Who is Mom?

This piece, written sixteen years ago, and slightly revised recently, is dedicated to mothers everywhere.

Who is Mom?

Mom is the person who takes care of us when we're young, or grown. She's the person that always has time--time to listen, time to care, time to answer and explain. She's the one that always has time to feed us, clothe us, drive us, teach us, and yes, discipline us.

She is the one who always has time to make our lives better.

She's the one who teaches us to eat our vegetables, brush our teeth, leave muddy boots outside, get good grades...and flush.

She teaches us not to lie, not to cheat, and to play fair in life.

She might be the first person to introduce us to Jesus.

Long hours, diaper changes, 2AM feedings, skinned knees, broken toys and broken hearts, all of these we take to her. Her reward is an unending truckload of laundry. This is what Mom has to look forward to, or back upon.

There is also the phone calls mothers may receive--from the Vice Principal, from our friends parents, and from girlfriends/boyfriends.

Mom is the one who cries when we move out; cries when we get married; cries when we make her a Grandmother.

Who is Mom? She is an officer in the Marine Corp of life. Semper Fidelis--Always faithful.

Thanks Mom.

Portland

Portland is an old city. Not in a bad way though. I can imagine the time when it was a logging and lumber center on the west side of the nation. It still has a significant manufacturing presence. The old downtown is spotted with low rise buildings of rough red brick against a backdrop of newer, taller building with less character.

The light rail system is efficient and inexpensive. It would have been better if it have been built underground as one local said during one of my many clandestine listening moments. The core area even has a 'free travel' zone.

It may have its litter and grafitti covered neighborhoods, but from what I saw, there was little of this urban debris anywhere. It almost made me homesick for California.

The city has an interesting mix of cultures. Clothing is only one part of cultural diversity, but it a demonstrative clue to an observer. During my brief walking trip downtown I saw all sorts of attire--running gear, bicycle shorts (that always look odd to me when the person wearing them is on foot), casual business wear, a bit of flannel and more than one woman dressed head to toe in black with only their face exposed.

The old buildings appear to be fighting architecural progress. One rough brick building by the Steel Bridge caught my eye. It was fully enclosed by a chain link fence with 'No Tresspassing" warning signs attached. I had to take a picture of it before it is torn down. In the small fisure of one cracked concrete window sill grew a single dandelion. I wondered what interesting stories this building could tell if given a conscience voice.

Portland is now on my list of cities I would like to visit again.

Crying over lost zeros and ones

It all started with a nearly silent hum. I paid it little attention. The second symptom was a slight vibration. If the laptop was on a hard surface such as a wooden desk the vibration and sound was amplified it seemed.

Yes, I should have acted on the warning signs. I didn't then and am now paying the price.


The hard drive failed. It's a horrible feeling to know that data, text and image documents and contact records I have spent hours creating or archiving may be lost forever. Time to backup your hard drives and important documents people. Stop reading and go do that right now.

As painful as this computer catastrophy has been, the optimist in me thinks that this will be an opportunity to improve how I work and live. Without the equipment failure I would not be thinking about how I plan to sort and store files in the future. Now go back up those files my friends. Yes, back up.


Like the annual Spring cleaning ritual closets and garages undergo, this unplanned exercise in digital reorganization will lead me to a better (and more secure) solution to file management. Now go back up! I'm not gonna tell you again.