The Chicken or the Acorn

You know the old debate about which came first, the chicken or the egg right? Most everyone does. Except for small children of course. They are not meant to understand the many intricacies of life. Its beginning and its ending.

Now I know that the quality of education has deteriorated over the last few decades but this recent event has me wondering. Here’s why.

The other day my son Paul and I were out in the back yard doing some cleaning up the grass, picking up fallen branches and generally clearing weeds and debrie from the beds and surrounding area.

Since it was spring we were noticing that there were a lot of new trees sprouting throughout the beds. As I pulled out a small tree, my wife, who was watching us from the comfort of her chair asked, “Hey what are those plants anyway?” It was hard to tell from where she was sitting. I said, “It’s a tree.” “Oh, come on.” she said. “What are they?”

“Theresa, it’s a tree, like that there and that one over there.” pointing to more newly sprouted trees (conveniently located under the trees they fell from). Like all these trees in our backyard!”

I clearly remember as a child while growing up in Tewksbury, Massachusetts that in the Fall there would be acorns all over the place. Tewksbury was a small rural town not far from the New Hampshire border, just outside the city of Lowell. There was an abundance of trees in our neighborhood and the street was lined with them. (Made for a beautiful canopy over the street when covered with snow…but that’s another blog.) The acorns fell off the trees along with the leaves. There were so many acorns the kids in the neighborhood would gather them up into fairly large buckets! We’d have fights with them, throwing them at each other, trying to put a sting on the other kid without hitting the face. Heck, we’d even remove the ‘cap’ and core out the center, punch a hole in the side, insert a toothpick and pretend we were smoking a pipe! Clearly good old boyhood fun in the early 60’s. We also knew one important point. If these acorns were left to their own natural cycle of life, they grow into trees! That’s why my wife’s next question was a real shock.

“Where do trees come from?” she asked. There is no effective adjective I could use to explain the reaction I had. The look on my face must have said two things to the casual observer, a) “I can’t believe she just said that!” and b) “Of course my wife of 28 years just asked that!”

As I looked over at our son I could tell he couldn’t believe his ears either. After all, he was picking up his chin off the ground!

“What did you just say? Did you say what I thought you said?” I asked.

“No, really. Where do trees come from?” she repeated.

My wife is from Weirton, West Virginia and went to Catholic school. Weirton is an old steel mill town. Her frequently cited memory is that of graphite falling from the sky and collecting on everything. Made for some interesting playground activities. But, she went to Catholic school. That was suppose to be a better education. I on the other hand went to public school. Primarily because I was 4 of 8 and the money wouldn’t stretch that far as my older brother and sister went to Catholic schools too! So I thinking to myself, “Where were you when they taught this subject?”

Realizing I could NEVER convince her any other way, I gently pulled out a newly sprouting tree, acorn neatly attached (as you can see here) and showed it to her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed.

But, alas, I wasn’t. Well we all had a good laugh at that one. My wife didn’t seem the least embarrassed. She's been here before.

Well the next day I was putting together my mother-in-laws lunch and since it was another beautiful spring day, I took her out onto the back porch deck where we shared our lunch together. And I had to ask. I had to because I was still grappling with the hole concept of my wife not knowing about how trees grew! “Annie” I asked, “you know where trees come from don’t you. How they grow and everything, right?”

“No.” she replied. “Where do they come from?”

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!

Pawtuckaway State Park

When I was young our family would take summer trips to various parts of the country. We'd pack up the camping gear (Dad probably did most of that work!), cram into the car and off we went. My Dad's job was such that he needed to visit several State offices of the American Heart Association to train the staff on accounting policies and procedures. He took that opportunity to bring the family along during the summer months so we could camp and enjoy the summer visiting a host of state parks throughout the eastern United States.

One summer, when I was around 12 or 13, we found a new park that was not too far from home. It was newly opened and provided all of us with plenty to do. I remember this park specifically because of two significant events that occured there. The first was getting to know some of the other campers, especially this cute girl. Ah! The first girl in my life and to me, she was pretty. I specifically remember a time where we kissed on the beach while under a beach towel. (Wouldn't want anyone to see us kissing!) I do remember that she was from Sommerville, MA, we from Tewksbury. I had no idea where Sommerville was. Could have been on the other side of the world as far as I was concerned. I just knew it wasn't Tewksbury so for me she lived far away. We spent most of the time at this park together with her friends and other kids our age. We would hang out on one of the bridges crossing a creek between two areas of the park. As is likely to occur when an immature boy is smitten by a lovely girl, he feels the need to impress her. Seems that the thing to do then was to remove the nuts and the bolts that where used in the guard rails and toss them into the creek. It was risky but it impressed the girls! And I wasn't the only boy doing it but clearly we were not thinking of safety, the danger created by weakening the railing, etc. We had more important things on our minds.

"Stephen!" I remember my Mom's voice calling me from my basement bedroom shortly after returning home from our vacation. "Stephen" she called again! (Hey, a kid never responds on the first call.) I indicated that I heard her and came to the foot of the steps leading up to the 1st floor of our home. There she stood looking down at me and asked me if I had removed some bolts from a guard rail at the park. I sheepishly admitted that I had. It seems when the parks rangers discovered the issue they began to ask the campers questions. They talked to the girl and others who identified me by name. They, in turn, contacted my mother. Ugh! How embarassing. She'd never understand I was just trying to impress a girl! "Well," she said, "They want us to pay them for the repairs and to never go back to that park again! It makes me so mad because we really liked that park and it was close to home!" As if that wasn't enough to make me feel terrible, she said the most dreaded thing she could say, "Wait 'til your father comes home."

Oh, man. "Wait 'til my father comes home" meant a disciplinary act that would be sufficient to make me regret ever doing it and would instill the necessary conversion of will to never do something like that again! As I returned to my bedroom to begin the long, excrutiating wait period before the arrival of Dad at my bedroom door, I couldn't help but have mixed feelings. Heck, she turned me in! I thought she liked me! Well, if that was the case then she must have been uncomfortable giving the rangers my name and she too must have been embarassed along with her family. And my Mom really did like that park. She mentioned it several times throughout our stay. And there goes the money I'd be earning delivering papers for the next few weeks to repay the park. Man, this growing up stuff was going to be difficult!

It's Spring!

Here I sit on the lower back porch just outside my basement door. It's a beautiful Spring morning in the mid 50's as I sip my firt cup of coffee. Freshly ground Dunkin Donut beans flavored with a touch of haselnut and sprinkle of cinamon. It feels warm in my hand and teases my sinuses in this brisk morning air.

It's a joy to be here in the morning instead of in traffic along I-75, just north of Atlanta. I am blessed with a job that allows me to be able to spend most days at home. Oh, I do a lot of phone calls, attending conferences on the latest issues on the projects we are working on. But to sit here and listen to the morning sounds of the wide variety of birds is just awesome. Woodpeckers hack away at the tree bark hoping to unearth an ant or two. Blue jays, Cardinals, and Robins huslte about looking for the first worms of the day. Some pick twigs to begin their nesting. Each has a unique sound, some brief and sharp while others are melodious. Funny how when you are busy with your day you tend to not hear these simple wonderful sounds.

But here I sit savoring the last few sips of my coffee. Ah yes, time to get to work. People to see, things to do, places to go! As I moan and groan while lifting myself off my favorite Adarondak chair I can only think about taking a beak at mid day and returning to this very spot, wife in tow to discuss the morning and upcoming family events....

"I'm caucasian."

At least the last time I checked. Yup, just this morning. Although while living in Florida I may have had more of a tan than I do now, I'm still caucasian. Checked that box off on many a form throughout my life.

My company recently merged with a competitor and we are finished upgrading all of our letterhead, envelopes, etc. Now they have finally gotten around to updating our security badges too! So I went into the office today to exchange my current badge with the new one. As I waited in line with my colleagues those that had just received theirs were making comments on the photos. Of course, I mentioned out loud that I hoped they would take a little weight off my image. The guy in front of me looked at his and said, "Yup. They did for me."

When I got the ID I immediately noticed my name spelled correctly. Afterall, we Bauer's are very familiar with spelling our last name because everyone we talk to seems to assume it's spelled the more common form "Bower". Well, I then looked at the photo and said, again out loud, "The names spelled right but the photo's wrong. (with a pause for effect) I'm caucasian!"

Sure enough they had some image of a black person I didn't recognize on my ID badge. They of course apologized and took back the ID with the promise to call me when it is ready. Made for a funny way to start my day and a quick process in getting an ID! Almost!

Into the 21st Century…

Several months ago I found myself looking out the 7^th floor window that partially surrounds my office cubicle. It’s early morning, around 8am and I’m enjoying a cup of Dunkin’ Donut coffee with a touch of French vanilla flavoring and a sprinkle of cinnamon. I feel the warmth against my nose as I take a second sip. Down below, at ground level, I see a fellow employee, crossing the driveway on his way into the building. Ron is in his sixties, tall with white hair. As I watch him I wonder if he has a weeks worth of clothes in his closet like those he is wearing. “He must.” I think, “because he wears the same outfit every day!” Navy blue jacket, light blue long sleeved shirt, red tie and light grey pants. It’s the same every day. Winter, summer, spring and fall. He arrives exactly at the same time and leaves at the same time too. Like clockwork. On a recent business trip we shared, I asked Ron if he ever works without his tie. (After all, business casual has been the norm for years now.) Nope. He even tells a story that while at a conference he attended they announced that any attendees to the social hour that evening wearing a tie would have it cut off. Just before they broke for that days session they reminded everyone about the social and the president of the organization announced that no ties were required…except for Ron’s. Seems Ron spoke to him after the first announcement about how he never has his tie off and got his point across.

Listening to Ron talk about his career in the telecommunications industry is like reading a book of its entire history. I half expected him to tell me he was in the room when Alexander Graham Bell spoke those immortal words. Suffice it to say that Ron is an expert in all things regulatory within the industry. He has been instrumental in creating the laws passed by the FCC in regulating the Bells. He has been in negotiations with all the Regional Bells to establish purchasing agreements between his company (MCI at the moment) and the Bells. He know their tricks and their misdeeds.

I, on the other hand, have often been frustrated in trying to get Ron to explain how the Bells build telecommunications networks, what the piece parts are, how they are sold and what we can buy. Like Heinz, there’s 57 varieties! My frustration is partly the result of Ron’s wealth of knowledge and my lack of it! But Ron is a pleasant man. Friendly and always willing to answer your questions…no matter how often you return to ask it again. But Ron is what some may describe as a dinosaur in terms of using modern technology in the course of doing ones work. No, he’s not using an old IBM electric typewriter that’s for sure and he is competent in Excel although only a two finger typist! But a cell phone? Nope. A PDA? Nope. A wireless modem? Nope. A pencil? Yes! A pad of paper? Yes!

Heck, if Ron works from home, which is EXTREMELY RARE, his wife answers. If he’s on a conference call from home and he has to send a file, he hangs up because he only has one phone line!

Recently our boss was responsible for pulling together important information about purchasing local access loops in the State of Florida and he really needed to talk to Ron on a regular basis, being the Access guru that he is! With pressure mounting and upper management to report to our boss got extremely frustrated in trying to coordinate with Ron. In utter frustration, he called his secretary and said, “I have five things I want you to do today. All other things are second priority. First, order Ron a blackberry, a wireless modem for his laptop, a cell phone, open up an Instant Messenger account for him and get him set up on all four systems! Let everyone know this is a high priority!” Well the next day Ron is in his office with boxes stacked every which was, some opened, some still taped up. By the end of the second day Ron was loaded with the latest high technology communications gadget. Our boss was never going to NOT REACH RON AGAIN!

A week later while we were all working together in a meeting when I notice Ron reach down and pull out a blackberry. I’m shocked! He’s adeptly flipping through his emails, reading the most recent communications. Our boss says, “So Ron, how do you like all the new toys you have?” “It has changed my #!*& life forever!” We all laughed.

Several weeks have now passed. I walk over to the coffee pot centrally located on our floor. I pass by Ron’s office and noticed the door closed, the lights out. He should have been in by now! I get back to my desk to see that Ron is on Instant Messenger so I know he’s working. But not at the office? He didn’t come in today? Hope everything is all right. When our secretary arrives I ask her about Ron’s absence. “Oh.” She says, “He hasn’t been in much since we bought him all those toys!” I started laughing! “Ya. He just loves the ability to work from home now.” Living and driving in Atlanta, I totally understand.

And just recently, I was working from home and on a conference call with Ron and our boss. I asked him how he likes all those new devices. He loves them. He works from home a lot now. But I just had to ask…”Say Ron, you wearing a tie right now?” “Nope. A tee shirt and shorts!” We all got a great laugh out of that! “Welcome to the 21^st Century, Ron!”

“Thanks!”