Chalk’s Ocean Airways Investigation.

Normally, I find the subject of air disasters morbidly fascinating, but this particular example is noteworthy because I flew on this very plane only two years before the crash.

One For The Books.

The 4th of July Parade is now history, and the Lockardugan clan is officially tired. As happens every year, we kick ourselves into overdrive for about two weeks prior to the event in order to get everything ready, so when the day of the parade arrives we’re already waiting for it to be over so we can go back to bed. We did use some discretion and hire out a cleaning service for the house, which made preparations much easier, and Mr. Scout installed a working sink and toilet on the first floor, which Finn officially christened the morning of the parade.

This year we had a great turnout, with lots of old friends we haven’t seen in years, along with parade stalwarts and first-year virgins. The parade itself was good but not quite as weird as we are accustomed to; the shriners, republicans, and dixieland groups all made their customary appearances, but there was no Jesus banner, there were no Mummers, no strippers, no cockroaches, and there was only one step band. I spent a lot of my time keeping an eye on Finn, keeping an eye on the house, and actually watching the parade, so I didn’t shoot nearly as many photos as usual (and really, how many ways are there to take pictures of the same thing) but I did spend time watching my daughter, sitting happily on a big-girl chair by herself, smile, clap and wave as the parade rolled out in front of her.

Number 6.

Wow, what a busy weekend. I feel, this morning, like somebody beat me up with a baseball bat. That’s not to say it wasn’t a great weekend—in fact, it was fantastic. Saturday was our sixth wedding anniversary, and in a rare display of forward thinking, I had a day of fun planned for my bride. Finn and I woke at our usual time, went out on a hike for food, and then returned home to Mama to share breakfast. We then spent some family time in the backyard working in the garden and assembling our new adirondack chairs before Aunt Christi arrived to take over babycare duties.

Jen and I then drove out to Lisbon to have some tasty lunch at the Towne Grill (fantastic smoked barbecue and sweet potato fries, YUM) before exploring Sun Nurseries for landscaping and gardening ideas. You may laugh at our romantic idea of alone time, but it was some of the best time I’ve spent alone with her in ages. It’s also nice to carry on a conversation without interruption for more than five minutes.

In the late afternoon, we had dinner reservations downtown at Cinghale, Cindy Wolf’s newest restaurant, which is billed as authentic country-style Italian and feels open and friendly inside. Taking the opportunity to dress up like adults, we ordered cocktails, selected from the Presto Fizzo menu and had a sommelier pair a light chianti for the meal. Everything was superb, from the service to the food, and if you go, we recommend the duck.

After dinner, we had tickets to an evening with Anthony Bourdain and Eric Ripert at the Hippodrome theater, where we sat in an audience filled with adoring foodies and listened to the two chefs talk about food, the restaurant business, fame, and famous people. I liked Bourdain before—I’ve caught his show a couple of times over the years—but having heard him talk I think we may seek his programs a bit more in the future. (I have a general dislike for cooking shows, mainly because I can’t taste the food myself, but I like the format of No Reservations, which is a mixture of essay, travelogue, and restaurant review).

After the show we walked through the lobby, where tables were arranged with all manner of different food for tasting; as it was only 10PM, we got a drink at the bar and sampled some chocolate before meeting up with some new acquaintances of Jen’s from her yoga class. It was about this time that a woman stopped over to check our wrists for armbands… apparently there was a more expensive ticket offered which included the tasting and a meet-and-greet with the chefs that we were not invited to, so she bounced us! I guess there’s nothing like a little lawbreaking to spice up an anniversary.

Sunday morning I cruised over the Bay Bridge to wrench on trucks with Mr. Scout, who is so tantalizingly close to being finished with his project he can taste it. During the course of the afternoon, we got the passenger’s door hardware completely installed (the driver’s side regulator was broken), chased down a bad wire in the temperature gauge, mounted the license plate holder and light, mounted the Tuffy console, and a myriad of other small things I can’t remember. We even fired it up and took it for a brief spin down the block, which was fantastic! He plied us with delicious tuna steaks and homebrew, but I somehow dragged myself away to boogie home in time for the LOST finale.

Overall, I was happy with the way they wrapped things up. I don’t share the hate some people have expressed for the final church theme, and I liked how they explained the flash-sideways construct in relation to the whole mythos of the show. Each of the sideways awakenings were handled pretty well (Juliet/Sawyer was really good, as well as Claire/Charlie), and I was happy to see characters from the first seasons come back one last time. The final sequence was good too; I liked how Vincent came back to be with Jack at the very end to close the circle. It’s not often I invest heavily in a TV program, and I’ve had my moments of doubt with LOST over the years, but I’m sad to see this one end.

Appropriations.

I’ve always liked the simplicity and quaint design of the original Gadsden flag. You’ve seen it in history class—it’s the yellow flag with a coiled rattlesnake bearing the motto “Don’t Tread On Me”. Actually, I much prefer the “Join, or Die” cartoon designed by Benjamin Franklin that predates it, but my libertarian sensibilities are more in line with the spirit of the later design.

The Gadsden flag was designed and popularized by Christopher Gadsden, a soldier and statesman from South Carolina. According to Wikipedia, the U.S. Navy was created in 1775 in order to intercept ships bringing supplies to British troops in the colonies. Five companies of Marines were mustered to accompany the Navy, and they carried drums painted yellow with the rattlesnake and motto. Gadsden gave the Navy Commander-in-Chief a version of this design as his personal standard to carry into battle, and the rest is history.

What bums me out is the current usage of the Gadsden flag by the Tea Party movement. This morning on my way to work I spied a guy waving a 5′ Gadsden flag on the I-83 overpass at passing traffic; I don’t think there’s any rally locally today, but this dude seemed to really be into his freedom of expression. I’ve heard a lot about the Tea Party and how they’re mad about things, but it wasn’t until I read this article that some of the distinctions became clearer. Apparently the majority of the group is white, evangelical, identifies as conservative Republican/Independent, is over 45, 1/3 southern, and owns a gun. They seem to believe Obama is making the country more socialist (healthcare reform), and believe he has increased taxes (not true).

Asked what socialism means, roughly half of Tea Party supporters volunteered government ownership or control, far more than any other answer. Eleven percent cited taking away rights or limiting freedom, and eight percent said it means the redistribution of wealth.

According to the CBS poll,

They are more likely than Republicans and Americans overall to see illegal immigration as a serious problem (82 percent), doubt the impact of global warming (66 percent) and call the bank bailout unnecessary (74 percent).

So this Tea Party thing would make more sense to me if I actually understood what they were so upset about, but I think it’s a pretty good analogy for our culture and mass media in general. These folks are pissed off at…something, presumably whipped up into a frenzy by Mr. Beck and Mrs. Palin, but from all I’ve seen and read, don’t offer a whole lot of actual solutions for fixing things. They rail away at “Big Government” daily, but seem to forget that de-regulation is probably one of the biggest factors in the banking meltdown (and subsequent bailout).

Everybody has their right to be angry at something, I guess.

Ancient History.

I started the long, laborious process of manually adding hand-coded entries from 2001-2005 into WordPress this evening. It would be great to finally have all of this stuff in one place, and I’m not as concerned with archiving the design (such as it is) for posterity anymore. It’s taking a long time—I got through March, February, and half of January 2005—because I’m adding tags, categories, and dates, as well as updating broken links. This is going to take several months of work, but it’s kind of fun to go back through this stuff and reread it. I’m glad I’ve kept this weblog up, even if it’s been sparse at times. It’s nice to have an idea of what we were doing X years ago.

Water On The Moon

Holy Shit. NASA says it has discovered water on the moon.

Lego Naming Conventions

Reading this article about nomenclature for Lego families reminded me of the painstakingly illustrated plan diagrams I sent to the Lego corporation in the 4th and 5th grade with designs I’d created and suggestions for new pieces. My nomenclature followed that of Barney, with an “-er” suffix added to the number of studs at the top.
Lego bricks were a lot simpler back in those days, which reminds me of another article I recently saw which describes why the company is moving away from more universal bricks to specialized themed playsets (NYT link) because of the money associated with Hollywood tie-ins. My feelings on the subject echo those of a psychologist quoted for the article:

“When you have a less structured, less themed set, kids have the ability to start from scratch. When you have kids playing out Indiana Jones, they’re playing out Hollywood’s imagination, not their own.”

My M.O. was to build the kit, then take it apart and try to build something else from my own head. I’d guess that 9/10 of my bricks spent their lives as original creations.

Look Up.

I’ve driven past this building every day for the past three months and never noticed the advertising at the top until this morning. Word!

WTF?

HOLY SHIT. Michael Jackson is DEAD?

The Year In Review.

Hi little one! Papa hasn’t written in weeks now, and he feels awful. Awful because the world is spinning by so damn fast, because the holiday season ran over us without even slowing down, and because he can’t hold his beer like he did in his professional days, so two or three in a short period of time will give him a nice walloping headache. Kind of like the one he has this morning.

Not that the three of us did any kind of heavy partying. Our New Years’ celebrations have scaled way back in the last couple of years, from lavish catered parties down to leftovers and a six-pack, but that’s alright. I’ve been to Times Square for New Year’s and barhopped through several cities, and I’m not as interested in power drinking as I used to be. Last night, after we all enjoyed an evening cocktail, had a satisfying (and mercifully easy) burp, and changed your drawers, the three of us laid down next to each other at the early hour of 11:30 and we all slept through the last minutes of 2008 together. This morning doesn’t feel any different than a lazy Sunday, to be honest. Mama and I decided we would take this odd Thursday and sleep as much as possible, which has been absolutely wonderful.

Goals and Resolutions.

I’ve taken some of this afternoon to reflect upon everything that happened this past year. One of the great things about having a weblog is that it reminds me what I was doing at particular times of my life. Otherwise, I’d look back on my thirties like I look back on my twenties—a hazy mixture of memories punctuated with blurry photographs and a vague timeline of events. I even made a list of things I wanted to accomplish in 2008 and shared it with the internets. Predictably, the results were disappointing:

Ride a unicycle.
I got as far as pumping up the tire on our unicycle and balancing on it a few times. My resolve to ride it has not faltered.

Learn how to ride a motorcycle properly, and get a license.
Nope. As much as I’ve mentioned this, I have people telling me to give up the dream. However, I’m convinced gas will soon be $20/gal soon, and I will need a gas-sipping vehicle to navigate the post-apocalyptic wasteland. History will prove me correct—you’ll see.

Learn how to clean and care for a revolver, automatic, and rifle.
This one didn’t work out either. And I got as much flak for this as the motorcycle, but I’m still planning on doing this. And to all the haters: don’t come knocking on my door when you need my help fighting off the irradiated zombie hordes.

Take and pass a CPR class for certification.
Nope. I have the class schedule and everything, but haven’t done this. With our new addition, I’d like to add the baby CPR class too.

Play the guitar.
I started out strong on this, and made it to about July until I put the guitar down and didn’t pick it up again. Life and work got in the way. I did learn chords and a few songs, so I’d say I’ve got a good foothold in on this one. I’m going to pick this back up in 2009, because the day I played through “There She Goes” without messing it up I felt like a genius.

Take a small engine repair course.
I can’t find a good course for this anywhere, but I’m sure there’s one out there.

Take a basic algebra class, in preparation for computer programming classes.
I’m still going to try to do this, although I only made it through one (poorly written) book before putting it down. I doubt I’ll have time for any classes this year.

Get an illustration published in a national publication.
Didn’t happen, and I learned a valuable, expensive lesson in marketing: simply advertising does not garner new business. Illustration is on the back burner again.

Go back to figure drawing classes.
No time for this in 2008. Perhaps this summer, now that I’m if I’m still working in the city?

Become a father.
Check.

Upgrade/redesign this website.
Upgrade, yes. Redesign? Sorry, internets.

Learn about studio lighting and shooting medium-format film portraiture.
Nope, although I did become adept at using a 50mm lens and shooting manually with a DSLR.

To sum up: not so hot. As much as I’d like to say “I didn’t have any time last year,” that would be a cop-out. I could have made time to do any and all of these things. As with every New Year’s resolution, I started out hot and died out by May. In my defense, it’s also very challenging to balance running a small business, rehab a house, and help support a pregnant wife/newborn child at the same time.

Milestones.

Farewell, friend

This year saw several departures, A new and exciting political shift, Hospital visits, a financial meltdown, plumbing emergencies, renovations, multiple births, and the overwhelming kindness of many friends. Really, the arrival of our baby has only reinforced how truly lucky we are: We have some of the best and most thoughtful friends and family on the planet. Thank you, everyone.

Annual Report.

Of course, most significantly, 2008 was a banner year for Lockardugan Industries. There were no stock splits, no labor disputes, and no plant closings, and we successfully shipped our first product. From all indications, you have been met by the marketplace with positive reviews, and there have been no embarrassing recalls, defects, or lead paint advisories.

The breaking-in period was difficult, to be sure. Until we got you on a regular sleeping routine, you were like a car alarm that gets tripped and then never shuts off. You don’t travel well yet, which has made it difficult to take you anywhere and hard to explain to friends why we haven’t brought you by. It’s not because we don’t like you; we just didn’t want to drag a wailing banshee into your living room.

Things are getting better, though. You’re sleeping properly now, so your waking hours are mostly happy and filled with laughter. You spend lots of time playing with your toys, making coos and grunts and kicking your feet on the floor constantly, and we sit on the couch and sip our coffee and stare at you in amazement. The best parts of the day are the times I smile at you and your face lights up like a Christmas tree and you smile back in recognition, and all I can think is thank God for that smile, because a month and a half ago I was seriously considering how much I could get for you on the black market. And then I hear you giggle or smell your baby smell and I can’t ever imagine not having you in my life. It’s really a miracle your eyes haven’t popped out of your head yet, because it’s all Mama and I can do not to hug and squeeze you all day long.

You’re getting bigger, too—too fast. Your original onesies are too small, and my favorite fleece pajamas are getting too tight to zip up. I miss the days when you fit in the crook of my arm and we napped together on the couch, the scent of your baby skin filling my nostrils as we fell asleep. Slow down so we can enjoy these days with you, baby girl. It’s going by so quickly.

Carpocalypse Wow.

Holy crap! Chrysler is suspending all production of cars for a month. As the mostly satisfied owner of a Jeep (a Chrysler product), I’m a little concerned as to how their implosion might affect me down the line. My guess is not so much, but still… This shit is getting scary.

New Beginnings.

Dear Democrats:

Looks like we won this thing!

DON’T FUCK IT UP.

Love,

The Idiot.

Weighing In.

Finn says, “Don’t forget to vote, and then toast to the end of political ads for three more years!”

(thanks to Linda for the shirt!)

Your Media Is Lying To You.

Sitting in our living room last night, quietly caring for our newborn daughter, we were watching news reports about the bailout rejection and the corresponding stock market drop. Both cable news organizations screamed bloody murder and blamed Democrats for screwing everything up; predictably, the talking heads all pointed fingers at the House leadership for failing to secure the necessary votes to pass the legislation. Nowhere do I remember anyone actually tallying the votes for us to hear.

Later, I made a trip to the grocery store during which I listened to the BBC World Service on NPR. The commentator quickly summed up the actual facts: a majority of Republican legislators in the house voted against the bill, and a majority of Democrats voted for it. So how is that a Democratic failure? Especially when most news services are now saying that a flood of angry pressure from constituents opposed to the bill played a crucial role in its defeat?

While I don’t want to see our flawed, jury-rigged economic system collapse under its own bloated weight, I do wish there was some way to resolve the situation without having to pay to prop up the institutions that have brought it so close to collapse. I do hope that the final bill presented to and passed by the House has provisions for binding oversight and regulation; it’s been made pretty plain in the last six months that the free-market system isn’t so free.

Where Were You in 1998?

Code Rush is a fascinating documentary on the early days of the web, highlighting the efforts of Netscape to release open-source versions of Mozilla all the way through to their acquisition by AOL. I’ve read about some of the historical moments recorded here, but it’s fun to turn the clock back and see them on tape.

As I look back at that time period, I wish I’d been more forward-thinking and gotten more heavily involved in the Internet earlier, but I was still working in print design. (How I ever made a living at print design is still a mystery to me; I wasn’t very good at it). I’ve long been considering a part-time return to college to get an edumocation in computer science so that I can start building things instead of just making them pretty. One of the things I like best about designing for the web is problem solving, and, lord knows, there’s a ton of that in programming.

Distracting Myself.

My pop is now off the ventilator, with a tracheotomy tube, and sitting upright, which is a great sign. He’s writing things we can actually understand and itching to get out of the bed; most of all he wants to EAT.

This is a revisit of the postcard Jen and I bought months ago, and for this one I decided to overlay the old with the new to see the changes 100 years will make. It took a little finagling with depth of field and a bit of Photoshop work to get the postcard light enough to see, but the results are worth the effort.

Relics and Artifacts

Our new gallette iron (Berarducci model Grand GI-3) showed up yesterday! It’s in absolutely beautiful condition when compared to the other one I bought last year. Notice the difference in the size of the patterns—the top is a Petit GI-1. I must now resist the urge to track down a GI-2 to complete the trio.

And, as a heartfelt and thoughtful birthday gift, the Scout’s new daddy gave me this beautiful display case, with a fender badge cut from the original sheet metal and a copy of the VIN tag (he needs the real thing to re-register the chassis with the DMV). I need to dig up my Chewbacca action figure and put him in the case too.

Local History.

Today I was at a client site attempting to troubleshoot what could generously be called the worst piece of commercial software I’ve ever looked at. It turned out that I couldn’t do anything to solve the problem, but what made the trip worthwhile was the location: a bombed-out looking collection of stone and brick buildings, decidedly 19th century architecture, surrounded by fields of junk and a mountain of steaming mulch. Many of the structures looked fascinating and practically begged for further exploration, but discretion won out over curiosity and I elected to shoot from a distance (mostly).

My Google-fu reveals the origins of this strange wasteland: it is the remnants of Daniels, MD, a mill town dating back to the 1840s, which was laid waste by Hurricane Agnes in 1972. The cupola in the photo above is the bell tower of the St. Albans church, now bricked up to prevent vandalism.

For train nuts, this is a tour of the old B&O Main line, which cuts right through the heart of what used to be Daniels. This site is notable for the excellent aerial photo of the mill in 1956.

Your Bill of Rights And You.

“You cannot expect phone companies to participate if they feel like they’re gonna be sued. I…I mean…It is..These people are responsible for shareholders. They’re private companies.”

—President George W. Bush, January 28, 2008, talking about the warrantless wiretapping program and the “Protect America Act”.

What is it about that statement that makes my blood pressure spike? Again, when did my rights as an American citizen suddenly vaporize? Whatever happened to my Fourth Amendment rights against unreasonable search and seizure?

I don’t give a shit about the telco companies. I don’t give a rat’s ass if they get sued six ways to Sunday by every one of their customers. They chose to aid the government with this program (except for Quest), they have cadres of expensive lawyers who tell them what to do, and they can sink or swim on their own. It’s obvious Bush doesn’t care about being responsible for us, the citizens of his country, by the letter of the Constitution, which requires that a warrant be supported by probable cause and sworn to by someone who is accountable for it. We as citizens should be outraged by this invasion of our privacy, but we’re not.

The argument “I don’t care if they listen, because I’m not doing anything wrong,” is weak and ignorant. We have laws that state clearly what the President is allowed to do in the interest of national security; in this case it’s the 1978 FISA act, which never required a court order in the first place. This administration felt it needed to expand the scope of its powers beyond any type of oversight or accountability, which immediately makes me suspicious of its motives.

When a government oversteps the written laws, the erosion of those laws is the inevitable result. Grabbing for unlimited power is human nature, and our laws are there to keep that impulse in check. This administration has repeatedly asserted that it is not accountable to Congress for its actions, many of which make a mockery of its claim to defend “freedom”.

I feel less and less like I want to participate in this society if I feel like I’m living in a police state, governed by vague threats of fear and panic. My President should be accountable to his shareholders too, but nobody seems to give a shit about what this administration does.

Update 3.7.08: See this article for more information on abuses of power.

Familiar Church.

The only things we bought last week at the DC Big Flea were very, very small. Jen stopped at a vendor who had vast plastic trays of postcards arranged on a table, categorized by location, and her eagle eye found the county my parents live in almost immediately. She picked up a small sheaf of cards and two immediately caught her attention: the church across the street from my parents’ house, and a shot of Main street in their town.

Lousy camerphone image, sorry

The helpful vendor dated them for us sometime between 1901 and 1908, when they were known as “souvenir cards”. At that time the USPS still prohibited private companies from calling them post cards, and the sender could only include a short message on the front side. In 1908 the prohibition was struck down, and anyone could publish post cards with the familiar divided back.

These two were printed in Germany, a sign of their quality, and have the location printed in script on the front (I’ve removed it to protect the innocent). At the time, it cost one US Cent to mail.

I would give anything to go back in time to turn the camera about 120° to the left for a shot of my folks’ house.