Singapore/Kuala Lumpur

Began the day running laps around a mosque in KL. Later climbed the 300 steps to the hindu shrine at the Batu Cave outside the city. Second time here. Food here was ok but lacks the distinctive dishes and flavour of the Thais and Chinese. I love this place but understand why "let's go eat Malaysian" is never heard in the US. The Manadin Oriental is amazing in its service and one of the best places I've stayed.

Singapore, first time here. Another monster that just grows and grows. Capitalism is so explosive here. I wish more people could see what it does when unconstrained. Both for well and ill, and that the "well" overwhelms the "ill".

Christmas, as a secular holiday, is more apparent in Singapore and KL than back home. At least the word "Christmas" is everywhere. Christmas trees, complete with the star of Bethlehem on top, are in every mall and along every major street. Granted, the sense of commercialism around the holiday is extreme, even from the viewpoint of a resident of the United States. But nice to see that star, which has been all but banned from public places in the United States. As a religious holiday I would give the United States an edge, but just a slight one.

Nice trip, more thoughts later, dozing off at the terminal........

Wrapping up this entry from the Delta Crown Room at Narita Airport and enjoying the last few hours of a six hour layover. It is noon Monday and 9pm Sunday back home.  The trip has been good but unfortunately leaves me with multiple examples of how far customer service has fallen in the US. Example.... I'm on Malaysian Air flight from KL to Tokyo, standing by the bathroom in the middle of the night, waiting for it to become available. A flight attendant across the way sees me, picks up the phone and calls another flight attendant to notify me that there is an open restroom close by in another section of the plane. That would never happen in the United States. Simply impossible. Example 2.... I get off the elevator at one of my hotels, heading with bags to my room. Somehow one of the staff knows who I am and where I am going. As soon as I get off and head the wrong way direction a voice calls out, "Sir, room 1705 is this way". How did they know who I was, where I was heading? Someone at checkin called and told them I was coming up. I'm no one special, just another guest, but certainly treated special in Asia, as anyone would want.

We've still got a lot to learn.

Christmas Lights

The lights are up on the house. They were first turned on last night. I may be the first in the neighborhood but only by a few days. Once one of us turns on the lights the rest are soon to follow.

The big Christmas wreath is hanging from the window above the front door, swamping the influence of the humbler Thanksgiving wreath that hangs on the door. As it should.

Every little sign of Christmas crowds out all around it.

A world is cast in a season of cold and death.

The Blessed Virgin awaits a trip to Bethlehem.

The Lord of the Universe will soon step on to the stage that is His creation.

In the hearts of children, Father Christmas is on the move. 

Opening doors

The weekend began with the first college visits of my youngest child. Friday morning at the University of Chicago followed by the afternoon at the University of Wisconsin. At Chicago we listened to a description of a haven for scholars and the value of knowledge, as though it were almost tangible or something one could taste. At Wisconsin we listened to a weary administrator tell us that majors and subjects don't matter, but that college is really about being, and growing and other squishy stuff. Unfornate that such a fine institution presents itself so poorly. To my daughter's credit the morning presentation resonated with her and the afternoon did not. Much too early to tell where all this will end but it was clearly the start of something big. 

Her siblings went through this same process to varying degrees. Paths for all three have gone through Chicago surprisingly, either on a visit or final selection. Both her sister and brother ended up going to a school they did not initially consider. Both started out on a detour from the college dreams of junior high. Both overcame big obstacles that are part of college and both made us so proud. She will also, I am sure.

It was time for this trip. Time for her to ponder this big project in a big city where it may happen. And think more about life away from home. About the person she is, the person she is becoming, the person she wants to be. About how these places can make you all you want to be or rip apart all you hold dear and push you in places you should not go. This is the time in life when the need to be on your own is both fearsome and thrilling, when life at home is both maddening and comforting. Walking across the seesaw.

She spent the day thinking ahead. I spent the day contrasting her wishes with that of our other children and the mission ahead of her. I thought of the long drives to Washington and Lee and the beauty of Lexington, Virginia. Giving my oldest daughter a hug goodbye under a huge oak tree as we both held back a few tears  (hers of joy).  Loading the UHaul for a drive to DePaul and navigating the alleyways of Chicago with my son. Giving him a sendoff as guys do, with a handshake and a firm look in the eye. I told him I was proud of him. He replied "wait until I accomplish something, then be proud of me". Four years later I was, for both of them, and have been many times over.

The day came to a close with a return to the Twin Cities on a rainy Friday night. She spent the day dreaming and planning. I spent it opening doors, which is one of the very best things parents do.

Frankfurt

Germany has not felt like a foreign country, but more like home than some places in the United States. First visit here. I shouldn't have taken this long to get here but looking forward to going back. Saw almost nothing of the city. Attending a conference, mainly in a convention center and hotel. Went for a stroll to the train station today and walked by this sculpture.

Kiev

24 hours in Kiev, Ukraine. Wonderful people, not enough time. A place I never expected to be. That I would be drinking a coke and watching CNN in the Hotel Opera is clearly not what Stalin had in mind.

Shown here the caves of St. Anthony and St. Theodosius. Monks have been living here since the 11th century and many entombed in these glass cases. More later.

Also shown, the statue of the Motherland.

.................

96 hours in London

Day 1 Heathrow, Hyde Park, Oxford Street shopping, Piccadilly Circus, Trocadero, St. James Church. Day 2: London Eye, Strolls around Big Ben-Parliament-Westminster Abbey, "Billy Elliott". Day 3: Tower of London, More shopping on Oxford Street, Jack the Ripper Tour. Day 4 Buckingham Palace, Walk around Globe Theatre, services at St. Paul's Cathedral, Brick Lane, Bangladesh Restaurant, Spittelfields Market, Trafalgar Square, National Portrait Gallery, Dinner in Shepards Market. Day 5 Shopping, Hyde Park, Heathrow.

She Conquers, one more time.......

My oldest daughter ran her first marathon today. 26 miles, 385 yards. The Twin Cities Marathon. We followed her around and cheered her on, at the 12, 20, and finish line. The achievements of my children leave me scratching my head at times, a combination of pride and wonder and thanksgiving. This was one of those times. A remarkable accomplishment that I cannot adequately describe. We were proud that she tried and even prouder than she succeeded. I will leave it to her to fill in the blanks of what this final day was like.

I dropped her off this morning, around 7am. I don't know when I was proudest. Was it from watching her step out at dawn and face the fear of failing so publicly, in one of the biggest physical challenges of her life.... or was it from watching her stride to the finish line as the conquerer of 26 miles of Minnesota pavement.

She has faced so many obstacles, things that would have knocked out a weaker one. Some of it is normal stuff that comes with adulthood, like college admission disappointments or early career struggles. Then there are the other things, Katrina evacuation, Peace Corps evacuation, a stint teaching tough kids in the tough side of Kansas City, epilepsy, weight. Other things I don't know about.

There is a verse in the Bible that on this day reminds me of her....2 Corinthians 12:9 ....My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

There are those who allow disappointments to rule them. She never does. She has built on things that others would think are weaknesses and made herself strong. For things like a 26 mile run, and much more.

San Francisco 1982

I am wandering the blocks around the TransAmerica building, searching for an old hangout, Paoli's. As a young broker trainee in SF in the early 80's, this is where you would find me occasionally. Unwinding with friends. Talking about the market like we were old veterans. Watching the 49ers march through the playoffs on their way to the Superbowl. Missing my wife and new baby girl. Apart from the TA pyramid, nothing looks familiar.
.................

Lemmings

Atlanta airport, 7pm.... B concourse.
The line for the Delta service desk (a wall of phones) is 129 weary travel zombies long.
.................

Burning Brisket

Brisket is hard to mess up, but I learned how this weekend.

I had the smoker going for one of the last times this fall, I suppose. A pork roast, ribs, a brisket filled the top rack of my smoker. Apple and cherry wood chunks providing the smoke and Brother Kingsford, the heat. For some reason I didn't want to go through all the trouble of setting up multiple layers, which was my one big mistake.

This meant one cut of meat would be real close to the firebox. A pork roast can handle this but a brisket can't. The picture is me on Saturday morning, in all my barbecueing glory, burning a brisket and not realizing it. When I finally pulled it out, after about ten hours, I found myself scraping the thick black burnt animal flesh off one side, the way Mom used to scrape a piece of burnt toast. It didn't work. Most of it was dry and tough. A few sections were ok and what was salvagable was quickly consumed by oldest daughter and self, with the balance making it's way to her boyfriend's house, last I heard. If a cop stopped her on the way she could have been arrested for transporting a toxic substance without the required permits. I've been smoking for about ten years and this is the first time i've ever messed up a brisket. Didn't know it was possible.

On the up side the ribs were great and the pork roast as well. I guess in a way the brisket gave itself up for the benefit of its brethren in the smoker.

Philadelphia at the break of fall

This week I spent three days in one of my favorite cities. I had some free time and used it mainly just to be there, in the heart of the city. Took a long run in Fairmount Park along the Schuykill River. Strolled through Reading Station. Watched two groups of protestors, liberals and conservatives, yell at each from opposite side of a street. Wasn't quite sure what the issue was. Cheesesteak sandwich. City Hall lit up at night. A great city on hard times. Pulling through.

A small thought on the changing value of things

When I was in college I worked one summer at a gas station. The 11pm to 7am shift at Drakes Shell Station in St. Petersburg, Florida. It was a long time ago and in an era when all night gas stations were fairly rare. In the suburbs of St. Pete, near the Snell Isle and Pinellas Park areas, this was the only place to get gas after midnight.

It was quite an adventure, a big part of growing up. From midnight to dawn I was one of the lords of the strip, 4th street. I knew the regular lineup of night people, cops, liquor store owners, motorcycle gang members, dj's, newspaper delivery people. I also served a regular string of folks who found themselves low on gas and low on cash after a late night adventure in Tampa. I handled a lot of requests for small sales of a gallon or two, enough to get them home.

One night a guy pulled up and begged for gas. He was broke. He promised to pay me back if I would just give him a couple of dollars worth. I'd learned the hard way not to do that and told him no. So he opened his trunk, which was full of tools. He offered me any tool in his trunk in exchange for $2 worth of gas. The deal was sealed.

I pointed to the lug wrench you see here. I could tell he was hoping I wouldn't see it, but he reluctantly handed it over. It was worth ten or fifteen dollars at the time, perhaps a little more today.

I realized then, and now, how emotion and circumstances can change our view of the value of things. Put a guy in desperate circumstances and he'll let possessions go for a fraction of their worth. Had he stopped and thought for a few minutes there might have been a better way out of his situation. When I saw the look on his face I knew that I never wanted to be in his situation. Here he was, a grown man face to face with a teenage kid at 3am, humiliated and knowing the kid holds all the cards. Of course I only have my side of the story and in fairness I don't know what difference that gas made in his life. He didn't dicker. He needed it bad. If it kept him from getting fired, or missing some important meeting, maybe he had the better end of the deal.

I have kept the lug wrench and carried it with me from city to city. At least once a month I see it as I piddle around the garage. It reminds me in a little way of the mistakes that come from panic and the opportunities that can come to those on the flip side of the trade. Over the past year during the market meltdown, I thought about this episode often. Particularly as people who bought GE at 30 a couple of years ago dumped it when it fell below 10. Same thing with US Steel, which fell from 190 to 19, and so on with almost every publicly traded US company. Happens all the time, almost every day, to someone, somewhere. Common stocks, homes, a racehorse, a rare coin, a fine tool. One day we are thinking clearly and rationally. The next we are making decisions any normal teenager would know to avoid. I remembered the lug wrench as markets collapsed earlier this year and determined I would again be the kid with 2 bucks, not the man who was scared and desperate for cash.

One of these days I suppose I'll pass the lug wrench on to one of my kids, or grandkids, along with more details on this story. The man who traded for the lugwrench has been on my mind a fair amount over the years. He's in his 70's or 80's now, if still alive. He taught me an important lesson, I hope I taught him one.