Category Archives: bio

The Great Turtle Escape

shot Apr 16, 2005, 2:25 mins

music: The Animals

Now that the weather’s finally getting warmer, we figured the turtles could spend time outside, so we bought some low fencing (intended to demarcate flowerbeds or something) and planted it in the garden. The enclosure didn’t need to be very high – turtles don’t jump, after all…

(later)

We seem to have solved the problem. I turned around the fencing so that the horizontal bars are on the outside, and the turtles are faced with tall (to them), smooth vertical bars on the inside. They still try to escape, but not nearly so hard, and they seem to have gotten the hang of just relaxing in the sun (there’s a plastic tub set up as a shelter for them to crawl under when they get too hot). I’m still looking for the right size and shape of ceramic planter to use as a pond for them. In the meantime, I put down one of those things you put under a plant pot to catch overflow (sottovaso – undervase – in Italian; what’s the word for that in English?). It’s just low enough for them to crawl over the rim, and they both immediately plunged in. Apparently they get thirsty quickly in the sun.

I was contemplating getting an iguana as a pet, til I read that they live 20 years and can get to be 6 feet long; I don’t feature me at age 62 trying to walk a six-foot lizard. Maybe we’ll get a python instead…

Down Memory Lane in a Corporate T-Shirt

One of the perks of working in high tech during the boom years was that you could wear jeans and polo shirts to the office every day, and you didn’t even have to pay for the shirts – someone was always giving you clothing.

If you represented your company at a show or conference, they wanted you “in uniform,” so they gave you a new shirt. My first was the infamous Adaptec polo shirt, purple with a turquoise placket and navy collar. I still have it, but don’t wear it much, because, like most of the shirts Adaptec gave me, it was too big.

Another polo shirt I received was embroidered to commemorate a project I hadn’t known I was participating in, something to do with an upgrade of the Adaptec network. As far as I was concerned, I had been helping out my buddies in IT by playing around with cool new stuff, so I was surprised to get a shirt about it. They swore they had even asked me what size I wanted (if they had, I would have asked for a small).

I was informally part of Adaptec’s web team, so I got a fleece jacket to commemorate the relaunch of the company website, in fall 1997 according to the embroidery. The jackets were commissioned prematurely, however – as I recall, the site didn’t actually go live til about six months later.

Let’s see, what else is in the closet? Another fleece, this one from a conference we hosted for our European distributors in Marbella. Nicer quality of fleece, but no pockets! A long-sleeved polo shirt from something else, too big as usual, and in a horrid shade of green.

Various baseball caps, pity I don’t wear them very often. My favorite is one that an IT buddy was given by UUNet, which he graciously passed on to me – if I’m going to wear a baseball cap at all, I want it to be as geeky as possible. The best-looking cap I have is naturally from ATG – Art Technology Group, a company that prided itself on its fine design sense (one of my Woodstock classmates was its CEO at the time).

I have t-shirts from various companies, but I never wore them in the office, nor much on the street in Italy. On one of our Caribbean vacations, a company logo t-shirt I happened to be wearing actually accomplished its advertising purpose. We went horseback riding on the beach. After an hour riding behind me and looking at my Toast + Jam t-shirt, a guy in the group with us asked me what it was about. I explained, and he said “Oh, I could use that.” Turns out he was a musician, and liked the idea of being able to create his own CDs of his work.

I get more wear out of the long-sleeved Ts, from Hewlett-Packard (wore that one out, in fact) and Roxio, and a nice black turtleneck from Roxio Germany commemorating WinOnCD 6 (for which I wrote the manual). Thanks to friends, I still enjoy some of my old industry perks: I recently received three black turtlenecks embroidered with “Roxio – a division of Sonic Solutions”. Come to think of it, my collection of shirts spans most of the history of the CD recording software industry.

My all-time favorite remains the denim shirt pictured here. It’s a little big, but just comfortably so, enough to wear over a long-sleeve knit shirt in spring. The embroidery was designed by a tattoo artist: a burning heart with “Born 2 Burn” inscribed on a banner wrapped around it. A couple of years later, after several changes of the guard at Adaptec/Roxio, I was wearing it the day I met our new CEO, Chris Gorog. He commented on the shirt, and I passed along the observation that one of the engineers had made about the tattoo design: “If you turn it upside down, it looks like a flaming asshole.” Which probably sealed my doom with Mr. Gorog. Oh, well. Perhaps he and I were never destined to get along in the first place.

Waiting for News

One of the joys of having attended Woodstock School is that I know people all over the world. Which is also one of the sorrows: when something bad happens almost anywhere in the world, it’s likely to affect someone of my extended Woodstock family.

wrote almost two years ago about an Indian schoolmate who survived both Gulf Wars in Baghdad, with her Iraqi husband. In April of 2004, Shahnaz died of a galloping cancer. Had Iraq not been under embargo for so many years, effectively shutting down medical facilities for ordinary people, she would have had access to decent medical care, and perhaps her cancer could have been diagnosed and treated in time. As it is, she is one of tens of thousands of innocent victims. The difference is that, to me, she is no abstract figure. She’s Shahnaz, and she’s gone.

And now the tsunami. As class secretary, I have sent out email to all my classmates, and am waiting for news from the larger alumni family as well. But it’s too early to know for sure whether we’re all okay; the nosecount could take a long time. So far the classmates who have checked in are all right, though one was awaiting news of her father’s family in Madras.

A Home for a Horse

I mentioned long ago that my daughter and I both love horses, and that we’ve had one (for her) since 2001. Now, very sadly, we are having to say goodbye.

Ross had already been riding for about four years when I finally decided (and had the opportunity) to buy her a pony of her own. We went to England to look for one, because ponies are a lot cheaper there – even counting the cost of our trip and then transporting him to Italy, we paid about half what we would have in Milan. But the buying is only a small fraction of the cost of a horse…

In retrospect, it’s a sad irony that we found Hamish and agreed to buy him on September 8th, 2001. We returned to Milan on the 10th and, as everybody knows, the world changed on September 11th. Had I known then what I know now about the world economy and my personal finances, I probably would not have started down the path to horse ownership.

Back then, it didn’t seem so crazy. I had plenty of money in the bank from my Silicon Valley heyday, and the prospect of making more freelancing for my former employer, Roxio, writing manuals for their European software WinOnCD. (In fact I did write manuals for versions 5 and 6, and was set to do that and more for version 7, when Roxio closed its German office. WinOnCD – and many people’s jobs – vanished.)

We kept Hamish expensively at a snobby stable in Milan for two years. Ross rode a lot, but never won any show jumping competitions, in part because Hamish is… difficult. There are ponies that, if you more or less aim them at a jump, will do everything they can to get you over it and win for you, no matter how badly you ride them. Those sorts of ponies cost a lot, and Hamish isn’t one of them. He requires to be ridden very well, which Ross did, but not quite well enough.

We also had some friction with Ross’ riding instructor, I suspect partly motivated by the fact that we had not bought Hamish through her, so she didn’t get the customary cut on the purchase. Whatever the reason, this instructor had no patience with Hamish’s foibles, and kept nagging us to sell him and buy a better. Even had I had that kind of money (oh, say, $15,000), that was not the lesson I wanted my daughter to learn about horses and sportsmanship. To me the point was never “spend as much as it takes to win,” but to develop a loving, trusting relationship with an individual animal, and win whatever you can, together, in harmony and friendship.

God help me now, that loving, trusting relationship is exactly what Ross and Hamish had. She sometimes grew frustrated with his stubbornness, tired of feeling foolish in front of her peers at competitions, but she stuck by him and defended him, and was praised by some other parents tired of their kids’ endless (expensive) litany of “If I only had a better pony.”

By the time we moved to Lecco last summer, financing a horse was becoming a problem, and we all heaved a sigh of relief to be paying far less to keep him, at a place where he could even be out in a field every day. But we couldn’t find near Lecco a reasonably-priced stable which included professional instruction. And, now in high school, Ross has less and less time; as I’ve mentioned, her curriculum at liceo artistico requires a school week of 35 hours, which, along with homework, leaves little time for anything else.

Ross continued to ride as much as she could, until she broke her arm a year ago, falling off Hamish onto frozen ground. That put her out of action for several months. She rode a bit in the spring, then the remainder of the school year was a mess – between extra tutoring and lots of studying, there was simply no time. In the summer she was happily away at theater camp for six weeks, rode a bit when she came back, and then we were in the throes of moving again.

In sum, Hamish has been left largely to his own devices this year, and is now out to pasture, not being ridden, and increasingly unrideable. With the new house, family finances are squeezed to the point that we can’t afford to just keep him (at 12 years, he’s not quite in his prime, but nowhere near retirement, either), nor do we have the time or money to put into riding him the way he should be ridden. So we have come to a parting of the ways.

It’s far easier to acquire a horse than it is to get rid of one, if you care at all about where it ends up. It would be easy enough to sell him to a horse dealer, but he’d probably end up at a slaughterhouse – this is Europe: people eat horses, and wear them.

The solution we have found is a stable on Lago Maggiore, where some friends keep their horses and ride, and we know the owners fairly well. Most importantly, we like their attitude towards and handling of horses. They may eventually sell him (and we might even get a cut), but they won’t sell him off to just anybody. They’ll do their best to find a good home for him and, at worst, they’ll just keep him. Ross can even go and visit from time to time.

Hamish leaves tomorrow morning. It’s a horribly painful loss for Ross and me both. I wish I could spare my child this. I almost wish we’d never started. But, on the other hand, horses have given her so much, and can still give her so much more, and she them. I can’t regret it. I can only hang on, and help her to. This time tomorrow, it will be over, hopefully without any last-minute getting-Hamish-into-the-van traumas. It will be over, and Ross and I will have survived it. Somehow.

Silver Threads Among the Gold

One thing I do like about my hair is its color. When I was little it was white-blonde, partly because I lived in Bangkok and spent a lot of time out in strong sunlight. It darkened as I got older, to its present ash-blonde, with random (and completely natural) patches of lighter and darker color here and there. A very cliché gay hairdresser I went to, years ago, gasped in delight: “I just LOVE your streaks!”

Now I’m getting my first white hairs, and I rather like the effect. The individual hairs are thicker than my other hair, so they spring out and catch the light, sparkling against the soft tones of the rest. I don’t think I’ll mind at all when my hair eventually goes completely white.