
Search This Blog
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Wayne And Shirley Got A Neat Trailer - An Alite

Tuesday, November 01, 2011
STANLEY FISH Wrote This For The New York Times Today
Last week my colleague David Brooks made a request I couldn’t refuse. He asked people over 70 to “write a brief report on your life so far, an evaluation of what you did well, of what you did not do well and what you learned along the way.” Well, here I am, reporting in.
My father was an immigrant from Poland, a taciturn, massive man who began with nothing and became a major force in the plumbing and heating industry. Once when I locked myself in the bathroom because I had done something bad — I had either set a fire under the gas tank of a car parked in a vacant lot or pushed my baby sister’s carriage off the porch with her in it, I can’t remember which — he knocked down the door with a single blow of his fist. My mother was a volatile woman with a fierce but untutored intelligence and a need to control everything. She and I were engaged in a contest of wills until the day she died after having, willfully, refused treatment for congestive heart failure.
We were far from well off — I still remember the $8 secondhand bike I got as a birthday present; I loved it — but we were, like everyone else we knew, upwardly mobile, and that meant college, even though no one in my family had ever been there. I was not bookish; I spent most of my time playing sports badly, playing cards a little better, and lusting after girls and cars. But I was lucky and that, I believe, made all the difference.
My first and decisive bit of luck (in addition to having parents who wanted their children to succeed) was to have had Sarah Flanagan as an English teacher in high school. It was the time when adults were asking me a terrifying question: “What are you going to be?” or, in another version, “What are you going to do with your life?” The implication was that I was not yet anything and that, unless something happened quickly, my life would come to naught.
What happened was that Miss Flanagan told me, not in so many words, that writing papers about poems was something I was good at, and since I was desperate to be good at something, I took what she said to heart and began to think of myself as someone who could at least do that.
My next bit of luck was to have had Maurice Johnson as an English teacher at the University of Pennsylvania (one of only two schools that admitted me). Johnson was an urbane man of dry wit who offered me a model of what the academic life might be like, if I could only learn to dress better and develop a taste for irony. (To this day I never get it.)
Luck followed me to Yale graduate school (where I was admitted, I was told, as an experiment; Penn was a bit below Yale’s standards) in the form of three of my classmates, A. Bartlett Giamatti, Richard Lanham and Michael O’Loughlin, men of enormous learning and literary sophistication who gave the gift of their friendship to a rube from Providence, R. I. Many years later, when I met another classmate at a professional meeting, she exclaimed, “Who would have thought back then that you of all people would make it?”
The crowning piece of luck — I am still speaking only of my professional life — was to enter the job market in 1962, when higher education was expanding and everyone I knew had at least three offers at good schools. (We thought this moment would go on forever, but it never came again.) I chose U. C. Berkeley, in large part because my first wife was willing to go there, and found myself in a department becoming more prominent by the day; all I had to do was go along for the ride.
So that’s what I did well. I arrived at places at the right time and had enough sense to seize the opportunities that were presented to me; and that continued to be the case in a succession of appointments, book projects, administrative positions, even the opportunity to write for this newspaper, which came about one day in 1995 when out of the blue someone from the Op-Ed page called and asked if I would write something. As usual, I didn’t have the slightest idea of what to do, but I said yes anyway to this newest piece of luck.
What I didn’t do so well, and haven’t yet done, was figure out how to be at ease in the world. I noticed something about myself when I was married to my first wife, an excellent cook and hostess who knew how to throw a party. My main job was to dole out the drinks, which I liked to do because I could stand behind the bar and never have to really talk to anyone. (“Do you want ice with that?”) My happiest moment, and the moment I was looking forward to all evening, was when the party was over and failure of any number of kinds had been avoided once again.
If you regard each human interaction as an occasion for performance, your concern and attention will be focused on how well or badly you’re doing and not on the people you’re doing it with. This turned out to be true for me in the classroom, on vacations, at conferences, in department meetings, at family gatherings, at concerts, in museums, at weddings, even at the movies. Always I have one eye on the clock and at least a part of the other on whether I’m doing my part or holding my own; and always there is a sigh of relief at the end. Whew, got through that one!
It may be unnecessary to say so, but this way of interacting or, rather, not interacting does not augur well for intimate relationships. If you characteristically withhold yourself, keep yourself in reserve, refuse to risk yourself, those you live with are not going to be getting from you what they need. So my first wife didn’t get what she needed and neither, in her early years, did my daughter. Typically, I escaped to work and a structured environment where the roles are pre-packaged and you can ride the rails of scripted routines without having to display or respond to actual feelings.
I’ve tried to do better in my second marriage, and I have done better with my daughter now that she is an adult who draws sustenance from other sources and doesn’t need everything I don’t have to give. But I’m still overscheduling myself and trying as hard as I can to make sure that I have absolutely no time for thinking seriously about life, never mind reporting on it.
And what have I learned along the way? Three things, closely related. The first is that people are often in pain; their lives are shadowed by memories and anticipations of inadequacy, and they are always afraid that the next moment will bring disaster or exposure. You can see it in their faces, and that is especially true of children who have not yet learned how to pretend that everything is all right and who are acutely aware of the precariousness of their situations.
The second thing I have learned is that the people who are most in pain are the people who act most badly; the worse people behave, the more they are in pain. They’re asking for help, although the form of the request is such that they are likely never to get it.
The third thing I have learned follows from the other two. It is the necessity of generosity. I suppose it is a form of the golden rule: if you want them to be generous to you, be generous to them. The rule acknowledges the fellowship of fragility we all share. In your worst moments — which may appear superficially to be your best moments — what you need most of all is the sympathetic recognition of someone who says, if only in a small smile or half-nod, yes, I have been there too, and I too have tried to shore up my insecurity with exhibitions of pettiness, bluster, overconfidence, petulance and impatience. It’s not, “But for the grace of God that could be me”; it’s, “Even with the grace of God, that will be, and has been, me.”
Monday, October 31, 2011
Jay Leno Drives a Volt

Jay Leno has a lot of vehicles -- more than 100 convertibles, cars and motorcycles. But the vehicle that plays the most active role in his daily life, getting him to and from the set of "The Tonight Show" is his Chevy Volt. Why? For starters, as of September, he had yet to fill his gas tank since December 2010, even after 10,000 miles.
Leno doesn't see the Volt's all-electric competitors changing anytime soon. "I have a 1909 Baker Electric, and it goes 80 to 100 miles on a charge. The brand-new Nissan electric goes 80 to 100 miles on a charge," he said. "But the idea is electricity is like sex. People have no compulsion about lying about if it doesn't do what it's supposed to do.You would think that Leno, given his salary, would not be concerned about saving pennies at the pump, but he seemed downright enthused about the mileage. "You get the first 40 miles free," Leno told Ad Ageon the phone from his office on the NBC lot in Burbank, Calif. "So when I go to work every day that's 28 miles, and I plug it in at work. Then I go shopping, run errands, pull in the driveway; that's 40 miles so I plug it in. It's pretty amazing because you can actually check that on the computer on the car."
"I like electricity when I need it and gas when I need to use it. With Nissan, you need two cars, one to get around town and the other to go on long trips. With the Volt, you don't. You can drive to San Francisco. It's just that after 40 to 50 miles — OK, you have a gas car again. It's silly to throw 150 years of internal combustion out the window. We don't dislike the engine. Let's come up with a better fuel. And until we do, let's do this hybrid thing. You can't do much better than that."
Florida State Pounds NC State - 34-0

Saturday, October 29, 2011
Father of CitiCar - Electric Car Dies
Bob Beaumont, Who Popularized Electric Cars, Dies at 79
Bob Beaumont, who thought every home should have an affordable electric vehicle in its driveway and sold more than 2,000 of them, the tiny, trapezoidal creation known as theCitiCar, decades before General Motors and Nissan came up with their own versions, died on Monday at his home in Columbia, Md. He was 79.
The cause was emphysema, said his daughter, Dina.
In the 1960s, Mr. Beaumont was so inspired by the battery-powered lunar rover and so appalled by the nation’s insatiable appetite for oil that he sold his Chrysler-Plymouth dealership in upstate New York to become a carmaker himself. Just as the Arab oil embargo was ending in 1974, the CitiCar — eight feet long, 1,100 pounds and shaped like a cheese wedge on a golf-cart chassis — began rolling out of a factory in Sebring, Fla.
The car, a two-seater with a price tag under $3,000 — about half the price of an average car at the time — was initially met with skepticism, particularly given its top speed of 26 miles an hour. Mr. Beaumont added two more batteries, allowing it to reach nearly 40 m.p.h., and sales took off.
“Everybody heard about what we were doing in Florida,” Mr. Beaumont told Baltimore City Paper in 2008, “and they came flocking to us like we were the salvation of the world.”
The company, which he called Sebring-Vanguard, soon became the sixth-largest carmaker in the United States, though well behind the Big Three, American Motors and Checker Motors. In three years, it sold 2,206 CitiCars (that’s the number Mr. Beaumont remembered, his daughter said, though other reports give figures slightly higher or lower).
But the CitiCar was dogged by questions about its roadworthiness, particularly after Consumer Reports declared it inordinately noisy, unreliable and generally “foolhardy to drive.” Mr. Beaumont successfully defended the car, whose body was encased in the same type of plastic as a football helmet, against bureaucrats in Michigan who wanted to ban it from public roads: he attacked it with a baseball bat, then suggested he test whether a Ford owned by one of the officials would withstand a similar test.
Still, in 1977, with the safety questions lingering and with oil cheap and plentiful again, Sebring-Vanguard went bankrupt. Another company bought the design and continued building a similar model, which it called the Comuta-Car, for several more years. About 4,400 of those cars and their derivatives, including a postal delivery Comuta-Van, were sold.
“He laid the pathway; he was just about 30 years too early,” said Peter Crisitello, who owns a 1977 CitiCar and organized a caravan of about a half-dozen of them to Mr. Beaumont’s home for a four-day gathering of enthusiasts in 2009.
After the CitiCar was discontinued, Mr. Beaumont moved to Maryland to run a used-car dealership and to lobby Congress to promote electric vehicles. In the 1990s he began a venture called Renaissance Cars and designed a battery-powered sports car, the Tropica, that was far more elaborate than the bare-bones CitiCar. For various reasons, it did not catch on; fewer than 25 were ever built.
Robert Gerald Beaumont was born on April 1, 1932, in Teaneck, N.J. After high school, he served for two years in the Air Force before studying business at Hartwick College in Oneonta, N.Y.
He left college before earning his degree to work at the Chrysler dealership in Kingston, which he later bought and ran for about 20 years. Despite having a wife and five children to support, his daughter said, he believed in his vision strongly enough to sell the dealership.
“Financially it was a big gamble, but in his heart it wasn’t,” Dina Beaumont said. “Recently we realized how many of those CitiCars are still on the road today. They’re still running, and we’ve never heard of a fatality or any serious accident.”
Friday, October 28, 2011
Harry Bought Another Truck
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Harry Gets To Meet President Obama
If you are a little near-sighted - like Harry & Mr McGoo - our steward on TAMI Airlines - flying from Rio to Sao Paulo in Brazil looks a bit like our 44th president. It was a one hour flight - but they had time to serve us all a meal and a drink. Not bad service for a crew of 2.Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Are You in the Top 1%

That means a single filer who made $343,927 or more in 2009 is in the top 1 percentile. A married couple with two kids and combined earnings of $343,927 or more also was among the top earners in the country. The 2009 figures are the latest the IRS has tallied.
The 1.4 million Americans in the IRS' top taxpayer category in 2009 reported nearly 17 percent of all the country's taxable income. From those filers, the IRS collected $318 billion or almost 37 percent of all the individual taxes paid in 2009.
If you made $32,000 - you were in the top 50%.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Na Na Na Na Hey Hey Goodbye
Paul Leka, a songwriter and producer who worked with many recording stars but who was best known for writing the chanting chorus of “Na Na Hey Hey (Kiss Him Goodbye),” a No. 1 hit in 1969 that was reborn in the 1970s as a sports arena anthem, died on Oct. 12 in a hospice near his home in Sharon, Conn. He was 68.
The cause was lung cancer, said his brother, George.
Mr. Leka made his name in the Tin Pan Alley tradition, writing or arranging songs for other people. He wrote and produced “Green Tambourine,” a No. 1 hit in 1967 for the psychedelic soft-rock band the Lemon Pipers; signed REO Speedwagon to its first record contract; and produced four of Harry Chapin’s albums, including 1974’s “Verities & Balderdash” containing the song that was Chapin’s lone No. 1 hit, “Cat’s in the Cradle.”
In 1969, Mr. Leka was helping a longtime friend from Bridgeport, Conn., Gary DeCarlo, fill the B-side of a single he was recording for Buddah. With Mr. Leka on keyboards, they started with a song they had written years before, a bluesy shuffle called “Kiss Him Goodbye.” But it filled only two minutes of playing time, and to make sure disc jockeys would not play it — instead of Mr. DeCarlo’s A-side — they decided to add a chorus to stretch it to four minutes, beyond the time limit of most radio formats.
“I started writing while I was sitting at the piano, going ‘na na na na, na na na na ...’ ” Mr. Leka told Fred Bronson, the author of “The Billboard Book of Number One Hits.” “Everything was ‘na-na’ when you didn’t have a lyric.” Mr. DeCarlo added the “hey hey.” They chanted the chorus at the beginning and end of the original song, and as an added poison pill left the dummy lyrics in.
The record company decided to release it nonetheless as the A-side of a 45 by Steam, a fictitious group name the two men invented for the record. The song reached No. 1 in late 1969 and enjoyed a happy radio life span. Then it came back.
School Without Computers
But the school’s chief teaching tools are anything but high-tech: pens and paper, knitting needles and, occasionally, mud. Not a computer to be found. No screens at all. They are not allowed in the classroom, and the school even frowns on their use at home.
Schools nationwide have rushed to supply their classrooms with computers, and many policy makers say it is foolish to do otherwise. But the contrarian point of view can be found at the epicenter of the tech economy, where some parents and educators have a message: computers and schools don’t mix.
This is the Waldorf School of the Peninsula, one of around 160 Waldorf schools in the country that subscribe to a teaching philosophy focused on physical activity and learning through creative, hands-on tasks. Those who endorse this approach say computers inhibit creative thinking, movement, human interaction and attention spans.
The Waldorf method is nearly a century old, but its foothold here among the digerati puts into sharp relief an intensifying debate about the role of computers in education.
“I fundamentally reject the notion you need technology aids in grammar school,” said Alan Eagle, 50, whose daughter, Andie, is one of the 196 children at the Waldorf elementary school; his son William, 13, is at the nearby middle school. “The idea that an app on an iPad can better teach my kids to read or do arithmetic, that’s ridiculous.”
Mr. Eagle knows a bit about technology. He holds a computer science degree from Dartmouth and works in executive communications at Google, where he has written speeches for the chairman, Eric E. Schmidt. He uses an iPad and a smartphone. But he says his daughter, a fifth grader, “doesn’t know how to use Google,” and his son is just learning. (Starting in eighth grade, the school endorses the limited use of gadgets.)
Three-quarters of the students here have parents with a strong high-tech connection. Mr. Eagle, like other parents, sees no contradiction. Technology, he says, has its time and place: “If I worked at Miramax and made good, artsy, rated R movies, I wouldn’t want my kids to see them until they were 17.”
While other schools in the region brag about their wired classrooms, the Waldorf school embraces a simple, retro look — blackboards with colorful chalk, bookshelves with encyclopedias, wooden desks filled with workbooks and No. 2 pencils.
On a recent Tuesday, Andie Eagle and her fifth-grade classmates refreshed their knitting skills, crisscrossing wooden needles around balls of yarn, making fabric swatches. It’s an activity the school says helps develop problem-solving, patterning, math skills and coordination. The long-term goal: make socks.
Down the hall, a teacher drilled third-graders on multiplication by asking them to pretend to turn their bodies into lightning bolts. She asked them a math problem — four times five — and, in unison, they shouted “20” and zapped their fingers at the number on the blackboard. A roomful of human calculators.
In second grade, students standing in a circle learned language skills by repeating verses after the teacher, while simultaneously playing catch with bean bags. It’s an exercise aimed at synchronizing body and brain. Here, as in other classes, the day can start with a recitation or verse about God that reflects a nondenominational emphasis on the divine.
Andie’s teacher, Cathy Waheed, who is a former computer engineer, tries to make learning both irresistible and highly tactile. Last year she taught fractions by having the children cut up food — apples, quesadillas, cake — into quarters, halves and sixteenths.
“For three weeks, we ate our way through fractions,” she said. “When I made enough fractional pieces of cake to feed everyone, do you think I had their attention?”
Some education experts say that the push to equip classrooms with computers is unwarranted because studies do not clearly show that this leads to better test scores or other measurable gains.
Is learning through cake fractions and knitting any better? The Waldorf advocates make it tough to compare, partly because as private schools they administer no standardized tests in elementary grades. And they would be the first to admit that their early-grade students may not score well on such tests because, they say, they don’t drill them on a standardized math and reading curriculum.
When asked for evidence of the schools’ effectiveness, the Association of Waldorf Schools of North America points to research by an affiliated group showing that 94 percent of students graduating from Waldorf high schools in the United States between 1994 and 2004 attended college, with many heading to prestigious institutions like Oberlin, Berkeley and Vassar.
Of course, that figure may not be surprising, given that these are students from families that value education highly enough to seek out a selective private school, and usually have the means to pay for it. And it is difficult to separate the effects of the low-tech instructional methods from other factors. For example, parents of students at the Los Altos school say it attracts great teachers who go through extensive training in the Waldorf approach, creating a strong sense of mission that can be lacking in other schools.
Absent clear evidence, the debate comes down to subjectivity, parental choice and a difference of opinion over a single world: engagement. Advocates for equipping schools with technology say computers can hold students’ attention and, in fact, that young people who have been weaned on electronic devices will not tune in without them.
Ann Flynn, director of education technology for the National School Boards Association, which represents school boards nationwide, said computers were essential. “If schools have access to the tools and can afford them, but are not using the tools, they are cheating our children,” Ms. Flynn said.
Paul Thomas, a former teacher and an associate professor of education at Furman University, who has written 12 books about public educational methods, disagreed, saying that “a spare approach to technology in the classroom will always benefit learning.”
“Teaching is a human experience,” he said. “Technology is a distraction when we need literacy, numeracy and critical thinking.”
And Waldorf parents argue that real engagement comes from great teachers with interesting lesson plans.
“Engagement is about human contact, the contact with the teacher, the contact with their peers,” said Pierre Laurent, 50, who works at a high-tech start-up and formerly worked at Intel and Microsoft. He has three children in Waldorf schools, which so impressed the family that his wife, Monica, joined one as a teacher in 2006.
And where advocates for stocking classrooms with technology say children need computer time to compete in the modern world, Waldorf parents counter: what’s the rush, given how easy it is to pick up those skills?
“It’s supereasy. It’s like learning to use toothpaste,” Mr. Eagle said. “At Google and all these places, we make technology as brain-dead easy to use as possible. There’s no reason why kids can’t figure it out when they get older.”
There are also plenty of high-tech parents at a Waldorf school in San Francisco and just north of it at the Greenwood School in Mill Valley, which doesn’t have Waldorf accreditation but is inspired by its principles.
California has some 40 Waldorf schools, giving it a disproportionate share — perhaps because the movement is growing roots here, said Lucy Wurtz, who, along with her husband, Brad, helped found the Waldorf high school in Los Altos in 2007. Mr. Wurtz is chief executive of Power Assure, which helps computer data centers reduce their energy load.
The Waldorf experience does not come cheap: annual tuition at the Silicon Valley schools is $17,750 for kindergarten through eighth grade and $24,400 for high school, though Ms. Wurtz said financial assistance was available. She says the typical Waldorf parent, who has a range of elite private and public schools to choose from, tends to be liberal and highly educated, with strong views about education; they also have a knowledge that when they are ready to teach their children about technology they have ample access and expertise at home.
The students, meanwhile, say they don’t pine for technology, nor have they gone completely cold turkey. Andie Eagle and her fifth-grade classmates say they occasionally watch movies. One girl, whose father works as an Apple engineer, says he sometimes asks her to test games he is debugging. One boy plays with flight-simulator programs on weekends.
The students say they can become frustrated when their parents and relatives get so wrapped up in phones and other devices. Aurad Kamkar, 11, said he recently went to visit cousins and found himself sitting around with five of them playing with their gadgets, not paying attention to him or each other. He started waving his arms at them: “I said: ‘Hello guys, I’m here.’ ”
Finn Heilig, 10, whose father works at Google, says he liked learning with pen and paper — rather than on a computer — because he could monitor his progress over the years.
“You can look back and see how sloppy your handwriting was in first grade. You can’t do that with computers ’cause all the letters are the same,” Finn said. “Besides, if you learn to write on paper, you can still write if water spills on the computer or the power goes out.”
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Seminoles Beat Maryland 41 - 16
Ticket face value is $45. That is not the worst of it. The owners pay $6000 for a special parking spot every year. They have been doing this for 40 years. I forgot my camera or I would have some nicer pictures.Friday, October 21, 2011
On Way Home From Brazil - I Spent A 12 Hour Dreary Layover in Miami
The Orange Bowl used to sit here when FSU won the National Championship for 1993. Now they are building a domed baseball field for the Marlins.
This is the old medical school building now in the middle of Jackson Medical Center where Drew went to school.
I was at the Bayside Shopping Center and for a second I thought this was Drew's old Honda parked there.
Where the big yellow build is - was a small cottage where Lulu and I lived during the summer of 1972. It is in downtown Miami.
My rental car in front of the Avalon - Miami South Beach. Parking is usually impossible there.
This is The Roney - right on the beach - where Drew lived while going to grad school.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
New York Times Reports Profit
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Dr LBG Johnson Attends Induction Of Her New President At Kentucky
Harry's iPhone
Sent from my iPhone
Greetings From Miami Beach
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Last Day In Sao Paulo Really Nice - I Fly Home At Midnight - Tonight




Monday, October 17, 2011
Old VW Van Still Made in Brazil















