Rube's World

A Rube Goldberg device is any contraption built from parts whose original functions are completely unrelated. One example is "Mousetrap," a child's game in which a chain reaction eventually results in a plastic cage being lowered over a plastic mouse--if all goes well. The band OK Go built an extremely elaborate Rube Goldberg device from a strange collection of objects that carry a chain reaction from falling dominoes to a finale in which the band members are shot with paint cannons. The long sequence is set to the soundtrack of a nifty tune, This Too Shall Pass. Here's the point: the world is a Rube Goldberg device. Yes, civilization is impressive. The roles, resources, and institutions of the modern world are way beyond the limits of comprehensibility. And things work, pretty much. But don't they often work despite incessant inefficiencies, miscommunications, and wasted energy? Let's recognize that the world is no well-oiled machine. What gets done is obtained by force of will and clarity of vision, not through honed tools or failsafe processes. For Rube's World to work, it requires something from participants. It does not run well on autopilot, but by dint of cleverness and a strong sense of direction, the thing actually produces results.

Dead Center

I can utter, truthfully, one of the most frightening statements possible in the English language, "Lung cancer has metastasized to my liver." I found out about the metastasis a couple of years ago. I don't remember when, exactly. Part of my coping with cancer has been to downplay the disease in the drama (or adventure) of my own life and let other stories come to the fore. I don't like thinking about the evil biology that still, without explanation, lives inside me. But last week the dreaded drama seemed to turn a corner. My doctor reviewed the results of my recent PET/CT scan. In viewing the cross sectional images, he went straight for the liver "met." Compared side-by-side to the previous scan it showed slight enlargement, but this time the inside was dark. In a PET image, dark=metabolically inactive=dead. Inner death, displayed visually as a black core, never looked so good. Life begets life, but there is a form of death that contributes to the same end. That is death to death itself. When death begins at death's core and grows outward, it's time to celebrate. Life is emphatically affirmed.

Afterburners On

Last night I got in bed at close to 1 am. The day was long, much of it occupied by driving the return trip from Turlock to Irvine along Route 5. When we reached home, we met up with Kris Stice for a nice though brief dinner along with Kiely, Bob, Amy, and James. Kris had limited time: His late night return to Fiji meant that we needed to head up to LAX by 10 pm or so. Moreover, he had a few remaining errands to do before going to the airport, so he and I got in the car and chased those down before returning to our house for a delightful dinner and birthday dessert for Kiely. The day was full--more than full, really. It reminded me of something a personal trainer once told me. The trainer was an elderly but fit man who worked at the ARC Recreation Center when it first opened in 2000. The man watched me lift weights, noting particularly what happened when my reps maxed out. My effort surged at the very end, to his approval. He explained that even if we think we couldn't possibly do any more reps there's a good chance that we can summon the will to squeeze out one, two, or three more. What our mind estimates is the quitting point is actually an underestimate. The gray-haired trainer called it "turning on the afterburners." To him, the extra effort is what produced the greatest gains.

The Grueling 5

Most Californians have experienced firsthand the long, flat hours of Interstate 5 spanning northern and southern California. We've traveled it many times. Virtually all of our extended family lives in northern California, both in the Bay Area and in the Central Valley. Heading north, you have only to deal with LA traffic until you approach the Grapevine, a winding stretch of highway bounding the north end of the LA basin. The pass tops out at 4000 feet then descends into the Valley. After the Grapevine, civilization consists of periodic clusters of motels and fast food joints spaced every 30 miles, plus or minus 10. Food stops, gas fills, and bathroom breaks rely on careful planning to exit at the optimal oasis. You shouldn't exit too soon or your trip will be unnecessarily prolonged; if you wait too long, though, bladder distention can compound the boredom of straight shot highway with physical discomfort and the chance, though slight, of an embarrassing disaster. Highway 5 is not for crybabies or the excessively fastidious. It probably builds character, but are you ever glad when you finally reach home.

When the Family Gathers

What's it all about when extended family—uncles and cousins, in-laws and spouses—all huddle to mark a special event? This evening, my nephew Ben will wed Jauna Jacques. They are a splendid couple and so the occasion is happy. On the groom's side, it's a confluence of two families, Rider and Posluch. I married Stephanie Rider, and so I've long known all of the Rider sibs. I know the Posluches, too. Dave Posluch married Lynn Ann, Stephanie's sister, and I know Dave's younger sisters, Linda and Bonnie, from high school days. Great people all 'round. The setting is a challenge, though: It's hot in Turlock. In July, the California Central Valley is a fearsome context for donning a jacket and tie. More so a wedding dress, I'm sure. But this weekend we also have times for dressing down. One can attend unshaven the free breakfast down in the common room of the Holiday Inn Express. There's talk, too, of a swim this afternoon. Is this a kick-back event, where the main point is to hang out and relax? Or, instead, are we to be on our best behavior, because the times when we gather are pretty rare? A little of both, I would say. If we can find the right blend of relaxation and kind regard, the mood is positively ideal. And—so far, so good.

The Mirror of Facebook

Facebook accomplishes much. It puts us in touch with old friends and keeps us connected to our current network. The degree of connectedness is variable, which is a handy feature. At one extreme, some use Facebook to interact with friends daily. Other users, like me, seldom post and rarely read the posts of others. Even though I'm passive, even neglectful, I sense a nice ongoing connectedness with my Facebook friendships. They imply at least a mild mutual interest and respect--friendship, I suppose. But there's one aspect of Facebook makes me a little uncomfortable: It's an awareness of possible friends that I have no particular desire to contact. Some I knew years ago in different towns or jobs or churches. We were friends but (sadly, maybe) are no longer. The exclusion is not quite explained by neglect--Facebook makes it pretty easy to find people, I believe. The decision seems more deliberate than that. What brings it home is the relatively new feature that "suggests" new friends based on common friendships. I find myself almost always deciding "no." Why? Facebook, it seems, puts me in touch with other people, but it also puts me in touch with myself. It is, in a way, a mirror--and when I look in the mirror, what stares back is not always what I want to see.

The Project

Over the past few months, I have been talking with Stephanie about the broad range of our concerns, commitments, goals, and dreams in their totality. This is The Project. Every day, it seems to me, we try to advance The Project. At times it means attending to our own material needs or those of other family members and friends. Sometimes it means concentrating on work related to our professions or getting things done around the house. At still other times, our commitment to The Project means indulging in a little leisure, relaxation, or recreation. The Project has intellectual aspects and spiritual aspects; its dimensions extend into the financial, health, and consumer realms. It's long-term and short-term, as well as immediate--in fact, it's everything we believe in and value. The Project is big--bigger than our joint efforts to fully conceive it and carry it out, in fact. Because it's grand and compelling, it gives us more than enough to do every day. It presents a great challenge and many rewards. Best of all, we can pursue The Project together and synergistically. It's so much better that way.