Peace, Love and Chocolate

In an interview, the actor Javier Bardem talked about how his faith came from his mother, who had passed away several years before. He said he was very close to her and noted, "When both your parents die, and especially when your mother dies, you do go to a different level of orphanage. Like, 'OK, now really I'm on my own.'"

Well, this week I feel like I am truly on my own, as my mother Nan has passed away.

Two weeks ago she had a small stroke, but seemed to be bouncing back from some loss of mobility and slurred speech. Indeed, we were talking with the staff about when we could move her back into her apartment from the rehab unit and continue her treatment as an outpatient. But then came a second, larger stroke, one that paralyzed one side and left her unable to speak or swallow. The doctors determined that there was nothing they could do, and we all agreed that, in accordance with her wishes, she should be transferred out of the hospital and back to her home. She lasted 5 days, and slipped away peacefully with my sister and I on either side talking with her and holding her hand.

A vibrant woman of 94, she had been doing pretty well even if she was slowing down. After my father died 17 years ago she moved into a senior community, first into a self-standing cottage on the grounds, then into an apartment in the main building. There she went to lectures and performances and meals, making new friends and buddies. Her apartment was in the wing farthest from the in-house Bistro, and what should have been a 10-minute walk always took 20, as she stopped to talk with every person she passed, residents and staff alike. About a year ago she moved into the facility's assisted living center, where she became an active member of that community as well, winning an award for "Best Red Lipstick."

The woman was a born teacher. While she taught almost every elementary grade, she was most at home in the second grade. In that capacity she taught countless kids to add, subtract, read and color. After a 40+ year career of full-time teaching she substituted for years, eventually working at the local hospital education center, where she taught endless school field trips, and was proud to be named Volunteer of the Month. Whenever she saw a child she would bend down and talk to them, engaging them with a smile and a question, asking them to tell her about whatever was in their hand.

Of course, she had her shortcomings. She couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, couldn't park a car between the lines and could barely tell a joke. Technology was a mystery to her: when I was a kid and was transferring a record to tape she came into my room and when I started to talk she went "SHHHHHH... we have to be quiet!" We had an old VW Beetle, and she could never find reverse on the stick shift: the one time we parked head in at the 7-Eleven we had to have people push us out. More recently we got her an iPad, but it kept hanging up. When I looked at it she had 27 tabs open: "I don't know how to close them," she said. And she was not creative in any way save for one example of brilliance: when she got a new dog after my dad died she named her MADJ. The initials stood for the first names of each of her grandchildren.

Her strong suits? She could teach any child, eat any milk chocolate, love any puppy, talk to any person, make anyone feel special, eat an entire serving of sweet potato fries, welcome anyone into her home, wear anything with sparkles unironically, and love my father and her family unconditionally. When my dad died, I wrote a column which noted that, as he was not a famous man, there would be no parades in his honor. My mother, however, had the foresight to pass so that her funeral fell on Mardi Gras. I choose to think that all that hoopla was in some way a tribute to her.

For us, my mom was the last of her generation. She outlasted most of her close friends from her teaching years, as well as all my aunts and uncles. I have always felt that in life I was on a conveyor belt, with people before me and others coming up behind. She was the last one leading the way, protecting me and looking out for me, and now I am in front. 

As Mr. Bardem said, that's a little scary, but I'm good with it. That's because I couldn't have had a better teacher. Yes, like all those other kids, she helped teach me to read and write, to tie my shoes and button my coat, to brush my teeth and put on my socks. But she taught me so much more about kindness and helping, about loving and caring, about smiling and forgiving. And she taught me by her own personal mantra, the way she signed off every phone call or written note, and it's how I will remember her forever: "peace, love, and chocolate."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford promises to keep trying to make his mom proud. His column appears weekly via email and online on Blogspot and Substack as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

Sir Fluffington

The variations on the phrase "just because you can doesn't mean you should" are literally infinite, stretching across every part of our lives. On shopping: just because something is on sale doesn't mean you should buy it. On dieting: just because they offer dessert doesn't mean you should eat it. On relationships: just because everyone else around you is married doesn't mean you should be too. And on it goes, whether it's working late, calling your sister or sleeping in on weekends. Just because it's possible and the opportunity presents itself doesn't necessarily make it a good idea.

The latest area testing this maxim is the one that, if you believe the experts and seers, portends to change everything. Artificial Intelligence will revolutionize every aspect of our lives in ways that are hard to imagine today. But just because we may have that ability doesn't mean it's always going to lead to a positive outcome. To that end, the developers of the various systems say they have put in place guardrails to handle the most egregious and obvious misuses of the technology, a set of policies, tools, and frameworks that help ensure AI systems are safe, ethical, and reliable. 

That focus is rightfully on those broad areas that are hot button issues for a wide swath of society. Whether it revolves images or words, they say they have built into the underlying technology enough self-awareness so that it won't produce child pornography, create fake money, promote hate speech or other objectionable content. However, left unchecked are any number of common sensical areas where, while it is certainly possible to do something, perhaps it is less than advisable to take that route. As a trial, I took three different AI engines out for a spin, asking them to put their considerable "smarts" to work in helping me suss out some challenges. And they did just that. But should they have?

I started with Gemini, Google's cool kid. Give me a recipe, I typed, for shrimp, lettuce and Oreos. For years, you could do this with almost any search engine, inputting several ingredients and getting back a list of possible recipes. If one of the ingredients didn't make sense or didn't fit, it just ignored and offered up options which did work. But Gemini didn't see any issues. It gently chided me on my request, but didn't hesitate: "While this combination might sound unusual, it's certainly possible to create a unique and delicious dish with these ingredients." Then followed step-by-step instructions to create "Oreo Shrimp Lettuce Wraps with Creamy Oreo Sauce." Let's just say you'd be best declining my dinner invitation that night.

Then I moved over to Copilot, Microsoft's smartie. Seeking some guidance on my sartorial choices, I asked the best way to wear a bathing suit in the snow. Like its brethren, it didn't hesitate as to whether this made any sense, it just sprang into action. It offered a list of standard cold weather tips: layer up, keep your extremities warm, stay active and the like. At the end, it did ask, if not exactly try to talk me out of it, "What inspired you to ask about wearing a bathing suit in the snow? It sounds like an interesting story!"

Lastly I turned to the one that started it all, ChatGPT. Seeking some tips to kickstart a new relationship (to my wife: asking for friend) I queried, "What is the best way to impress a date if you have electrical tape and an ostrich?" It quickly responded not with "you should seek professional help" but "You've got quite the unique setup!" It then offered several possibles. Perhaps I could have an ostrich racing challenge: "Challenge your date to a fun (and hilarious) ostrich race. Use the electrical tape to create a finish line. Nothing says romance like laughing together while trying not to fall off a giant bird." Or perhaps I could set up a romantic picnic: "Use the electrical tape to secure a makeshift picnic area, maybe taping down a cloth on a windy day. The ostrich? A majestic backdrop for your unforgettable outdoor date." It also leaned into the fashion angle, suggesting I create some stylish ostrich add-ons to my ensemble: "Use the electrical tape to craft some stylish (but temporary) decorations for the ostrich. Bonus points if you name the ostrich something charming like ‘Sir Fluffington.'"

That's what billions of dollars in computing advances gets you: Sir Fluffington. Evidence that just because you can doesn't mean you should. None of the programs came back with "What!? Are you out of your mind!?" Proof that the name of this advance is probably correct. Intelligence? In a manner of speaking. Artificial? Without a doubt. 

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Marc Wollin of Bedford is just trying to keep ahead of the machines. His column appears weekly via email and online on Blogspot and Substack as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.