The Talking Pumpkin

Halloween brings back great childhood memories for me, including home made costumes, parades at school, the phrase "... I got a rock", and a local legend that would visit our front porch every October 31st. All of this while growing up in an era in which the terms 'Candy', 'X-Ray' and 'Razor Blade' would never be used in a sentence, and the open home of an elderly couple with a decorated table and home-made cookies would not risk being shutdown by child protective services.

My mother, something of a 'wiz' with a sewing machine, had made a very elaborate and detailed set of costumes, with which we won many a contest over the years. That's me in the 'Lion' costume and my brother is the 'Scarecrow', as we walk in the annual school costume parade.

My father, being a ham radio-geek and technology buff, established something in our neighborhood that became an annual event, bringing visitors from surrounding cities to form a line on our block leading up to our door step, where children would excitedly engage in a brief chat with 'The Talking Pumpkin'. My father was ahead of the 'wireless' era, and using some radio equipment, a wireless microphone, and a large speaker placed under a cloth covered chair upon which the talking pumpkin would sit, greet and chat briefly with each visitor. He'd actually be standing across the street and one house over, where he'd be relatively unobserved, but still able to make out the costumes of each visitor. It became a yearly effort, the little kids loved it, and the crowds increased yearly until we left for Pennsylvania. I suspect that following year was a disappointing Halloween for the residence of Woodland Hills who made the trek to see it in 1969, but it was the start of an exciting tradition for the townsfolk of Lewisburg :-)

Somedays I’d Push The Button

I’ve written repeatedly about the positive experiences of being a parent. Although those are true and sincere thoughts, the reality is that it’s not always that way. That’s not always the case. Sometimes, it’s as exhausting and discouraging as watching more than 5 minutes of Fox News. Today was one of those days. Between a long work week with a significant press to roll out some changes, having my wife be taken out of commission by a nasty stomach flu, staying home to care for the kids all day Friday and most of Saturday… well, it’s been, uh, ‘special’.

The honest truth: As much as I love them and as many positives as there are about parenting, there are days that make you wonder what the hell you did. There are days that, were you to walk into a room with a man behind a desk, upon which set a simple red button, and that man were to say ‘If you press that button…’, you’d have already pressed it. Perhaps having leapt to do so.

A Small Place With Big Memories

My mom's birthday came around again this year, as it, surprisingly, seems to do at an almost routine interval. Finding something she'd like for a birthday gift has always been a challenge, and this year was no exception. But we ended up finding a wonderful book about the Santa Monica bay, a place she spent her childhood at, having grown up living a mere stroll away from it. When she opened it, we started flipping through the pages, and frequent images would spark memories of her childhood; photos of a pier she'd walk on, the streetcars they'd ride, home styles prevalent to the era and region, the library, schools, and shops. It was wonderful, and one of the more rewarding gifts i've given her.

As we talked about her childhood i started thinking about my own. I thought about the street we lived on, the small home [by today's standards] in which we lived, and all the experiences I associate to it. The experiences of the front yard and family photos taken there, and the back yard, the pets, and the endless afternoons playing on a swing set, which was later replaced with a wooden 'playhouse' structure my father built. The memories of his Pegeot parked on the street beneath the tree, and how my 'magic' ability to make that same tree turn into two trees uncovered my own visual problems and need for glasses. The memories of the birthday parties beneath the back patio cover, with theme'd cakes and games like pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, and dropping clothespins into empty mayonnaise jars while standing atop a kitchen stool. The memories of a small walkway leading from the garage to the house, the family basset hound, Monty, and later, a sheepdog named Calamity.

8 years of memories. And thanks to my Mom's suggestion and the help of Zillow... here it is. This is house I grew up in.... and although it's difficult to determine if the actual structure is the same, there's the playhouse in the lower right side of the yard.

“…They’d Have Said A Faster Horse.”

We had an internal communications meeting today. It’s always exciting to attend these, and this was a great one. When discussing ‘who we are‘ at Apple, and in particular, the areas we focus and excel in, on the topic of innovation and directions, a reference was made to a quote by Henry Ford that I thought was so well stated. 

“If I’d asked my customers what they wanted, they’d have said a faster horse.” 

The quote refers to the practice of “looking around the corner”… the objective of bringing things to the market place that nobody would necessarily think of, but once they saw it, they knew immediately how useful and evolutionary it was.

This is an exciting time to be at Apple.

There’s Something In The Air

When you’ve made the decision to, oh, say, buy a new car, and as you consider a specific model, what do you suddenly see everywhere? That model car. At least that’s how it seems to have occurred for me. I know that there’s not a sudden increase in those cars sent to follow my every move and ensure they’re consistently in my thoughts, but nevertheless, i simply see, or ‘consiously’ see, more.



And that’s what I’m starting to notice in the trends of addressing ecological and energy issues. I’m seeing far more awareness then I recall seeing before I myself started to become more educated.



I hope it’s not just another case of seeing more of what you’re more aware of, but that’s it’s an actual honest trend. In the news, on the roads and even in an internal communications meeting at work today, the environment came up more then once. Damn, that felt good. And I don’t recall it being raised in the past, regardless of my own ignorance at the time.



Perhaps our collective awareness and intention to make a change is starting to snowball.

False Products Bearing Witness

Having purchased something, anything, by mail, at any time in your life, seems to quickly lead to oodles and oodles of crap crammed into your mailbox. For me, I believe it started with that first order of x-ray glasses I found advertised in the back of Boys Life in my youth. Suddenly, our mailbox was stuffed with junk mail addressed to 'Master Geoff Mitchell'. Anyway, junkmail is #41 in my list of 247 pet peeves, right after driving behind some large luxury car with a 'trunk key' cover that's been left open. But that's another story... what this is about, well, it's about candy corn. FAKE candy corn.



The reading material in our home runs a broad range, everything from Vanity Fair, MacWorld, Good Housekeeping, and the occasional People magazine that escapes my deft proficiency with a paper shredder. But what we have the most of, overwhelmingly, is mail order catalogs, typically targeted towards technology, kids and home products. These things are hawking everything under the sun, from the insipid offerings of toilet tissue covers made from barbie dolls with knitted yard dresses that fit over a roll of Charmin, porcelain patio decorations shaped like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn that change colors based on forthcoming weather conditions, any and everything you can possibly imagine, personalized with your name or your kids name or "World's Greatest Daddy", to the clearly essential and greatly appreciated offerings of external hard drives, cables, cases and everything you can possibly imagine, personalize with "World's Greatest Engineer".



But i'd be pretty pissed off to reach in and start chomping on the fake stuff. If I could even tell it was fake. But then perhaps that's what the candle's for: light it, and it'll function as a warning and as an access barrier for the unknowing.



But Fake Candy Corn, well, bubba, that just crosses the line. And it really does exist, as the photo here shows.



What's amazing to me is that, in simple terms, how much more 'fake' can candy corn be? I mean, really, what's the difference? Both of them are plastic, dye and a blend of chemicals typically found in a yellow rain coat and a can of Penzoil. Or, wait, is that the butter flavor served up at the local cineplex? Perhaps both. When making the fake stuff, i can't imagine that anything more then slightly tweaking the chemical blends is required.



The next amazing thing is that there's an actual factory and business, somewhere, probably in some remote 3rd world country or perhaps in Kentucky, that makes this stuff. Seriously, a business that makes 'fake' candy corn. There's a team of people that actually plan it's production, figure out the molding, mix and determine the colors, QA it's likeness to real candy corn, design packaging, manage a sales force, bag and ship this stuff.



To whom? That's the final amazing thing. Not only is there a product, a production, but apparently a market for fake candy corn! Now, given that we all realize that the real stuff has the shelf like of a Twinky and is probably responsible for a high percentage of dental visits to address loose fillings, what exactly would motivate somebody to make the conscious decision to spend their hard earned cash on the fake stuff? Who are these people? And if they're buying this crap, can you imagine what other little decorative trinkets are stored in seasonally labeled plastic bins lining their storage sheds or garage walls?



I'm all for some decorative touches during the holidays. I like the way my wife's candles make the house smell when I walk in. I like when she puts flowers in vases, and as the seasons pass, the decorative touches of a dish of candy hearts, a pumpkin on the patio, corn ears on the door, a wreath.... they all are pleasant acents and are sincerely appreciated. I even like the idea of candy corn sprinkled around a candle in the early fall. It's attractive, and it saves me a trip to the kitchen when i'm struck with the craving for wax. Hell, it pretty much belongs next to the candle when you really thing about it.

No Present Like The Time

There was a point in our lives when a birthday or anniversary was met with an elaborate gesture, an array of gifts, travel and ballyhoo. These days, there’s far less emphasis on having something in hand as there is on having some time. Time off. Time away. Time to oneself. So as a birthday has just passed, and an anniversary looms ahead, we’ve not been focused on ‘what’ to give, but instead, on simply giving time. As the saying goes, “There’s No Present Like The Time”.

Cereal Transports

I resisted the urge for fatty greasy sausage when visiting the Cafe at work today, and instead, forced myself to the gummy, pasty oatmeal section. I'm trying to give my heart what it needs, not what it craves. Once there I found they also have Cream-of-Wheat. I filled a small bowl, topped it with a modest sprinkling of brown sugar, and returned to my office. One bite, and suddenly I'm back in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. I'm 9 years old, there is frost on the dual pane windows, a thick blanket of snow covering everything in sight, and the tea-kettle is whispering a fading note as the steam rises from the plastic bowl before me. I'm sitting on an off-white squeaky vinyl chair at an off-white laminated kitchen table, my older brother across from me, both of our faces still reddened and biting from the sting of multiple snowball impacts. Our wet galoshes lie askew next to the door way, frozen-wet over coats by their side, dripping rhythmically onto the rubber mat beneath them. The thermal undershirts, sweatshirts and sweaters fail to keep the cool dampness from continuing to chill our bones. Brown sugar streaks quickly melt as I blend them into oblivion, steam rises before me, the aroma warms my nose, and the heat of the first bite begins to send warmth through my chest and stomach.



All is right with the world at that moment, and the smile on my face then only slightly exceeds the one brought on today by so simply a moment and memory, tied to a scent and a flavor.

My Daughter's 15min Of iFame

I recently stumbled across this image and wanted to capture it in the Scrapbook section. My wife shot this photo of my daughter sleeping on my chest in the first few weeks of her life. I cropped it to emphasize the size differences between our hands and her holding my finger. Then I submitted it to Apple for use in their 'iCards' section of the .Mac. Shortly thereafter i was contacted, told it was being used, and as the screenshot that follows shows, it was avail as a 'New Dad' card.

Be Part Of The Solution

I might not be popular for it but I’m back on my environmental soapbox, after watching “To Hot Not To Handle“, available for free download on iTunes. Many may think I’m some wacko granola crunchin’ hippie freak liberal, but that’s far from the truth. I’m just becoming more aware, more concerned, and more vocal.

To quote one of the people interviewed in this eye-opening and inspiring film:

“It’s one thing when you don’t know the consequences, but to continue a behavior when you know that it’s damaging to you, and that it’d damaging to future generations, is inexcusable.”

My next car WILL be a hybrid. There’s nothing that could matter more to me in features or style then what my actions and choices do for our environment. I’m also printing out this list and putting it on the refrigerator at home. I encourage you to do the same. And I’m posting this and hoping that word will continue to spread until more changes can be effected through our actions.

1. Do yourself a favor, and watch this. Go get it NOW and watch it.


2. Do your friends a favor and encourage them to watch this as well. I’ll make it easy: click this link to send your friends this movie’s URL.


3. Do the world a favor and ask your friends to pass it along, just like you’re about to do.

…Who knows… maybe we’ll approach critical mass in time.

I hate to throw out the cliché but in this case, I’m afraid it’s without a doubt; “if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem”. It might not be pleasant, it might not be fun to face, it might be something you want to argue or scoff at, or set aside as something you can’t change, which would be the ultimate in ignorance and irresponsibility. You not only can and should be aware and making a change, it’s unthinkable to not do so.

Besides, the sand is so much hotter these days that you’ll burn your face by keeping your head in it. :-)

Out Of The Bluetooth

I am seeing more and more people walking around with bluetooth headsets attached to their ears these days. Circa 2003, i had one myself and outside of some 'pairing' issues, it was damned convenient to just pop it on when the phone rang, push a button, talk, and remove it when the call completed.



Note the emphasis on the term 'remove it'.



You see, most, if not all of the people I'm seeing wearing them, are not 'actively using them'. So take the damned thing off! Do you really think that you're so special and important that, should the phone ring, the time it would take you to put on the earpiece would be a matter of life or death? Because if you are, then, uh, maybe you ought to have somebody else standing in line for coffee for you. Perhaps you have some bizarre desire and attachment to only hearing out of one ear and constantly cocking your head and saying 'huh?'. Or are you so completely insecure that your self esteem is directly related to how many people stare at you as you walk in with a flashing blue light sticking out of your ear? Perhaps you don't realize they're not staring out of envy, but for their own amusement.



Don't get me wrong, these are very cool and functional devices. But they're not jewelry, and they're not 'bling'. So please, for the good of our daily lives, put it away if you're not using it. And don't tell me you don't have anyplace else to put it. I have two word for you, words of comfort for the techo-toy-totting geek that you are... "Fanny Pack".

Closing A Circle

Somewhere, back in the foggy history of a time in my life before being a father, something slowly, continually chipped away at the resistance i'd built up to taking that step. One of those was the occasional encounter with a toddler in the coffee shop, waiting patiently while his father's coffee order was filled. The exchange would be anything from an innocent smile to a full blow exchange between us of 'hide and seek' ducking, or making silly faces. Those moments definitely chipped away and gradually gave me a taste of the joys and pleasures that can come with being a parent.



Recently, while waiting for my coffee with my own son, i found him engaged in a full blown exchange of 'hide and seek' ducking and silly face exchanges with a young man also awaiting his order. And it felt like closing a circle.

Life Span

I caught wind of this while driving across the Golden Gate bridge yesterday morning. My wife related having heard a discussion on KGO regarding a film being screened at the San Francisco International Film Festival, titled ‘The Bridge’. There’s a good deal of controversy over it, because it’s a documentary about suicides on the Golden Gate Bridge, and it includes scenes culled from footage shot over an entire year, including several actual suicides. Much of the controversy is over the subject matter, the footage, and also the deceptive manner in which they got access to film for a full year.

I’m not sure how I feel about this.

I love a good documentary. Especially one that inspires, makes me think, or in some cases, forces my awareness to things I don’t necessarily want to know about, but ultimately benefit from knowing. In this case, although we ‘know’ these things happen, I didn’t know how often, and just reading about this film will make me more inclined to rush and pull back anybody I might see risking, or taking, their lives. This film appears to be focused on awareness and understanding, focused on 6 incidents and interviews with family, friends, and relations, trying to understand, reasons, cope and accept the act. In some sense, the concepts remind me a bit of the ‘Hold On’ video by ‘Good Charlotte’.

To their credit, the filmmakers did intervene and prevent many attempts, but given the dynamics of the location and conditions, clearly, that’s not something they could consistently achieve. And in the year 2004, 24 people leapt from the bridge.

Like I said, I’m not sure how I feel about this one. I might be inclined to see it because it will smack me in the face and make me aware of the suffering, despair, and desperation of others. That’s overwhelmingly depressing, but turning away from it because it’s unpleasant does nothing to help me become educated and potentially more aware.

What do you think? Read this review first, and if you care to, you can watch the trailer as well. And if you’ve not seen it, watch the ‘Hold On’ video by ‘Good Charlotte’.

The Typewriting is on the Wall

I had a brief email exchange this week with one of my best and oldest friends, in which he humerously pointed out that we never talk or even exchange emails, but that instead I just refer him to my website. It was funny, and true, and therefore a bit sad as well.

I do miss the physical act of writing. I have some very fond memories of a time in my life during which I'd conclude a work day, arrive home to a hand written letter from a friend or loved one, pour myself a glass of sun-tea i'd set out to brew before leaving that morning, settle into a chair on the back patio with a pen and paper in hand, and begin to put my thoughts on paper. I miss that a great deal.

I've tried to find ways to 'recapture' that experience, or at least retain as much of it in my writing these days. For example, as I write this entry i'm actually using my emate, sitting on an outdoor balcony of a local restaurant and enjoying a cup of coffee and a light breakfast. I'd consider sitting on the patio with iced tea but doing so at home is less likely when there's children about.

But this is still typing, not writing, and I completely agree with my friend about the loss of 'personalization' that occurs when something is communicated in a standardized typeface and not one's own hand.

There is definitely a win in an exchange between two people which is the immediate access and easy of writing and receiving. But at the same time, i can recall writing letters to a girlfriend I had who lived in Phoenix, and there was always this underlying excitement and anticipation around completing an letter, addressing and mailing it, and knowing that somewhere in the course of a few days or so i'd come home to a response, completing and restarting the cycle.

For the purpose of maintaining this website, to me, it's like writing a book that you publish page by page and chapter by chapter. The win is that this is not one physical copy that will go one place, for one set of eyes. It's a mass communication. There was a time when i'd write a letter to many and photo copy it and mail it, which itself lost the personal touch; this is a huge improvement.

But for the written communication, yea, it's a bit dry and removed, this is true. I guess, when it calls for it, something in hand writing is worth the effort. Hey, wait...I know ... i'll use a handwritten font and email the result as a PDF. :-)

re.Actions In PA

I’m not the most thick-skinned person you’ll ever meet, but I’m not so terribly sensitive that I well up at the slightest bit of bad or sad news. But last night I wept. I’m not talking about shedding a tear, I’m talking about crying. I wish they were tears of joy over something shared between a loved one, but tragically, very tragically, they were tears of sorrow, dismay, and despair over something so horrific, even trying to write about it here is difficult to bear.



The actions that took place yesterday, at the hands of a lone gunman in a simple one-room Amish schoolhouse in Pennsylvania, are devastating to hear about. They’re devastating to imagine. They’re devastating to comprehend. And I’m in a state of disbelief.



I can’t imagine, i can’t begin to imagine, the experiences of the children, the victims, and the families. It’s almost too much to consider. I also can’t understand how something like this can happen, and worse, when turning to online resources for news, finding that a story like this falls well below a large post about some kid that dances like Michael Jackson. I kid you not. I went to Yahoo to find out more, and this story was 4 stories down on a 2nd section. You can see it here. And last night, after I was told of this by my wife, I turned to the TV and I found Ryan Seacrest and ‘The Bachelor’, driving home a painful point on just how removed we all have become.



I remember when the attacks took place on 9/11, and the media put all their attention on it. I remember they stopped commercials. I also remember that after a while it was overkill and things returned to ‘normal’; but at least, for a moment, there was a sense of unity around a tragedy.



So where is our national attention right now? Is it on this horrific event, and more importantly, figuring out what the hell happened, why, and how to prevent it? Or is it on American Idol? Where’s our ‘collective conscious’ focused when things like this occur?



In Woody Allen’s film “Radio Days”, a story evolves in which a girl had fallen into a well. Over a day or two, there’s an increased awareness amongst the family and community as to the situation, and everybody’s either involved or standing by and very concerned. The outcome is bleak, and the family, circled around the radio, cries. It’s a very moving moment and a beautiful example of how it seems there was, could or should be a collective community, unity, and awareness.



People die every day. From acts of violence. Every day. And not just one or two. Brace yourself…. United Nations data reports an estimated total of 12,658 murders in the US. People…. that’s an average of 45 murders a DAY! Not car accidents, not natural deaths, not Darwin awards, but murders. Intentional homicides. The only countries with higher rates are India, Russia, Columbia, South America and Mexico. And the curve drops dramatically thereafter, with countries like France, Germany, the UK, Italy, Japan and more having a mere minor fraction of that number. So here we are, the supposed ‘world leaders’ and the supposedly ‘educated and evolved’ nation, and this kind of thing not only happens, but it’s happening more and more, and nobody really seems to be actively aware of it on a daily basis.



So what’s the cause? And what’s the solution? I wish that, on a daily occurrence, there were some sort of national broadcast, mandatory, in which we’d have some collective focus and updates on such things as global warming trends, violence and how to proactively seek help or prevent it, homeless issues, employment trends, and all things that would bring some focus and unity around the problems we face and might only change through a national awareness and effort. This is not an Orwellian vision, but a simple ‘facts and things you can do about it’ presentation; a coach between plays… a progress report… a resource guide, and a reminder to keep your eyes on the prize.



I think we’ve allowed our society to ‘cross the line’…. nay, we’ve pole vaulted numerous times, and it’s not even visible on the horizon behind us. There was a time when people had more respect for each other and for human life. There was a time when the murder scene in Psycho was considered ‘going to far’. There was a time when the most violent act in a video game involved a large gorilla knocking somebody over with a barrel. There was a time when a murder like that of ‘In Cold Blood’ was not just a subtext on a news website, but a national concern. Today, it seems that only the most dramatic and sensational murders bear reporting, and even those only hold our attention for a short period of time, and before long, we’re distracted by something bright and shiny. I’m as guilty as the next person and I’m living in a society where there’s more attention placed on what’s on the cover of a tabloid then there is on the cause and resolution to our continued decent into apathy and ignorance.



And so, for this, for the moment, for the lives of those taken so violently, and for the uncertainty of a future that will be my children’s world, I wept. And I weep.

You Would Think People Would Think

Let's imagine, for just a moment, that you're standing in line at a grocery store. You're on your way home, some light groceries in a handle basket, and as you're making your way to the checkout, a woman walks up with her young son. At first glance, all looks 'normal', but you start to notice that he's got some extreme scaring on his face, like the kind left by an awful burn. Or no, let's say one leg is slightly deformed and he rhythmically twitches.

Would you say anything to his mother, regarding his condition, in front of him? Would you lean over, point at his face or his twitching legs, and ask "what's wrong with him"? Would you have absolutely no sensitivity for the parent, let alone the impressions being absorbed by his young mind, as to the struggles that such a condition might bring with it for the rest of their lives?

Or, when you recognize and realize that there's something awry, wouldn't you exercise a bit more discretion and consideration in how you react?