Sunday, August 11, 2013

...Irony


What is irony?  Webster would do himself a service if he defined irony as sitting in a room as a blind man teaches you to read. 

That was me a few days ago, taking reading lessons from a blind dude.  Obviously not in a “See Jane Run” kind of read.  Not in a “sound it out” kind of read.  And definitely not in a “feel the words” kind of read.  I’m talking about graduate-level reading.  When you’ve got a few hundred pages each week to read you’re willing to entertain just about anyone who says they can help you keep your head above water.  So you find yourself in a packed room with your fellow graduate students listening to a blind man teach you Graduate Level Reading Skills.  Six Steps:  Read the titles; paraphrase the conclusion; ingest the introduction; skim the topic sentences; re-read the conclusion.  Read and Destroy.  Focus on the logic.  What are they missing.  How is it flawed.  A 30-page article should be consumed in 20 minutes.  An entire book?  Maybe an hour.  You’re a graduate student now, you’re not reading for content, you’re reading for argument. 

FYI - This is a hard concept to grasp for someone who grew up reading for content.  Who loved content.  Who consumed content. 

At the beginning of his workshop he joked, “hey, you may have noticed I’m blind, so if you have a question don’t raise your hand, it won’t do you much good”.  A couple times during his workshop I closed my eyes, you know, just to see what it was like.  Anxiety, negative adrenaline, overwhelming nervousness.  I don’t like not seeing.  None of us like not seeing.

The amazing thing was not that this blind guy was teaching me to read.  I got over that by minute two when I recognized I could learn a lot from this dude.  The amazing thing was what he represented. Here was a scholar blind from age 14 who made himself a recognized expert in his field.  Here was a man stripped of his primary sense who made his way easily through life with nothing but a cane.  Not even a dog...a cane.  Here was a man who recognized the irony of the situation, joked about it, then readily passed on his knowledge to others.

Here was an extraordinary individual, extraordinary in every sense of the word, who has overcome more adversity than most of us could ever imagine.  Here was Professor Zach Shore, the blind man who taught me to read.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

...Things


I am required to take a writing class at Naval Post Grad.   I understand why they make this class mandatory but cmon, I know the proper use of the comma and the semi-colon, I don’t need remedial writing.  Yes, I know I’m both a snob and a nerd and I accept that.  On Day 1 the professor admitted that some in the class probably didn't need to be here and if she could test people out she would.  But she cant.  So I'm stuck.

Day 2 we did a writing assessment.  She gave us two prompts to choose from and two hours to write on it.  The first topic was to discuss a significant change you would make in the military, why and how.  The class is at 0800 in the morning, way too early to be writing on that stuff.  The second topic was to “discuss the idea that westerners are seen by critics to be owned by their possessions. Yet many people treasure objects or possessions for reasons that far transcend the objects’ actual material value.  Select and discuss one such object or possession that you personally value for reasons beyond its material worth.”  Ha.  Too Easy. 

Below is my writing assessment I submitted.  Based on the professor’s feedback, pretty sure I would be excused from this class if possible.  Arrogant?  Yes.  Legitimate arrogance?  I think so.  And don’t worry…I won’t be posting every paper I submit for NPS.  I’ll spare you from my “Are Nuclear Weapons Special?” paper.

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A very common, often heard criticism of western culture, especially American culture, is the focus on material goods.  While I would never debate that America is not a materialistic society, I would argue that Americans often place value in things that reach far above an items net worth.   To look at American society and generalize that we are more concerned about the latest model of vehicle we can purchase than spending time with our kids is a lazy, simplistic examination of our society.  One must delve in to the psyche of why an individual places value on certain items before they categorize that individual as materialistic; often times they will find that the value is not in the item itself, but what that item represents to the individual.

One can read various comparative analyses of eastern versus western cultures proving that Americans are more focused on money, possessions, “things” in general, then they are on the more abstract concepts of family, community, and religion.  There are many explanations for this, the fact that our society is based on capitalism, a paradigm that by its very nature makes a people focus on goods and possessions; the fact that the “American Dream” is considered by many to entail owning a home and providing for the family; even the fact that all parents want their children to have a better life than they had, which typically means more education, money and spending ability.  But focusing on the ownership and retention of material items does not, in and of itself, make an individual materialistic.

Lets take my favorite topic as an example...Me.  I have many things around my house.  It is not cluttered, but tastefully decorated with objects that I value.  Some may say I own a lot of “stuff” but I would disagree.  As soon as “stuff” stacks up in my house I take a trip to Goodwill.  I downsize.  I reduce.  I de-clutter.  I don’t like “stuff”.  I do, however, like to retain things that have personal meaning.  The value I place on items in my home is likely not readily apparent when someone walks in to my house.

I’ll admit though, sometimes that value reaches a level that flirts with irrational.  My jump wings are a prime example.  They’re small and insignificant to the naked eye.  I can’t wear them on my uniform, they’re not the right specifications.  They’re original pewter jump wings from World War II but that’s not what makes them special.  What makes them special is the personal significance I have placed in them, value that has nothing to do with monetary worth or materialistic usefulness.  They were given to me by my step-dad upon graduating Airborne.  They’ve been in my pocket for every jump since.  They were there when I made my first low-level night jump.  They were there when I got hung up in the trees.  They were there every time I schmoozed my way on to an aircraft line, effectively earning me the nickname Jay-Dub.  The pin almost gave me tetanus when it unsnapped during a rough Parachute Landing Fall and jabbed in to my thigh.  The pewter was nearly rubbed off as I was waiting to take the Jump Master Personnel Inspection to become a Jumpmaster. 

When I’m not jumping, those jump wings have a specific place in the house.  To a common visitor they look like nothing special.  Materially, they’re right.  But emotionally and psychologically, they’re wrong.  I treasure them and will make sure they are always in my possession, not because of their nature as a “thing”, but because of the abstract value I have placed in them. 

I haven’t, and won’t, jump out of an airplane without them.  And that is where the irrational part enters the equation.  Intellectually I understand that those wings in my pocket have absolutely nothing to do with the mechanics of a parachute opening and arresting the fall of a body that has reached terminal velocity.  But emotionally I know I wouldn’t be comfortable leaving that “perfectly good airplane” without them.  I’m not a superstitious person and it’s not superstition that makes me feel that way.  Instead, the comfort and value comes from something deeper.  Those wings are a physically manifestation of the connection I have with my step-dad and the love both of us feel for jumping.  It’s a token of remembrance to all those American soldiers, Airborne and Legs, who have fought and died for our country and the legacy they have charged us with carrying on.  And sure, it’s also a small security blanket, a reminder that I’ve jumped and survived many times before and this jump will be no different…because no matter how experienced you are, every jumper feels butterflies the second they’re in the door.

Owning “things” does not by default make an individual materialistic.  An item can mean many things that dive far deeper than simply material value or net worth.  Before one generalizes, look below the surface, because what is discovered is likely much deeper than what is seen at face value.

Friday, July 26, 2013

...A Conversation with My 17-Yr Old Self


This “conversation” took place after the first day of a Mathematical Modeling class that is required in Naval Post Graduate School.  I came here to learn about Irregular Warfare, Counter-Terrorist Policies, Dark Networks, Wicked Problems, Security Dilemmas.  And then to apply all that and more towards a thesis…probably something relating to building networks within the inter-agency to successfully counter international terrorism.  Or something equally intriguing (I usually input a heavy dose of sarcasm when I use the word “intriguing”…but not in this case, it actually is intriguing.) 

I came here to learn to surf.  I did not come here to learn Mathematical Modeling. 

So this is how the conversation went down with my 17-yr old self:

34-Yr Old Me:  Hey, pssst, 17-Yr Old Me…Gonna need your help here.  See I’m back in school and I have to take a couple math classes.  You were always really good at math so can you do me a solid here and help me out?

17-Yr Old Me:  You’re back in school?  In California?  Awesome!  And I love math so I’m here for ya!  What type of math are you doing?  Differential Calculus?  Computational Theory?  Oh geez you’re not in to Non-Linear Dynamics in Applied Mathematics, are you?  Because I’ll be no help there but I’d love to learn!

34 Yr Old Me:  Um…No.  More like “A train left Chicago…” type of math

17-Yr Old Me:  Haha.  Funny.  Seriously, what are you doing?  Propulsion Dynamics?  Chaos Theory in Relation to Orbital Physics?

34-Yr Old Me:  No, seriously.  “A boat travels with the current at 16 mph and against it at 7 mph.  How fast is the current?”  Help me out here, I can’t figure it out.

17-Yr Old Me:  Wow, you’re serious aren’t you?  Did you hit your head?  Get in a horrible accident?  What happened?  We were going to be an Aerospace Engineer, remember?  REMEMBER??!!

34-Yr Old Me:  Well, you see, what had happened was…you’re not an Aerospace Engineer…

17-Yr Old Me:  Electrical Engineer?  Mechanical Engineer?  C’mon, you didn’t drop all the way down to Civil Engineer did you?

34-Yr Old Me:  You’re not an engineer…

17-Yr Old Me:  WHAT?!  I’M NOT AN ENGINEER?!  WHAT THE HELL??!!  WHAT DID YOU DO??!!  I CAN’T LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR A MINUTE, CAN I, BEFORE YOU GO AND SCREW UP OUR WHOLE PLAN??!!

34-Yr Old Me:  Hold on there Molly McJudge-Me-A-Lot.  You have no idea where you’re going in the next 17 years so get your attitude in check.  

17-Yr Old Me:  OK fine, so where am I going?

34-Yr Old Me:  I’m not telling you, but trust me, it’s a helluavalot more interesting than being a stoopid Aerospace Engineer.  So there.

17-Yr Old Me:  You’re not going to tell me??  Fine.  Then I won’t help you with pre-algebra.  Good luck in remedial math, dummass.

34-Yr Old Me:  Ya, and good luck in Calculus.  Cause you're gonna need it...

Saturday, June 15, 2013

...Heading West


I’m going to take a tactical pause here for a few weeks.  You see, I’m packing up the house, closing out my SIPR and SOIS accounts, and heading west.  Westward Ho.  Go West Young Man (or woman).  West SIDE! 

Its hard to leave this place.  I always pictured the day I left The South:  80 mph and not looking back.  But that’s not the case.  I’m not 100% in love with Fayetteville, North Carolina…not even close; my love probably hovers around 15%, slightly above my love for Sumter, SC but well below my love for Fort Walton Beach, FL.  However, I am a true convert to this particular place I work, the people I work with, and the things we accomplish.  Its hard leaving but I won’t get in to that now (we’ll save that for later).  Because what makes leaving this place much (MUCH!) easier is what I’ve got to look forward to:  A cross-country road trip with mi madre, an 18-month sabbatical to Monterey, California, and life back on the west coast.  The only thing I can say is whoot-whoot!

So I’m taking a tactical pause while we make the Great American Road Trip to the Best Coast.  But all is not lost Wino Lovers!  Feel free to follow us on:  http://dispatches-from-the-road.blogspot.com/


Thursday, June 13, 2013

...My Favorite Teacher

My favorite teacher, Mr Waldenberg, is retiring soon and his family asked if anyone had anything they wanted to say at the retirement.  Of course I do (do I ever miss an opportunity to expound on a topic?  The correct answer is no).  Below is a small dissertation submitted to Mr Waldenberg for his review (absolutely my favorite teacher).

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We all have those teachers throughout our lives that impact us in some way.  We all have that one teacher that when you look back on your time in school they are the one you remember.  Mr Waldenberg was that teacher for me. I was lucky enough to get him two years in a row (no, I did not fail his class, I was a straight-A student thank you very much). He had moved from teaching 5th grade to teaching 6th grade at the same time my class moved from 5th to 6th (coincidentally it was also when Kellye, a great friend of mine but who also happened to be his pre-teen daughter, moved from 5th grade to 6th grade.  I think it was a deal brokered in the teachers lounge to spare the rest of the faculty). The discussions on the playground those first few days of school in 6th grade centered around "What?! You've got Mr Waldenberg again?! That's not fair!" So yes, I was one of the lucky few who got him two years.

Looking back on his classes I remember a lot of things...the commercials we created, the archeological projects in his science lab, the obstacle courses in his gym class.  He made school fun and he made you laugh. But most importantly, he challenged you, he brought you out of your comfort zone, he made you get involved in your own learning and taught you that learning is not just in the books...its all around us. Its outside along the river discussing how plants grow, its on the bike rack learning how gears worked, its going home at night watching TV but "pay attention to the commercials because tomorrow we're going to talk about advertising".  Mr Waldenberg taught you that the opportunity to learn is all around you, just go out and explore.

Make it fun, make it a challenge, and make it interesting. Looking back, that's how I remember his style.

I was the shy kid in class. I hated speaking in front of a group. Hat-Ed-It. I would mumble and look down at my feet and pray that a volcano would erupt. Or the river would flood. Or any other kind of man made and/or natural disaster would strike, saving me from getting up in front of my classmates.  There was nothing quite as mortifying to a shy kid than this. But he made us do it...and I did it (I didn't really have a choice…Straight-A student), again and again and again, until I realized all my friends were not going to suddenly turn into zombies and eat me. And after a while it actually became fun.  Because he made it fun. He challenged you. And he made it interesting.

20+ years later I speak in front of a lot of people a lot of the time. I run meetings. I plan nationally significant “things”. I brief 3- and 4- star general officers.  All things a shy farm kid from Ft Benton MT would never have dreamed existed.  And every once in a while I stop and take stock of where I am and look at the path of how I got here; there are certain people who show up along that road.  Mr Waldenberg is one of those people on my road to where I am. The foundation he laid for not only me but countless other kids has made us who we are and taught us some invaluable lessons:  have fun, challenge yourself, find something that interests you, and if you're speaking in front of a group people, odds are they will not spontaneously turn in to zombies and eat you.

Mr Waldenberg, congrats on your retirement. You have impacted countless people throughout your years of teaching in ways we cannot begin to convey to you. Be proud of what you've done...this world needs more teachers like you.