Monday, September 14, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The Legacy of Manhood
Below is a letter I wrote to my Grandfather on his 80th birthday. Today I'm submitting the letter to The Perfect Gift for a Man, a result of ManWeek.
Dear Grandpa,
What can I say to someone who has lived four times as long as myself? I’ll tell you my first impressions of you. I’ll hold a mirror for you to see what a young boy sees in your towering figure. You were scary and cuddly. That’s probably the best way to describe it and you gave several distinct lessons without words to my young and impressionable mind:
• cooking food is a sacred experience;
• being open and hospitable to strangers is a rewarding experience;
• special events are worth hours, nay months of preparation;
• story telling is an art form worthy of honour and untold respect;
• music’s voice is not heard but felt.
Let me expound:
Food was always exciting at your house. Most of the time Grandma would painstakingly show us how to kneed dough, preserve fruit, cut apples, mix spices, roll piecrusts and bake and cook all manner of food. When you took to the kitchen, all manner of fidgeting children were expelled for Grandfather to brood and simmer and cook. Anything with that amount of energy and emotion invested must command respect.
Hospitality was a way of life. I’ve had many strangers approach and ask the lineage of my last name and then proceed to tell me they have eaten in your house. Their recounting is accompanied by wistful and longing looks as they describe their experiences. You always made extra food and there was always someone there to eat it. You gave more than you received and I respect that.
Events, particularly, Christmas. So worth attending that most years we would drive around 13 hours from California to Washington for a few days visit. My parents enduring profoundly bored children and we, my sister Angie and I, enduring it all for Christmas.
Having grown up in the woods you knew the best specimen of tree (not the inferior farmed trees seen today) with the aroma and look alone to fill mind and soul with a great fantastical holiday feeling. Then your pain-staking decoration with each tinsel strand placed singly on its own until the tree was sparkling. The decorations carefully collected over decades each with a story granting mystical powers over the mind and the lights placed ever so perfectly.
The tree combined with food and hospitality set the stage for Christmas Eve. A parade of Christmas gifts to the tinkling and jangling of sleigh bells. Young and old participated as equals. Starting from the youngest, at times not quite steady on feet, we would signal with bells for all to shut eyes which gave us freedom to manoeuvre our child bodies around the room placing gifts under the tree. The bell gave us control. We were important, we could take away everyone’s sight as long as we rang those bells. And then we would stop… the adoration and excitement expressed in “Ooohs” and “Aaahs” was thrilling. Christmas was a group effort. We all had to play our part. Then Santa would come, reindeer on the roof with hooves clopping and the scrapping of antlers. The HO HOing first outside, then inside with magnificent rustling and jostling of packages and, finally, then all was quiet. Not a creature stirring, not even a mouse. Then in the morning, there were all manner of delays like waiting for you to shave before we could proceed to the mountain of Christmas loot. There were always a few items left unwrapped, creating wonder as to whom they belonged. And the smell of coffee and the taste of candy… a perfect day.
Story telling is in your genes, the heritage in the name: LeBard. Let me try and pinpoint what you give to stories. You build expectation with fear of a betrayal in the story line often with an inbuilt moral. Like the time my father was walking on the path ahead of you and the family and you shouted “STOP”. We all thought, how controlling, how unreasonable, why? “JUMP TO YOUR LEFT”. And he does it, “NOW TAKE TWO STEPS BACK” and he does that too. In the end we find you stopped him from stepping on a rattlesnake that he didn’t see. Not only were the stories so intriguing, but your voice and manner all contributed. You could hear a pin drop in the rooms while you spoke. And if there wasn’t quiet, you were the loudest. By the way, your signature “boy you better listen to me” look is very effective. Piercing eye tilted, slight preference to one side, face stern as rock, almost vibrating with intensity and lips thinly drawn. No doubt perfected through years of teaching and serving in the military.
Music As a child I loved telling everyone I knew that you could play The Flight of the Bumble Bee on the tuba. Also, that we were somehow related to the Juilliard School and you could have taken a free scholarship. I remember your exploits with high school kids and being daring enough to teach them Handel’s Messiah and having the skill, fortitude, strength and inspiration to be very successful and then receive accolades for it. You gave me the hope that I could play music. By example you encouraged me on my ventures from singing in the high school choir, to playing the trumpet and French horn in the band. As well as later, learning to drum in a band with my friends, which formed strong relationships that last to this day.
You are a building block in my life. You’re a scholar and a poet and tough as nails. I love you.
Dear Grandpa,
What can I say to someone who has lived four times as long as myself? I’ll tell you my first impressions of you. I’ll hold a mirror for you to see what a young boy sees in your towering figure. You were scary and cuddly. That’s probably the best way to describe it and you gave several distinct lessons without words to my young and impressionable mind:
• cooking food is a sacred experience;
• being open and hospitable to strangers is a rewarding experience;
• special events are worth hours, nay months of preparation;
• story telling is an art form worthy of honour and untold respect;
• music’s voice is not heard but felt.
Let me expound:
Food was always exciting at your house. Most of the time Grandma would painstakingly show us how to kneed dough, preserve fruit, cut apples, mix spices, roll piecrusts and bake and cook all manner of food. When you took to the kitchen, all manner of fidgeting children were expelled for Grandfather to brood and simmer and cook. Anything with that amount of energy and emotion invested must command respect.
Hospitality was a way of life. I’ve had many strangers approach and ask the lineage of my last name and then proceed to tell me they have eaten in your house. Their recounting is accompanied by wistful and longing looks as they describe their experiences. You always made extra food and there was always someone there to eat it. You gave more than you received and I respect that.
Events, particularly, Christmas. So worth attending that most years we would drive around 13 hours from California to Washington for a few days visit. My parents enduring profoundly bored children and we, my sister Angie and I, enduring it all for Christmas.
Having grown up in the woods you knew the best specimen of tree (not the inferior farmed trees seen today) with the aroma and look alone to fill mind and soul with a great fantastical holiday feeling. Then your pain-staking decoration with each tinsel strand placed singly on its own until the tree was sparkling. The decorations carefully collected over decades each with a story granting mystical powers over the mind and the lights placed ever so perfectly.
The tree combined with food and hospitality set the stage for Christmas Eve. A parade of Christmas gifts to the tinkling and jangling of sleigh bells. Young and old participated as equals. Starting from the youngest, at times not quite steady on feet, we would signal with bells for all to shut eyes which gave us freedom to manoeuvre our child bodies around the room placing gifts under the tree. The bell gave us control. We were important, we could take away everyone’s sight as long as we rang those bells. And then we would stop… the adoration and excitement expressed in “Ooohs” and “Aaahs” was thrilling. Christmas was a group effort. We all had to play our part. Then Santa would come, reindeer on the roof with hooves clopping and the scrapping of antlers. The HO HOing first outside, then inside with magnificent rustling and jostling of packages and, finally, then all was quiet. Not a creature stirring, not even a mouse. Then in the morning, there were all manner of delays like waiting for you to shave before we could proceed to the mountain of Christmas loot. There were always a few items left unwrapped, creating wonder as to whom they belonged. And the smell of coffee and the taste of candy… a perfect day.
Story telling is in your genes, the heritage in the name: LeBard. Let me try and pinpoint what you give to stories. You build expectation with fear of a betrayal in the story line often with an inbuilt moral. Like the time my father was walking on the path ahead of you and the family and you shouted “STOP”. We all thought, how controlling, how unreasonable, why? “JUMP TO YOUR LEFT”. And he does it, “NOW TAKE TWO STEPS BACK” and he does that too. In the end we find you stopped him from stepping on a rattlesnake that he didn’t see. Not only were the stories so intriguing, but your voice and manner all contributed. You could hear a pin drop in the rooms while you spoke. And if there wasn’t quiet, you were the loudest. By the way, your signature “boy you better listen to me” look is very effective. Piercing eye tilted, slight preference to one side, face stern as rock, almost vibrating with intensity and lips thinly drawn. No doubt perfected through years of teaching and serving in the military.
Music As a child I loved telling everyone I knew that you could play The Flight of the Bumble Bee on the tuba. Also, that we were somehow related to the Juilliard School and you could have taken a free scholarship. I remember your exploits with high school kids and being daring enough to teach them Handel’s Messiah and having the skill, fortitude, strength and inspiration to be very successful and then receive accolades for it. You gave me the hope that I could play music. By example you encouraged me on my ventures from singing in the high school choir, to playing the trumpet and French horn in the band. As well as later, learning to drum in a band with my friends, which formed strong relationships that last to this day.
You are a building block in my life. You’re a scholar and a poet and tough as nails. I love you.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Open Source War: Teenage Gamers + Robotics + Tribe
Imagine a group of indignant University students. They are very upset at the ethnic and tribal cleansing in Darfur. They are activists. They want to change the world.
These University students reach out via the internet, they plug into their social networks and the fund raising tools available and raise an astonishing $500,000US. They raise more money than they ever imagined. They start to dream of what they could do with it to protect Darfur.
They consider armed military drones that can be flown from the safety of their University dorm. They explore various possibilities and raise enough interest that they receive a phone call, to their dorm room, from a Military contractor that proposes a deal to purchase drones with the capability they imagine. The university students transfer $500,000 dollars in exchange for the drones via the contractor and start to wage war from the comfort of their dorm rooms. They are skilled aviators, their xbox gaming skills have ensured they are more than qualified for the job. They are champions of Darfur.
You don't have to imagine this situation. It has already happened. Although the University students were talked out of buying into the contract and shown more productive ways to spend their money.
In today's broadcast of Democracy now's War and Peace report Amy Goodman interviews author P.W. Singer about his book Wired for War The Robotics Revolution and 21st Century Conflict. I highly recommend listening to the broadcast and I know I'm on my way to picking up a copy of Singer's book.
Technology is changing the face of war. Privately owned companies leading military technology development, that can be sold to anyone, pose ethical dilemmas. The gap between imagination and technology capability is closing quickly. What do we do when technology and social engineering quickly outpace the imagination of law makers and government? The crowd is getting restless, boundaries and borders are changing. In a global community we may see traditional jurisdictions change. Neighborhoods are no longer confined by distance. We are truly a global community. How do we collaborate, globally, successfully without tying ourselves together so tightly that when one corner of society lights on fire it doesn't spread to the whole bundle? This is happening with major banking institutions, one economic crisis and giants fall. How do we ensure we stay a nimble economic society? I believe how we embrace these concepts in the next century will make or break modern society.
The success lies in the tribe, which is a hot topic at the moment. Just as well sound advice was found within the University students social sphere. What were to happen if they were just a bit more fanatical? How could we prevent xbox gamers waging war funded by internet donations?
What do you think?
P.W. Singer, Senior Fellow at the Brookings Institution and author of the new book Wired for War: The Robotics Revolution and Conflict in the 21st Century. Served as coordinator of the Obama campaign’s defense policy task force. He is also the author of Corporate Warriors and Children at War. -via DemocracyNow.org
Thursday, January 29, 2009
LuckyStartups Interviews Me
Last Friday LuckyStartups interviewed me about my startup Booktagger.com. It was a great experience and I'd definitely recommend them. The interview was conducted by @Aronado via California and I was Ustreamed from my living room in Sydney. They also have an Australian journalist who I follow on twitter @Snobed and thanks to Dannie (@brunette01) for setting it all up.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Santa and his six white boomers: Rolf Harris
Australia is a hot country. Being in the southern hemisphere it is summer when Christmas rolls around. Santa's reindeer don't stand a chance, so they are replaced with six white boomers (kangaroo). Rolf Harris, an iconic Australian musician and multi-talented artist, captured the theme well in his song Six White Boomers. (thanks @trib for the video link)
The year that was and will be: 2008 & 2009
Nothing better for a brain storm than multi-colored markers and butcher paper.
Prize/Award to the best LOL cat creation of 2008 picture (below). Post in comments.
2008 in Review
- Silicoln (sic) Beach started <- A beer to many?
- I met Christy Dena!! (yeah, me too!) :)
- Obama Won! WOOT!
- Android
- Pollenizer Born!
- Changing my life completely
- Resurrected Webjam! + Learn
- Apple store in Sydney
- iPhone in Australia!
- Rudd & Turnbull join twitter
- Beijing Olympics featured on mobile clips
- Happener was teh bomb!
- Barcamp Sydney 4?
- 3eep won awards!
- Publishers Love Booktagger!
- Radiohead releases album
- First visit to Perth! <- Steve Wozniak flew to Perth too!!
- Impressed with Entrepreneurs @Leading Lights
- Arctic ice pak grew!
- Elias lost his Credit Card in South America
- Mick surfs in Spain
- Rai went to the F1 night race!
- I met Rai!!
- Rediscovered Twitter <- stopped twittering.
- Yeah, me too!
- Rai/Tangler lives.
- Twitter Flies
- Aust. Literature Board launches guide...
- We had 2 Barcamps!
2009 Predictions
- 3eep/Facebook floats
- Orkut merges with Facebook
- Earth Hour Involves 1 Billion People
- Optus still sucks. (so do the rest)
- Android overtakes iPhone.
- Nokia launches app store -> that works
- Adobe Air Apps run on phones
- Silicon Beach acquires the valley
- SOE med people get off the high horse & start helping companies
- NYT sells about.com
- Msft buys Yahoo!
- Telstra becomes charity Drops Broadband caps
- Atlasian IPOs Bejing
- Twitter buys facebook
- Vince Cerf is US CTO
- Australia doesn’t get a CTO
- iphone gets copy & paste
- Australia doesn’t go into recession
- The Deadpool: plurk, friendfeed, omnidrive, Tivo Aust., channel 9, fairfax, internet filter
- Happener Remains Teh Bomb!
- Local VCs raise 500m worth of funds.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
A carol from me - Merry Christmas
Several years ago I was told about Carols in the Domain, Sydney. I hated the idea. I went begrudgingly and grumbled all the way. Then sang my heart out.
This year my son and I sing Jingle Bells for you (along with a hundred thousand others). Merry Christmas!
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