Derby

Banana Peel

March 19th, 2010

A recent article chronicled how I bought a banana. If you don’t remember or didn’t read it just go back two articles and look for a title full of fruit. This is a continuation of that ‘adventure’.

With the help of Scott, I got Ubuntu running on my computer. If you don’t know what I am talking about it would appear you did not go back two articles and look for that title full of fruit – or if you did you didn’t read the article. How much good do you expect to get by just finding the article?

Are you back now? Did you read it this time?

As I was saying: “With the help of Scott, I got Ubuntu running on my computer.” I was anxious to download all of the emails that Verizon had on their server and were holding for me. The default email program with Ubuntu is called Evolution. The initial download to the Evolution from Verizon was 135 emails. I had looked at some of them on the Verizon web mail but wanted them on my computer. Some I had not read at all, some I definitely wanted to keep in perpetuity.

So there they were, 135 strong, sitting in my inbox. It was my intention to make sub-folders and move each of the emails to the appropriate sub-folder. After the job was completed I would read them. A bit of a tedious job but when your life is as boring as mine it’s no big deal. I’m sorry, Margaret. I didn’t mean you were boring. In the meantime another 5 were downloaded so I now had 140.

I started creating the sub-folders as I would come to an email for that specific folder. As I created each folder, I would move the email to it. Twenty-three of the emails had been moved when suddenly I got a message in the inbox that said “There are no more messages in this folder.” My inbox was empty – just like that 117 emails disappeared. Kinda like my paychecks.

Maybe the emails had sneaked into a wrong folder somewhere. (Yes, ’sneaked’ is the right word. I wanted to use ’snuck’ but the spell checker wouldn’t let me.) I checked each folder to be sure none of the emails were lurking in the wrong spot. Playing hide and seek, maybe. When I got to the Trash folder I found a copy of each of the emails that I had moved to other folders sitting there. The originals of these emails were still where I had placed them. So I had duplicates of the 23 emails and NO copy of 117 emails.

It seems I may have slipped on a banana peel.

The sudden evaporation of 117 emails was not the only problem with Evolution. I don’t recall them all but it was enough to decide to seek a different program. I think Evolution needs to evolve some more. Fortunately I found one fairly easily that I really like. It’s called KMail.

KMail had its share of aggravations but I found solutions to many of the minor problems and Andy helped solve most of the major ones. One of the ‘fun’ ones was when I’d click a URL link in an email, instead of it opening Firefox (the web browser) it would open a calendar program called Sunbird. Andy helped me solve that one. OK, Andy solved that one for me – I had nothing to do with solving it. Now all of the important ones are taken care of.

OpenOffice is the office suite and I really like it except for some minor details. No program is perfect because everybody has a different idea of what they want in a program. (And no programmer has ideas that agree with me.) Of course when you are used to a certain word processor and you switch to a new one, there will be some learning effort involved. You are likely to find some things you like better. You are likely to find some things you dislike. You are likely to find some features missing. Often those missing features are simply hidden under different terminology. (More hide and seek.) Sometimes they just don’t exist. You have to get used to the changes.

The Sunbird calendar program I mentioned earlier is one that I really like. It is easy to work with and easy to get a printout showing my appointments and events, etc for the month. Again there was a different one that I tried and discarded quite quickly. My reason was that there appeared to be no way to show Sunday on the left side of the calendar. Haven’t these guys ever looked at a real calendar? I Suppose that because most people’s work week is Monday though Friday, the creators of that program only allowed a Monday through Sunday calendar. I don’t think that way and the lack of an option to correct it was reason enough to make me move on.

Speaking of moving on, I think I’ll do just that. I don’t know if I’ll ever tell any more of this saga as I’m not sure there’ll be anything interesting to tell. In fact, this one wasn’t all that interesting unless you are trying to learn about Ubuntu or bananas or unless you enjoy my suffering. So maybe you shouldn’t read this one.

Don’t know why but I’m hungry again.

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Derby

Presenting THE Ken Williams

March 11th, 2010

All of my loyal readers (all two of them) will recall the blog I posted on February 19 titled “Ken, Tom, and Deanna” in which I spoke of how I found one of the great female vocalists of the 20th century. That singer is Deanna Durbin. I also spoke of finding a very funny political satirist, Tom Lehrer.

But mostly, the article was about trying to find a friend I’d not seen or even communicated with for over four decades. That friend is Kenneth L. Williams. Wednesday evening, upon arriving home from a visit with my two grandsons, I found a voice mail from Ken Williams – the Ken Williams.

I did not find Ken, he found me. I am so happy to find that he had actually been trying to find me while I was trying to find him. He had already begun to find traces of me on the Internet a while ago. He put two and two together and got four (he always was good at math). When he ran across the above mentioned article, he did not suspect the Ken in the title was himself.

After he read the article, of course, he knew who was whom. Ken was him, Derby was me. This shows the miracle of cyber-space.

I called Ken back at the number he left and we had a lengthy conversation. Of course we didn’t catch up. You can’t catch up over forty years in just an evening. Well, unless both of your lives have been really, really dull. If there had been even the slightest bit of doubt that this was the Ken I’d known – and I don’t think there really was – a few minutes of the conversation confirmed that he knew things no other Ken Williams would have known.

Ken is the one wearing the blue sweater, I am the one not.

Ken, welcome back into my world. I can’t wait until we can get together in person.

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Derby

Apples verses Oranges verses Bananas

March 10th, 2010

Computers are so frustrating even for those who once knew a little about them (i. e., me). A month and a half ago I posted an article titled “Apples verses Oranges”. In it I sought the wisdom of the masses on the virtues of the Apple computers (Macs) verses Microsoft computers (oranges). I requested any and all readers to shower me with their experiences regarding computing. Only a small (read very, very, itsy bitsy, teeny weeny tiny) portion of the masses actually read my blogs – or even know about them. But one of them did respond (thank you, Sari). Actually, that could have been as much as half my readership (I know my wife reads my blogs – if I beg her to enough times). So I guess that may have been a pretty good response – percentage wise.

My original interest in writing the article was for the future. Someday I might decide to move to an Apple from the MS-DOS system I’ve been using. Always concerned about the higher cost of an Apple I really didn’t expect to make any changes soon. Still, my computer was getting slower and slower. Then it quit!

On Monday, the 22nd of February (in the wee hours of the morning when Margaret was too tired to realize what was going on) I got her to approve a blog titled “Who’s the Boss?” I then posted it before she could change her mind. When I awoke in the morning, as usual, I checked my email. As I was finishing checking it I received an on screen notice that Windows was about to reboot as it had been processing some automatic upgrades. I pressed the “reboot now” button and waited. I could still be waiting. It left town and never came back. Was this punishment for the blog article?

The error message was something about a device not allowing Windows to boot. So I disconnected every external device from the computer except the monitor and keyboard. Kinda needed those, I figured. And, besides, they seemed to be working. No help. Then I even swapped keyboards and used a different USB port. Still zilch.

A very useful program I have is called Checkit PE. It will check out the hardware: memory, hard drives, video cards, main board circuitry, etc. I gave that a try and discovered a bad spot on my hard drive. Then I ran Spinrite, a program that will, sometimes, clean up bad spots. Spinrite found the same bad spot and told me it was SO bad that it was unrecoverable.

One of my most consistent characteristics is that I am a procrastinator. One of the first articles I planned to write was about procrastination. And someday I’ll get around to it. That characteristic is what keeps me from making backups on a regular (or even irregular) basis. So, of course, I had none. Not only that, but I have no idea where the recovery disc that I made when I first set up this computer has disappeared to.

What to do? I went back to my “Apples verses Oranges” article and reread the comment sent by my loyal reader, Sari. OK, it could be that that is the only article of mine she’s read. At least she commented.

My options appeared to be 1) buy a new hard drive and a new copy of Windows. It would have to be Windows 7 as Vista is no longer in the stores. Or 2) buy a new Apple (Mac) computer. The new drive and Windows would obviously be the cheaper way to go. But perhaps a new Apple would spare me future pain.

It seemed to me that with the lack of numerous responses to my quest for help, perhaps I should directly ask those in the know. Computer experts. So I did. From those who own Macs, the answer came that ‘Macs are the greatest thing since sliced bread’. From those who do not, the answer was ’stay away from Macs’. Well THAT was a lot of help!

While making a desperate search for the missing OS recovery disc, I ran across a disc labeled: “Ubuntu 7.10 Desktop ver. i386 October 2007 Gutsy Gibbon.” It sounded like a story of an Aborigine from deep in Australia and a wild adventurer from the silent movie era. But it wasn’t. It was (and is) a disc with a version of Linux – a third choice in the mysterious world of computers. A banana. It was given to me some time ago – probably around or after October of 2007 (just a guess).

Mathue and Scott (two men related to me by marriage) both talk about Linux from time to time. But I guess I just tuned them out most of the time just like Margaret (a woman related to me by marriage) tunes me out when I talk technobable. Mat and Scott’s technobable is a higher level of TB than mine. In other words, I don’t understand them (or Linux).

Linux, of which Ubuntu is a version of (don’t ask about Gutsy Gibbons – please), is supposedly the best of two worlds. It has the security of Apple and the cost of Orange, uh, that would be Mac and Microsoft, respectively. Actually, it is MUCH cheaper than Microsoft because it is free. That’s right. I said “free”. So how, I wondered, could anyone (including yours truly) pass up this option – the banana.

So now I have the banana. That is to say I have a new hard drive with the Ubunto v9.10 installed. This version is known as Karmic Koala. (Still in Australia, I see.) And I like it. Usually. There are only four or five hundred things it does not do (or I don’t yet understand how to make them happen).

Enough of this, it is driving me nuts. I’ll write more on this adventure in the future but for now I’ll take a break. I know, I’ll go to the Outback and find Gusty Gibbons and save him from that Ubuntu tribe. I hope Gusty’s been nice to the Karmic Koalas.

I’ll grab a banana on my way out.

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Derby

I’m Back

February 28th, 2010

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve not been too active on my blogs this past week. Several hours after I posted my last blog here my computer died. I had my next blog all written but it has gone off into cyberspace along with a LOT of other documents and email addresses, etc. On Friday I purchased a new hard drive and loaded a new operating system onto it.  I have been spending a lot of time these last couple of days recovering what I can and redoing what I remember. In the next few days I’ll have another blog article. It just might be another of my poems or it may be something new or ???

At any rate: I’m back. You may now cheer, hiss or shrug you shoulders – what ever fits your mood.

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Derby

Who’s the Boss?

February 22nd, 2010

I am, of course. There has never been any doubt about it. I am the boss in my house. That’s not to say that Margaret does everything I ask. Or, for that matter, does anything I ask. None the less, I am the boss.

For instance, when Margaret asks me to take out the trash, I’ll do it – when I feel like it. Once she asks (or tells) me to do it, it seems that I start to imagine I’m smelling the trash and that’s no good. So I usually take it out within a few minutes. That’s the only reason I take it out so soon.

When we travel someplace by car, I drive. I drive because I insist on driving. Margaret never argues with me. This has nothing to do with the fact that she hates driving.

When she asks me to cook lunch, I only do it so I don’t have to eat her cooking. I ask her what she wants but than I cook what I want. If she says pizza we’re in luck because I love pizza. Or she might say mushroom soup, which I don’t like. So I tell her she might as well give me another choice as I don’t intend to cook mushroom soup. So she’ll offer the second choice of, say, me sleeping on the couch. I cook mushroom soup as it is now my choice.

So it is clearly settled, as it was nearly 20 years ago when we married – I am the boss of my house.

Well, I’ll ask Margaret if I can post this now.

PS. Margaret has a good sense of humor and if EITHER of us felt the above represented the truth, NEITHER of us would want it published. Honest!

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Derby

Ken, Tom, and Deanna

February 19th, 2010

It was in Flagstaff, Arizona, where I met Kenneth L. Williams. I moved there in May of 1966 and stayed just under a year and a half. I don’t recall exactly where or how I met Ken. But we did meet and became good friends.

Ken was a few years younger than I (and he probably still is). We enjoyed going up into the San Francisco Peaks north of Flagstaff. We would drive up there as far as we could in my Datsun roadster. A little, white, 2-seat convertible with very little ground clearance. Then we would hike further toward the peak of whichever mountain we were on. Later I purchased a 1942 Willys Jeep. This was, as you might have assumed from the aforementioned information, a former military vehicle. No top. Painted red, mostly to cover the rust, I suspect. The original engine had been replaced with a Chevy V-8 engine.

Ken and I exchanged knowledge relating to some of our interests. I introduced Ken to the writings of Ayn Rand. Ken introduced me to the satire of Tom Lehrer.

I understand that Tom was typically ivy league (he acquired his educational degrees at Harvard and taught math at Harvard, MIT and Wellesley – couldn’t hold a job, I guess). That education no doubt accounted for his misguided socialistic political views. However, that did not keep him from writing some very funny songs. Some of them were a bit far out but that may have made them even funnier. Tom’s style was to play the piano and sing his songs. Mark Russell later did the same style of political satire, but Tom did it first! So far as I know.

A new album for Tom Lehrer came out a few months before Ken and I met. It was titled That Was the Year That Was. This was the vehicle Ken used to introduce me to Tom. The album is dated in what were current events at the time of its release. If you know enough history you will still find it hilarious. Even if you don’t you will still find some of it funny. If not, well, we need to work on your sense of humor.

One of the songs was titled “Whatever Became Of Hubert?” For those of you too young to remember, or too old to remember, Hubert Humphrey was vice-president of the United States of America at that time. The following quote is part of the introduction to the song:

“I wonder how many people here tonight remember Hubert Humphrey, he used to be a senator. . . . every now and then you read something in one of those ‘where are they now’ columns: ‘Whatever became of Deanna Durbin and Hubert Humphrey and so on.’”

Well, I knew who Hubert Humphrey was but I had no idea who Deanna Durbin was. I wondered about her but did not make any attempt to find out anything.

Back to Ken Williams. Several months after I left Flagstaff to return to the mid-west (seeking better wages than available for me in Arizona), Ken was conscripted into the Army. His family moved to Clifton, Colorado, sometime between the time I left Flagstaff and December of 1968, the time Ken was shipped out. We exchanged a few letters and he was sent to Viet Nam. Due to my failure to answer the first letter he sent from Viet Nam, we lost track of each other. To this day I so very much regret my procrastination. Ken, if somehow you manage to read this, please contact me. If anyone else knows the Kenneth L. Williams I am speaking of, please contact him or me so we might find each other again.

Fast forward about 22 or so years. I was now approaching the “Golden Years.” Well, I was nearing the 50th anniversary of my birth (I’m still looking for the gold). I got the invitation and temporary membership card from (you guessed it) American Association of Retired Persons. At that time AARP was simply the acronym but today it is the full name. Maybe they dropped their full name because they figured most of their clientele, being as old as they are, would not be able to remember it. Being young (less than 50) and foolish, I believed that this was an organization that helped retired persons in all sorts of ways. I have since concluded that I was wrong, but that is another issue.

At the time I did join AARP and received a couple of periodicals from them as part of my membership. In one of them, one day, I saw an ad for a CD called Deanna Durbin – America’s Sweetheart of Song! Remembering the Tom Lehrer album, this caught my attention. The picture on the album was of a very pretty girl. Of course, since I had fairly recently acquired a new bride (or did she acquire me?), that did not interest me (wink, wink).

There were 24 songs on the CD and a number of them had a direct appeal to me. There was a mix of Irish, Scottish, opera, and more, including numbers from the likes of Irving Berlin and Cole Porter. In short, it had a collection of songs I could not resist – even though I had no idea if this lady could actually sing. I ordered. She could! Wow! What a voice! I can honestly say that her renditions of several of the songs are the very best I have ever heard.

Although I have been web browsing for information on Deanna, and I have found quite a bit, I cannot find something I read some time ago. According to what I read (as I remember it), she chose to quit her movie and singing career to raise a family. She did act in several movies and quite a few albums came out with her singing. It appears that many of the songs were duplicated from one album to another. I suspect that owning any one of them would be a treat for true music lovers.

So that is how I came to find a beautiful (physical and vocally) vocalist by way of a great political satirist by way of a good friend. And that brings me to a repeat of my earlier request: If you are the Kenneth L. Williams spoken of here, or if you know of him and his whereabouts, please help us get back into contact with each other. If you do, I will thank you. Can’t speak for Ken.

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Derby

A Little Bit of a Love Story

February 14th, 2010

Just a little story about when Margaret and I were first dating. For me it was pretty much love at first sight. I seriously doubted Margaret felt the same way, at least not as soon as I did. She had previously told me she did not expect she would ever get married again. It was on our second date that I decided to let her know that I thought we had a future together.

With the hope of not scaring her off, I simply told her that I knew that at that time it was too soon for her; but someday I was going to ask her to marry me, and when I did, she would accept.

When I was about the age shown in my avatar (and before Margaret was born), MGM released a musical called Thrill of a Romance. I have a CD with Michael Feinstein singing one of the songs from that movie. I had put that on the CD player and had it set up so that while I was sweet talking Margaret with my prediction, the above mentioned song was playing in the background. The song title: “Please Don’t Say No, Say Maybe.”

The irony is that Margaret did not even realize what was playing on the CD. She was paying no attention to the lyrics so she didn’t realize that my bold prediction was not backed by as much confidence as I would have liked. Then again, perhaps she was simply too enthralled with what I was saying to pay attention to the background music. Of course, I’d like to think the latter.

This September 30, we will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary. That is 20 years of love growing stronger each day.

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Derby

Free CD

February 11th, 2010

We have a Dream Machine. It is a Sony AM/FM/CD player. Sony made several different “Dream Machine” models. Maybe Sony calls all of their clock radios dream machines. Just check on line and you will find multiple models with the same name but all looking quite different from each other.

Our Dream Machine has a specific feature that I believe most (if not all) the others lack. When you set it for sleep mode, say to shut off in 30 minutes, it will step down the volume before shutting down. This is neat because you don’t get that SUDDEN drop of all the sound all at once. That sudden drop will often wake you up if you have just gotten to sleep or are on the edge of sleep. I liked this feature so much that recently I paid $40 to have this unit repaired after the CD-player started malfunctioning.

Ignore the previous two paragraphs. They have nothing to do with this article.

We like to play soothing music to go to sleep by. We have our Dream Machine set to play the CD tracks in random order (if you can call ‘random’ order, order). We put in some soothing music like easy listening, symphonies, lull-a-byes, or rap. Scratch that last one. Also, we do sometimes play nature sounds like water flowing and crickets chirping and rainstorms with thunder. Don’t ask me how thunder is soothing, but sometimes it works – although if lightening is included that keeps me awake.

Sometime ago one of us purchased a CD that was designed to help people get to sleep. Most of the music was nice to listen to. The longest song on the CD is called “Hidden Beauty.” “Hidden Beauty” sounds like a nice song to doze off to, doesn’t it?

Forget it! This song sounds like the orchestra is tuning up. For the entire 16+ minutes it sounds like that. This is the last song on the CD. Since we play our songs in random order, we never know when we will be tortured by this piece.

Credit must be given where credit is due. The song was well named. The beauty in “Hidden Beauty” is so well hidden that we have never yet found it!

Margaret and I don’t remember which one of us bought this CD. Actually, neither is willing to admit having bought it. We agree, however, that giving it away is the best thing we could do. Not necessarily best for the recipient, but best for us.

Finally (if you’re still reading this), now that you know what a lousy CD we are offering, I will get to the details of the title of this article. The first person to leave a comment in which they state the correct title of this CD will win it. (Only one title to a comment, please.) They will win it if they are brave enough to provide a U.S. mailing address. Please don’t put your street address or email address in the comment. I will email you for your street address. You don’t have to provide your real name in the comment, either. Nor would I blame you.

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Derby

Radio Repair

February 8th, 2010

The story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to pronouns to protect the innocent – and because I don’t remember half of them. Hey, it’s been over twenty years, give me a break.

He was working in a store where, among other things, repairs were made to electronic devices.

She had brought in such a device for repair and had now come back to pick it up. She gave her name and/or a claim check.

He went and found the device. A book shelf size stereo radio. It had input jacks to allow another audio device without its own speaker set to be played though this radio. You know, a device like one of those new-fangled compact disc players. The radio also had an auxiliary, 120 volt, receptacle to make it unnecessary to find a separate outlet for the CD player.

He wrapped the cord of the radio around itself to keep it from tangling. Then he plugged the plug into the aforementioned auxiliary receptacle so it would not dangle while she carried the radio to her car. While doing so he joked, “If you plug this in here it won’t use as much electricity.”

She was pleased to learn this money saving technique.

He felt the need to confess that he had just been joking.

She looked disgusted and began to write the check to pay for the repair.

He told her that it would be twenty dollars. Then he added, “Of course, since this is a stereo radio, that will be twenty dollars for each side.”

She started to change the check to forty dollars.

He stopped her and, again, told her that he was just joking.

She completed the check for twenty dollars, took her repaired radio and left the store.

About two minutes later she came back into the store. She walked rapidly past him to another store employee. As she passed him she said, “I have a question, and I’m not going to ask you!”

Now what do you suppose got into to her?

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Derby

Snow

February 5th, 2010

Although I wrote this 38 years and 6 days ago, it sure fits the weather here in Lafayette, Indiana, today.

Gently falling, pure and white,

it make the earth so clean and bright.

A blanket covers valley and hill,

all is silent, all is still.

The maple stands half white, half brown;

half a smile, half a frown.

Nothing moves that I can see,

no tracks to mar the white beauty.

Down it drifts, three inches, four!

Still it comes and there’ll be more.

Daylight passes, twilight, too;

all in sight turns hazy blue.

The stars are shining, the moon is bright;

they twinkle gayly on flakes of white.

The beauty on the ground, extended from the skies;

a wonder to behold, a symphony for the eyes.

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