether it's wrong or not, I AM prejudiced against that person, and I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. After all, I wonder why this person hasn't worked in four years. Has the person gone on interview after interview but not landed a job? That suggests a certain inadequacy. Or has the person NOT gone on interviews? Unless they have a valid reason for dropping out of the work force (i.e. Staying home with a child or sick family member, or volunteering in Africa, something like that), then that suggests laziness.

So I don't think it's wrong to look at the application of someone who's unemployed with a certain critical eye.  No, you shouldn't automatically toss the application in the trash, but it SHOULD be legal for me to consider that employment record--or lack thereof--when making a decision.

Great. I've just made 10 percent of the people reading this mad at me!

Mad Men, Revisited

I wrote a blog post several years ago about how I'd twice rented the first season of MAD MEN and twice returned it unwatched. About a year later I tried a third time to watch the show. I made it through the first four episodes before moving on to something else.

I guess, in my case anyway, the fourth time is the charm, because--once it became available last month on Netflix streaming--I started watching it again, this time with my wife. And I love it. The writing is great, and I've been intrigued lately by the fact that there's so little music on the show. There's just not much of a score.

Except for that fascinating opening sequence. In fact, the third time I took a shot at watching the show, I absolutely fell in love with the opening. The music is awesome (especially the drumming, which is crazy good!), and I loved how the opening sequence pretty much summed up the entire show. A man at the beginning of the opening seems to be in charge of his world, but then it melts into a sea of sex and alcohol and work and family, and the figure--who seemed like such a strong, powerful man moments ago--free falls into chaos. At the end of the sequence he seems to be back in control once more, sitting in a position of power, so calm, so confident. But we understand now that it's all a facade.

Watch it for yourself here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcRr-Fb5xQo

P.S. Speaking of Netflix streaming, you can now watch my wife in TWO documentaries on Netflix: I'M NO DUMMY (skip to the 1 hour, 8 minute mark for her longest face time) and the just released DUMBSTRUCK (She's in the first five minutes and again towards the end). I'm pretty sure that--in this life--I'll never be on Netflix streaming!

The Pennentenarry

School started for my daughter's this past Thursday. And Thursday morning, as I was out for my morning run, I noticed that--as is the tradition at Beechwood Schools--the seniors had "vandalized" the school. This prank occurs every year, and no one--not even the administration or the police--makes any real effort to stop it. The seniors fill the large trees in front of the school with red and white toilet paper (Where does one even FIND red toilet paper?), and this year the seniors wrote with removable paint on every window in the building, including the ones on the second floor, signing their names and comments about their lives and strange symbolic messages that I didn't understand. It's harmless, and the seniors themselves help clean up at the end of the first day.

For the last couple of years, though, there have been a couple of true vandals who mix in with the seniors. This year someone spray painted something on one of the banners in front of the school, and someone spray painted above the entrance of the high school, on the concrete section where it wasn't so easily removed, "Beechwood Penitentiary." Except the vandal didn't know how to spell the word "penitentiary," so that the message read "Beechwood Pennentenarry." There was something ironic about a vandal who can't spell criticizing education. I went to take a photo of the sign that evening but my daughters said it was the FIRST thing that the administration had removed from the building. Which is a shame, because I think it should have been left up there to show the ignorance of those who don't value education. In fact, I think the school should have found out who the perpetrator was and--instead of suspending him--given him a spray can and said, "Go on! Paint whatever you want on the building! You're promoting the need for education with every word you misspell."

It reminded me of this bit from comedian Brian Regan, whom I wrote about in a prior blog entry as a comedian I can really relate to:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gS8E2_VE1gY&t=2m57s

Cable's out!

This will be a very short post because I'm writing it on my cell phone. Why am I writing it on my cell phone, you ask? Because my cable access at home, including my Internet access, has been out since some time Wednesday. The cable company is coming "sometime between 8 AM and 8 PM" to fix the issue, which seems to only be happening to MY house.

I think I know what the issue is. Late in the day on Tuesday, the day before the outage, there was a cable contractor up on the telephone pole doing something for our neighbor. I think he must have loosened our connection and it came out the next day. Regardless, I don't have cable or Internet.

And I have to say this: I feel like I'm living in the fricken Stone Age! I feel like every modern convenience in the world has been denied me! And I can't believe I have to wait 48 hours to get a response!

All of that is nonsense, of course. All that's out is my TV and my Internet access. And in a crunch, I could pull the digital receiver out of the workout room and hook up a TV, and all four of the people in our house have the Internet on our cell phones anyway. And there's nothing wrong with our running water, our electricity, or our aforementioned cell phones. So I'm not sure what I'm complaining about.

But I can't help it. I can't help feeling like this is perhaps the most annoying inconvenience that could ever be thrust upon someone.

I guess I'm writing to tell myself to get over it!

...Of Calamine Lotion...

I mentioned a few days ago about my poison ivy and how much having it sucked. I wanted to give you an update...

It still sucks.

I was telling my wife last night that there's always a point when I'm sick when I can no longer remember what it was like to NOT be sick. When I have a bad cold, and my head and nose have been congested for weeks, and I can barely breathe, and my nose is actually sore and chafed from the boxes and boxes of tissue that I've used, I can't remember ever being well. In my head, I know that I was--for a very long time, even--but I just can't bring up any real memory of how wonderful that must have felt.

That's how it is right now with this poison ivy. I've been scratching for more than a week now, and I am STILL finding new spots every day. The first spots are all but gone, but I keep having a delayed reaction. I have a prescription steroidal lotion that I'm putting on my rash three times a day, but mostly it just makes my skin sticky. I haven't worn a suit to work all week because I'm afraid of staining a dress shirt with the stuff.

To be honest, I actually feel a little better today than I did yesterday. That's the first day that's happened. So maybe in a couple of days this WILL all be gone. But for now, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm still suffering from this rash years from now.

The First Day of School

Today is the first day of school in my school district. Usually on the first day of school I'm scrambling to get all technology working correctly, "putting out fires" so to speak. This year, though, I'll be doing something different. I'm planning* to close the door and create new student user accounts.

There are two reasons I'm doing things differently. First, I have a FANTASTIC guy working with me in the district's technology department. As a result, we're just not as slammed as we used to be on the first day of school. Don't get me wrong. All of the people who've worked for me in the past have been good (Okay--MOST all of the people), but Dan can do the work of two other people. He's that good.

The second reason, though, and probably the more important, is that teachers need students to have their user accounts RIGHT AWAY. It's not like the good old days. Back just five or six years ago I wasn't creating new user accounts until about four weeks after school started. That allowed time for the majority of the enrollments to occur (Believe it or not, many, many parents don't enroll their kids until AFTER school has started. There are a number of parents who say with a straight face, "I didn't go to school until after Labor Day, and neither is my kid!"). But teachers can't wait anymore. So the goal this year is to have all of the new accounts created by the end of the first day of school.

It's a tall order, but we're going to try.

*I put an asterisk here because--as I've mentioned before in this blog--I don't always get to do what I plan to do at this job.

Open Letter to Mike Brown

Dear Mike Brown,

I am writing to let you know that you win.

That's right. You win.

It became apparent to me several years ago that--the only explanation for your absolutely horrifying decisions with the Cincinnati Bengals franchise--was either that you were a stupid NFL man (which can't be the case--I've been told dozens and dozens of times over the years that you're a very intelligent man with a good head for football), or that you were waging a war with ME personally to see what it would take for me to give up on the Bengals. For the life of me, those are the only two explanations I've been able to come up with.

And after 22 years, I'm finally crying "Uncle."

Uncle.

Uncle!

For the LOVE OF GOD, UNCLE!!!!!

I've been a Bengals fan for as long as I've known about NFL football, which has been about 40 years or so. I grew up in Frankfort, Kentucky, and I rooted for the Bengals because they were the hometown team, or at least, as close as we could get in Central Kentucky. The Bengals were just an hour and a half north. The next closest team at the time would probably have been the Pittsburgh Steelers or the Chicago Bears. The Bengals were home. So I've rooted for 40 years.

The first 20 years weren't bad. We made it to a couple of Super Bowls. Some truly great players came through town, including Anthony Munoz, Ken Anderson, and Boomer Esiason, and some real characters, too, like Archie Griffith and Chris Collinsworth. There were bad years--true--but they were mixed in with some absolutely fantastic years, and things were fun.

But then you took charge of the Bengals, intent on destroying me as a fan, and nothing has been the same. We've had bad years, just like before, but this time they've only been mixed in with TERRIBLE years and with simply mediocre ones. There were a couple of a little more than okay seasons about five years ago, but now we're right back into the terrible pattern that has defined the two decades you've been in charge.

So this season hasn't even begun yet, and I'm already writing this team off. I can't take another rebuilding year. We've been rebuilding for decades. I quit.

I haven't decided if I'm through with the NFL entirely, or if I'm going to transfer my loyalty to another team. Even though I live only five minutes from downtown Cincinnati, I've decided that the nearest REAL NFL franchise might just be in Indianapolis. It's only two hours from here, just a few minutes more than Cincinnati was from my hometown growing up. Maybe I could become a Colts fan.

Or maybe you've killed the NFL entirely for me.

In any event, I'm writing to let you know that, at long last, you've won.

You were the better man...

Claritin

I'm not going to publish this blog post until Monday morning, but I'm writing it at nine minutes after noon on Sunday the 14th of August, and I'm writing to explain to you my present condition...

As I mentioned a couple of posts ago, I have contact dermatitis, a rash from poison ivy or poison oak or SOMETHING. It's really gotten bad in the last couple of days, and I've been looking for relief wherever I could. This morning, I took a Claritin tablet, as I'd been told that it will help with the itching, and since it's non-drowsy I won't fall asleep. Right after taking the Claritin, I headed to the Fort Mitchell Kroger to do the weekly grocery shopping, and while there I grabbed a large coffee from Starbucks, in hopes of staving off the caffeine withdrawal headache I get whenever I haven't had enough caffeine.

Holy cow.

I forgot that the words "non-drowsy" on a medicine box usually equals "stimulant." Combine the Claritin with the large Starbucks, and I was absolutely climbing the walls. I understand why meth addicts scratch up their faces. This was insane.

It all started inside of Kroger. I was just about through the store, having gone aisle by aisle and made it from the produce side of the store over to the frozen section. I was looking at the cornucopia of choices in the ice cream section when I noticed a small shaking and a sudden desire to grab anyone who walked by and ask them if they wanted to race me around the outside of the store. Then I noticed that everything in the store suddenly seemed MUCH BRIGHTER. I threw what was left of my coffee away (not much) and headed toward the check out stand. I didn't get in line right away, though. I wasn't sure I'd be able to safely drive home, so I went to the books section and browsed for a few moments. I ended up in the home office section and had in my shopping cart about ten packs of pens, three packs of pencils, a new stapler, a protractor, and  an executive desk set...until it occurred to me that I didn't really need ANY of that and that maybe the drugs were making decisions for me. I put them all back and decided that--if I really needed them--I could come back and get them tomorrow.

Once my nerves had calmed a little I got in line, checked out, put the groceries in the car, drove home, and put the groceries away. Then, after reorganizing all of the shoes in my closet, I decided to sit down for a moment. After ten minutes of watching TV I tried to get up, only to realize that I had absolutely CRASHED and that the effect was gone.

So I'm never taking Claritin again!...

Quote of the Week / Changing My Motto

I hate country music. Let me start with that. It makes me want to poke my eyes out...even more so than gangster rap or smooth jazz.

I want to say that for the record because I can't stand the music in the video below...but I love the sentiment of the song, especially one line:

There's gonna be two dates on your tombstone, and all your friends will read 'em
But all that's gonna matter is that little dash between 'em
--Kevin Welch*

I'd heard variations of that saying many times before, but when a former student and Facebook friend posted it on Facebook the other day, I was really struck by it. That's what I want, I thought, to live a life that matters. I want my life to have some meaning to it.

So I've decided to change the subtitle of this blog to reflect that. When I first started the blog, I was changing the subtitle a couple of times a week, but I kept coming back to "Home of All Things Sweasy" because a) People kept telling me that they liked that subtitle and b) I originally imagined when I started the blog that I'd give authoring rights to all of my family and that there might be more than just me writing on this blog so that members of the family could come here and keep up with each other. But then I realized that something like that already existed, and it was called Facebook.

So it's time to change the motto. And I've changed it to "Detailing the Dash" because that's what this blog is doing: explaining what I'm doing between 1968 and whatever number ends up being to the right of the dash on my tombstone.

Also, I'm hoping that in the future--whenever I notice the new subtitle--it will remind me to get off of my computer and get out there and DO something!



(I can't see the video.)

*Except Welch didn't really come up with the quote. Watch the beginning of this video.

Gonna Need An Ocean

LAST weekend I spent some time both Saturday and Sunday doing yard work, some of it at my mom's house in Frankfort, some of it at my own home.

THIS weekend, my wife and I...well, the video below pretty much sums up the state of our lives for the last two or three days...



(I can't see the video.)

Another Strange Conversation

A week ago I made a post about a strange conversation that I had at a recent conference. Here's ANOTHER strange conversation...

I was walking through the grocery store the other day when I passed, going down the cereal aisle, an aquaintance, a woman whose name I didn't even remember, who actually was closer to my wife than to me. She looked in my direction, we made eye contact, and as I passed her I said, "Hi. How are you?"

It's the simplest, most innocent of questions, really, and everyone knows what the reply is supposed to be: "Fine. How are you?" But I didn't get that reply. She stopped, blocking the aisle with her cart, looked me in the eye, and in a low, deadly serious voice said, "Thank you SO much for asking. I'm doing better."

"That's good," I said, trying to maneuver my cart around hers. "That's good."

"It's been hard," she said. "Maybe the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I didn't know how I was going to get through it for a while."

I stared at her for a moment, blinking, before saying, almost as a statement, just barely as a question, "But you're doing better now?"

She shrugged, and a tear came to her eye. "What else could I do, right? It wasn't like I had a choice?" She grabbed my forearm with her hand and squeezed. "But I know you understand. Thank you SO much for asking. It means the world to me."

I blinked a couple more times before saying, "Well, take care of yourself. That's important in times like these. And I'm really glad to hear you're doing better." We said goodbye and parted ways, she headed up the aisle, me heading down.

I never had the heart to tell her that I had no idea what our conversation was about...

Foundational Change

We humans are undergoing a major cultural shift thanks to the proliferation of the mobile, network-connected device. When people refer to the Computer Age (or more correctly, I think, the "Information Age") I do truly believe that it is actually a new "Age" that we are moving into. We've left the Stone Age and the Bronze Age and the Industrial Age and moved into something completely different, and it will take a different kind of human being.

We'll adapt. We always do. But we're going to have to change.

The video below was forwarded to me yesterday. I thought it does a fantastic job of demonstrating this foundational change that is occurring. The video is specific to Iowa (I didn't even know they HAD computers in Iowa!), but the information in the first half of the video is about any state.



(I can't see the video.)

In Defense of my Phone

I made a post a few of months ago about how much nicer my wife's "cheap" 2011 smart phone is than my high end smart phone. And I haven't changed my mind about that post. Her phone is still better.

But I don't want to make it sound like my phone is a piece of garbage. Sometimes, when I can't get it to do exactly what I want it to do, I might say that, and I will admit that I don't like that its operating system, while extremely popular in Europe and Asia (where until just recently it was far and away the #1 mobile phone OS), is almost unheard of in the United States. No one I've met says, "Hey! Do you have a Symbian phone?" 

Still, I use my phone every day, and not just for the typical cell phone things. Sure, I do use it to check my email, and to keep up with my appointments, and as a calculator and simple note taker, and as a quick low resolution digital camera. And yes, I even make the occasional phone call with it. But so what? Everyone does those things!

Here are just a few of the other things that I use my cell phone for.

1. MP3 player. My cell phone, the Nokia 5800, was designed first and foremost to function as a cell phone/multimedia player, and I do use it as my primary music device. 
2. A Flashlight. My cell phone has an app I downloaded that, with the click of a virtual switch, sets the flash in the camera to on. It makes for a VERY effective flashlight (much more so than the cheap apps I've seen on other phones that just turn the regular view screen on). I use this function much more often than I thought I would. I never knew how often I'd use a flashlight if I had it always in my pocket. 
3. Exercise Tracker. I have an app called "Sports Tracker" that functions as a pedometer, a work out diary, and a GPS device that maps my runs for me in real time. At the end of each workout it will tell me how far I've run/walked, how many steps I've taken, and how many calories I've burned.
4. A GPS Navigator. I used "Waze," a free navigation tool, to help me get from place to place. Beats having to pay for and update a Garmin.
5. A UPC reader. I have a bar code reader that I can scan to get information on products, such as where is the cheapest place to buy the product I'm holding in my hand (which seldom is the store I'm standing in), or that can open up a link to a web browser where I can read more information.

And those are just the apps that I use on a daily basis. I also have a level, an anglemeter, a measurement converter, and a number of other apps that I have but don't use often. Something that's missing--a good eReader. There's no Kindle app for the Symbian system.

In any event, this is why I don't carry a Swiss Army Knife. I have the 21st Century Equivalent.

Ghost Dog?

My school district installed a new video camera system at one of the elementary schools recently, and yesterday I was checking the recording capabilities of the system when I saw something amazing! Or, at least, I thought I saw something amazing.

It was a video of the entrance of the school from the outside. The entrance is in the lower left of the screen. After a few seconds, a dark figure comes out of the shadows at the entrance of the school and then wanders across the sidewalk. It looked for all the world to me like a medium sized dog, except get this: it didn't look like a dog. This was a high resolution camera, but the dog was this strange, massless blob. It wandered around the paved entrance for a few seconds, and then it wandered briefly into the landscaping before SCALING THE WALL OF THE BUILDING, GOING AROUND A TREE, AND THEN DISAPPEARING ONTO THE ROOF!

See for yourself:


(I can't see the video.)

What else could that be but a ghost?

Kings Island and Technology

Last year I made a blog post about going to King's Island for the first time in more than 20 years. I asked in that post what had might have changed in 20 years. I never really wrote a follow up to that post, though. If I HAD written it, what I would have said a year ago was "not much," because when I attended last year I was focused very much on what was still the same. And a lot hadn't changed. Namely,

• The Racers, the Beast, the Vortex, and many of the other rides from the 1980's were still there.
• The big Viking ship was still there, and people were still shouting back and forth across the ship.
• The Eiffel Tower was still there, and the fountains and the shops along the fountains.
• The food was still way overpriced.
• The games were still pretty much impossible to win, though there were still a handful of people walking around with stuffed animals bigger than they were.

In many ways, it was the same.

We returned to Kings Island last week (Two trips in two years after 20 years away. Blame it on having teenagers!), and this time I was focused on the differences between now and in the 1980's. Specifically, the differences created by technology:

1. Purchasing Tickets. This time I purchased my tickets online, printed them out on the family ink jet printer, and brought them with me to the park. This wasn't the first time I'd printed my own tickets--not by a long shot--but still, I missed the traditional tickets with the tear away stubs and the coupon for some fast food restaurant on the back.
2. Standing in Line. I used to say that whether or not you had a good time at Kings Island depended almost entirely upon who was with you. After all, you spend the greatest amount of time at the park standing in lines, and having someone there you could joke with and tell stories with and make fun of the other people in line with was what mattered. But that didn't seem to be the case anymore. Most people standing in line were on their cell phones texting someone else, or uploading photos of the previous ride, or "checking in" at the ride they were on. There were groups of teenagers in line who were ALL on their cell phones and none of them talking to each other at all. I guess it no longer matters who you go with.
3. Souvenir Photos. Remember how you used to get harassed when you first entered the park by a park worker wanting you to take a picture in front of the Eiffel Tower? And how you'd get your photo taken on one of the roller coasters? Then you'd go to the photo processing station somewhere in the park late in the day and see print outs of your photos already made. Several times I purchased the little, brightly colored, plastic keychains that you could look into and see your photo. All of that still happens, but there's no need to wait until the end of the day to see your processed photos--you can see them on TV screens as soon as you get off of the ride. And there's no need to carry a plastic keychain or a printed 5x7 around the park worrying you might lose it or bend up the photo--we purchased a USB drive with "Kings Island" written on it, and along with the purchase of the drive came the right to have any four of the photos taken of us loaded up on to the drive. We did (My favorite photo is above right--my daughters on the Flight of Fear roller coaster).

So I guess a lot is still the same, but a lot has changed, too.

Quote of the Week

"Beware the fisherman
Who's casting out his line
Into a dried up river bed--
But don't try to tell him
'Cause he won't believe it."
--Genesis, "Heathaze"



(I can't see the video.)

Dyson

Yesterday I wrote a post about hand dryers in a public restroom. It’s a subject matter that I never imagined myself writing about, not once in a million posts. So what are the odds? I’m going to write about that same subject TWO POSTS IN A ROW!

Wednesday I took the day off of work—my final weekday off until Labor Day—so that I could go with the family to King’s Island. We had a nice time at the park. It rained REALLY HARD just before we left, so that a) it wasn’t that hot and b) it wasn’t crowded because the rain scared many people away. We never had to wait more than 20 or 25 minutes for a ride, and we didn’t start to feel hot until the end of the day. A good day.

But I’m not here to write about that (I WILL write about it tomorrow, though). As I said, I wanted to write about hand dryers again. Over the course of the day I went to the restrooms at King’s Island a couple of times, and I noticed that some of the restrooms had a hand dryer system that I’d never seen before. It was the Dyson Airblade, and to use it a person stuck his/her wet hands with fingers pointed down into the device and then moved his hands up and down. Jets of powerful, cold air rushed out of the system onto the hands and dried them. As I used the system, I read the description, which stated that it was the “most sanitary, most energy-efficient hand dryer available today.”

The thing worked—I’ll give you that. Older hand dryers, the kind where you have to push a button and basically a blow dryer on the wall comes on, didn’t really do anything. A person mostly rubbed his her hands under the hand dryer for a few seconds before giving up and either shaking the water all over the floor or wiping the water on his/her shirt. This system actually dried my hands.

On the other hand, so do all of the newer cold air hand dryers that blow the air onto your hands at ultra high speeds. Also, it didn’t seem all that sanitary. Sure, it was DESIGNED so that users didn’t need to touch the Airblade at all, but I couldn’t help but bump my hands on the system as I moved them up and down. It wasn’t a superior product. It just had a unique design.

And that’s how I would describe all Dyson systems. I remember all of the TV commercials that aired when the Dyson vacuum cleaner was released in the United States. They all glowingly reported how the Dyson vacuum was so much different than other vacuums, and how much better they cleaned. The weird, bladeless fan made the same claims. And his first invention, the wheelbarrow that replaced the “wheel” with a “ball,” also made the same claims. In the end, though, Consumer Reports says that the vacuums don’t work as well as traditional bagged vacuums, the fan cools about as effectively, and the ballbarrow, though it had its advantages, broke more easily because the plastic ball couldn’t handle the weight of materials that the rubber and steel wheel on a traditional wheelbarrow could.

So this is another Dyson product that isn’t better, just different and more expensive.

I could end the blog entry there, but I need to admit that—if I’m being honest—the real reason I don’t like Dyson products is because of Mr. Dyson himself. In his commercials, he never smiles, except maybe ironically, and his facial expressions and tone of voice seem to say to me, “You stupid people have been using these simple, moronic products for years because you’re too dumb to come up with better alternatives.”

I think Dyson should change its tag line from “Dyson: I just think things should work properly” to “Dyson: I just think things should be pretentious.”

On Bathroom Washing

Earlier this week I was at a conference at Northern Kentucky University. The conference was held in a brand new building at NKU, not a renovation. That's important for my story.

Anyway, I had to go to the restroom in between sessions, and--as every person should do--I washed my hands after taking care of...well, what it is was I had to take care of. I washed my hands at the leftmost sink, and when I finished washing my hands I needed to dry them. I took a step to the left of the sink, and one of those scary hard air dryers was there, the kind that sounds like a jet engine taking off and that dents the skin on your hand in as it dries your hand. I dried my hands and went on to my next session.

After that session I needed to use the bathroom again (Starbucks. Enough said). I went back to the same bathroom, again took care of business, and again washed my hands, this time at the middle sink. After doing so I absentmindedly put my hands underneath the dispenser to the left of the sink, waiting for the scary loud sound of air. After about two seconds and no air, I examined a little more closely what I had stuck my hands underneath. It wasn't a hand dryer. It was a paper towel holder, the kind that you have to grab the towel in the right and left hand corners and pull hard.

It seemed strange to me that--in a brand new building--there would be a paper towel holder AND an air dryer, and not one or the other. So I looked around the bathroom, and I noticed that--beside the third sink--there was another paper towel holder, a completely different kind where you have to crank the wheel on the side to get the paper towels to come out. And on the wall that faced the mirrors there was a FOURTH machine, a more traditional hand dryer, the kind where you have to poke the big, round button and that you can turn the blower up to the ceiling to use it as a hair dryer (though I've never seen anyone actually try that).

Why in the world did this brand new bathroom have four different types of dryers in it?

And why in the world would I write a blog entry about it?

Strange Conversation

NOTE: Some of the details in this story have been changed, but the gist of the story is the same...

I had a strange conversation the other day, and I don't think I handled it quite correctly, and as a result I'll probably be uncomfortable around this person henceforth..

Let me back up to before the conversation, though. I was sitting in my office last Wednesday when I got a phone call from a teacher at one of the schools. I answered the phone and she said to me, "Good morning, Mr. Sweasy."

"Hi," I replied. "What's up?"

"Well," she told me, "I'm moving classrooms, and the principal wants me to take my computer but leave my printer where it is and use the printer that's already in the new classroom. Can I do that? And if I can, do I just plug the new printer in and it'll start working, or do you have to come and take care of it?"

I remembered that this teacher had gotten a new computer in the spring. "You have a brand new computer with Windows 7 on it, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, most likely you should be able to just plug the new computer in and the operating system will recognize the printer and you should be good to go."

"Okaaaaaay," she said. I could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Or if you don't feel comfortable you can just put in a work order and someone from the technology department will come and hook up your printer for you."

"That would be great," she said, sounding relieved.

"It's really not that hard, though," I told her. "Why don't you try to hook it up yourself, and if you can't we'll come do it for you? I promise there's nothing you can break in the process." She agreed, and we ended our conversation.

But that's not the strange conversation. It happened the next day. I was at a region wide training which included several staff members from the district. I was sitting in the back of one of the meeting rooms waiting for a session to begin when this same teacher came into the room and then sat down in the chair beside me.

"Hi, Bryan," she said to me as she sat.

"Hi," I said in return. "How are you?"

"Good! It's been a good day!" she said.

"Has it?" I said. "I guess I've gotten some things out of the day, but this time of year I'd really rather be back in the district getting ready for the start of the year."

"I know what you mean," she said.

After a momentary pause, I said, "So...did you get that printer hooked up?"

"Huh?"

"You're moving rooms, right? And leaving your old printer behind. Were you able to get hooked up to your new printer?"

"Oh!" she said. "No. I called Mr. Sweasy and he told me to try it and put in a work order if I couldn't. But I don't have time for that. I'm just going to wait for a few days and then put in a work order and let him do it."

Then it occurred to me as it's probably already occurred to you: she thought "Bryan" and "Mr. Sweasy" were two different people. She had no idea she was talking to the same person she'd had the phone conversation with the day before.

I really didn't know how to respond to her comment. I could have done the most honest thing and corrected her misconception there on the spot, told her that Bryan and Mr. Sweasy were one and the same, but I didn't want to embarrass her as she'd just admitted to not doing what she'd agreed to do. I could also have taken the polar opposite approach and prodded her for questions about Mr. Sweasy to see what she really thought of "him." After all, here was a chance to get feedback from a staff member that was unfettered from worries about hurting my feelings. But I decided that was patently unfair to this staff member. Plus, what if she had really harsh things to say about me? Did I really want to hear that? In the end, I turned the conversation to the upcoming session and what we were hoping to get out of it.

I guess I'm hoping that eventually--maybe in a few weeks or months--she'll realize her mistake, and by then the memory of the two conversations so close together will have left her and she won't be embarrassed by her mistake. But the conversation did leave me with a couple of questions that have been bothering me ever since then:
1) How many other teachers are ignoring my advice and doing whatever they want, and in the process creating more work for me?
2) More importantly, what exactly does this staff member think "Bryan" does in the district?

Twenty-two

A couple of days ago someone new to the school district asked me how long I'd been employed by the district. I told her twenty-two years, and her jaw dropped. She was young, a first year teacher, and I'm sure in her mind that the idea of anyone working anywhere for more than two decades was almost unfathomable to her.

But it got me thinking: I was 22 years old when I left Frankfort and came to Northern Kentucky to work for this school district, and I'm beginning my 22nd year of employment here. I have spent half of my life working for this school district and living in Northern Kentucky. And I'm not sure when, but at some point when people asked me where home was, I quit saying Frankfort and started saying Fort Mitchell (or "Northern Kentucky" or "Cincinnati," depending--frankly--upon how far away the person asking lived). I've lived in Fort Mitchell for more than eleven years now, and I'm much more emotionally attached to the Greyhound Tavern and the Beechwood Tigers and Vent Haven Museum than I am to Saylor's Restaurant (Does that even EXIST anymore?) or the Western Hills Wolverines or the historical museums spread all around downtown Frankfort. Fort Mitchell is my home.

A couple of Fridays ago I returned to Frankfort for a school reunion, which was held in conjunction with a concert on the Old Capitol lawn, and as I walked the grounds of the lawn and walked among the shops of downtown Frankfort, I thought the same thoughts that occur to me whenever I visit a strange town: What would it be like to live here? Could I be happy in this town? Because it didn't feel like the Frankfort I knew from 22 years ago. Back then, the downtown area was dead. Just dead! And the nicest restaurant in town was probably the new McDonald's out near the interstate on the west side of town. Now the downtown area looked vibrant, with a handful of charming looking restaurants and coffee shops. There's even (after what seems like a decades long battle!) a Cracker Barrel in town!

It's a nice place to visit, and it looks like it could be a wonderful town to live in. But it's not the Frankfort that I knew growing up, and it's not home anymore.

It hasn't been for twenty-two years...

Summer is Gone

We are now two days into August, and it's still more than two weeks until students return to my school district for classes. You wouldn't know that if you walked into the offices at the Board of Education, though. Things have been humming all summer long.

I've made several posts before, including one not too long ago, about how one school year bleeds into the next these days, how the old, 20th century idea of three months off for teachers is just so much hogwash. My wife is returning to teach in my school district after 15 years away, and her entire department is meeting tomorrow to talk curriculum realignment.

Every year about a week and a half before school begins my district has a new employee orientation. This is my 8th year as district technology director, and in each of the other seven years, I've always given new staff members their computer user accounts, email addresses, and passwords at this orientation. In the last couple of years, though, there have been two or three or four staff members who would contact me in advance because they wanted their email accounts set up sooner. This year, of the 24 new staff members, I have already given computer account information to more than half of them. They're being pressured to get them from their new administrators and department chairs so that they can keep in the loop about what is happening over the summer...

...Because so much is!

Care and Maintenance

A couple of posts ago I mentioned that I was having problems with my smartphone recently. As I was working to determine the issue, I did something I almost never do: I got out the owner's manual and flipped through it (I was actually surprised to find that there WAS a paper owner's manual. I'm used to most of these things being in .PDF form on a disc).

As I scanned through the owner's manual, my eyes fell upon the "Care and maintenance" section. I read through the bulleted list of warnings, and one struck me as funny. No, it wasn't the "Keep the device dry" warning. I've actually known several people who've inadvertantly taken their cell phone swimming with them. Nor did I find the warning to not use "harsh chemicals" to clean the phone amusing. I'd never do so personally, but I guess that there are people who don't know better who might try such things. No, it was the last warning that made me laugh out loud: "Do not paint the device. Paint can clog the moving parts and prevent proper operation."

What made me laugh was the fact that--with lists of warnings like this--it must be that someone at some time has done all of these things. And while I can imagine why someone would take a cell phone from a very hot location to a very cold location without allowing the phone to adjust, or why someone might use something other than a camera lens cloth to clean the surface of the phone, I can't imagine why anyone would want to paint it.

I can just imagine the conversation on the telephone support line...

Operator: (obviously reading from a script) Thank you for calling Nokia, the world's leading maufacturer of cellular phone systems. My name is Joshua, and I am here to help you. What seems to be the problem?

User: The screen lock dial on my phone doesn't seem to be working.

Operator (still obviously reading from a script): I am sorry to hear that you're having trouble with your Nokia smart phone. I can certainly help you with your problem and make sure it's resolved. Can you tell me what was happening just before your problem began?

User: Well, the problem began right about the time I painted my phone.

Operator (Long Pause): Uh, excuse me? (now obviously OFF script)

User: Yeah, I didn't like the basic black of my phone, so I went to the Home Depot and got an oil based enamel and painted it sort of a deep red. Uh, hang on...(momentary pause)...Yeah, the name on the side of the can of paint is "Candy Apple Red," if that's any help...

Operator: Sir, please excuse me. Am I to understand that you PAINTED your cellular phone?

User: That's right...Uh, do you think that might have something to do with it?...

I can imagine when the phone call is over the operator contacting his superior and saying, "Bob, we're going to need to revise the standard warnings in the manual again..."