Digital Packrat

 I don't consider myself a hoarder. But over the more than three decades we have lived in the same place I have certainly let stuff accumulate around the margins. And so like many during the last few years, I took my home confinement as an opportunity to do a little cleaning. 

I started in the back corner of my office where all my old tech gear was stacked, recycling old hardware and setting aside a few cables and accessories that might still be of some use. In what I aspirationally call my "workshop" (an old kitchen cabinet with a chipped countertop between the boiler and the oil tank), I sorted random screws into one can, nails into another. I hung a few shelves in a closet on which to put extra toothpaste and bathroom stuff, got rid of some old tee shirts, and shredded some files lying around since before Reagan was president.

Perhaps the most time-consuming task was taking pictures from multiple years, videos from my first television shows and my dad's old photographic slides, and converting them from physical objects into electronic files. The pics were the easiest: scan or take a picture of a picture, and it is captured for the ages. Before I ditched my old videotape machines I played back and saved the pile of tapes that dated back to my college years. As for my dad's collection of slides of our family, I bought a specialized scanner so, as Paul Simon sang, I could see once again how Kodachrome made the world a sunny day. Unfortunately, included were several snaps of me in bell bottoms and Nehru jackets that might have been better kept in the dark.

Once I was done, my corners were noticeably cleaner, my tabletops clearer, my shelves emptier. However, the digital version of me was another matter. In that world things are stacked to the virtual rafters. And with electronic storage being so cheap and limitless, there is absolutely no incentive to ever clean anything out. Those slides my dad had curated so lovingly were in a number of steel cases, with each slide in an individual slot. Digitizing them reduced the collection to physically nothing. And as a bonus they became more accessible than they ever were in physical form. No more setting up a slide projector and a screen. Now from a phone or computer anywhere at any time I can pull up baby pictures, family vacation shots, and birthday parties from age 2 to 10. All while taking up essentially zero cubic anything.

And that's just pictures. I did the same for my old CDs and audio tapes. All were added to an archive I started years ago where I captured and scanned old project files, old tax records and old address lists. Virtually anything that I had laying around I dumped into electronic storage. Had I kept even a fraction of it, my basement would be overflowing with boxes of stuff. Instead, it's all nestled comfortably on several hard drives that take up less space than my baking supplies.

Of course, there are two important niggling disclaimers to this voluminous historical record. The first is that finding any specific thing in the archive is not so easy. The filing system is more random that thought out, so locating a particular piece of paper or photo is a bit of a crap shoot. And that all presumes that I have a need to look at an address list or calendar from 34 years years ago. Other than the nostalgia factor, it's unlikely to be of any real use to be able to look up with where and with whom I was having lunch on June 2, 1988.

Still, there's no good reason to delete any of it. I'm not tripping over it, it's not gathering dust, and it's not starting to smell or leak. It's just piled high, one digital box on top of another. Look at it this way: in real life I could be mistaken for Marie Kondo, the doyen of organization and tidying up. But in the bits and bytes world I have old copies of National Geographic stacked to the ceiling. So just remember: if you ever come and visit me in my metaverse, watch where you step.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford tries to be tidy. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Naming Right

 If you reach the highest levels of your chosen field, certain benefits accrue. For starters you are likely to get paid more, either in salary, fees, winnings, or a combination of all three. Aaron Judge has a one year $19 million dollar contract, but that is nothing compared to the next one he will likely get after his record setting year. You also might be asked to give your endorsement to a product, place or service, sometimes associated with what you do, other times just to use your reflected light. Michael Jordan made millions with his Air Jordan line of sneakers, and it wasn't hard to believe he wore them. Ted Danson endorses Consumer Cellular discount phone service, but odds are he has a Verizon Family Plan. 

Beyond compensation there are accolades that might also come your way. While there might be monetary awards associated with them, these are more about recognition than the dollar amount. There might be awards for outstanding performance given by your peers and fellow travelers, like Emmys and Oscars. Or they might also be bestowed by an outside third party who surveys a field and picks standouts, such as the Pulitzers and MacArthurs.

But perhaps the highest symbol of acclaim is when something gets named for you. There is nothing more tangible than honoring a person with a physical something, and knowing that your name will cross other people's lips as part of their everyday routine. The reason can be for a singular event either tragic or heroic that demands to be recognized, or excellence in a particular field or a body of work. Train stations and civic buildings bear the names of innumerable public servants, some recognized while alive and many after their passing. Meanwhile, the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center recognizes all that she has accomplished, and the only perk there is likely good seats whenever she wants them.  

This month brought the latest of these honors for one celebrity. Novak Djokovic is one of the best tennis players in the world, with 90 singles and 38 Masters titles to his name. Along with Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, this third member of the "Big Three" has defined the sport for two decades and has been suitable recognized. Along with his tournament wins and tennis titles, he has been named GQ Ace of the Year, BBC Overseas Sports Personality of the Year, along with a host of other "bests." Closer to home, he has been given the Order of Karadorde's Star, First Class by the President of Serbia, and the Key to the City of Banja Luka.

For any one man, that should be enough for a lifetime. But Dr. Nikola Vesović wanted to add to that list of local recognitions. A researcher in the faculty at the University of Belgrade in Serbia, he posted a new find to his Instagram account: "I have the honor and pleasure to announce the discovery of a new insect species from western Serbia that was previously unknown to science. It is a specialized, blind, subterranean ground beetle (Coleoptera, Carabidae) found in a pit near the town of Ljubovija. A scientific paper on the description of the new species was recently published in the prominent journal Annales Zoologici Fennici. As a sign of gratitude and our need to give back to Novak in our own way, we decided to name the new species after him – Duvalius djokovici."

The beetle joins other notable natural namesakes. There's the parasite that makes its caterpillar host twist and contort it abdomen, so the scientists named it Aleiodes shakirae after singer (Hips Don't Lie) Shakira. There's the horse fly that is solid black except for its gold butt who now goes by Scaptia beyonceae after singer (Bootylicious) Beyonce'. And there's the beetle with the huge leg muscles that is called Agra schwarzeneggeri after an Arnold of the same name. But just to be clear, the parasitic wasp named Idris elba is NOT named for actor Idris Elba: its mom was there first.

So poo on getting a Tony or Presidential Medal of Freedom or a Nobel. A bridge or a post office? Been there, done that. You'll know you've made it when they name a fern or an ant or a lizard after you. That group of spiders over there? Very complex, which is why they are called Pinkfloydia.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has his name on his checks. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Who's That Lady?

Who's that lady?
Beautiful lady, lovely lady, real fine lady.
Who's that lady?
- The Isley Brothers (1986)

Beth was our first.

Eighteen years ago she came into our lives and defined the trusted employee relationship for us. She provided a valuable service, and as people who never before had live in help, we learned to appreciate the obvious benefits. That said, as a personality, she had her contradictions and quirks: she was intelligent, calm and authoritative, while also being single minded, subservient and prone to oversharing. Still, on balance we saw it as a net gain, and welcomed her help. Never mind that she was just a voice assistant on the GPS in our new car, she was our Beth.

But like most people, and I guess artificial intelligence avatars, she got old and set in her ways. Newer, hungrier and more adaptable youngsters started to elbow their way in, able to do more and adjust easily to their surroundings. Related by heritage if not by DNA, Siri, Alexa and their sisters soon proved their meddle, and Beth was looking more and more antiquated. Perhaps we should have showed compassion for the old girl, and set her up in a comfortable apartment to live out the remainder of the days. Not so. While we usually treat others with thoughtfulness and respect, we kicked her to the curb with nary a thought and brought in new blood. Try not to think ill of us.

There were several reasons we moved on. Primarily was that Beth was a one-trick pony: as Paul Simon wrote in a song of the same name, one trick was all that horse could do. Her replacements, by comparison, are highly skilled and multi-talented. In addition to getting us from place to place they are adept at switching on lights, running timers, providing answers to questions and more. The results are impressive, and their repertoire is only growing. But something else that is also proving evolutionary: their personalities.

As these ladies grow and learn, they are changing how they react. Virtually every time we tap into one of them, be it to time a cake in the oven or plot a route to a destination, we have noticed small changes. It might be a reminder of a new features, as in "Twenty Minutes. Starting now. By the way, if you need more time, just say ‘add time.'" Or a change on the screen in the car whereby certain unused icons disappear, then slide back on when the screen is touched. And all of this personal growth is happening in the background. Night school, I guess.

Even their voices and names change while the underlying "being" does not. With Google Assistant, you can toggle between 10 different English voices - 6 female and 4 male. Amazon now has a male or female option, and you can call it Echo, Amazon, Computer, Alexa, or just added, Ziggy. My phone is set to chat with me as Sydney Harbour Blue, a lovely Australian woman. However, when my car came back from being serviced and I hooked my phone in for some directions, it randomly toggled between Sydney and Red, the default American female. My vehicle became a mobile version of "Three Faces of Eve."

In 1950 pioneering computer scientist Alan Turing created what he called "The Imitation Game" as a way of judging if a computer could really think. Later dubbed the Turing Test, the idea was that if a questioner couldn't differentiate between a machine and a person, then the test was passed. It wasn't the quality or correctness of the answer that mattered, but how it answered: did it seem to come from a person in style, syntax and form? Originally it was to be done only as text. Voice synthesizers were crude, and would have immediately tipped the scales. 

That future is here now. As we yell at Alexa's and Siri's inability to answer our perfectly reasonable questions, the test would seem to be more than aced. It's not that we don't know that Beth and her offspring are machines, it's that their responses are not the responses we want. We treat them like not-too-bright students, rather than computers that can speak. That should be the real Turing Test: when you start to treat it better than your spouse or your kid, you know we have crossed the Rubicon.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford is learning to use voice more than his keyboard. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Celebrate Good Times

It's that time of year when you start to think about the upcoming holidays and their various unique attributes and implications. If you are having people over, what do you make for a festive meal? For that matter, who are the special people with whom you want to spend the holiday? Beyond the big dinner, what gifts do you need to buy, music do you need to cue up, decorations do you need to put up? I mean, World Egg Day comes but once a year and you want to be ready.

World Egg Day?

Yup. Established in Vienna in 1996, it was created to celebrate the power of the egg on the second Friday in October each year. Unless you are anti-egg for reasons of health or philosophy, it's hard to argue about them as a valuable food source. High in protein, loaded with nutrients, low in calories, they have been described by some as the perfect food. And while the yolk is a significant source of cholesterol, those who have issues can consume the whites to get big and strong. 

If all that sounds like a marketing pitch, well, it is. World Egg Day wasn't instituted by a religion or nation state or a groundswell movement championing chickens and all they do for mankind, but by the International Egg Commission. Established in 1964, the IEG is a membership organization dedicated to the global egg industry, focusing on the latest developments in production, nutrition and marketing. And World Egg Day is their creation, because they felt that mankind was not being served by not having a day to celebrate Egg McMuffins and their brethren.

WED (as no one calls it except the IEG) joins a number of other dubious "holidays," each one created not by popular demand, but by groups or individuals looking to champion some particular cause or product. Online underwear retailer Freshpair started National Underwear Day in 2003, and on August 5th for the past 19 years have encouraged all to "Embrace Your Body Image." Since 2010 American Express has encouraged consumers on the Saturday after Thanksgiving with Small Business Saturday to shop their local merchants. In 2006, Internal House of Pancakes started IHOP National Pancake Day. While it generally corresponds with the beginning of Lent, it moves around a bit, but it's their holiday so I guess they can do what they want. And July 11th each year? Why it's National 7-Eleven Day, of course. 

Does anyone pay attention to these holidays? Other than Jack-in-the-Box (who invented it in 2002), does anyone really observe National Drive-Thru Day (July 24)? About the only people who "celebrate" these occasions are consumers who want the goods being offered as part of the celebration. On IHOP National Pancake Day you can get a free shortstack of the restaurant's signature item, while Boston Market has a coupon for a free side on National Rotisserie Chicken Day (June 2), and you can score a free Slurpee on National 7-Eleven Day. This year's inaugural National Cinema Day on September 3 offered movie goers $3 tickets, which helped to push Labor Day release "Top Gun: Maverick" to become the fifth highest grossing picture of all time.

It makes for a crowded calendar and only getting more crowded. However, there is just so much real estate to be had. In 2010 the World Plumbing Council established World Plumbing Day annually on March 11 to "raise awareness of the vital role plumbers play in our daily lives." But they didn't look at their Daytimers. That's also Johnny Appleseed Day, celebrating John Chapman, an American settler who championed the fruit. Same problem with October 29th, which is both World Cat Day and National Oatmeal Day. And while the American Bar Association might have made May 1 National Law Day, which was recognized by President Dwight Eisenhower and formalized with a joint resolution by Congress, the day is a veritable pile up with Global Love Day, National Purebred Dog Day, School Principal's Day and more than a dozen others claiming it as their own.

Wacky stuff, to be sure. But if the underlying cause is important to you, by all means celebrate with friends and family. For that reason, I am personally looking forward to October 20th. Yes, it is our 38th wedding anniversary, but it's also National Brandied Fruit Day. Cherries for all!

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Marc Wollin of Bedford celebrates anything that requires dessert. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

The 1400th Time

My Sunday routine has certain consistent elements. I shave, brush my teeth, then work out for a bit. A shower leads to a pot of coffee, and I settle in to read the paper. A little catch-up in my office, then whatever is on the docket for the afternoon: an outing to a movie or a concert, getting together with friends, or just as likely a long walk. But regardless of how the day progresses, all roads lead back to my desk, where I peruse this weekly musing one final time before pressing the button that shoots it off to be seen by you and others. And today? Basically, no different than any of those prior efforts, with one small footnote: the words you are reading represent the 1400th time I have pressed "send."

On the weekly installment plan that I (and you) are on, the math works out to not quite 27 years. That takes us back to a start time of 1995, when a gallon of gas was $1.09, a stamp was 32 cents and the average price of a car was $15,500. Today those numbers are $3.78, 60 cents and a shade over $48,000 respectively. And the cost of this column? The same was it was when it started. By that metric alone it's a good deal.

However, for those of you who have dipped your toe in along the way, the investment hasn't been monetary but temporal. And while it may be small, the most valuable thing you have is your time, and I am taking a nibble of that very finite supply. As such, any return on investment should be held to a higher standard. Using that measure I hope you feel you have gotten at least fair market value. 

What evidence is there that it has been worth those moments? Well, had you not been a reader, you might not have learned about Americans' love of hot sauce (#1367 "Some Like It Hot"). Nor that the Four Seasons restaurant in New York City hung their Picasso Curtain with a staple gun (#984 "Hanging Around"). Nor about an effort to create an Indian football league featuring the Delhi Defenders and the Goa Swarm (#840 "Bill's Excellent Adventure"). Nor about certain idiosyncrasies involving Greek yogurt, North Korea or underwear. Not at the same time, mind you, though who knows what future explorations will reveal.

As to that future, I can say that there is one. When I started this effort, I assumed that I would write a bunch of installments, a book deal would materialize, and I would punt in favor of greener pastures. Alas, it was not to be. And so I continue to add to the body of work, not because of a quest for fame and fortune (though that would be nice, too) but because enough of you encourage me on a weekly basis with kind words. While I'm not one to point fingers, if you must blame someone for this nearly three-decade march, blame them.

I guess the question is when do I know it's enough? From the supply side there seems to be never-ending grist for the mill. I see in my "to do" folder notes about fake holidays, snoring and missing vowels. And like many of my ilk, I have yet to weigh in on the lowest of low hanging fruit, that of pickleball. My apologies in advance for that one, but we still have plenty of fish to fry regardless.

The late Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Charles Krauthammer once said, "Longevity, for a columnist, is a simple proposition: Once you start, you don't stop. You do it until you die or can no longer put a sentence together." Well, I can assure you I am very much alive, and while it might not always be elegant, I am still able to construct the later. As such, I will keep fighting the good fight. I have said this before but it bears repeating: if you keep reading I will keep writing. I know, I know, in the "what's in it for me" department that's not much of a quid pro quo. But it's all I can offer. And so I will press "send" again next week, adding yet another chance to increase our joint ROI.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford thanks all for spending a few moments with him regularly or otherwise. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.