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I heard rumors that my Philosophy Professor, Robert Nielsen, was retiring, and felt a great desire to hear his traditional end-of-year recitation of Beckets Last Sermon, of which here is an excerpt …

I have spoken to you today, dear children of God, of the martyrs of the past, asking you to remember especially our martyr of Canterbury, the blessed Archbishop Elphege; because it is fitting, on Christ’s birthday, to remember what is that peace which he brought; and because, dear children, I do not think that I shall ever preach to you again …

The rumors were true. After for years of teaching, today was his last class, and I having been introduced to them as the first person in the history of the college to declare a major in Philosophy. The beginning and end of an era, with no immediate replacement in sight … if that were even really possible. The hugs and mournful faces of the students said it all, and not without the hinting of a tear on my part to watch and share their sentiment. A few confided before class (while the Professor was out) that they would have changed majors to Philosophy if he had planned to stay.

He’s retired, not dead, I remind myself many times over the course of the day. But it feels to me as if the world has suffered a great loss and will almost unknowingly bear it. Or perhaps this is a projection of my own soul, fearing the extinction of those who so effectively cause others to truly think.

But this is of course personal. People who do not know him cannot understand the affinity afforded him by those who do. He taught that education is synonymous with change in a person, and he changed many people’s lives in ways both mundane and profound, but always sublime.

He gave me an old coat of his when he saw I went without one (though I am unsure he pitied me for perceived poverty or lack of sense, the latter of which was more accurate); His advice was a guiding principle in my lifelong relationship with my daughter through the hardest of times. There is no measurable tuition for such counsel.

So Becket speaks to me, true as ever today.

For either joy will be overcome by mourning or mourning will be cast out by joy; so that it is only in these our Christian mysteries that we can rejoice and mourn at once for the same reason.

I look back on all those times I mourned for passed loved ones, yet was thankful for the time given to us. Tragedy and triumph are equally potent, and for once I see an intimate connection between them, pervading all of life’s journey. Maybe we should not resist our pains, but accept them in equal measure with our joys. They do not cancel each other out, but fulfill us completely from both sides.

I have been in a daze all day pondering these things, and have so much more to write and say, but I will not … for now, at least. And who knows … perhaps my Professor and friend, in making his new life, will venture with me into the blogosphere. Which reminds me … I will be sending him a link to “Think, Think Again”, currently at http://KenVille.Net/thinkthinkagain, where I fittingly mention him in my first article.

Originally published at KenVille.Net. Please leave any comments there.

Social media is changing the Internet and I really need to master it to provide my clients (and myself) with the tools needed to maximize web presence …

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I don’t update much here, since I “tweet” snippets of everyday life on my Facebook wall.  I really submerged myself into it .. but sans games.  Getting together with old friends keeps me busy enough.  In fact, I just had Sunday brunch with an old grade school pal I re-met through Facebook.  Unbelievable.

It’s almost like school where you’re able to see and hang out with people you know every day — the opposite of my usual lifestyle of hiding in my office.  Well … I’m still in my office, but now I can catch up (and stay up) with tons of people I met over the years.

But as for blogging, I’m looking to start a SERIES of blogs, with different target audiences, to cover all the subjects I’d liek to write about.  That’s another reason I’ve put off entries — the bigger picture is in serious gestation.

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I was at St. Hedwig’s cemetery the other day. 

A beer can sat on a momument next to that of my grandparents.  I thought it was litter at first, but it was unopened.  Maybe funny for some, but meaningful to them.  Reminded me of stuffed animals left on the graves of children.

Followed some turkets into the woods in the back, and looked in the usual dumping pile to find a glass jug that I promptly salvaged.

When I went to the front of the cemetery to visit the grave of my other grandparents, a couple there asked me if i was related to them.  I discovered he was my grandfather’s nephew and godson, and his wife was related to the husband of my aunt in California.  He looked a lot like Grandpa.  We exchanged names and are playing tag on Facebook.

Which brings me to my grandma Evelyn — my 5th grandparent, who married my grandpa (above) after Grandma died.  While doing a Facebook search for one of my cousins on that side, it turned up a web search link to her obituary.  It was odd to hear about such a thing from Facebook before my relatives told me.  I do have a small regret, though, as even though I didn’t really know her, I just found her address at the nursing home the other day and I had planned to write her, putting it off a bit too late.

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I have no way to describe it, really.  It was so full of life.  First, we visited Christina at her dorm on Saturday as she was moving in.  Mer put together a care package of food and stuff, and I grabbed an extension cord she needed from Big Lots on the way.  We only stayed a few moments, really, but it brought back memories of dorming and even visiting her college years a generation ago.  And yes, I was a bit teary-eyed on the way home, or at least on the way to Demetri’s on the Lake.

Sunday (today), we went to the final day of the Erie County Fair.  Discount tickets were no longer available at Tops, but right at the gate, a couple gave us two extra tickets they had!  Then we got the most amazing deal on a bunch of AT&T Mobile equipment, as I needed a cell phone that synced with Outlook and ended up with basically a hand-held PC.  Then we ran into friends Bob & Susan and had Chiavetta’s together.  Then the deluge began.  We got thoroughly soaked, and honestly didn’t care.  We didn’t even care about the parking ticket for alternate parking change on our street while we were out.  We were home after a memorable day.

Of course, watching Planet Earth in HD rounded it out nicely as well — the Discovery Channel is like porn to us.  Now I sit here listening to the Best of Jon & Vangelis, utterly perplexed about where I want to go with my personal online presence, but that’s a post for another time.  Back to keeping Mer company, and off to bed.

Originally published at KenVille.Net. Please leave any comments there.

I reached in my “man purse” for my digital planner and found it in a horrible state.  Faceplate totally smooth on surface, but cracked beneath, lid irrepairably ripped off, and display permanently broken to where it will only render a small edge of the screen.

But why the h3ll was it covered in what smells and feels like COCONUT SUNTAN LOTION????!!!?!?!?!?

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http://kenville.net/wordpress/?p=79

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeitgeist,_the_Movie#Criticisms

It’s good to have validation for angst at times …

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It never amazes me how deep the roots are of our personal values.  But unlike those who would rather be totally self-deterministic in some false sense of empowerment for its own sake, I would rather embrace them as consistent personality strengths and weaknesses I can make the best of.

Why bring this up?  I asked my Dad the other day what kind of advice Grandpa gave him over the years.  There were two things that came to mind: “If you can’t do it right, don’t do it at all” and “Do the hardest part of anything first.”

It was amusing (but no surprise) that I recall attempting to instill these tidbits (the former in particular) in Christina.  I don’t know if it took … time will tell.  But I can see why I insist on doing things right, not just adequately.  Sometimes I take it too far and need to be gentle with myself, but other times it means that when I can’t do something what I think is a truly good job, it’s still far better than the other guy would have done it.

And I can live with that.  Thanks Dad.  Thanks Grandpa.

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I find it hard to believe so many (questionably undisturbed) people are that desperate to see a video of his body under a sheet that I can’t check my freaking email under and hour.  Seriously, some of us are trying to work here!  That is all.

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I just read an alumni newsletter article – or rather tried to read it in its entirety — about the new statue of Saint Marguerite D’Youville at my Alma Mater.  It’s a long-winded litany of interpretive assumptions about the artist’s intentions linked to vague ideals, right down to the significance of how far apart the saint’s feet are in light of historical and metaphysical perspectives.  Their wording suggests the were even guessing (not knowing) why there was a key lying on the ground embedded in the pedestal.  They may have well been talking about a tree and why God made one branch longer than the other.  Yeah, this article was all fun from an academic standpoint, an admittedly well-done exercise in written oratory, and apropos as filler for a newsletter.

But what of the statue in the real world that others passing by would see for themselves, unaided by such commentary?

Read the rest of this entry »

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Finally went to Dunkirk and planted flowers on graves (a yearly ritual).  Then we strolled at the pier shops, the beach, and cooked hot dogs on the grill.  Just a perfect day, started by sleeping in a bit and organzing the keepsakes from my daughter’s high school life (she’s at Bonaroo right now).  Life is good.

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I had a reaction to the citrate during apheresis (triple unit donation), causing calcium depletion — heart palpitations, high blood pressure, some dizziness, finger tingling, jaw tension, etc..  It didn’t subside right away, so they had an ambulance take me to Millard-Fillmore Gates.  A few hours later, I was released as being fine.  A little scary, though … just before I was done donating, my chest felt “fluttery” and the feeling came and increased quickly.  After a couple Tums (calcium), it subsided just as fast, but I still felt a little too light-headed to drive.

I’ll be taking it easy a couple days, lots of fluids, the usual.  I just don’t look forward to the bill.

Originally published at KenVille.Net. Please leave any comments there.

Ben Maryniak, author and historian, was given a service at his grave-site last weekend at Forest Lawn Cemetery (near President Fillmore’s plot).  A small regiment of Union soldiers has a three-gun salute (louder than I expected), there were period musicians, “Taps” bugled, and women in hooped dresses.  Even a re-enactor of Lincoln showed, as well as re-enactors from the Confederate side of things — he was the man behind the whole Civil War Round Table for the area.

He re-enacted as a Union chaplain (an actual person also buried at that cemetery), and co-authored two books on the subject.  I’ve read the first one a while back and didn’t get to the second yet.  But I always sensed he felt inside he should have been a “man of the cloth” and in his own way, I reckon he was.

Another man I wish I could have known better.  Rest in Peace, friend.

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No spoilers here, or any detailed review … just a recap of what it felt like.  Picture the original series on ‘roids, with sharper edges and no warning labels — what Gene would have wanted if he had bigger space-balls and thought it was possible to pull it off.  The movie started with tear-jerking heroism, and culminated in two hours worth of Roddenberry boners.  Part of me felt plot-raped, and part of me liked the abuse: Alternate reality never hurt so good.

So, no, this isn’t our grandparent’s Star Trek.  And if they boldly go farther in this movie’s course, it will never be the same again.

Originally published at KenVille.Net. Please leave any comments there.

This guy, Richard Dean Neff, at the Walden Superflea & Farmer’s Market was selling fudge pieces for 50 cents.  But that’s not really why he was there.  He was literally marketing a piece of paper — www.wethepeoplework.com — with the promise that if I made a $700+ investment (donation?), I would be granted access to his full business opportunity — www.zoommoneymaker.com.  I can’t explain this more accurately because neither could he, though he wanted to talk all day about it.

Friendly guy, pleasant, down-to-earth.  I liked his apparent economic philosophy and other views and we would have hit it off if we were in a bar, but this was a sell.  The red flag was his need to prove credibility, and the way he did it.  His said to Google his exact name (as above) and it yielded a basic verification of who he was.  He invented some stuff.  He lives in Springville.  Okay. 

The ‘Oh, I probably shouldn’t have given you that other card (Zoom), and don’t know why I did as I don’t give those away to most people ever, but …’ is a typical sales tactic I didn’t catch except in retrospect.  No big deal, I guess.

But when he pulled out his personal letter of acceptance for “Cambridge Who’s Who” I said, unimpressed, “Yeah, there are thousands of those kinds of directories out there.”  He made it sound as if this was a prestigious one (more like infamous), but here’s the end game on this:

When I pushed further and asked if it was associated with Cambridge University, he resounded with a clear, unambiguous “YES” … before quickly closing the binder before I could check the address at the bottom of the letterhead.  Simple research today shows he paid (like anyone else could) to get put into a book no one would bother using except to feign credibility to themselves and others.  It’s an ethically questionable company at best, and not associated with Cambridge. 

Sure his website is nothing but a JPEG, his cards are VistaPrint, and he doesn’t know how to spell “copyright”.  But point blank fact: HE LIED.

Sorry, Richard.  You may or may not be a scam artist, and you may just be using messed-up sales techniques to get investors in your inventions, but you are not credible in my book.  And MY book is far more credible than Cambridge Who’s Who.

Originally published at KenVille.Net. Please leave any comments there.

I usually don’t get into game systems as much as PCs, but …

http://www.xbox.com/en-GB/games/a/alpinelegend/

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I just did some baseboard priming where the fishtank will end up being.  Funny really … I was thinking I had to go back to Home Depot to buy some painter’s tape, but after I started without it, I remembered I don’t need it — I’ve got some degree of kung-fu in house painting, after all.  I don’t even need to wear painting clothes … though having them on is more forgiving if I need to wipe off something, and it makes my wife less nervous about ruining good clothes.

So why do I blog about such things and not others?  I neglected a few relatively less “trivial” things, such as the death of a friend, but then again, I’m setting up a video eulogy for that.

Anyway, the last several days seem to have brought out a list of people — some of whom I hardly know — talking to me about deep spiritual questions.  I’m learningthat there are many people like me out there who are … isolated, I suppose the term would be … with no one to really talk to about such things.  More hints of my calling I hope to achieve coming up shortly.

And that’s something I should probably have blogged about already …

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Last weekend, my .pst file (Outlook) reached and exceeded the 2Gb limit — a limit I neither knew existed nor knew it was coming.  I knew my saved email archive was huge, but didn’t realize I had to split it so badly.

Somehow, it preserved my schedule, and I recovered the address book through Thunderbird.  But the email for the last couple years is (temporarily?) lost, including emails in my inbox that I rely on to get various projects done.

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It’s been too long, but after a few years I got to see my Dad tonight.  I can’t believe everyone in the world doesn’t have or at least want Skype.

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Merry bought me a car.  Seriously.  A 2006 Kia Sportage(which we like to rhyme with collage, not cottage) with power this and that, 4WD, and most importantly, a lot of cargo space.  Now I need not put off lumber, insulation boards, or furniture purchases until borrowing someone else’s pickup or SUV.

We got a flyer for Transitowne in the mail Thursday, and I know Merry was itching to get me a car now that her payments on the Kia Rio are almost done.  She pretty much dragged me out there when she got home and we just did it.  The salesman who helped us was Tom Romano, who we found out was a major league baseball player — and an ex-Bison – who currently works as a gym teacher in Buffalo.

I can’t wait to take it to the farm and annual rally, where Christina will undoubtedly call dibs on it to use as a tent with a friend.  This year I hope she has the sense not to leave the radio on all night …

Anyway, “Orinoco Blue” (what I call my 1999 Escort ZX2 Sport) has been faithful, but Mer really is worried it will start breaking down and cost us more than a car payment to keep it running.  Maybe she’s right.  I hope Christina can take it in a few months when she gets her license, but if not, she can have the Rio when Merry decides to get a new car for herself, possibly as early as next year.

I was informed the car was an early birthday present.  I usually get her a magazine subscription or take her out to Olive Garden, so I’m not sure how to proceed …