I’ve known for a while that Facebook was a personal data vacuum cleaner that was happy to sell my data, but it’s become pretty untenable to remain there.
So, anyway, I burned mine down.
Yeah, this wasn’t enough. That was dumb.
On January 9, 2003, in love since high school and just barely out of college, we met two friends at a magistrate’s office next to the courthouse. One friend was thoughtful enough to bring flowers. The other had appeared in front of the same magistrate for traffic court the day before.
Neither of us remembers the words of the stock vows, but we were told they were lovely.
At our bosses’ urging, we skipped out on work that morning. We celebrated with breakfast at Village Inn.
Within a week, we told our families. Nick’s father seemed suspicious there was a grandchild on the way. (There wasn’t.) Laura’s older brother speculated about the financial benefits and conveniences of marriage. (They were minimal.)
In truth, we had known for years we would marry, but that the wedding would be on our own terms. Eventually, we would get around to throwing a party.
Today, we gather with friends and family to celebrate the first 15 years.
From Nick, to Laura
Floating around our home — saved in boxes, tucked away in drawers, folded into books — are other notes like this.
Some are handwritten, others typed. Some dashed off in a moment, others came slowly and painstakingly. Some are declarations, some appreciations. Some apologies.
Each is a reminder of where we’ve been and a commitment to where we’re going. Each marks a moment.
And here, in the midst of a cold Midwestern winter, we mark another.
First a declaration: I love you, deeply and completely.
I’m inspired and humbled by your empathy and patience and thoughtfulness.
Your steadfastness has kept us on this track, despite my imperfections, more times than I can count.
In this moment there isn’t an apology as we trace life towards more moments.
Together we had a fire and we built a hearth where we can tend it, together, as we gray.
From Laura, to Nick
On tip-toes for our first kiss. Sneaking out all summer. We moved out to move in, together.
Guinea pigs, gerbils, finals. Bean soup and cheesesteaks. Your mohawk, and mail-order celebrity.
First careers and convenience. “Mrs. Bergus” mattered. So I became her, and they welcomed me.
Starter home. Our sweet, wild hound dog. A station wagon with heated seats. Enough.
Then, our Hazelnut. Infinitely better than the sum of our parts. She, and you, pulled me through. To sunshine, forests, cities, mountains.
Advanced degrees. Striving, pushing, saying “yes.” New careers, the next stage, our greatest opportunities.
You deliver on every promise. You hold me up and hold us together before I even know we’re drifting apart.
Calmer waters. A few quieter moments. Deeper meaning, because we’re facing each other now, holding hands.
Bad jokes. Our teenager. Middle age. This life we’ve made. The decades so far: just the beginning of our joy.
January 13, 2018
The Park Lodge at Terry Trueblood Recreation Area
Iowa City, Iowa
Everyone’s doing a podcast these days, and everyone’s always looking for new recommendations. I’ve listened to podcasts almost exclusively during my 1,000 miles of running this year, as well as during my 20-some-minute commute most weekdays and some weekends. Here are my favorites:
Intelligence Squared US Debates If there is one thing to be learned from political discourse over the
past 18 months four years presidential administration decade and a half, it’s that it is often not based in facts or informed by reason. IQ2’s debates — nerd fests but in the best possible way — aim to be a bastion for opposite. While held live in New York City, these aren’t simply propping up liberal ideals (a debate over the failure of Obama’s foreign policy gave the win to the side affirming that, yes, it has been), and I learn something from the smart, expert debaters every time. The best part is the skilled moderation by John Donvan. If only we had more moderators like him.
Recode Media with Peter Kafka It’s been many years since I was a dedicated reader of Romenesko and his coverage of media inside baseball, but I still love to listen to Kafka’s mix that’s one part media insider, one part news media moguls can use, smeared over a guide to the changing landscape of media (topped with a dash of dad humor). Kafka chats with independent tech bloggers, media critics and columnists, executives and others.
Reply All Nearly 90 percent of the US population uses the internet, so it’s refreshing to have media acknowledge the Internet as a driving cultural force without treating it like some bizarre niche for weirdos. Reply All’s hosts, For example, are clearly plugged into “internet culture,” but as part of the show’s occasional Yes Yes No segments, they go about explaining, digging into and demystifying internet in-jokes. But the show isn’t “about the internet”. Rather, it treats the internet as a way to explore current events and culture. Don’t miss episode #56 about Zardulu and modern myth making.
99% Invisible You know about this show: the thought — the design — behind things we don’t think about: the iPhone unlocking sound, the I ❤ NY logo, the dumb names created for neighborhoods, and, of course, flags. The show has hit nearly 250 episodes, built a new podcast network and successfully collected a legion of fans because it skillfully tells stories of the built world without the use of visuals. If you want a quick introduction, consider the most recent episode of mini-stories.
Working I’ve long been fascinated by skilled people doing what they do. Working talks to high-level practitioners — Stephen Colbert, a nightclub doorman in NYC, a man who’s been protesting outside the White House for three decades, the woman who selects correspondence for President Obama to read every day, and Santa — about what they do. Every episode is worth a listen, but your enjoyment will vary based on your love of the interviewer (David Plotz, Aisha Harris and Jacob Brogan were all inquisitive without stepping on the subject) and your interest in the subject (the third season about work relating the White House was both timely and interesting).
What podcasts do you love?
I’ve been officiating roller derby since 2011. Assuming something doesn’t happen between now and then, I’m scheduled to work my final game on Saturday. (Well, games since it’s a double header.) I’ve had a good run, and I’m looking forward to working with a good bunch and closing out on a high note.
As I get ready to wrap up this four-year adventure, I’ve been thinking about what I’ve learned over my time, starting from when I fell down a lot and didn’t know what I was doing and ending when I fell down a lot and had a slightly better idea of what the hell I was doing, and what advice I might have for others. Here’s some in no particular order:
I don’t mean go to Cedar Rapids and Cedar Valley a few times a year when they’re looking for officials. I mean you should actively look for games you’re interested in working and find a contact. Apply to tournaments. Widen the radius you’re willing to travel. You’ll meet new people who offer different ways of doing things. You’ll expand the people you’re comfortable asking advice of. You’ll get new perspectives. You’ll be reassured in your skills and find things to get better at.
You need experience
There is no alternative to experience. I can feel my skills atrophying when I go even a few weeks without working a game.Reading rules is important. Thinking through wackadoo scenarios is aces. Talking with more experienced officials is key. But there is no substitute for getting out and doing it yourself. None.
Take the alt spot
It’s totally disappointing to not get the skating gig, but if you can swing it, take the alt slot. Someone always drops out, and you’ll get a chance to work. I guarantee. (BTW, you should always staff an alt.)
Look for reasons not to penalize
Our job is to keep the game fair. Sometimes that means issuing a penalty. Sometimes that means not. Sometimes the cleanest solution to a problem is to not issue a penalty.
See something, say something
Expulsion-worthy box entry? Mention it. Frantic scorekeeper not looking up as you prepare for the next jam? Don’t ignore it. Doesn’t mean you have to stop the game, but it’s easier to bring it up and let it go than to wish you’d said something earlier.
Trust each other
Everyone has a role and a job. Let them do it. You have a role and a job. Do it. Trust each other to get done what needs to get done and to communicate the information you need. Don’t second guess.
On the track, call the penalty or let it go. As the head referee, choose to overturn on official review or let it stand quickly. It sucks for everyone, and causes its own problems, if you hesitate or get all wishy washy.
I wished I realized how valuable being in shape was earlier. Running, biking, cross-training or whatever will improve your stamina, flexibility, or whatever, and make you a better official since you’ll be better able to keep up, be mentally present and not wallowing in your own misery when that overtime jam hits. (Seriously, I didn’t join derby to feel unpleasant, but it pays off.)
You can always improve your skating
Always. You’ve been practicing walking since you were a baby and look at how good you are. Challenge yourself to skate better.
Thirst for a better understanding of the rules. Be disappointed when you don’t get the spot you want, but then go earn it. Demand opportunities and make them for yourself. Work to be the go-to for questions.
Ask your peers. Ask a mentor. Ask someone experienced you barely know. Ask in person. Ask on forums. Ask yourself at night. And seek the answers wherever you can.
This is more art than science
The rules may look like a set of instructions that are simple to follow (i.e., if this happens, issue this penalty), but they’re not. There is simply no way to write the rules to cover everything, and so much variation on action that simple metrics are often not possible. There is gray area that you, as an official, have to make a ruling on. At what point do two arms go from “crossed” to “linked”? How long can a player block another without moving counterclockwise before it’s sustained? Well, make a call, ref.
My daughter’s school is in the middle of its annual fundraiser. I’d like to encourage you to support funding public education at a level where this is no longer necessary or to make a donation or purchase through the site yourself: [URL for fundraising site]
For a long time, because these are the kinds of things I think and worry about, I’ve wondered what would be enshrined at a hall of fame for sandwiches. And, on a long drive back from vacation following the consumption of several cheese steaks, I had some time to nail it down.
First, the criteria for candidacy:
The inductee must be a sandwich. It must involve bread with a filling. This seems obvious, but with the growth of paleo, gluten-free diets, sandwich shops selling wraps, and other trends, it’s important to be explicit. Sandwiches that use rolls or other forms of bread instead of sliced bread and open-faced sandwiches that use a single slice of bread will be considered for inclusion. “Flat bread,” the term some restaurants seem to be adopting because they don’t want to say they serve pizza, is not a sandwich.
The inductee must be an all-time-great. No second-tier, or fad sandwiches will be inducted. When looking down the list of inductees, you should see a list of sandwiches that are a who’s who of the world’s sandwiches.
The inductee should have cultural significance. While we consider the sandwich’s taste, we’re not interested in amazing-tasting sandwiches that no one has ever heard of or eaten. Regional specialties are eligible (and, often, strong candidates).
The inductee must be a canonical version of the sandwich, though some variations are acceptable. While many sandwiches are so good that they’ve spawned their own variations, the considered sandwich must be a canonical version, not a entire class of sandwiches. This, perhaps, the hardest part to lay out, but generally means that the composition of the sandwich should be understood by its name. So while hoagies or po’ boys might be mighty fine sandwiches, they are, in the end, platforms that require some explanation; you can’t simply walk into a sandwich shop, order “a hoagie” and know what exactly you’ll get. A cheeseburger, while there exist infinite variations, is understood to be a bun, a beef patty and melted cheese. This is similar how the martini might be inducted into a cocktail hall of fame. Leaving aside the gin verses vodka debate, the drink would be inducted as a whole, and a martini garnished with a twist would not be inducted separately from a martini garnished with olive. The hall is not interested in defining the One True Version of a sandwich, but, rather, the acceptable parameters for a sandwich with a specific name.
And now, the inaugural class of the International Sandwich Hall of Fame:
Reuben: rye bread, corned beef, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, thousand island or Russian dressing
Cheese steak: Italian roll; thinly sliced beef; white American, provolone or Cheez Whiz; fried onions are optional, though encouraged
BLT: bacon, lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise
Peanut Butter and Jelly: smooth or crunchy peanut butter, strawberry or grape jelly, white or wheat sandwich bread
Cheeseburger: bun; beef patty; Cheddar or American cheese; ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, onion and pickle are optional
What would you add?
The idea of creating a “character” from an Apple employee is… well…. damn, I can’t even say this without feeling awful… it feels like something Best Buy would do. Maybe even Dell.
I think this is the problem. When I first saw them, I thought they could easily be Microsoft ads.
Even if the ads appeal to “people who’ve never bought a Mac but are thinking about buying their first,” which John Gruber says should be the test, there are ways to appeal to that segment and to current users that don’t stoop to the normally low comedic standards of the advertising industry.
I’m not a Mac owner, though if I bought a new computer today, it would most likely be a Mac. For what it’s worth, I think the ads are dumb, but they wouldn’t make a difference to me one way or the other. I asked my wife, also not a Mac owner and less likely than I to be one, what she thought when “Mayday” came on during a break in the Olympics last night. Her response: “I thought it was dumb that a guy felt he could make up for forgetting an anniversary making a video that didn’t take any work.”
I can’t easily express how culturally significant I think Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe” is, but I think it says a lot that the song, which is now No. 1 on Billboard’s chart, has a video in which Jepsen’s crush turns out to be gay, and no one seems to be throwing a fit about it.
Roller derby is a complicated game with a set of rules that gets bigger and more complex with every iteration. Every time I explain the game to a person who has never seen a bout, I’m reminded how complex it is. And I wonder about roller derby’s ability to attract a larger and mainstream audience. And I worry that our complex rules are a huge contributing factor to its niche status.
Derby, once you understand how to read it, is as dramatic as any other sport.
But how do you teach people to read it if they don’t understand the rules? How do you explain to a newbie, for example, cutting rules? If you cut in front of two skaters, it’s a major. If you cut one, it’s a minor. Unless that person is ahead of everyone else and on the other team, then it’s a major. Except if she’s so far ahead that she’s out of play, then it’s nothing. (Let’s not even get into the beast that is the point-scorer-changing star pass, which gives referees nightmares.)
Now, I’ve been warned about making analogies to and using examples from other sports, but stick with me.
Every summer, I go see the local AAA affiliate of the Los Angeles Angles of Anaheim of Southern California of the United States. I drink beer, shout at players and umpires and have a good time. I follow the Phillies and am happy when they win and sad when they lose.
Still, I have no idea how the infield-fly rule works. And I don’t have a great grasp of dropped third strikes and foul-tip outs.
And then there’s hockey, which I watch live once or twice a year. I honestly have no idea what you can and cannot do.
But I understand the way to keep score. And that, for most fans, is enough to convey the drama that attracts us to sports.