It's Nerdy, and I Like It!

I love it, when a plan comes together. I like it even more, when the technology works, and it's free, too! Long story short, I solved a major headache that I was having. I had multiple email accounts, multiple IO systems, and a calendar on one device that was synchronized to nothing.

The multiple email accounts happened, when a throw-away account landed in a printed directory that folks started using to message me. A second throw-away account inherited new features that I found useful, and a third account became necessary for business reasons. My IO devices included multiple PC's, an iPhone, an iPad, and an occasional web kiosk. I needed an email client that would read multiple accounts, integrate well with IMAP servers, have calendar functionality, and allow remote synching across all the devices.

My first find was the Mozilla Thunderbird client. It does all sorts of wonderful things with multiple email accounts. The calendar add-on, Lightning, was my second discovery. Finally, I found Provider for Lightning that addresses the issue of calendar connectivity with Google calendars. Without going into the gory installation and set-up details (it was relatively easy), the end-result is email and a calendar that is easily managed across devices. For example, I now have tabbed email for the different inboxes, and I can create a calendar event on any of my devices and have the event appear everywhere I need it.

To top it off, the product icons are pretty cool, too.

Happy Holidays -- 2012

“Oh, the weather outside is delightful …” Seriously, this is central Texas. It is early December, and the highs have been in the eighties. The past week has been gorgeous. The past year has been interesting. Here are the highlights to get you caught up.

Our church hosts a monthly concert series.   In January, the Steel Wheels performed. After the show, the musicians stayed at our house. They were a great group of guys.  In October we hosted two of the Kerrville New Folk Winners, Korby Lenker and Whit Hill. 

Peggy reprised her role as a volunteer tax preparer for low income families in the Austin area. She also became the treasurer at our church. She was back at the potter’s wheel this year and brought home some useful and “artistic” wares.

In late March we began planning a kitchen remodel. Peggy stepped up and served as general contractor. We ordered cabinets, chose paint colors, found light fixtures, contracted painters, electricians, and plumbers, started demolition, agreed on backsplash materials, and lived without running water in the kitchen for way too long -- we did dishes in the bathroom. With only a few big surprises, the project was completed in a mere 12 weeks.

In July, Peggy took on a temporary, paying job as an accountant for a hospital in Austin. After three months, the gig ended, and Peggy had gained experience in a new environment.  She decided that working again wasn’t so bad and is now looking for a full time, permanent job.

In August David served as master of ceremonies for the church’s annual talent show and silent auction. David’s bad, yet, family friendly jokes kept the acts flowing smoothly. Fear of the punch lines ensured that each act was set up as quickly as possible. Peggy chaired the silent auction that raised over $3000 for a prison ministry.

At the end of September, David announced his retirement from AT&T. On the 19^th of October, he went to the office for the last time. To celebrate, David immediately began promoting the photography business that he started in 2011. Since then, David has shot a wedding, some family photo sessions, and a couple of executive portrait sessions. A second wedding is booked, and additional opportunities with camera-in-hand are being explored. The new found “spare” time has been filled with mountain biking, Frisbee golf, ping pong, and water aerobics with Peggy. We also learned that grandson #3 is due to arrive in February 2013. How exciting!

Laura and Steve TerLouw spent a couple of days with us, while Laura attended her 20^th high school reunion. It is amazing that time has flown so quickly, since the time that Laura lived with us during her senior year. She and Steve now have three children of their own.

Election-day found us working a polling place: Peggy as assistant election judge and David as election clerk. We began the day at 5:30 am. It was close to 10:00 pm, before the day ended. It was a long day for sure, but was a great way to experience the political process and see lots of our neighbors.  After living in Austin for 24 years we’ve gotten to know a lot of people.

For Thanksgiving, we visited with family in Missouri, Arkansas, and Oklahoma. Peggy went horseback riding with her sister in Arkansas. With the good came some sad. Peggy’s brother, Darrell, passed away on Tuesday after the holiday. We returned to Oklahoma for the memorial service. We were fortunate to have been able to say our “goodbyes” during the holiday visit to Darrell’s home.

As you can see, our year was full, and even with loss, we feel blessed to have lived it. May your Christmas be merry and may you also be blessed in the New Year.


Peggy, David, and the dogs, Zander and Klaus

Feeling Cratchity

To close out the stewardship fund raising campaign at my church, I delivered the following message to the congregation. The response was well received.

Just last evening, I was visited by a former friend, Jacob Marley. Poor old Marley scared the Dickens out of me. I was visited three times.

The first visitor was the Spirit of Pledges Past. The tale told by this visitor was one that caused me to grumble and groan. For it was true -- I had not shared my talents, and my gift giving was late, because I had forgotten.

The second visitor was the Spirit of Pledges Present. The stewardship fund raising campaign was coming to a close and pledges were falling behind and would not meet the budget goals for 2012. Without receiving additional pledges, the Session will have to lower expectations and will be forced to restructure some of the planned programs. The spirit affirmed that $29,000 more in pledges was needed to meet budget goals.

The third visitor was the Spirit of Pledges Future. Here, I was reminded to pledge for the coming year. Time flies. How could it already be 2012? I knew I wanted to make a difference. I had to change my ways. A nightmare of darkened halls and planned programs, reduced or removed entirely, woke me with a start. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief and shivered at these "shadows of what may be."

When I realized all was but a dream, I made my way here to share this tale. For now, my heart is filled with love and joy. I will keep my promise to myself and my pledge to the church. Stewardship with kindness, generosity, and compassion will surely lead us to Vision, Renewal, Ministry, and Service.

"God Bless Us, Every One!"



(Stewardship Finale, St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church, Austin, Texas, December 18, 2011)

Physics, Explained

I try to make it a habit to get to the level of my listeners. When I have conversation, I like to look my discussion partner right in the eye. I learn so much that way.

Just last week, a friend's four year old son was playing with a model of the Millennium Falcon. I sat down with the boy to understand more about his spacecraft. Kadin was explaining the components of the craft, pointing out where the drivers sat and where the door was. I pressed for more information. When I asked about the missing landing gear, Kadin responded, "The landing gear are retracted, so they don't get damaged by travel in space." I was impressed with the answer.

When I asked about the antenna dish, Kadin surprised me with, "That is used to gather signals from other objects, so that navigation in space can be completed more efficiently."

I decided to probe deeper, obviously this child is skilled in conversation. I asked, "So, what do you think about the potential confluence of the Star Wars and Star Trek universes?"

Kadin's expression changed from sincerity to puzzlement to bewilderment. I thought my adult vocabulary had him flummoxed. Rather, Kadin simply said, "That's just not real!"

Why Are You Here?

That is a question that I cannot answer. I would never attempt to do so. On the other hand I can tell you why I am here. It began 23 years ago, when Peggy and I moved to Austin.

I had just left the military to take a job with the University of Texas. We left behind family and friends and arrived, knowing no one. We visited a couple of churches but didn’t find what we were looking for. Peggy found St. Andrew’s in the phone book and on a Saturday morning sent me and our 8 year old son to find it. Sean and I scoured the access lanes of north and southbound IH-35 between Wells Branch and Round Rock. When I finally located St. Andrew’s in a metal warehouse building, I was convinced that some sort of cult was brewing – I mean real churches don’t look like warehouses; do they? Well, we did attend St. Andrew’s the next day and our search was over. Twenty-three years ago, next month, we joined into the full faith and fellowship of St. Andrew’s. We had found home. The rest is history.

I remember a bomb threat, because we dared discuss abortion and women’s rights. I remember a time, when budgets were so tight that we cut the minister’s salary and quit contributing to those needier than ourselves. I remember a church divided over inclusivity. I remember a 15-year old, who had never spoken in public, taking a stand and speaking for justice. I remember the wisdom of many, who are no longer with us.

I have attended weddings and funerals. I have laughed with you and cried with you. I have told stories, and I have listened. I have served meals, carved turkeys, and made gallons of gravy. I served on Session four times. In doing so, I have argued with you and for you. I have driven teens to the beach for clean-ups. I have played volleyball. I have auctioned carved pumpkins. I have attended and taught Sunday school. I have held your babies and given opinions on their future names. I have taken your photographs. I have delivered Christmas gifts to needy families and have been asked, “Are you Santa Claus?”

Now, change all of my “I statements” to “we statements.” Yes, we are all involved. I call that involvement, stewardship. We are learning to do it well. We are taking care of each other, and we have new outlooks on our mission. We are keeping the lights on, salaries paid, and now we discuss how many and where our donations should go. We and our church have become a beacon to many and a thorn to a few. Our continued stewardship is not just a once-a-year request for donations; rather, it is the foundation of our Vision for this church, a Renewal of our faith and our facilities, a Ministry of justice and love for all, and a continuing Service to our community and to the planet.

Why are we here?


(Stewardship Kick-Off, St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church, Austin, Texas, October 23, 2011, by David Rackley)

Our Mr. Rackley -- Annotated Lyrics

He’s an Okie from Muskogee
But without the shame and guilt
He’s a renaissance man
Who’s not afraid to wear a kilt.
He’s the guy the other soldiers
Called the Burger King
Cause singing “Have it Your Way”
Was his favorite thing
Yeah our Mr. Rackley
Is a talented cat.
What does Peggy think about that?

He’s got a winning smile
And he opens with a joke
He’s the master of ceremony
Cause he always goes for broke.
He’s got stories about sailing
He’s a motorcycle mac
He can fricassee a chicken
In an ocean kayak.
Yeah our Mr. Rackley Is a versatile cat.
What does Peggy think about that?

Now some guys are whiny
Self-absorbed and narcissistic
But David’s on the opposite scale
And since we’re being truthful
And completely realistic
Peggy says he is the perfect male!

He can fix your old computer
While he hunts for wild boar
He can ride a bike for hours
Taking pictures of the tour
And then he’ll tell a story
That’s self-deprecating
Cause being very modest
Is another favorite thing
Yeah, our Mr. Rackley
Is a very sweet cat.
What does Peggy think of
(She thinks the world of)
That’s what Peggy thinks about that!

Commissioned by Peggy Rackley in honor of David Rackley’s birthday June 18th, 2011.

Song and lyrics Copyright 2011 Marilyn Rucker

Chicken Legs and Lima Beans

Last evening, February 3rd, was a cold, rainy night in Atlanta. I stepped out from under the awning of my hotel and onto the sidewalk. My destination, Gladys Knight’s Chicken and Waffles, was only three blocks away. The light rain was tolerable. Traffic was fairly heavy, and I found myself dodging the tire-splash from the gutters. By hugging the building exteriors, adjacent to the sidewalk, I was able to keep mostly dry.


In the middle of the second block, a man stepped out of the shadows and blocked my path. He informed me that he needed a hand-out and that the neighborhood was rough. He asked for an unusual amount, $17. Fight-or-flight, the natural reaction that I expected, did not arrive. Rather, I looked the man deep into his eyes, and I saw desperation mixed with sincerity. Perhaps, I am an easy mark; perhaps, I felt compassion; so instead of running away, I chose another tack – I asked the man to join me for dinner. He was taken off-guard by my invitation. I was just as surprised at the words that came out of my mouth. He reminded me that this was a rough neighborhood, told me that he had just been released from prison, having done time for murder, and then he offered to walk me to the restaurant.

The restaurant was less than two blocks from my initial encounter with the panhandler. In that short distance I was reminded repeatedly that this was a rough neighborhood and that the man needed $17. As we approached the restaurant door, I encouraged the man to have dinner with me. Reluctantly, he accepted. We walked in together, and the hostess welcomed us and took us to a booth to be seated. As we settled into the booth, the man’s tough exterior soon melted into gratitude. We ordered drinks – coffee for him, iced tea for me. A waiter handed us menus. A conversation began. I introduced myself and learned that Moses was my new companion. Moses ordered two drumsticks and lima beans. I ordered chicken wings, a cinnamon waffle, fried green tomatoes, and cornbread muffins to share.

While we waited for our meal, I learned more about Moses. We shared that we both had kids. He has a 26-year old daughter in the military. I have a 30-year old son. Moses told me that he had just served a 10-year sentence for killing the man, who had raped his then 14-year old daughter. I sympathized with his action, thinking that I might have reacted in the same way. I felt no fear being with this man; instead, I was glad that I had a dining partner. I told him of my military service and my current occupation. He asked me my age. We learned that there was only a year difference in our ages. I told him about my grandsons. He told me more about his daughter, sad that she was about to deploy to Iran or Afghanistan – he was not sure which. Moses told me stories from his imprisonment. For six years he worked in fields harvesting corn, potatoes, and watermelons. He said it felt like slavery, only more modern. His guards always had guns. Moses went on to say that for the last four years of his sentence, he got smarter in the prison library and did not have to work in the fields.

Our food arrived, and Moses ate like a man that had not eaten well in several days. He was concerned that if he ate too much, he would make himself sick. I said I understood, and told him that he could take any leftovers with him. He smiled. During the meal, Moses commented that it had been a long time since anyone had looked him in the eye and listened. I did listen. In that too short half hour, I realized that my simple gesture was more than an easy escape. It was a connection with another human being. When the meal was over, I paid the tab. Moses reminded me of the rough neighborhood between the restaurant and my hotel, and he offered to walk with me back to the hotel. Together we dodged puddles and tire-splashes. At my hotel we shook hands; I gave Moses $17 for his trouble, wishing him the best. He smiled, looked deep into my eyes and said, “Mr. David, I hope we cross paths, again, in this lifetime. Thank you.”

While I am not sure about the pairing of chicken and waffles, I am sure about the pairing of two people and the simple act of breaking bread together. Moses, wherever you may be, I also hope that our paths may cross, again, in this lifetime.

Fashion Statements

Oh, the split-gown! This year has been my year for donning a split, hospital gown. Each time has had moments to remember or not, because general anesthesia does funny things to me; sometimes I forget stuff; other times I just get the giggles and repeat questions, ad nauseam.

First there was the 10-year colonoscopy. I asked the staff whether they wanted the split in the back or in the front. Of course, they needed it in the back, but I had to ask, even if I already knew the answer – anything to make the situation lighter. I remember being whisked down a long, cold hallway on a gurney. I remember the gurney’s high velocity being notable, as was the chilly room temperature. I remember bursting through the batwing doors of the OR, but I do not remember the doors closing behind me. Later the same morning, I was enjoying breakfast in a favorite restaurant, but I could not remember getting dressed. So I asked. It seems I asked that question, repeatedly.

Next, was my annual physical. The nurse’s instructions were get into the gown and wait for the doctor. Front or back? This time the answer was, “makes no difference!” So, I took the front option and tied bows at the collar and at the waist and waited, legs swinging over the edge of the exam table. When the time came to cough for the doctor, the doctor praised my decision for the front split and claimed it would become his new standard. Wow, now I have become a trend setter.

During that physical a suspected torn rotator cuff was discussed. The full diagnosis would require an MRI. I reported to the imaging facility and removed all clothing, rings, watches, and any other metal objects. Once again, I was offered a split gown – front tie was OK, because the MRI machine did not care. For about 30 minutes, I laid on my back in the MRI chamber, listening to the pops, clicks, and humming of the scanner. At the end of the procedure, I hopped off the scanner table with gown bunched up to my waist. No problem, the MRI operator had already seen everything, anyway.

Sure enough, the rotator cuff was torn. On the scheduled surgery day, I reported to the hospital. Another gown was fashion-de-rigueur. Instead of asking front or back, I said, “if you want it tied in the back, I will need your help, because the shoulder will not bend to do the tying.” The nurse obliged and loosely tied the collar and waist in the back of the gown. I then padded down the hall to my waiting gurney. The back draft was a clear indication that I had left all modesty behind.

Just this weekend, a freak injury landed me in the ER. Something popped in my leg. My calf muscle was swelling and was getting as tight as a drum. The ER staff put me in a gown, split in the back. I was poked prodded and tested. At one point I was asked to roll on onto my stomach for more prodding and poking. A familiar breeze caressed by back. After much inspection by the doctors, my dear wife asked if she could cover me up. Oh sure, we are done now. To make a long story short, I spent a night in a split gown in a hospital room for observation. I have a torn muscle in my calf, an injury usually reserved for thirty-year old athletes that push their basketball game to the limits.

Through these experiences, I have learned a couple of lessons this year: 1) Growing old is better than the alternative, and 2) modesty is not all that it is cracked up to be.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the OR

Everywhere I go, I see amusing incidents, even while being prepped for surgery. There I was in an open-backed hospital gown. My IV had just been started, and I was trying to relax, before being wheeled into the operating room -- it happened. A fellow patient was also being prepped; but instead of relaxing, he was busy with his iPhone, trying to get just one more web search done, before his phone was taken away.

The prep nurse asked for the phone to be shut off – no response from the patient, just more thumb typing. The nurse shrugged and continued the preparation of “joy juice”, a strong Valium cocktail to mark the beginning of the surgical stupor. The somewhat large syringe frightened Mr. One-More-Search. He almost begged that he not be given a shot and was relieved to find out that the joy juice would be administered via the already in-place IV. I watched the nurse squeeze the contents of the syringe into my neighbor’s bloodstream.

The nurse left the room, and I began counting. At about 5 seconds, I suggested that my neighbor shut down his phone, so that he would not lose any data. At about 7 seconds, the other patient looked my way, tried to frown, then just went to sleep. The phone remained upright in the patient’s extended hand for a few more seconds, and then it slowly oozed between his fingers, falling to the mattress of the gurney. I would have laughed out loud, but my own joy juice cocktail had taken effect.

Joy juice or comedy, the OR medical staff must have been surprised by the silly grin on my face.

To Russia with Love

Peggy and I just completed a trip to Scandinavia and Russia. We had a wonderful time. We joined a cruise ship in Copen-hagen, sailed to Stockholm, Helsinki, St. Petersburg, Tallinn, Gdynia, Oslo, and back to Copenhagen. Passengers and crew aboard the Star Princess represented 60 countries. We met many wonderful people and saw the sites in each of the ports of call. From a mini-van to jet planes to cruise-ship to motor coaches to canal boat to taxis, all told we traveled 10,000 miles, spanning 10 different time zones, eight countries, and we listened to at least nine different languages -- not that we understood all that we heard. At one point Peggy broke into a rousing dialect of German, while conversing with a couple of Estonian men, who spoke perfectly good English.

In each port of call, local tour guides explained their cultures and took us on various museum visits and city attractions. Just remembering the names of the guides has been a head-scratching process: Josephine in Sweden, Erno in Finland, Anna in Russia, Assa in Estonia, Ewa in Poland, Kari in Norway, Selfa in Denmark, Wesa in New Jersey, and Cabba back in Texas. In Sweden the joke was on me, as I asked Josephine, who was originally from China, what brought her to Sweden. Her succinct answer, “Immigration,” stopped me cold. The rest of the tour group just laughed at Josephine’s innocently sharp response.

With jet-lag almost behind me, I can finally think clearly enough to get this posted. Our vacation was a trip of a lifetime, and I can highly recommend a Baltic cruise to anyone, especially to those that can survive a 26-hour day for the return trip.

Dasvidania, Auf Wiedersehen, Hej hej, Ciao-baby!


P.S. Watch for photo highlights on Awestruck.

Six Degrees of Reflection

Today, I turned fifty-five, and I paused to reflect on the lives that I may have touched. It is no wonder that the theory states that we are separated by six or fewer degrees. I am jotting down, not the lives, but the way in which I may have been or am part of your life – son, grandson, brother, cousin, student, teacher, employee, husband, lover, father, dad, nephew, uncle, soldier, sailor, leader, engineer, manager, board member, president, elder, actor, author, poet, father-in-law, confidant, antagonist, protagonist, counselor, grandfather, and friend.

Thank you, all, for being part of my life. I look forward to our future connections.

Chicago History Museum -- Update

This morning, I received confirmation that the exhibition is up and running:


The director of the production company that built the exhibit said, "It [your movie] was used -- thank you so much for your donation! The museum was thrilled by the addition, and we hope that you and your family get a chance to see it, while the exhibit is running (until January 2011). Thank you, again!"

BTW, the original blog on this topic is here.

Infestation

Earlier today, I was checking houseplants to see, if they needed watering. As I was reaching for the dirt in the pot that holds our Norfolk Pine, the lush greenery in the pot stopped me still. There, at the base of the pine, standing about 12-inches high with four-inch leaves, was the healthiest poison oak that I have ever seen. How it got there I have no clue.


See how pretty and green the thing is. I am itching already, thinking about how I will dispose of the poison bush without getting a real case of the itch.

Yikes!

Statutes of Limitation

Surely the folks that were present have retired, have new secret identities, or will just shout huzzah, when they read this account. It is an account of a lesson that, back in the day, might have been considered a court martialable offence. In hindsight, no animals were injured, no real property was destroyed, no lives were lost, but a good deal was learned. Besides, lieutenants will be lieutenants. Since there may or may not be statutes of limitation in effect, I will not set the actual date, and any names that I use may or may not be factual – you know who you are!So, there I was, a brand new 2d Lieutenant -- a butter-bar -- assigned to a Field Artillery battalion in central Germany. One of my first assignments was that of target acquisition platoon leader. I was a survey officer, looking to prove my mettle, so I could eventually become an executive officer in a firing battery – the pinnacle job for an artillery lieutenant.

In the role of battalion survey officer, I was responsible for making sure that the firing batteries had good known locations, so that their fire on targets could be as accurate as possible. The state of the art at that time included various mapping techniques, known points on the ground, and the 30-meter steel tape. Imagine, if you will, two survey parties inch-worming a 30-meter steel tape from position to position, trying to keep up with three self-propelled weapons batteries. If we were lucky, we might get in a position or two, before the tasks became overwhelming. In the end the senior lieutenants and their wise battery commanders really just wanted confirmation that their own map reading skills were adequate. With that as criteria for success, my platoon did a fair job of keeping firing batteries pointed in the right directions.

One of those senior lieutenants was 1LT Big Ken. Big Ken was well respected. He had graduated from West Point, was the executive officer of a firing battery, and was wise beyond his years. All the 2LT’s wanted to be mentored by Big Ken. I was no exception. I made every effort to get Big Ken his unit’s location on the ground, as soon as possible. I went out of my way to do so, sometimes at the expense of the other units – they could just wait. This was my chance at learning from the master.

On one of those rare occasions during a live firing exercise, my team had caught up, and I farmed them out to be extra forward observers for the battalion. My driver and I headed to Big Ken’s unit, whose position we had surveyed-in earlier during the day. We pulled into the firing battery area and parked out of the way in a nearby tree line. My driver went on radio watch and probably went to sleep, as soon as I walked away. I went in search of Big Ken. It didn’t take me long to find him. There he was, standing in battery center, barking instructions and dressing down some of the gun crews that were not firing in unison. Between appropriate, constructive criticism and a few, choice, swear words, Big Ken was getting his unit to behave as he wanted. I was in awe.

Big Ken greeted me with a bone jarring slap on the shoulder and wide toothy grin. Sundown was approaching and Ken had something special planned. He instructed the fire direction center to direct all adjustment missions to one of the crews that needed a little remedial training. As a fire mission was coming down the wire, Big Ken invited me to join him at base piece, one of his top-notch gun crews. Base piece was going to perform the “something special” exercise. During fire missions, all the guns tracked the adjusting piece, so that each of the guns could fire en masse during the fire-for-effect phase of the mission. As the mission continued, Big Ken and I took a standing position near the side of the base piece and waited for fire-for-effect. It wasn’t long, FIRE-FOR-EFFECT crackled down the telephones to the guns. Five of the six guns fired the requested projectile-type, base piece fired a NO-JO. A ball of fire shot from the muzzle of base piece and flames pierced the evening sky for at least 200 feet beyond the howitzer. I saw the startling image from the prone position on the ground, where I had ducked for cover. Big Ken reached down and lifted me back to my feet, laughing like the mad-man he was. I had just been schooled in the art of firing powder without a projectile in the cannon barrel.

While prankish, it was a fine lesson to be learned – a lesson to expect the unexpected during the sometimes frantic pace of a live fire exercise. I was in awe.

Note: some 18 months later, I proudly became the executive officer of Big Ken's firing battery. I knew I had big boots to fill, and I am proud to say that I was well trained by 1LT Big Ken.

Rest in Peace, dear friend.

Kudos to Chris at KXAN

I am an early morning news listener and watcher. As I get ready for work, I crank up the TV and listen for the local weather, traffic analysis, and the accompanying news stories. This morning I learned of a fire near my neighborhood, that traffic was still smooth in the area – no one injured and no delay in getting to work – and the predicted afternoon temperatures. I also heard a story that caught my attention. The story was about Delta Airlines, an airline I recently used for a business trip. I listened to the 15 second article, and for some reason it touched a chord. I grabbed my phone and sent off a quick email to the KXAN news desk.

In a few minutes, and much to my surprise, I received a thoughtful response from Chris Willis, one of the early morning anchors. The email conversation follows:

I wrote:

The story on airline revenues seemed somewhat misleading. You stated that Delta had high revenues, implying high profits. You did not mention Delta's cost of doing that business, so I have no idea whether high revenues compensated for high costs.

As it stands, the story seems one-sided and incomplete.

Mr. Willis responded:

I am sorry the story seemed incomplete to you. I re-read it and see your point.

The story is focused on "increased revenue" from the checked bag fees. That "revenue" is up 40-percent to almost eight billion dollars (all airlines). Never in the story is the word "profit" uttered.

It is a 15 second story about revenues from baggage-fees. If we included details about the cost of doing business for each individual airline and whether high revenues compensated for high costs of doing business, it would take several minutes. I believe your implication is correct though, higher revenues off-set the higher costs, i.e. more money collected offsets more money in expenses.

The story though, is simply revenue from fees. Not profits, not expenses, not inflation or the rising cost of doing business.

Thanks for the feedback, I hope this helps.

I responded:

I appreciate your quick response. My concern is that viewers with less understanding of the business will jump to false conclusions. On the other hand, it gripes me to no end to have to pay for a checked bag.

Thanks for writing back.

Here’s the clincher. Mr. Willis responded, again:

I took my wife and two little boys, 4 and 2, to Seattle to see family. I paid nearly $340 in baggage fees. Man, I feel your pain! I'm going to re-write the script in case we use it at Noon.

Happy travels. Have a good day!

So, here are kudos to Chris. He took the time to respond, acknowledged my concern, and made the entire conversation very personable. These are some of the reasons that I watch KXAN, Austin, Texas.

Downtown Atlanta

The view from my hotel room:

Chicago History Museum

It started a week ago, when an email from an address unknown to me appeared in my inbox. I alluded to this in the Road Apples section of the blog. Curiosity got the best of me, so I opened the email. Inside was a request to contact Plum, a production company that is working on an upcoming exhibit for the Chicago History Museum. After reading the email a couple of times, I picked up the phone and called the listed contact. I had a nice conversation with Diana, who explained that she had discovered a movie that I had posted on YouTube. She wanted permission to use the footage in the planned exhibit, if the folks in the movie were Chicagoans. As it turns out the movie in question was, in fact, of Chicagoans – my wife’s family from 1949.

The movie started out as a restoration effort from 8mm film that Peggy’s dad had shot during the wedding shower, wedding, and wedding reception for Peggy’s aunt and uncle. Last year, we had the long neglected, 8mm film digitized, and I edited clips and added a music track and posted the result on YouTube for family viewing. The project turned out being a 60th anniversary gift for Aunt Lou. I think she was pleased.

To complete the transaction, Diana sent me a release form and instructions for delivering the film. In turn, I called family members, told them what was going on, and secured their permission to release the movie. With resounding approvals, I completed and signed the release form and transmitted both the form and the MP4 to the production company.

This morning I checked the Chicago History Museum’s calendar. The headline reads:

Bessie Green-Field Warshawsky Gallery and Mazza Foundation Gallery

I Do! Chicago Ties the Knot

Opens Saturday, May 22

Nearly every part of a wedding celebration is steeped in history and tradition, with religion, culture, family custom, and superstition having shaped the Big Day since the first couple said “I do.” The exhibition explores an array of wedding traditions through costume, and how some of those traditions were standardized by Chicago retailers to create the wedding industry we know today.

If you find yourself in Chicago from late May to early January 2011, stop by the museum and discover how Chicago says, “I Do!”

Here’s a preview, no here’s my contribution to the exhibit:

Big Boys and Their Toys

I caught my first glimpse of an iPad in the wild a few moments ago. I was in line at a local deli, when fanboy#1 reaches the cash register to pay for his meal. Fanboy unfolded his leatherette cover on his iPad to recover his credit card, stored in a little pocket inside the folder.

The store manager says, “Oh, is that an iPad?”

Fanboy replies, “Yes, and if I weren’t a software developer, I’d use it for everything.”

My fellow line-standers all groaned, ‘cause we were hungry and the line had suddenly come to a standstill. Finally, the credit card approval happened, and the rest of us shuffled forward.

I sat down to enjoy my reuben sammie and noticed that fanboy#2 had joined fanboy#1 at a table near me. I overheard their conversation:

Says fanboy#2, “Dude, you got an iPad!”

There was nothing but smiles from fanboy#1, as his toy was being lovingly opened by fanboy#2. As the gentle light of the LCD glowed on the face of fanboy#2, his expression changed to something reminiscent of my first exposure to a centerfold. I nearly laughed out loud.

Fanboy#1 said, “Yeah, I just bought it, but I haven’t told my wife. I don’t think I will.”

Cola spewed out my nose, as I fell to one knee, unable to control my emotions. ROFL, ROFL, ROFL.

Tonight will be fun at his house. I think I will text his ol’ lady.

Wildflower Center

Over the weekend, I visited the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin, TX. It was early in the season for flowers, but the sculptures and grandsons were interesting. See for yourselves.

In Memoriam – Johnie Junior Rackley, 1933-1992

On this day, eighteen years ago, Dad succumbed to cancer. The memories of his death are still fresh in my mind. I was there at his bedside along with other family members, and we watched him depart for greener pastures. After 10 years of remission, the disease returned with a vengeance, attacking vital organs and rendering his body helpless. It was a sad day. However, the legacy that Dad left is reason to celebrate. For without that legacy, I would not be the person that I am today.


Dad and I were close. He taught me to hunt and fish and to drive. He also taught the more important aspects of life – compassion, generosity, and hospitality, respect of others, love of God and family, duty to country, and a strong work ethic. Dad was all these and more.

His gregarious personality led him into sales for most of his adult life. In the early days he drove a Dr. Pepper route, delivering cases of the bottled drink to little towns all over eastern Oklahoma. The work was hard, the hours were long, and the KC Love Bottling Company appreciated his efforts. His talent in sales was recognized, and Dad was hired by the National Life and Accident Insurance Company. As an agent, he was responsible for selling new policies and for collecting the weekly and monthly premiums from the existing accounts. The hours were still long, but Dad persevered and was rewarded. He was promoted to staff manager. With the promotion came a new territory, and on my last day of class in the first grade, Dad moved us from Oklahoma to a little town in central Arkansas. Success brought more responsibility, and eventually, another move to a little larger, small town, Fort Smith, Arkansas.

For whatever reasons, economic, political, or changes in big business, the insurance business dried-up, and Dad sought employment elsewhere. There were some lean financial years. I remember teary-eyed discussions between Mom and Dad, but cannot recall any lack of love. Dad remained strong throughout those years and became a successful job placement advisor for what would become a large professional services firm. However, Dad was not destined to stay behind a desk for long. Being in the job search business, Dad found the perfect job for himself. Soon, he was back on the road as a manufacturing liaison, selling wholesale farm implements to tractor dealers. For Dad, it was interesting work. He would travel from dealer to dealer, attend farm shows, and perform demonstrations at state fairs. During summer breaks from school, my brother and I would travel with Dad. That practice continued until my own son was able to travel with his grandfather. I don’t think I will ever forget the small-town diners that served cheeseburgers, either greasy or extra greasy.

Besides sales, Dad was a storyteller. There were many times, when family and friends would gather at Mom and Dad’s house for a meal and an evening of entertainment. Dad was usually the center of attention, spinning a yarn about a recent event, telling a joke, or just making up stuff. If you have seen the movie, Big Fish, you get the picture. Now that I think back on those days, I realize that in addition to the humor, there was a wealth of wisdom, philosophy of life, and some real character building being taught in those wonderful tales. And, just like in Big Fish, there was much truth interwoven into that nonsense. I am glad I was a witness to those events.

With grandsons of my own, I am proud to be following a path established by a wonderful mentor. Thanks, Dad, for showing me the way.

To close and to celebrate today’s holiday, I offer this gentle yet powerful Irish blessing:

“May your troubles be less. May your blessings be more, and
may nothing but happiness pass through your door."

Amen.