So here we go another book in the vast pile of “have read”, a pile that at this point is beginning to rival Springfield’s tire pile. This one was Larry Niven’s Ringworld, a book that seems to be part of a series I’m unaware of. The book mentions all sorts of things that are never explained, which helps create a sense of place, makes it seem more real. At the same time, I don’t like it when authors drop little bits and pieces of things and then never explain them. I have a feeling if I read more of Niven’s work much of these non-sequiturs would make more sense. Also the book looks like it could have used a little more editing. There was more than one occasion where the transition didn’t work and I was left scratching my head at what in the world he was trying to say. I’d have to stop and re-read the passage more than once. This is not good as anyone who writes or reads knows, it takes the reader right out of the story, destroying all that hard earned suspension of disbelief the writer had worked so hard to create. The subject matter was fascinating though, Niven talks about numbers so large that it’s almost impossible to conceive of them. As far as I can tell as well Niven’s science is up to par as well, but then I’m not much of a science guy, so… He seems to have covered a lot of the technical difficulties though one would face building an artifact the size of the Ringworld. A fun read one I’d recommend to those interested in the hard sci-fi genre.
I miss my Grandfather…
…A man I never really knew. His name was Glen Howard, I can’t tell you when he was born and I can’t tell you if it was 1, 2, or 3 years since he passed away. All I knew about him I was told to me by my own father, whose moods were often fickle; reminiscing about grandpa was apt to put him in a black mood. Or I gleaned it from observation and the uncomfortable conversations he had with my father when we visited on holidays. Grandpa was born and raised in the Gila Valley in Arizona it is also where he died. He never forgave the Japanese. He was in the Navy. He married my grandma. He fathered 5 children, 2 boys and 3 girls. He cheated on my grandma and married the other women. He owned a bar. He threw silver dollars off of the ship he was serving on in WWII, thinking he’d never see home again. He drove truck. He had eagles tattooed on his forearms. He collected ceramic figurines full of liquor. He was larger then life. He had diabetes. He had goats. He had 3 mongrel dogs. He hurt my father deeply. He died of cancer. He thought he’d die in the Pacific fighting the “Japs”.
This is all I know of a man whose blood runs in my veins. This is all I know the man whose life I dreamed of chronicling. But I could never find the courage to speak up or the words to say. I sat there unhinged and desperate to escape during holidays. Not wanting to feel the tension and anger, the resentment, and love, the hero worship and scapegoating all fermenting in that tiny old trailer. I was only a child begging for his father and grandfather to be the adults I wanted them to be. So that the air could clear and we could all finally breath. They never should have done that to me. We all ended up losers. My dad lost his father, my grandfather lost his son. I’m crying now thinking that they never got to know each other, perpetual strangers to each other constantly dancing through a lifetime of introductions. I don’t want this to happen to me and my dad. I want to know the man who has most influenced my life. I want to understand who he is.
I don’t want to do what he did with his father.
If only we learned from those who came before…
DULCE ET DECORUM EST
Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
I need to do top 10 and 20 lists
As they seem to be what brings people to blogs… Hmm what can I top 10 about? Top 10 books you’ve never read? Top 10 The Simpsons Episodes? the 10 Worst Family Guy episodes (that’s a hard one, so many are so bad)? Top 10 stupid books we’ve sold at Borders? Top 10 stupidest politicians (contemporary and of all time)? Top 10 open source pieces of software? Top 10 paid for Software? Top 10 best attributes of Myself? Top 10 things I hate about you? 10 best things about my girlfriend? 10 things I’d want if I was a rich, selfish prick?
All sorts of lists I could do, and of course my lists are LAW!