Oy Vey, Who Knew?

...Headline from the little news feed at the bottom of the blog, this time from the L.A. Times...

"San Bernardino Loses Its Jewish Community"


I don't know if there's a "lost and found" for an entire community, but they'd better check. It just doesn't seem Kosher....

Passings.

Our lives are marked by major events. Births, graduations, marriages, illness, death.

I'm cheered this month by the news in my family of both an impending birth and an impending marriage, but I'm sad to report the loss of two others who, while not relatives, are people I've known for decades.

My friend David lost his dad last month.  Dave's dad was a tough career military man who flew B-17's in WWII and fought endless battles with his son when Dave was young.  Still, he could be a charismatic, entertaining guy as I found out when he substitute-taught a class I had in high school.

My friend Bob lost his mother last Friday.  I knew Bob's mom better than Dave's dad.  I think it took her years to trust Bob's group of high school friends not to get her Bobby in trouble, but eventually we won her over... I think.  Bob's dad died when he was three, so he and his mom were very close, and I know the loss Bob feels is great.

Now It Can Be Told.

My "little girl" Katherine Rose is to be married.

The future Katherine Heavrin received her proposal in San Francisco today on the Golden Gate Bridge.

I hope somebody passing by honked their car's horn.

I've known this was coming for a couple of weeks.  Her boyfriend, Marine Lance Corporal Phil Heavrin, is a class act, having come to my house, ring in hand, to ask in advance for my blessing.

Phil is a quiet man with a bone-crushing handshake as he looks at you straight in the eye.  I like him.

They are both young, but in some ways they both seem to be throwbacks to my parent's generation, when men went to war, the women waited, and then made solid marriages when the battle was won.

Alas, the USA is not the same as it was in 1945. But the world is what you make it. Both Phil and Katie vow to go to college and make something of themselves. I believe they have the determination to do just that.

My little girl.... my little girl. Where has the time gone?

I Think They Ought To Move Closer...

... now that property prices have fallen....

Headline in our own wonderful San Bernardino Sun, from the RSS feed on our blog....

Haiti quake hits home for Redlands Symphony


Wow. How do they pay the airfare?

Have I Got A Deal For You...

From the folks who liked General Motors so much they bought the company, we have a great deal on some used but well maintained genuine American iron:

Seats seven; faster than any Ferrari ever made; big trunk; high miles; no warranty. Only $28 million dollars -- was asking $42 million. White in color. Two available. Email: NASA.gov.

Yep, folks, right here at Uncle Sam Motors, we've got just two remaining NASA space shuttles available to you, yes, you at the end of the year.

Be the envy of your block. Billions spent in development and upkeep; now you can own one (or two!) at bargain-basement prices. Cash only; no Pay Pal or Western Union money-grams. Can deliver....

So That's My Problem...

...from the "Art Quote of The Day"entry at the bottom of today's blog, a word of enlightenment that needs to be saved for future reference, or at least to be used as an excuse once in a while.

"An artist never really finishes his work, he merely abandons it." Paul Valery


My son must be an artist, too....

Super Duper Double-Dippler Doppler Radar.

My wife, Maura, is, among other things, a self-confessed weather nut.  I think the favorite gauge on her car is the outside thermometer.  The Weather Channel is of constant interest.  Her Ipod touch has links to weather in half a dozen cities. (She has lots of relatives in lots of places.)  Favorite TV?  Those guys who chase tornadoes on the Discovery channel. She grouses about the inaccuracies of Los Angeles centered weather forcasts on local TV.

So I got her a weather station.

We joke about it being her "super duper double dippler doppler radar" but in fact radar is about the only activity she can't monitor now from the comfort of her easy chair.

The station itself is on a ten-foot pole mounted to the side of the garage.  It looks for all the world like a high-tech weathervane with a plastic cat-food bowl on top.  The station runs on solar power with a battery backup, and sends data via a low-power radio transmitter to the receiver in the house.

The receiver constantly spits out barometric pressure readings, wind velocity and direction, inside and outside temperature and humidity, precipitation, and can graph the results over days, weeks, or months, all at the touch of a button. Or two. Or sixteen, to be exact. Now, she can create her own weather forcasts.  It's accurate enough that Maura can send reports to NOAA as a volunteer weather observer.

To which I say, "Up yours, Johnny Mountain."

As for me, I can turn the display's light on.  I feel so empowered.

It's About Time.

Up until New Year's Eve, I've never, ever, purchased a watch.

I've had a couple as gifts. The best one was stolen from my gym locker back in college.  The replacement, another gift, was a perfectly serviceable Bulova that I always disliked.

I recently found a watch at work.  I turned it in to my boss.  It was a huge, clunky model that looked like it had been ripped from the dashboard of a jet plane. It's from a company called Bell and Ross, though it was later revealed to be a fake.  I looked it up online, and the real ones are very expensive.  I found myself engrossed in Bell and Ross's corporate story of aircraft pilots/engineers looking to build the ultimate watch.

I read on. And on. And on.  I spent most of the New Year's holiday weekend learning the intracities (pun intended) of the watch industry.

Remember when quartz watches became all the rage?  Super-accurate, and cheap to make.  It about killed the Swiss, who for centuries built mechanical clocks, and later watches, with elaborate movements of gears, balance wheels, and a hundred other parts all carefully crafted to, well, run like a Swiss watch.

The fallout of this was that many of the companies that built watches and the parts that go inside either closed, or merged with one another.  Eventually, to make the story short, the Swiss watch mechanical movement business ended up with two eight hundred pound gorrillas, and not much else.

One gorilla is, of course, Rolex. Everybody in every corner of the planet knows the name Rolex.  The other, well, we'll get to that in a minute.  Rolex doesn't sell its parts to anyone else.  They build all their stuff in-house, (except for their Tudor brand, so I understand) and the rest of Switzerland, be damned.

That's not to say there are not watches for sale every bit as good as Rolex, and a lot more creative, styling-wise, if you ask me. The irony is that since almost all the other watch manufacturers must buy from Gorilla Number 2, there's a lot of similarity inside.

It's possible that you could buy an expensive Swiss watch for $10,000 (or more!), and a lesser watch for under a thousand, and find out they both have essentially the same guts.  The manufacturers freely admit that.  They differ, they say, in the assembly of the parts, the dynamisism of the design, the exclusivity of the brand.  OK. I guess.  Maybe the $10,000 watch is assembled by Vogue super models in lab coats, while the cheapo is put together by former actors, laid off when Ricola (REEE-COAL-AAAA!) cut back their ad budget.  Somehow, though, I doubt that.

Now, back to the story of Gorilla Number 2.  This watchmaker has systematically bought up the designs of many famous movements, cornering the market so well that it came to the attention of the Swiss government.  They've been forced, beginning two years ago, to reduce their domination of the movement market in order for others to compete.  Watch manufacturers like Breitling are investing millions so that they won't be short of parts from the gorilla.

So who is Gorilla Number 2?  Supplier of 90% of Swiss watch parts to nearly every luxury brand that still uses traditional mechanical movements?

It's Swatch.

Yeah, that Swatch.  I shit you not.

And the watch I bought? It's a Swatch.....

"I've Got Pictures."

It's been a couple of days now, but I'm still trying to deal with the news that my first daughter is...

Well, let me tell you how it started.

Saturday afternoon, I was comfortably asleep during my now de rigor afternoon nap, when my wife Maura wakes me and says, "Samantha is here, and she has some photos to show you."

"Huh? Wha..?" was my very intelligent reply.  I stumble to the back door.

Sammy is there, along with my other daughter Katie, and my ex-wife, of all people.

"I've got pictures." Samantha says.  She is holding a small pile of black-and-white... OH MY GOD THOSE ARE SONOGRAMS.

I'm frozen. I feel the floor drop out from under me. All I can do is stare at her over the top of my glasses.

"I knew he'd give you that look," the Ex says, laughing.

She's got a whole pile of sonograms, she explains, rather than the usual one or two, because, being a nurse in a hospital, she can shoot new ones whenever she gets bored.

It's a girl.  24 weeks along. And she's already kicking, Sammy says.

I'm going to be a real grandpa. I suddenly feel as old as a grandpa is supposed to feel, too.

I think back and think what most new grandpas must think when their daughters say they're going to have a baby -- wasn't that daughter born only a couple of years ago?  Why, it seems just like yesterday I was taking Lamaze class.  Or changing diapers.  Or celebrating a first birthday.  How could it be so long ago?

Daughter Number Two has already bought baby clothes.  Maura is clipping coupons for Pampers. Sunday, we hit three stores looking for the touchstone item that will bring it all home, at least for me.

When Samantha was in her first year, it seemed she lived in a bright footy jumper that we dubbed "the pink seal suit".  It just somehow felt that I urgently try and locate one for Natalie, for that is what (as of now) they'll name her.

Maura, God bless her, found the perfect jumper online and available for pickup at a local store.  So the torch (or pink seal suit) will be passed to a new generation.

Natalie will be coming in May. In the interim, should I refer to her as Prenatal-ie?

Maura, I suspect is getting tired of me singing "The Circle of Life" from Disney's Lion King. Perhaps I'll switch to "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof.

Damn, I feel old.

An FYI on BYD, Soon To Be A BMOC.

On top of my post introducing you to the Chinese-made Geely brand, here's another contender for your auto-buying dollars in the decades ahead -- BYD. They've adopted the same approach that Geely has, which is to closely examine the best Japanese vehicles and take them as their role models.

Speaking of models, BYD makes a complete line of cars, from Yaris-style sub-sub compacts to SUV's to a dead ringer for the last-generation Mercedes SL sport coupe.

What makes BYD stand out, however, is their corporate background. BYD is an electronics maker, first and foremost. They build cell phones, for Godssakes. Think about how important electronics are to cars these days, and it makes as much sense as a certain Mr. Honda did some sixty years ago, when he decided his company would focus on engines for any use, not just building small motorcycles.

BYD already has a fully electric car in production. Check their website:

http://www.byd.com/showroom.php?car=f8

They're gonna have to change their name, though. I read "BYD" and I think either "BVD,""DVD," or "BYOB". OK?

New Year's Resolutions...again.

A new year, a new decade, a new set of resolutions.

1.) Take better care of myself.  I've been letting myself go, and I know it.

2.) Stop being so pissed off at so many things.  It's not my job. Repeating, It's not my job...

3.) Get off the couch. Turn off the TV. Step away from the computer. (Does that count as three?)

4.) Read more books.  I said that two years ago, and haven't.  Try again, Dave.