Clean and Simple

The digital elements of our lives continue to improve and astound, with virtually no area untouched. In home entertainment we've gone from having just a few options pushed out on a defined schedule to being able to stream an almost endless supply of movies and shows whenever we want. In navigation we've gone from paper maps to real-time routing that vectors us around traffic, while also offering options for scenic vs. fuel savings vs. expediency. And in communications we've gone from a single hard-wired voice line to multiple mobile pathways enabling us to use voice and text anywhere anytime.

But many of the electronic gizmos we use are not really "digital" so much as analog with a digital overlay. Take your car: the speedometer might report your speed in discrete numbers. But step on the gas and the speed goes up in a non-stop slope (the very definition of analog), while braking does the same in the other direction. That said, my grandfather used to drive digitally before it was a thing: he stomped on the gas and slammed on the brake as if acceleration were an on/off switch.

Many things today fall into the same category. Shopping is analog as you browse from one thing to another even if you do it online. Same for reading a book or watching a movie; you read or watch in a continuous thread whether it's on a Kindle or laptop. Your vacuum is an analog device continuously slurping up dirt even if it's a robot, same goes for your oven as it slowly warms up, even if its controls are made up of multiple buttons and flashing displays. And even if you have Wi-Fi-connectedness and Bluetooth-enablement, your laundry is about as analog as it comes.

So when our washing machine started to smell like its motor was about to explode, and we decided it might be better to replace than repair, we were confronted with the modern conundrum of how much upgrade we really wanted. We all face the inevitability of stuff with a relatively long life breaking down or wearing out, necessitating the need for a new phone or coffee maker or weedwacker. In some cases going digital may be thrust upon us as an inevitable part of the replacement process. Other times we willfully take the opportunity to take advantage of the latest improvements in that sub sub sub specialty. I mean, who knew that there was such a thing as OptimalTEMP ironing technology so as not to burn the ends of your shirt collars?

But like an LED lightbulb, often all you want to do is swap something old for something new with no real operational change other than some state-of-the-art efficiencies. And so it was with our washing machine. What we had was analog-ness at its finest, a decade old machine with big knobs that you pulled or pushed that reverberated with a resounding "thunk." That experience was fine by us: a simple machine that took in water, soap and soiled garments and spit out clean clothes. What was offered, however, was something else. The ads offered intelligent, smart, digital devices which used sensors and advanced AI to analyze our laundry issues and take control of the task at hand, improve our lives, and give us back time in our day. Almost as an afterthought they also cleaned clothes.

Sure, we'd be happy for it to be more energy efficient and perhaps quieter. But I really don't need to be able to check my socks from my phone, or talk to my sheets via a hands-free assistant. Thankfully such a thing was available. We got a basic machine that seems to do just fine. It sounds different as the internal workings must have chips vs. gears controlling the process, and there are just two buttons to push, on/off and stop/start. I hesitate to call it a smart analog device as opposed to stupid digital one, but that might just be the best summation.

The laundry expert in our house (not me) has pronounced herself more than satisfied with our choice. It is indeed quieter, seems easy to operate and has a speedy cycle which seems to clean just fine. (A note that despite my mastery of most technology I am still generally prohibited from doing the wash - mix colors and whites with abandon and you get a reputation that's hard to shake - but as long as I am given specific instructions I am able to assist as needed.) And there is a bonus: since it is not connected to our network, we can rest assured that at least our laundry is unhackable. Unless I do it.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford used to do laundry by finding the biggest machine and putting everything in. His column appears weekly via email and online at Substack and Blogspot, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Spring Flings

If you live as we do in the Northeast, March is a month known for being a tease. On some random day you look out to see the sun shining, robins flitting around the yard, and step outside to find that the coat you put on is way too heavy. Just 24 hours later you wake up and put on a tee shirt expecting the same, only to open the door to get the paper and find a sheen of frost on the grass. It's not uncommon to fire up the grill on the deck one day, and the space heater in the basement the next. The calendar may officially say it's Spring, but like tariffs this year, it's on one day, off the next.

Still, hope springs (see what I did there?) eternal, and it's hard not to shift our mindset from hunkering down and shivering to turning our upturned faces to the sun. For sure there are the official markers of Passover and Easter, and their intrinsic promises of rebirth and redemption. But around the world are more secular celebrations, some situational, some more formal, timed to the change in seasons.

Ten years ago we went down this route, timing our trip to Amsterdam to be there when the tulips were in bloom. Two years ago we didn't so much time it as lucked into it, as the cherry blossoms popped out in Japan just as we arrived (global warming had accelerated the explosion). This year, unless we hop to it, we're probably too late to catch the following, but they are still happening.

Take the events in Castrillo de Murcia, a tiny hamlet in the Cantabrian mountains in northern Spain. There in June they hold a festival called "El Colacho," which translates as "The Devil." It starts with a man dressed in a yellow devil outfit whipping fleeing teenagers to the sound of a drumbeat. Were that the main event it would be strange enough. But as part of the festival parents place infants - real ones - on mattresses in the streets, and the "devils" jump over them. The idea is that by leaping over the babies, the colachos protect them from sin and disease. After each jump priests bless the babies and young girls scatter rose petals over them. All this leads to the event's more informal name: "The Baby Jumping Festival."

Or you can head to Gloucestershire, England in May. While the first written evidence of this gathering dates to 1826, it's possible that the annual Cheese-Rolling and Wake started even sooner. There, at Cooper's Hill in Brockworth, a 7 to 9 pound round of Double Glouster cheese is given about a one-second head start, after which competitors race after it and try and catch it. Since that doesn't usually happen (the round can hit speeds of about 80 mph) the winner is the first across the finish line behind the cheese. Injuries are common, as it's a steep and uneven hill. In fact, in 2023 Canadian Delaney Irving won the ladies race despite falling across the line unconscious, and only learned of her victory in the medical tent after she woke up.

And while it's a little later in the season, the Boryeong Mud Festival in Daecheon Korea is one of the largest warm weather celebrations in the world. Originally a marketing ploy staged by the cosmetics companies that utilize the mineral rich local mud, it has evolved into a sloppy party that attracts over 2 million visitors. Held on the mud flats along the beach, there are mud baths, mud slides, mud painting and mud massages. The top tip from the organizers? Wear old clothes.

None of those interest you? There's the Merrie Monarch festival in Hawaii, one of the most important hula competitions on the islands. The Calaveras Jumping Frog Jubilee in Angels Camp, CA is based on the Mark Twain story and features, well, frogs.  And you just enough time to get to Thailand for the annual Songran festival in April, whose centerpiece is a giant water fight with squirt guns and buckets. 

While I love to travel, our schedule this year looks to keep us more local. So I guess we'll stage our own rite of spring. Feel free to join us where you see the smoke from the grill rising from behind the house. And if you must, bring along some cheese and a water pistol to add to the festivities.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford is looking forward to seeing green. His column appears weekly via email and online on Blogspot and Substack as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

Not So High Crimes

We are fortunate we live in a relatively safe area. For sure, from time to time there are incidents that lead to the kind of frontpage headlines you find in larger metropolitan neighborhoods. But the cops and emergency responders in our jurisdiction spend far more time dealing with disabled vehicles, household injuries and traffic problems than they do violent crime and associated issues. Not complaining, mind you: I'm happy that the closest I get to mayhem and the sound of gunshots in my neighborhood is watching "Reacher" on Amazon Prime.

Still, for all its usual banality it's hard to resist the lure of reading the police blotter in our local paper. A staple of journalism for years, this public record of incidents and responses is kept by most departments. It represents a skeleton index of each call that comes in requesting police support, along with a summary of the action taken by the responding officer. Generally they are anonymized, giving general locale, street names and generic descriptions of people and businesses as opposed to naming names.

Of course, there are serious situations reported, even if they lack the kind of drama you get from watching "Law & Order." You get things like the following: "5:13 p.m. - A female, 89, was taken by ambulance to Northern Westchester Hospital after complaining of fever and coughing, flu symptoms, and being unable to walk." Or "8:36 a.m. - Three cars collided on South Bedford Road Hills, when a fourth vehicle, who was not involved in the collision but might have caused it, was making an illegal left-hand turn." And in perhaps the closest entry to one requiring Columbo, "3:01 p.m. - A larceny reported on Trinity Pass Road is under investigation." Talk about a cliffhanger.

Beyond the serious entries threatening life and limb, and the notes detailing the inconvenience of fallen trees and downed wires, are some entries at which it's hard not to grin. I'm sure that to those calling and asking for help the situation warranted reaching out. And the good news is that people are trusting enough of the police to think that they are the best voice of authority to contact if you think you have an issue. However, the bad news (at least for the cops) is that people call them because they trust that they are the best voice of authority to call if you think you have an issue. And sometimes you'd be better off calling... well... somebody else.

This entry warranted a guy with a hammer vs a gun: "16:10 p.m. - A caller on Old Stone Hill Road noticed a barn door open when it shouldn't have been. Police patrolling the area said the door was rotted and in need of repair." Or maybe a wrench: "10:20 a.m. - Police responded to a problem inside a pool house at a home in Cross River. Two to three feet of water had accumulated in a utility room, flooding the crawl space. The officer determined there was an issue with a pipe and advised the resident to call a plumber." And in this instance maybe the caller should have just checked their own logs: "6:50 a.m. - A Mill Road resident reported suspicious footprints around her home in the snow. It was confirmed she'd just received an oil delivery."

There are also those situations that never existed when "Dragnet" was the rage: "1:15 p.m. - A resident reported she was contacted via email to transfer a large amount of bitcoin to an address. Police advised her this was a scam." Or what in the old days would have been resolved with a simple discussion: "5:35 p.m. - A resident of Pine Hill Drive, reported a man appeared at her door saying he was there to service her refrigerator which she found suspicious because she hadn't called for service. Turned out he had the right address but the wrong town." And because we live in a fairly undeveloped area, there are incidents that likely were glossed over at the academy: "1:08 a.m. - a caller reported a goose possibly struck by a snow plow in the vicinity of Church Street and Field Street. Police on arrival saw the goose resting on a snowbank. It appeared uninjured but possibly stunned. The officer left it to recover on its own." 

The cops have always had a tough job whatever the jurisdiction, and the range of skills and smarts required grows by the day. But when it's a small town like ours, while the challenges may generally be less threatening, they can still be challenging. This one didn't happen in our town, but thankfully the cops used all their skills to nail down this case of mistaken identity: "3:05 p.m. - Police were called to the parking lot on Old Main Road for a report of a newborn infant in a trash can. Upon investigation It turned out to be a burrito."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford reads all of the local paper, not just his own column. His writings appear weekly via email and online on Blogspot and Substack as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

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.