My kids’ Junior High School was doing a bad job of teaching. It wasn’t in Algebra or English or even in History. They were breaking one of the basic rules of science and statistics.
Like many schools, my kids’ school has an electronic reader board out in front of t he school. In addition to announcing picture day, and thanking Mrs. Gentry for teaching Home Ec for 25 years, it shows the time and the temperature.
There’s just one problem. The degrees of precision are off. It wasn’t 75.5 degrees outside when I took this picture. How hot was it? Probably about 75, but I’m willing to bet a Higgs-Boson particle that it wasn’t exactly seventy five and one half degrees.
Okay, so who cares, right? It’s a rounding error, or a degree of percision, or a location of the temperature probe issue. But, is it really wrong? Is it important?
Do you know at what temperature water boils?
Most people would say 212 degrees Fahrenheit or 100 degrees Celcius. And they would be right. Now, if I asked
At what temperature does water boil at my house?
Would you want to change your answer?
Water boils at about about 203 degrees at my house. Why? Because, the elevation of my house is at about 4700 feet above sea level. When I go camping in the mountains the boiling point drops even further. (It’s about a 1 degree drop for every 500 feet in elevation.) We regularly camp at 7000 feet where the boiling temperature drops below 200 degrees. It’s all very sciency and has to do with pressure, temperature and elevation. However, it can be an important number when you are thinking about boiling the water from a mountain stream to purify it. In fact, it’s one of those, “Do this wrong and you might die. . .or at least get very sick” issues. If you are below 5500 feet, you need to boil your water for 5-10 minutes. The higher you are, the longer to boil it. If you are above 5500 feet, don’t bother. The water will never get hot enough to kill all the nasties living in it.
The point is that being too accurate, or attempting to be too precise can be an issue.
I maintain large network systems. My agents take millions of calls per day. When looking at statistics on my sites, I have to be imprecise. If I want to record 10% of the calls, for example, I cannot put a number on that. If my agents take 1,000,000 calls, then 10% is 100,000. But, if I put 100,000 in as my target number of records, I’m never going to be exactly accurate except for that one in a million day when they take exactly 1,000,000 calls. Of course, after the fact, I can calculate how many I recorded, but even then, my percentage is going to be just a little bit off, unless they took a number of calls evenly divisible by 10. ( I can’t record a portion of a call.)
That’s why the reader board at my kids’ school bothers me. That temperature reading is wrong. I don’t know the right number, but I know it’s not what they are stating. And by implying to the kids that they can measure outdoor temperature that accurately, they do a disservice. I would not make a huge change. After all, I like seeing the temperature when I drive by. I believe it’s about 75 and that’s good enough for me.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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I never noticed how many purple cars there were in my town. . .until I bought one. Now it seems like every other car on the road is purple.
I spent a lot of time in a technical support call center. Even in my job now, I support a call floor. It wasn’t uncommon, when I was supporting Micorosft’s email systems to have someone call in with a problem that I couldn’t duplicate.
It works on my machine.
The implication is that if you are calling me, you are just like me.
Hey Rodney, this is Marcus. I have a user who cannot get to your recording database.
Have you tried logging in as them?
Yeah, if I log in with her credentials it works from my machine. It just doesn’t work from her computer.
We tend to assume that people are like us. (Turns out that Marcus had a host file entry that was making his request route through a different firewall than his user.)
I was waiting for the train yesterday morning with the rest of the commuters. Much of the talk was around first day of school. (The REAL End Of Summer) I overheard a woman say,
My son is a junior this year.
I didn’t hear much of the rest of the conversation. That piece stuck out to me. Four of my kids are juniors this year. She was just like me.
A little while later the man she was talking to said,
Sure, it would be faster to drive, but I like taking the train. It gives me a chance to write.
It would also be faster for me to drive, but I like taking the train because . . .it gives me a chance to write. He was just like me, too.
It got me thinking about the purple car. If you don’t drive a purple car, I assume you cannot remember the last time you saw one. They are not a common color. If you have a purple car, I’ll bet you can tell me everyone else in your town who also has one. We look for the familier.
If you go on vacation to Boston, you will see some wonderful sites. The USS Constitution is in Boston. Paul Revere’s work shop. the old North church (one if by land, two if by sea.) But, I’m guessing you will not seek out a native of Boston and randomly strike up a conversation.
Now, instead of a trip to Boston, imagine you are going to Dubai, a city on the Persian Gulf. You will see some wonderful sites. the Gold Festival was going one when I was there and it was amazing. I also went on a desert safari that was magical. Now suppose you find out that another American, someone from say, Boston is also on the desert safari? Chances are you will strike up a conversation with them.
What’s the difference? If you were vacationing in Boston, or even another major US city, you wouldn’t seek this person out, but while you are both driving in a Toyota Land Cruiser up and over the sand dunes, you would. I think it’s because we seek out the familiar. It’s why you might pass someone everyday in the hallway at work and never speak, but if you found yourself on a camping trip and they were in the same campground, you might reach out and say hello. It’s why on the train platform I only heard the portions of the portions of the conversation that were “like me.” It’s why the person with a purple car notices all the other purple cars.
Why is everyone like me? Because I tend to notice the people who are like me: parents of high school kids, a train writer, a purple car owner, an American in the United Arab Emerates. So, don’t feel bad that everyone is like me. Everyone is like you too.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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Labor Day marks the unofficial end of summer. It’s still two weeks away, September 5th. The official end of summer is marked by the Fall Equinox, on September 22. But for millions of families like mine, today August 22 marks the real end of summer.
There is very little about my job that is tied to the seasons. Our call volumes go up at certain times of the year. There are holiday parties in December. People typically take more time off during the summer. But, for the most part, anything that we do in August, we could just as easily do in February. Any line of business that launches in June, could just as easily launch in January.
Our call centers are located all across the country; Kentucky, Virginia, Utah and Louisiana. (Fortunately, not near the flooding. Click here to support the relief efforts.) We have centers that are impacted by snow, or hurricanes, or tornados. It doesn’t really make much of a difference which part of the country we operate in.
As employees, we generally don’t focus on the date, other than to tie it to projects. I have a big project starting in September and rolling out in January, finishing up in March or April. I’m not concerned about what the weather will be like during my project rollout.
So, what marks today, Monday August 22, as the real end of Summer? The other 9 people who share my house. Today is the first day of school in Utah. My kids are attending grades 8 through 11. My lovely wife is a teacher’s aid in a special needs classroom. Today is the day that a new year starts.
We don’t have a lot of traditions around back to school. We buy the kids a new set of school clothes. This despite the fact that we buy them clothes all year long. But, the back to school clothes are a little special. We give each child a special blessing, or family prayer. I offer it while my lovely wife types it up. We then print it out and the kids have it to refer to throughout the year.
This year we added a new tradition. We changed all the wifi settings. We had a family meeting yesterday to decide what the home wifi schedule should be. It turns on at 6:30am then off at 8:00am. It comes back on at 2:30pm and then off at 10:00pm. Weekend times are expanded slightly. For example, we don’t turn it off in the middle of the day except on Sunday during church.
The kids accepted the new schedules with the typical amount of grumbling and negotiation.
I think the wifi should turn on at 4:30am.
Why is that?
Because I might need to write a paper before school and I’ll want to get up early and work on it.
You can let us know if you need to get up early and we’ll turn it on early that day.
But, I wouldn’t want to wake you up.
Yeah, we know. Plan ahead.
We got similar arguments for why it should be on late at night. It’s amazing that kids who have not yet missed a single homework assignment are concerned for their ability to get online after hours. Their dedication to their education is admirable and highly suspect.
As an IT professional and someone who has seen 4 children through high school graduation so far, I was unconvinced by their pleas for access to greater academic resources. Like I said, it was the typical grumpiness and negotiations. We pushed the morning start time back a half hour and agreed to turn it on in the afternoon shortly after the first kids get out of school, but stopped short of turning it on before school officially let out.
Each summer is the last of it’s kind. This summer we still have eighth graders. Next year the oldest of them will be preparing for their senior year. I’m sure at that point they’ll have a whole new set of arguments for greater wifi access and of course a new set of clothes.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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It’s been a while since I did one of these. I take a lot of pictures when I go hiking. With digitial cameras, there’s really no reason not to. I remember the days of print film, when you were paying for every click of the shutter.
My trip last weekend involved a stay at a campground outside Cedar City, Utah that was absolutely one of the most beautiful campgrounds in Utah. Then, we visited Cedar Breaks National Monument, Kanarraville Falls and finally The Narrows in Zions National Park.
Here are some pictures.
Our camping site was one of the nicest I’ve ever been to in Utah. We were up around 6,000 feet, so the nights were cold, but the greenery was nice. And we had to explain to some of the boys that
No, it didn’t rain. That’s called dew.
Cedar Breaks National Monument
The next morning it was a short drive up the road to Cedar Breaks National Monument. The walk from the parking lot was only about 4 minutes. And the view was fantastic.
Well, the view is good if that old ugly guy would get out of the way. 
That’s more like it. 
Looking south you can see the area around Zions National Park. 
Cedar Breaks is home to some of the oldest living things on the planet. This Bristlecone Pine tree is 2000 years old. The guy in front only slightly younger.
The Bristlecone pine has the ability to kill off portions of itself when it becomes sick or diseased. That allows the rest of the tree to continue to survive.
Kanarraville Falls
Next, it was off to Kanarraville Falls, just North of Zions National Park. In previous years, we hiked Kanarravile on Saturdays, but it became too crowded at the falls, so we switched to Fridays.
Like most slot canyons, the hike takes place largely in the water. The entrance is green, but becomes less so the farther up the canyon you go.
The red walls start to rise immediately when you get to the canyon.
You soon leave the greenery behind and it’s just you and the water and those walls.
The first falls has a “nice” ladder. We had no waiting on this hike. In previous years it’s not uncommon to wait here for 45 minutes on a Saturday for your turn to climb up.
A couple of miles into the hike there is a natural water slide.
The higher you go, the more narrow the canyon becomes. Flash floods are a real danger in these narrow spaces.
The “ladder” at the second falls is basically a log and a rope.
The views are majestic.
This being an “out and back” hike, you retrace your footsteps to come back down.
Zions National Park “The Narrows”
On Saturday we headed into Zions National Park to hike the Narrows. Utah is a desert and it shows in the barren landscape.
Zions is crowded, but they are prepared for the crowds. There are shuttle busses that take you to the various attractions in the park.
At the Temple of Sinawava, you can hike the mile long boardwalk to reach the Narrows.
As tall as the walls are in Kanarraville, they are even taller in Zions.
A walk at the mall is what it feels like when you start into the Narrows. Lots of people.
The walk is almost entirely in the river from this point. The walls can be over hundred feet tall, and straight up and down.
The walk back to the bus stop.
We had some tired boys at the end of the day.
The walk back to the van and the end of a very enjoyable couple of days in Southern Utah.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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If a train is going to travel regardless if you choose to ride it, does it constitute stealing if you ride for free? What are you stealing exactly?
This was more than a theoretical question for me this week. I got caught riding our local commuter train without paying. I’m not generally a dishonest person. I count my change at the grocery store, not to make sure they didn’t cheat me, but to make sure I didn’t cheat them. I return library books on time. I always come to a complete stop.
But, this week, I stole a ride on our local commuter train. We moved offices recently. Our old office was near the Salt Lake City airport. I drove every day. Our new office is slightly closer to my house, but more importantly it’s only about a half mile from a train station. I love trains. Our heavy rail commuter train is called Frontrunner.
It has double decker passenger cars. I love to sit in the upper deck, feel the rhythm of the wheels and watch the sun come up.
It’s about the same price to ride the train or drive. In the mornings, it’s actually quicker to drive in. But, afternoon traffic is horrible. It might take an hour to travel the 30 miles down the freeway. (Okay, not terrible by some standards, but terrible for Utah.)
I started taking the train and so far it’s been great.
If you are going to ride the train only once or twice, you can buy a ticket for that day. But, if you are going to ride it often, you can get a pass. A card that you scan when getting on and off. It’s quicker, and it’s also about 20% cheaper. Of course, you have to request the card. And that’s where my problem came from. I requested the card okay. And a few days later it arrived in the mail.
So far, so good. I even went online and put money in my account. It’s a prepaid card. And the next morning I scanned in to board the train.
The scanner made a beeping noise and I settled in for my 30 minute train ride. When the transit cop came through to check tickets, I confidently pulled out my shiny new pass.
It failed the check.
He scanned it with a handheld scanner and it flashed a disturbing red message.
Typically, this is what it does if you have insufficient funds in your account. Remember you have to scan it when you get on the train.
Fortunately, he let me off with a warning. But. . .but. . .I don’t NEED a warning! I have money in my account! I nervously glanced at the guy sitting across from me.
First time I’ve used the card, you know?
He ignored me and went back to his phone. Yeah, he passed his check. He probably didn’t want to be associated with a criminal, or someone too stupid to figure out how to use a train pass. He seemed to smile, happy that he knew how to use a pass
Eventually I figured it out. Like a new credit card, my transit pass had to be activated before I could use it. When I “beeped on” it had actually given me a FAIL beep. I was too new to know the difference.There was money in my account, but the account wasn’t active. Now I know.
Today I was relating this story to one of coworkers. He got a worried look on his face.
Maybe I haven’t actually been using my card. I don’t think I ever activated it.
I just looked at him and smiled, happy that I knew how to use a pass.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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Rodney is an old guy that tells stories.
I’m old. I feel it the day after playing basketball. I feel it in my bum shoulder that requires regular doses of Advil. I notice it when I look around and realize everyone in the meeting is younger than me. I feel it most during campouts. Sleeping on the ground, hiking up rivers, climbing mountains: All of these while trying to keep up with 12 and 13 year old scouts. It’s on these outings that I feel it the most.
Last weekend I was in Southern Utah on a scout camping trip. One of the stops we made was at Cedar Breaks National Monument. The monument is primarily a canyon. And, like much of the area around Zions National Park it is spectacular.
It’s also very accessible. It’s only a short walk from the parking lot to the rim of the canyon. It’s then a pleasant half mile walk around the canyon rim. All the while with views like this.
About three quarters of the way around the canyon rim trail, you come upon this tree.
Utah, of course, has a desert climate and Southern Utah extremely so. It’s typical to see lots of dirt, rocks and sand, broken up by the occasional green tree or cactus. This particular tree is called a Bristlecone Pine. . .and it’s over 2,000 years old.
It’s ironic that the oldest living organisms in the world live in some of the most inhospitable locations. Bristlecone pine trees are able to grow at high elevations (some more than 10,000 feet or 3,000 meters), in arid, windy conditions with poor soils. The Bristlecone Pine does this by literally killing parts of itself.
Have you ever had to kill a project? I have, and it sucks.
Don’t cling to a mistake just because you spent a long time making it.
– Unknown
I once moved to the Midwest to go into business with a guy I didn’t know well enough. I spent thousands of dollars and uprooted my family for this move. Two months later I was on my way back to Washington, much poorer and chagrined at how badly I had misdirected my career and family. But, just because I’d made one mistake, didn’t mean I needed to compound that by staying there.
The nature of risk is that not all risks pay off. If they did, they wouldn’t be risks. I’ve explored projects at work that started with high hopes, and yet, at some point during our investigation, we realized that our project had no hopes of meeting its objectives. It’s easy to say yes to a new shiny opportunity. It’s much harder to say no. Or, more accurately, “no more.”
Film directors talk about the need to “kill your babies” if you want to make a movie. the film we see on the screen is only part of what the writer came up with and the director filmed. Sometimes we see the “director’s cut” that includes extra footage. Sometimes it’s the deleted scenes section of the DVD. But, often scenes simply end up on the cutting room floor. Often these are scenes that a director loved. Scenes she spent hours setting up, filming and editing, only to realize that as great as the scene was, it didn’t fit the movie. The film would be better without it. These are the babies that a film director has to be willing to kill to make the rest of the movie stronger.
Sometimes we gain more by having less. Whether it’s stress, or stuff, or toxic relationships, ridding ourselves of the parts holding us back, helps us to move forward. We only have so many hours in a day. We only have so much energy to devote to things in our life. Make sure you are devoting your energy to the right things.
And that’s what makes the Bristlecone Pine so remarkable. When portions of the tree become damaged, or sick, or diseased, the tree stops sending energy and water to those sections. It kills them. That’s why a Bristlecone Pine looks the way that it does. It has killed portions of itself to allow the rest of the tree to survive. By constantly cutting the bad to save the rest, it managed to survive for millennia. The oldest Bristlecone Pines are over 5,000 years old. They are the oldest living things on the planet. In fact, they define “old.”
Yes, these trees are old. Hiking up slot canyons and sleeping on the ground made me remember that I’m old. But, like the Bristlecones I can continue to redefine myself, to add by subtracting. I can remove drama and add experiences. I can grow old without becoming old. After all, I notice I am growing old when I realize my children are leaving home but I have four grandchildren. And in that case, old isn’t too bad at all.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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As he walked out the door, I didn’t know if I’d strengthened a friendship or killed it.
I recently shared a story about Nelson, a guy I play basketball with a couple of times per week. (Sharing Uncomfortable Truths.) I took the opportunity to approach Nelson and point out that when we played on the same team, he never passed me the ball. I tried to use the concepts found in one of my favorite business books “Crucial Conversations: Tools for Talking When Stakes are High.”
The conversation was tense. I tried to validate Nelson’s position. He is a very good player. Certainly a better scorer than I am. I let him know that I wasn’t mad, but I wasn’t sure if he even realized that he was ignoring me when we were on the same team. He left without saying much.
I really only see Nelson when we play ball. The next week we ended up on different teams. There’s not a lot of talking that happens during a basketball game. I had no idea if Nelson even remembered our conversation, or if it had any effect.
Last week, I was gone on a hike and missed the game. Today was once again, basketball day. We had eight players and we did our typical “shoot for teams.” I arrived late, so I was warming up as the other guys were shooting. I noticed that Nelson missed his shot. Only two players made baskets the first time through the rotation.
Rodney, it’s your turn to shoot.
I’m not sure if anyone noticed me miss on purpose. Like I said, I’m not a great shooter anyway. I tend to focus on playing defense. But, I barely hit the rim on my shot.
The players lined up to shoot again. Nelson was third in line. The two players in front of him both made their shots.
Makers are dark and get the ball first.
Nelson and I both already had white t-shirts, although I wasn’t wearing the one he’d given me to get me to quit wearing the ugly yellow jersey. The game started and after the other team scored, we headed down court.
Here was the moment of truth. With only four players on each team, everyone gets a lot of time touching the ball. Did I subject us both to an uncomfortable conversation for nothing?
Nelson got the ball in the corner and cut toward the free throw line and dropped the ball right in my hands on his way past. I fired a pass down low and Steve scored an easy basket. So, a token? A consolation to “get me to shut up?” The next time down the court, Nelse cut across the middle of the key and Sean hit him with a bullet, and Nelson kicked it back to me at the top of the key.
I still don’t shoot much. I was 2 for 6 over the course of three games. I lost track of how many times Nelson passed it to me. Because, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t an issue of keeping track. I looked for opportunities to get Nelson the ball in scoring position. I yelled encouragement when he made a particularly good shot.
There’s a scripture in Mormon canon that goes something like
Correct at times with clarity, but afterward show an increased caring for the person you’ve corrected, lest he consider you to be his enemy.
I can’t think of a time I’ve enjoyed basketball quite as much.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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I don’t remember an element of death. I grew up in Western Washington. You can think of it as Seattle, although it was actually a town called Lacey, a suburb of the capital Olympia. I spent a lot of time in the outdoors. I eventually earned an Eagle Scout badge. I went on many scout camping trips. And in all of them, I don’t ever remember being told “Do this wrong and you might die.”
I spent this last weekend in Southern Utah with a dozen Boy Scouts. We hiked the Narrows and Orderville in Zions National Park. But, before that, we hiked Kanarraville Falls. Kanarraville is about 30 miles north of Zions. The canyon is much smaller, and there’s a dusty, hot mile long walk to get to the mouth of the canyon. Once you reach the canyon it is unlike anything like anywhere else in the country.
However, I enjoy Kanarravile more than the more popular Zions Narrows. Kanarraville Falls has far fewer people, and unlike The Narrows, there are two waterfalls that hikers need to traverse. These falls are the reason it’s called Kanarraville Falls and not just Kanarraville Canyon.
Someone has set up bridges to allow the hikers to get up and down the falls. Bridges might be too strong a word. They are little more than logs with some crosspieces attached. The first bridge gets the most traffic, of course. It has a fairly stable set of iron cross members secured to what looks like an old telephone pole. It’s fairly easy to scramble up the 15 foot waterfall.
However, the second bridge is a different story. It’s also a telephone sized pole, but it has only a couple of wooden cross pieces spaced far apart. The log is slick from the constant spray from the falls. Scrambling up is a daunting endeavor. We were taking 11 boys, some for the first time.
These are slot canyons. That means just what it sounds like. The water has cut a narrow path through the rock. The walls are very close, sometimes only an arm’s spread wide. The canyon rim was high above. In Kanarraville, the walls were 100 feet tall in places. At Zions they were easily double or triple that height.
Along the side of the bridge, someone had secured a rope to the wall. Actually, it was a series of ropes in various stages of disrepair. In order to get up the second bridge, a hiker must become a climber. You brace your feet on the bottom support, take a firm grip on the rope and use the strength of your arms to pull yourself up. If you have people to help, they use their hands to create additional braces for the climbers feet.
Falling means a 15 foot drop to a riverbed of rock. Do this wrong and you might die. Going up we were fine. We had three adults to shepard the boys up. We put a leader on top to help them up and one on the bottom to brace their feet. However, we were planning on splitting our group and I would start back first with only part of our troop, I realized I was going to have to manage that bridge on my own.
Don’t do it wrong, you might die. Or worse yet, injure one of the boys.
Our trip back down was uneventful until we reached the upper waterfall. The first decision was where to position myself; at the top or the bottom of the log. If I went first, I could brace the boys feet better. But, if one of the boys got too nervous to move forward, I’d be on the wrong end of the bridge to provide moral support.
I opted for a position at the top. An older scout went down first and offered to hold their feet. I provided an arm to grab for the first few feet, but there was a big gap in the middle where the boys were on their own. Wet slippery tennis shoes, a smooth log and a long drop to the bottom. But, they also had a rope. And that was the difference. The rope was small and had big loops that made it difficult to hold on to while keeping their balance. But, the rope was firmly anchored to the canyon wall.
Trust the rope.
As each boy took tentative steps out on to the log, I repeated my advice.
Trust the rope. The rope is secure.
Very carefully, each boy edged out farther and farther down the log. Some exuded confidence. Others appeared to question the wisdom of a hike up the slot canyons. Eventually they all safely traversed the bridge and beamed back up at me standing at the top of the ladder as if to say
I did THAT!
I was the last one to come down. Carefully, I positioned my feet on the slick log and took a firm grip on the rope.
Trust the rope, I heard myself say inside my head. Not just advice for boys.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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I’m not working today. I’m not writing today. In fact, by the time you read this, I’ll be headed up into one of the most beautiful slot canyons in the world.
Yesterday I told you about the ETW Express. Many of these posts describe the successes and sometimes failures of corporate IT life. I have a very demanding job. I often am on call for weeks at a time. I have a large family. I have responsibilities in my church services. And I have volunteer responsibilities.
In other words, like you, I have a life. Most times, I really like my life. Other times it becomes a bit overwhelming. How we choose to recharge differs for each of us. I’m on a recharge mission this weekend. I, along with a couple of other scout leaders, am taking a group of 16 Boy Scouts into the wilds of Southern Utah for the next two days. Today, we are hiking Kanaraville Falls. Tomorrow, we will brave the crowds of Zions National Park and hike the Temple of Sinawava trail. It’s mostly walking through the river. We’ll quickly leave the crowds behind as we make our way upriver, eventually turning off into the Orderville canyon.
These are all slot canyons, at times so narrow that you cannot see the sky above the canyon walls that rise 50, 60 even 70 feet or more on each side. The weather will be in the mid-80’s at the park and quickly drop into the 70’s or lower when we get into the canyons. At times we have to swim small stretches of open water. It’s a hike we do every year at the end of the Sumer. Last year, my son nearly drowned. (Well, maybe that’s too strong a term. He certainly gave us a scare.)
The next three days will also be the Perseid meteor shower. We will be in prime viewing locations. I’ll be out of range of my cell phone, my boss and my client. They’ll be in good hands.
I’m sure I’ll find business and life lessons during the trip to share with you next week and I hope to come back with great pictures. But for today, I’m just mailing it in.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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I travel a lot. San Antonio, Shreveport, Richmond and Louisville are the cities I visit the most. When I schedule my trip, I plan on one day for travel. Occasionally, I’ve squeezed travel in on the end of a work day, but it results in my getting home around 2:00am. I’m getting too old for that. . .stuff.
But, it’s all airplanes. I have a coworker who hates to fly. Hate is not a strong enough word. His body has a physical reaction when he walks on a plane. If he ever did. Fortunately, he doesn’t travel often. Last month was one of those times where he had to go out of state. He needed to be at a client meeting in Washington DC. It’s about a five hour flight from Salt Lake City. His problem with planes meant that he had to find another solution.
He took the train.
It took him three days. He said it wasn’t bad except for a really long tunnel in Colorado. Like really long. It caught him off guard on the way to DC. His issue with planes also affected his comfort level when traveling under tons of rock and dirt. He told me that he almost didn’t make it back. He was so concerned with the tunnel that he considered getting off and driving the last few hundred miles. He made it through by counting the minutes that he was in the tunnel. We all have our coping techniques.
I’ve recently started riding the mass transit heavy rail train to work. It cuts quite a bit of time off my commute, especially during rush hour. I enjoy it. It’s only about a 30 minute ride, but I’ve always liked the motion and the sound of a train, even a commuter train.
I have another kind of train in my life. It’s not an actual train, although that’s the way I describe it. It’s the ETW, or Emotional Train Wreck Express. It follows no set schedule. The EWT might be absent for months. Or it might show up at a moment’s notice.
Everyone has challenges. We all have the demons we need to overcome, the dragons we need to slay. I honestly have no idea if mine are worse or easier than anyone else’s. And some people deal with adversity better than others. Am I good at it? I have no idea. That’s the thing when you are on the EWT, you don’t get to sit in the cab and drive the train. At least I don’t. Instead, I’m stuck in the baggage car. There is a lot of emotional baggage on this train. Getting on is easy. Getting off less so.
This week the EWT came roaring through my life. This time I knew it was coming. And it still wrecked emotional havoc. A constable showed up at my door with a summons to court. It was a court date that I expected, but the summons was still a surprise. Yesterday was our day in court. I’m not charged with anything. I was in court to talk about people close to me.
The court date wasn’t even contentious. She needs help and this was simply one step on getting that help. I’ve even been in this courtroom dozens of times over the years with other young people needing help from the state. Yesterday, the judge issued her ruling that we all agreed with in the best interest of the child. We set a follow up court date, as we always do.The lawyers stuffed their yellow notebooks and iPads back into their expensive leather briefcases.
She walked out of the courtroom to begin the next step in her journey to getting help.
And the thundering sound of the train rolling through created tiny cracks in my heart. . .again for the first time.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday at 7:00 AM Mountain Time. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2016 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved