Ah, Summer 2019

With a Midwest twang severely off-key, I’m out the front door, earbuds plugged in, arms pumping, on my routine early morning walk. Of course, I must look ridiculous and sound even worse, echoing the chorus of - Get Rhythm by Johnny Cash.

Thankfully, there’s no one else on the streets. Summer is upon us; officially, the summer solstice occurred in the Northern Hemisphere today at 11:54 a.m. EST.

According to Ker Than in an article for National Geographic, “The solstice is the result of Earth's north-south axis being tilted 23.4 degrees relative to the ecliptic. This tilt causes different amounts of sunlight to reach different regions of the planet during Earth's year-long orbit around the sun." Translation, daylight lasts until after 8:00 p.m. in Southern California.

Again, I’ve been blessed with another opportunity to re-invent myself this year. On July 1st, 2019, I accepted a position at Cenergy Power as an Energy Analyst. Going from pounding the concrete at Home Depot to a desk job with a normal work schedule. Why this job, you ask? Well, in 2011, I successfully completed a B.S. program in e-Business. My favorite courses are Statistics, Inferential Statistics, Business Law, and Project Management.

This job allows me to stretch my analytical skills, broaden my horizons, expand my computer expertise, and polish my advanced Excel skills. My mind will be called to stretch its limitations, meet new people, work with pages of interval data, and crunch numbers to create possible scenarios of large solar projects for corporate clients. If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m a “geek” - one of those guys who loves technology and finds ways to make it work for you, not against you. What better way to step into the future than working with alternative energy for the good of our planet.

Speaking of stepping into the future, it's Friday morning, and once again, I’m headed out the door. I’m back in training for this year’s High Sierra adventure. With earbuds in my arms and legs pumping, let's see what new ideas I will encounter today; as I mangle a medley of Johnny Cash tunes, I Walk the Line seems appropriate.

Ah, summer!

Comments

The Gopher Problem and the High Powered Solution

Vacationing in Maine this week, just a short drive down the coast from Freeport, it is hard not to think about the outsized impact one frustrated outdoorsman had on the gear we all use today. Bad equipment can ruin a perfectly good day on the water or the trail, but it takes a special kind of vision to turn cold feet into a century-old empire. This is the story of the company we now know as L.L.Bean, but more importantly, it is a masterclass in integrity, learning from failure, and standing behind your work. In 1912, Leon Leonwood Bean faced a persistent problem: returning from expeditions in the Maine woods with cold, wet feet. Instead of complaining, he got creative. He had a local shoemaker stitch waterproof rubber soles onto the flexible leather uppers of a hunting boot. He called it the Maine Hunting Shoe and mailed a flyer promising perfect satisfaction. Then reality arrived. Ninety of his first 100 pairs failed when the rubber separated from the leather. Not an effective product...

On Becoming Real

Some things get better with wear: old shoes, old friendships, and old books. Especially old books. A new volume arrives with crisp corners and a spine that hasn’t yet learned to bend. An old one has been somewhere. It has traveled through time in the hands of people who may no longer be around to tell us what they found inside. The copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (first published in 1922) on my desk is one of those books. My friend Don Hanley gave it to me. This late-1950s Doubleday edition features William Nicholson’s original illustrations and cream paper boards softened by age. Worn corners, a split spine, and colored tabs mark passages worth revisiting. Don didn’t hand me a keepsake. He gave me homework. When we talked about the book recently, he pointed me straight to the nursery conversation between a young rabbit and an old Skin Horse. The rabbit had noticed the mechanical toys around him—the ones with internal gears, bright paint, and stick-out handles that seem terribly impressiv...

A Dog, a Beer . . . and the Ghost of 1912

Whenever you step into an American cathedral of our National Pastime built before modern ergonomics, municipal zoning, or crowd-flow dynamics, an unspoken understanding forms, creating a welcoming, timeless atmosphere. You trade legroom, sensible corridors, and personal space for the privilege of communing with ghosts. Last week, Lori and I made our pilgrimage to Fenway Park to watch our Chicago Cubs take on the Boston Red Sox (a taut 0–2 contest that felt spiritually tied to their 1918 World Series meeting). Staying just across the Charles River at the Courtyard Marriott in Cambridge gave us one immeasurable tactical advantage: we walked. While the automotive gridlock around Kenmore Square took on the character of the Siege of Yorktown—horns echoing across the asphalt like musket fire—we simply strolled across the Boston University Bridge, enjoying the river breeze and feeling smugly superior to everyone trapped behind a steering wheel. Fenway, built in the spring of 1912, holds rough...

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️ In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...

On The Fly

Search This Blog