Apopheniac

The natives are restless.

There is much excitement today in the blogging community over a software engineer at Friendster who was fired for blogging. Many bloggers are up in arms about it.

The posts would indicate that the firing was done in an abrupt and fairly heavy handed manner that is probably not in accord with California's employee-friendly laws which require warnings and retraining for non-felonious behaviour.

It seems like the blogging employee issue is a fairly tricky one. First there is the the fact that companies should have policies about employee behaviour so associates know where they stand. Then there is the issue of talking (not to mention publishing) about work outside of work. This is complicated with companies like friendster which trade on networking and information sharing, of which blogging is a major tool. Most companies treat information as property, witness the entire issue of intellectual property. (The CEO of Friendster came out of network entertainment television, which is very "hush-hush" secretive about business, projects and processes in development.)

Then there is an issue which I haven't seen discussed yet relative to employee blogging which is branding and negative associations. If an employee is blogging publicly and repeatedly referencing their company and their job they become associated with the "brand" of their company. Certainly many associations are positive and many people may think better of the company because of what they read in an employee's blog but the blogging may not be a public association the company wishes to have. Blogging is not a private activity and a blog which references a company can reflect upon the company.

It's a complex topic.

Homemade Tomato Soup

Today Jean and I made a large batch of tomato soup from the garden tomatoes. It was our first attempt, made from an internet recipe. It is delicious.
Tonight we put it in the freezer.

Probably the best photo of New York City I have seen.

This is just a fantastic panorama of Brooklyn and Manhattan. Be sure to use the right scroll bar to see the whole thing.

While you're there you might look around at the other photos at the joesnyc blog. He does an excellent job of catching the feel of the city.

Whew!

Today was home physical labor day. There was a freezer which had been in storage in the garage of Jean's parents' house. All we had to do was move it over and make a space for it. Unfortunately making a space meant emptying 3 bookshelvs 6' high by 3' wide which had books stacked on top of them to the ceiling and moving them across the room and refilling them. Then I had to do the same thing with two 3' x 6' cupboards which were filled with food and canned goods. They had to be moved down 2 feet to make room for the freezer. It was all done and now we have plenty of freezer room for the tomatoes and tomato soup we are going to put up this week end. Whew!

Memorial Website for Mom

In visiting with Bill, the idea came up for a memorial website for Mom where her story could be posted and those who wished to celebrate her could add photos, anecdotes, memories, tributes and the like. I got the basic page up which can be expanded as we have more to post. It can be found at:

www.patandjean.com/memorial

My tribute to Mom which my brother Bill read for me at her service

My parents were members of what has come to be called “The Greatest Generation,” those men and women raised during the depression who came into adulthood during the second world war. They were raised in a world in poverty and financial chaos and, as they were coming into their own lives and powers, they were called upon to put their loves and dreams on hold to cross the globe and wage war against evil and tyranny.

When the job was done and the war was won they came home to rebuild their lives, not knowing if they were returning to economic depression but determined to build families and a better world to raise them in. This was the backdrop of my mother’s youth.

It was because of that war that she met my father, who the Army sent to train as a pilot on the plains of west Texas. Like so many of their age, they met, fell endlessly in love, were quickly married and then swept apart on the tides of larger events. He gave her a cocker spaniel puppy to love while he was gone. They wrote each other daily of their love and their lives and prayed for peace and better times. After hard fought years, the peace came. Dad was one of the fortunate ones who came home whole and their lives could begin.

I was born while they lived in a trailer park for veterans attending the University of Missouri on the GI Bill. Before I was two, Dad had graduated and they had taken me back to Texas, near her mother. My sister Pam was born, a home was built and it’s about then that my memories of my mother actually begin.

Thel MacManus’ dream was a compact one: a happy family, well raised and taken care of in a beautiful and happy home. Her deep love and fierce pride in and for her husband and her children was the core of her being. She poured her considerable intelligence, creativity and energy toward that dream. When furniture was old and money was tight, she learned upholstery, made her own patterns and remade the furniture. When a den mother or bluebird leader couldn’t be found, Mom stepped forward because it was required. But then she would do it with energy and flair, making costumes, building props, writing plays and if her son wound up being cast in the lead, a Leo mother could do no less.

School work had to be done and done well. Her impeccable grammar, spelling and punctuation was passed on as surely as her brown eyes. She also fought to pass on her values, integrity, pride and compassion.

In about 1960, with help from her mother, she and Dad bought the home where they would spend the rest of their lives. It had a park with a creek for the kids to play and was close to their schools. It was also close to White Rock Lake, an urban oasis which a girl from the hard baked plains of the Texas panhandle could not help but love. Mom saw to it that the home was beautiful and comfortable, a refuge where we and our playmates always felt at home. In our later lives when any of her children were in transition or crisis, we knew we had a sanctuary and place to heal, a safe harbor from which to set forth anew.

Now looking back over 55 years I have so much appreciation for my mother and what she did and what she built. In so much of what is best in me I see her reflection.

The men of the greatest generation won our freedom and built the engine of plenty which is our economy but the legacy of the women of the greatest generation is our sense of home, the American family and who we actually are.

Thank you Mom. We bid you adieu to rejoin God and Dad and we wish you peace.

The day before Mom's Funeral

So much is up related to Mom's passing. I got a call from a reporter with the Dallas Morning News who is doing a small piece on Mom's life. He had talked to Bill and Bill had referred him to Pam and me. The questions he asked about Mom and my childhood put me in touch with even more memories, feelings and appreciation. In writing the memorials and tribute for her I have begun to step through my reactions.

Mercury Retrograde

For those unfamiliar with astrology, there are periods where, due to differences in perspectives of their orbits, the planets appear to go backwards through our heavens. This is called retrograde motion and is indicative of a counterpoint to the normal symbolism of the planet.
Mercury represents mental activity and perception, communication and transportation among other things and goes retrograde three times a year for 3 weeks at a time. It is retrograde now. It made its station (appeared to stop in the sky and proceed backward) on August 10th at 8 degrees of Virgo. It will go direct on September 2nd at 25 degrees of Leo.
Mercury retrograde is often charactarised by misunderstandings, misperceptions, sometimes some clumsiness. It is a time to be particularly careful in driving, making sure that what others think they heard is in fact what you think you said and that what you wrote is what you intended. It seems to be reflected in everyday equipment and machinery which is more prone to work erratically. (Around our house, if something like a toaster stops working properly during mercury retrograde and we can't get it running right away, we will often just put it away until mercury goes direct and frequently it just works fine or can be repaired then.) When I was a real estate broker, contracts negotiated during mercury retrograde were given an extra level of proof-reading and follow up.
I say all of this because it has been fascinating to watch the Olympics which are being conducted during this period. We are watching mistakes and goofs followed by commentators saying "This is so unusual. He never misses this move." We are watching judges disqualify or penalize athletes only to have the penalty thrown out because it wasn't written correctly, or at the right time, or in the right language. It is simply fascianating.

Jessica called.

As a result of the preparations for my mother's funeral, my daughter Jessica called today. We had been out of touch for some time and it was great to hear from her. She has a new beau and is a manager in a great Dallas hotel. Here is her pic from her yahoo profile.

Thelma Lanell Crawford MacManus, 1921-2004

My brother, Bill called this morning to say that my mother had passed away. She was born in Arley, Texas and raised in Olton, north of Lubbock. She grew up during the depression, saying that it was a good place to spend those years, because everyone was in the same situation.
Her parents, Jack and Nellie May Crawford, separated when she was in her teens and she lived in Olton with her mother until she went away to college at Texas Tech in Lubbock. While in Lubbock, she met Joe MacManus, a young Army aviator going through flight training at Reese Field on his way to the war in Europe. A short time later they were married and, like so many of their generation, they spent the first years of their marriage separated by a world at war. Dad gave her the the cocker above to love on while he was away.
Dad returned from the war unharmed and they spent some time traveling around among his air force bases. She told stories of living on a shoe string in Sulfur Springs, Florida where the water tasted hideously like the town’s namesake. A favorite pastime was to go to the drugstore / bus-station during the summer and watch the bus arrive. The hot and weary travelers would disembark and hurry up to the soda fountain, asking for a glass of water. Mom said that just as they got the glass under their nose, they could smell it and would look a little startled, but then they took a big gulp of the water, which tasted like rotten eggs. They would be momentarily lost in confusion over whether to swallow and risk nausea or spit it out and stay hot and thirsty.
After discharge from the Army, Dad used his GI Bill and enrolled in the journalism school of the University of Missouri. (He was from St. Louis.) Because of all of the married veterans attending U of M, there was a trailer-park for the student couples where they lived while he was in school. It was while they lived here that I was born.

After graduation, they moved to Lubbock near her mother. Dad worked in advertising sales for the Lubbock paper, the Avalanche-Journal. They built a home on a VA loan and Mom kept house and raised me, and after 1950, my sister Pam.
In 1955 the family moved to Dallas where there were more opportunities and a more cosmopolitan environment. My brother Bill was born shortly after arriving in Dallas and about 1960, Joe and Thel bought the home where they would spend the rest of their lives. As the children got old enough, Mom looked at returning to work. She went back to school at SMU to get her teacher certification and then taught elementary education, going on to help the Dallas ISD develop its first program for learning challenged children. Later she also worked in office management, but her primary focus was her marriage, her home and her family. All of her children were sent to college.
The children moved on, establishing families of their own. Over the years the home was renovated, Dad changed careers, serving as advertising manager for Dallas Magazine and the Dallas Chamber of Commerce and retiring from GE finance. Dad passed away in 1987.
Like so many of our generation, Bill, Pam and I all divorced. It was fortunate for Mom that Bill and Pam were able to live with and care for her as she got older, but ultimately, after a broken hip, she moved to a beautiful assisted living facility near Dallas’ White Rock Lake, which she loved. She lived there for her last few months until she passed away, with Pam and Bill in attendance.
Thel Crawford MacManus was a tall, beautiful, intelligent woman with a fierce pride and an infectious laugh. Her creativity and love of the English language gave birth to and nurtured my own. The deep and lifelong love she shared with my father showed me a beacon and a standard. She gave me much for which I will always be grateful.
She has rejoined God and my father. May she be blessed and find peace.
Click here to access this memorial in printable pdf format.

The Olympics have begun

I have found myself once again fascinated by the issues that come up when I watch the olympics.
The first is the differences in performance one sees between the very best athletes and the rest. There will be one to a few athletes whose performance is the best. Then there is frequently a large gap to the next group . . . and this is among the best athletes in the world in that field . . . The bell curve strikes again.

Harvested a Melon

We harvested it last week and it has since been consumed, but here is what it looked like.
Our neighbors have been getting care packages of tomatoes.

Today's Take

The first of the cantelope, first grapes and the second round of the eggplant came in today.