Sad

Written by larry on June 18th, 2012

Despite knowing about the shuttle retirement, a recent article saddened me. The Space Shuttle, for better or worse, has been described as the most complex machine ever built by man. Despite reliability and safety issues, the retired shuttles each have well over 100 million miles on the ‘clock’, and deserve both respect and honor. So, seeing a friggin’ spaceship sitting on a barge in the middle of the river, like so much trash, felt hopelessly depressing. Sure, it’s nice to know that they’re going to good homes. And I’m sure I’ll see one up close and in person at one museum or another, at some point. Perhaps the one now on board the Intrepid, on the shore of the mighty Hudson, though I’d have to reassess my intent to never visit New York City unless under duress.  But the visit will be like standing at the grave site of a loved one.

The last time I’d seen her alive was atop a dazzling orange flame, vanishing into the distance. Thanks to good luck and the generosity of a friend with a spare ticket, I’d witnessed the final launch of Discovery about a year and a half ago. Actually, there wasn’t much detail from where we stood, several miles away from the launch pad, along with thousands of others. But when that thing lit up, all the time, dollars and inconvenience of traveling a thousand miles to Florida instantly became worthwhile. On a purely visceral level the dazzling light and sound were captivating, in a way that television and print are just unable to capture. But knowing what was going on, that half a dozen men and women had just taken off on a 5-million mile jaunt, in a 27-year-old spaceship of a design known for killing all its crew every fifty missions or so, was just as extraordinary, though in a very different way.

All over, now.

I grew up as NASA did. When I was of single-digit age, Alan Shepherd was making his ballistic voyage. I was in high school when we walked on the moon. And I was at one of my early jobs on the day in 1986, when Challenger exploded. I remember a technician running into the lab shouting ‘The space shuttle blew up’. How could it be? We’d never lost one in the air until then.

Perhaps happier times are ahead. The SpaceX launch to the space station, Virgin Galactic, and others. $200k is still a bit much for me for a suborbital hop, as will be available in a few years. But if it got down to $20k, I’d give it a try. I don’t have a spare $20k laying around. But I could see making that in car payments over 5 years, and I’d gladly drive a junker for five years in exchange for that experience.

There will come a day, though, when Virgin Galactic or someone like them will lose a ship. It’s inevitable. So, would I still be willing to go if I knew the statistics were the same as the Shuttle, that is, every fifty or so missions, the ship is lost, with all hands.

I’m not as sure. But I hope I would.

 

 

 

 

The Writer’s Group

Written by larry on June 11th, 2012

At the suggestion of many, I’ve joined a writer’s group. We meet to share and  critique each others work, and hopefully improve our skills through the experience. I’ve got a short story in progress that depends upon a unique ‘twist’ at the end to make its point. I’d shared it with about four people before submitting it to the writer’s group, and only about half the readers ‘got’ the ending. So I rewrote that part, making it more obvious.

Then I sprung it on the group. Only about half the readers there got it, and of the two that didn’t, one was the member I was *sure* would get it.

So, its back to the drawing board, I guess. There was a suggestion to drop a clue or two early on, but I’m not sure how I can do that without tipping my hand.

 

Memorial Day Post

Written by larry on May 27th, 2012

One of the nice things about moving is that all around you is new again. When we lived in New York, there wasn’t much I could see around me that I hadn’t seen thousands of times in the past. That’s not so any more.

Yesterday, I decided to take care of a self-imposed errand that had been in the back of my mind since we moved here – to bicycle over the Sagamore Bridge, along the north canal bike path, and then back over the Bourne Bridge. I’ve driven over these dozens of times, always lamenting that I couldn’t just stop and enjoy the views. Much easier to do so on a bicycle.

About a mile or so west of the Sagamore Bridge, I briefly noticed a monument of some sort above and to my right. I took several seconds to think through ‘I want to finish this ride, no, I’m not in a hurry, probably its not worth looking at, maybe it is…’ and screech to a halt. I turned the bike around, pedaled to the monument, and climbed the twenty or so steps to its base.

subs2

Quite the contrast to a beautiful spring day, the morning haze just starting to lift.

I imagine of all the ways to go, drowning in a breached submarine has to be among the worst. Small solace that a war was being slowly, painfully, won on the surface above.

The monument speaks of 3500-plus men who realized the importance of what they were doing, and did it. I’m indebted to them – if they hadn’t done so, I’d probably be writing this in German. Or given my religion, more likely not writing it at all.

I can’t help but reflect on what those men were at the age of eighteen, and what I was at that age. It wasn’t that many years that separated us – only about thirty or so. But somehow, they ‘got’ something that I didn’t, and I’m only beginning to understand now. Why? I’m not sure; it bears further investigation. But in the mean time, I can still be grateful for their deeds.

Rest in peace.

 

On planning

Written by larry on May 13th, 2012

A few weeks after the Big Trip, when I reflect back on it I can’t help but marvel over the ordinariness of the flying part. A combination of planning and flexibility resulted in the vast majority of the trip going according to schedule, and when it didn’t, we were able improvise, adding a new, interesting city (Savannah) to the itinerary.

But when you think about it, planning and flexibility are opposites. Eisenhower got it right when he said “Plans are worthless, but planning is everything.” Our plans provided a baseline from which to stray, and a willingness to do so made the trip run smoothly.

Back in another life, I held a management position in a Fortune 500 company, and remember getting into a heated discussion with another employee. (Associate? Staff member? Cast member? Your call). She was part of a four-person department dedicated to enforcing the rules in their standardized planning book for product development. Unfortunately, the rules were so constraining that pretty much nothing got done unless they were bent or broken, which was something I had the authority to do. I summed up my feelings about process at that time of it by saying “… I’m not a big fan of it; it stifles creativity and deals poorly with exceptions.” I still feel that way now, but the years (about twelve of them) have made me less vociferous on the subject. Or maybe its just that I’m now twelve years removed from that environment.

Two days before our trip, I painstakingly entered thirteen flight plans into my on-board GPS. Over the course of the trip, I flew eight of them, entered three more, and flew only two of those. But having them on tap provided a foundation, and creating the first thirteen was good practice for the others.

Probably I should read up more on Eisenhower. He may have some other good advice.

 

Rich or Poor?

Written by larry on May 6th, 2012

Our trip provided the opportunity to be both, very often in the same place. Outside the resort we stayed at, Bimini definitely gave off a third-world vibe. House were small, poorly maintained, and the vehicle of choice was an aging golf cart. Inside our resort, and especially so at the one at the north end of the island, we were surrounded by luxury, as well as expensive shops offering exotic merchandise.

I can’t say I was particularly comfortable in either situation. I’m uneasy when surrounded by even mild poverty. In this case, it didn’t feel particularly unsafe, but even so, I was saddened by the situation, experiencing a feeling of powerlessness. Apart from spending some money, there was nothing I could do to help.

But I felt equally out of place at the north end, walking through a store offering simple shirts and jackets for hundreds of dollars and wristwatches for thousands. I sensed a kind of mutual irrelevance: I knew I would leave empty-handed and I suspect that the staff knew it as well.

So which is better, feeling wealthy or impoverished? I’m not sure, really. I’m glad that the hyper-wealthy exist, and I wish there were more of them. After all, they’re keeping the rest of us employed. As for those of lesser means, perhaps I’m keeping them employed – we rented a golf cart, bought some food, and the resort we stayed at employed a number of the locals.

Maybe the middle is best. It helps maintain perspective. I can aspire to the position of those in the higher tiers, and the presence of lower tiers keeps me motivated. But at the same time seeing them illustrates that, were things to go badly, the outcome would still be survivable. Were I at the bottom, I might become bitter. Were I at the top, I might start taking myself more seriously than I deserve.

I’m not sure which of those conditions is more serious.

 

Metaphors…

Written by larry on April 22nd, 2012

After more than eight hours of flight, I found myself at Fort Lauderdale Executive airport, with a nice line guy handing me a cold bottle of water. Another delivered my rental car right to the proper side of the plane with the air conditioner already running, as is the Florida tradition.

Mostly, the trip was uneventful. But the third leg underscored for me what a good metaphor private aviation is for life. After stopping in Brunswick, Georgia to buy gas, I checked the local weather between there and our destination, only to find the area peppered with heavy rain and thunderstorms. A full-blown thunderstorm will chew up a small plane and spit it out in parts; surviving such an encounter is unusual. One option was to spend the night in Brunswick and depart early the next morning. But stepping back, I realized that I was in a situation similar to the one every new pilot is in when he starts flying. Take too many risks and you die. But take no risks at all, and you’ll spend your flying life never straying far from your home airport. So the problem becomes one not of risk minimization, but rather risk optimization. Where’s the sweet spot in the curve where you’re pushing new horizons but are still safe?

Its really no different from what we do with the rest of our lives. Personally, I tend to err on the side of caution. And I’m probably poorer for it, not so much financially (though maybe that, too), but in terms of life experience.

In the airplane, I’m fortunately equipped with some equipment that’s able to view weather radar, but with an image that’s not quite current. I’m also equipped with a device that can detect lightning strikes, but does nothing to detect dangerous storm system that aren’t yet at the lightning-making stage. During the trip, I was talking to an air traffic controller whose job was making sure that planes didn’t collide, but who was also able to provided some limited information about weather . She could help me avoid the storm cells, but she had her own agenda that came first.

So essentially, I was integrating my own observations with those of others, and with the needs of others. The penalty for doing badly was potentially very uncomfortable. It might have been easier to wait out the storm in Brunswick. But my though was that the problem was a manageable one, even if it ended with a stop somewhere in the middle, or a turn back to Brunswick.

We made it to Fort Lauderdale with a plane well washed by the rain but none the worse for wear. And I’m an incrementally more experienced pilot, with a incrementally better understanding of my own strengths and limitations. And that feels good.

I only wish I was better at taking the lesson back to real life.

 

Eclipsing a tradition

Written by larry on April 16th, 2012

This one’s been in the works for a while. Five years, at least. Over that time, it appears I’ve created something of a tradition. Around November, I decide that it would be a Great Idea to fly my own plane down to the Bahamas. This is not a particularly challenging flight aeronautically; basically you fly to Fort Lauderdale and make a left. It only becomes non-trivial when things like money and time become factors. In other words, in the Real World.

So at the appointed time, usually a bit before Thanksgiving, I continue the tradition by sending $10 off for the appropriate charts, after which I start drawing lines, looking at hotel rates, and adding up numbers. And then, after a while, I look at my bank account and my work schedule, and I quietly fold the chart up and put it on the shelf.

But last year, I decided to do something different. I set up an automatic monthly transfer to an unused bank account, and three months before the target date, I started informing my clients as to when I’d be out of town. So in principal, this should actually work. Two weeks, 2500 miles, two countries, six cities, ten airports, and at least one mouse (we’re stopping at Disney World on the way back). Doubtlessly there will be some anomalies along the way, but that’s okay – I’ve built a few extra days into the Master Plan.

More as it unfolds.

 

Larry Allen’s World?

Written by larry on April 8th, 2012

Just what the world needs. Another blog, to ease the current severe shortage.

So what’s the point of this, really? To some degree, it’s to reduce the amount of ‘take a look at this’ email I send to friends and acquaintances. But there’s an ulterior motive. I’ve recently been afflicted with the need to write fiction. This is not something that just showed up out of the blue. I’ve been at risk for many years. Just ask my mother. More recently, a few years ago I was diagnosed (by a career adviser) as ‘needing an audience.’ So part of this exercise is to see if I can generate one.

If you bother to check back in (or subscribe to the RSS feed), what you’ll be seeing is a combination of the following:

New technological events, breakthroughs, achievements, or gadgets that I find interesting.

Portions of fiction works in progress. I’ll be above-board here; my goal is the same as the drug dealer who gives you the first one for free – I want you to come back for more. If you want to see the entire work, you’ll need to buy the magazine or book </wishful_thinking> If you’re interested in becoming a beta reader and seeing entire works, email me and we’ll talk about it.

Links to images or videos that interested me enough to want to share them.

Sharing of personal experiences that I think are worthy of sharing, sometimes with photos. Probably most of these will have to do with airplanes. I could wax poetic about aviation for quite a while, and I probably will, but I’ll save that for another post, at another time.

One thing I won’t touch on here is politics. Unfortunately, there are too many otherwise intelligent people out there who don’t agree with each and every one of my points of view, so exploring this realm would probably just upset all parties involved. Besides, its too important a topic to relegate to a few blog articles. Perhaps in another blog, at another time, in another place.

For now, commenting is turned off. From what I’ve seen, successfully managing the comments on a blog can be a daunting undertaking. But the jury is still out on this.

So that’s it for now. It will be interesting to look back a year from now, or two, or five and see where this has gone.