Transient Enthusiasms

Author: transi58_wp

  • Where Does Crypto Fit?

    There are many potential investments, from stocks to art, from race horses to land, from collectible glass to crypto. How should we think about these options? And where does crypto fit? We want to make a profit, but what other objectives can we serve as we do so? After all, if your only objective is profit you run the risk of living a narrow, bleak life. Most of us want more.

    The stock market is what most think of when asked to name an investment, and it’s where most who want an investment have placed their money. It’s liquid – that is, you can easily sell if you want to. It’s somewhat safe, as stock values rarely go to zero. It should direct investment to the best (for the society) opportunities – you may have read my Why Market Efficiency Is Important; if so, you learned that the stock market isn’t directing properly at present.

    If you enjoy art, that can be a good place to invest. You may make money and you can enjoy the art while you own it. Unfortunately, only pieces too expensive for most seem to offer opportunities for profit. However, if you buy art by living artists you are helping to spread art in our society – which is a good thing.

    Race horses are beautiful and can bring pleasure to many by racing – or just moving. I expect that some people make a profit owning them, but I also expect that it takes unusual knowledge to do so. I once knew someone whose father made his living betting on horses. He worked six months of the year, at two tracks. He was at the track by 5am every day to watch them work out. He returned in the afternoon to bet. He owned two houses without mortgages (one near each track), educated his children through college, and provided for his retirement. But he may have been unique, he certainly was for me.

    Land is an attractive investment if you don’t need immediate returns as “They aren’t making any more.” Rental property is related and works for many. I tried it and lost money, learning that I’m not hard-nosed enough and don’t enjoy the process. In contrast, I once read of a New York City family that owned a great deal of rental property. The interesting part for me is that about once a generation they either bought everything they could or sold everything they had; “all in” or “all out”. They grew up with two things: (1) Enough funds to make these extreme moves; and, (2) Learning when and how to do so. I expect this ability is as rare as successfully betting on race horses.

    Carnival glass is a collectible glass and it’s history may be a story I was told decades ago: There once was a woman living on a large farm in the Midwest USA (Indiana?) in the 1950s, let’s call her Joan. She had a large, empty barn and liked carnival glass. At that time it was being given to purchasers of laundry soap and other commonly-purchased things. It had little-or-no value, you could buy it for pennies. Joan bought all she could and filled the barn, it took years. She had many thousands of pieces. What could she do with it? Joan did something different: she wrote a price guide, a paperback book that said how much each of her many thousands of pieces of glass was worth. The rarer colors (red) and pieces (large bowls and platters) were worth much more. She sold the book, and sold a new edition every year or two. And she slowly sold her glass. I don’t know how much money she made, but she made a lot. And she enjoyed every second!

    We finally come to Crypto (I know you’re reading this post for that), cryptocurrencies to be precise. How does it fit as an investment? First we can list the obvious that it’s not: It can’t direct resources to companies that do good things for society, so it’s not like the stock market. It’s not pretty, you can’t enjoy looking at or holding it like art. It doesn’t bring pleasure to others like race horses. “They are making lots more,” so it’s not unique; indeed, I was surprised to learn that there are more than 25,000 different cryptocurrencies. Actually, it’s most like carnival glass – with every person who started a cryptocurrency in the role of Joan.

    So what is it? Wikipedia’s definition is: “A cryptocurrency (colloquially crypto) is a digital currency designed to work through a computer network that is not reliant on any central authority, such as a government or bank, to uphold or maintain it.” Each unit of crypto is called a “coin”, although it doesn’t exist as a physical thing. And, as a currency is first a medium of exchange, we’re not surprised at the list of what it’s not in the proceeding paragraph.

    But why does the world have 25,000 crypto currencies (versus 180 country currencies)? Why would so many people start one? Simple, because you can make far more than Joan by creating a new crypto. People want crypto coins because of two things: (1) It’s a currency, you can buy stuff with it; and, (2) They are limited in number. Not just limited, but progressively more limited from the first coin to the last coin. (Limiting numbers to create value is a long-proven strategy, consider the diamond market.)

    How did they become so valuable? Rarity and demand – and a lot of advertising and public relations, most calling them an investment. Have you seen ads in the grocery store? I have. They will stay rare; there’s no chance of finding another barn full of carnival glass down the road. Since they are going to be rare and the person who starts the crypto can most easily get coins, they will keep the first (million, 10 million, or ? million) coins. Next they will encourage others to use the coins. The more well known and popular they are then the more they can sell for (and the richer is the person who started it).

    Aren’t cryptocurrencies an investment? They are called that everywhere on the Internet. So they must be. Right? No. Cryptos are unlike anything we discussed above. They are only about money. No surprise there; remember, they are a currency. They are a money. Money goes up and down in value in comparison to other moneys – in small parts of a percent. So how can a single crypto coin be worth $100,000? Ever heard of the tulip bubble? When a single tulip was as valuable as a house they too were considered an investment. After all, the world can never get enough tulips.

    It’s really a circular argument: Crypto is wanted because it goes up in value; crypto goes up in value because it is wanted. Did you ever read the phrase “famous because they’re famous” about people in the news? I think crypto is just like that, only it’s the economic equivalent. And people spend billions of dollars for it. And we laugh at the tulip bubble.

  • Self-Medicating as I Age

    No system is perfect; they all have the vices associated with their virtues. The profit motive drives much of our medical system, but it can ignore things that show no profit possibilities. Also, much of our medical system is driven by life and death outcomes. So things that are just uncomfortable or inconvenient are frequently ignored. As I age I find that I need to provide more of my own medical care as my body’s changes are just not important enough to involve others.

    This is my list of conditions where I am all or part self-medicating:

    • Blood condition precursor to Chronic Myeloid Leukemia (CML)
    • Osteoarthritis
    • Supraventricular Tachycardia (SVT)
    • Too much trouble finding the right word
    • Aggravation with politics

    This is my list of solutions to those things:

    • Low Dose Naltrexone (LDN)
    • Glycine (an amino acid)
    • Taurine (an amino acid)
    • Acetyl l-Carnitine (an amino acid)
    • Lithium Orotate

    Low Dose Naltrexone – In my 60’s I was diagnosed with a blood condition precursor to CML. I was told “It will probably develop, but don’t worry. We can treat it.” Of course I worried; it was the first big medical thing that had happened to me since I was 5, when I had polio (when my parents worried). One of the places I took my worry was to a friend, an inventor specializing in medical things. He told me to take a look at LDN. I looked it up on line and found ldninfo.org. I read the whole site, printed out a dozen of the pages, and took them to our GP – who actually read them. His conclusion was the same as mine: “It doesn’t cost much and is unlikely to cause harm if it doesn’t work.” He wrote the prescription. A year or two later I no longer had the condition. The blood guy (a/k/a hematologist) said “Spontaneous remission.” I tried to tell him what I’d done but he wasn’t interested.

    Naltrexone was developed to counteract opioids; it blocks their effects. The standard therapeutic dose is 50mg every 8 hours. The standard LDN dose is 4.5mg, once daily at bedtime.

    A few years later my wife, Paula, was diagnosed with fibromyalgia; the initial prescription did little. So she began the effort to have her doctor prescribe LDN; it was a long effort, but she eventually succeeded. It somewhat worked: she describes it as 90% effective, and effective enough. A few years later it stopped working. The compounding pharmacist suggested trying one or more 0.5mg capsules with the 4.5gm capsule. One was enough, 5mg was her new dose.

    I’ve kept taking and reading about LDN. A couple of years ago I found the LDN Research Trust, which is even more comprehensive than the LDNinfo site. It helps you find someone to write a prescription and pointed me to a company that makes LDN in pill form, which should be cheaper and more reliable.

    Glycine – In my 50’s I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis and told to take naproxen; I did so for a year or so. And then decided that I didn’t want to take a daily pain killer. I though of a friend that I co-drove with at Daytona in the early days of IMSA; he was 70 at the time (ancient in my eyes then). We had little money so we shared a room. In the morning he worked every joint in his body, “to keep them working,” he said. He finally quit driving race cars because it was interfering with his tennis. Anyhow, I stopped taking naproxen and started daily exercise. I still had a little joint pain, but I’ve kept exercising, and learned to like it.

    About 15 years ago I bumped into Steve Gibson’s efforts to fix his sleep. He was waking at 1am and staying awake until 3 or 4. I was nothing like that, but I thought I could sleep better. I tried his vitamin concoction and convinced myself that I was sleeping better. Probably not. But as his approach evolved, I kept up. Along the way I began adding powdered glycine to my drinking water. And the very minor joint pain I had went away. It makes the water taste a little sweet, and if I take too much I produce some really bad smells. But I’ve learned how much to add to water to get my benefits without bothering others. For me, it’s about 1/2 teaspoon per liter of water.

    Note on amino acids: Among other things, they are the building blocks of protein and they have received a lot of study. However, most of the studies are on fruit flies and rodents. So the results are only suggestive. My experience with glycine made me aware of the hypothesis that age can reduce the body’s ability to extract needed amino acids from proteins. So I became more willing to try amino acids. They are cheap, easily obtained, and unlikely to cause damage.

    Taurine – One night in my 60’s I woke up with a racing heart; it was over 200. I woke up Paula, and she took me to a hospital emergency room. I was seen quickly, and they gave me a shot that stopped my heart temporarily (not a good thought!), and it was normal when it restarted. They told me I had SVT and I visited a cardiologist for the first time. She was impressive. She explained that it was a miswiring of my heart nerves and that it could happen again. She prescribed a pill to carry with me and to take if/when it occurred again. She said that if it happened too often there were other things that could be done, but I didn’t like them. So I lived with it, as many others do.

    I first read about Taurine on Steve Gibson’s news site. In his article about Taurine, an amino acid, he commented that it tends to stabilize heart function. Well, my SVT could benefit from some stabilizing, I was having an episode every 2-3 months. I started taking a gram of Taurine twice a day, SVT frequency dropped to 3-4 months. I was diagnosed with sleep apnea and started using a CPAP machine, SVT frequency dropped to 4-5 months. I increased dosage to 2 grams twice a day, and it’s now been more than 3 years without an SVT episode. I tried 3 grams twice a day for a while but returned to 2 grams twice a day when standing quickly frequently caused dizziness from my blood pressure dropping. (This was also associated with my trying Hawthorne extract; I’ll write more on this when things have settled.)

    Acetyl l-Carnitine HCI – I’ve been discussing Creatine with my son for several months. He and my grandson are taking it to improve athletic performance. I read some articles, but wasn’t convinced. (In my 80s I don’t care about improving my athletic performance.) Then I read an article in the Life Extension Magazine about it. What most intrigued me was the summary of Carnitine effects: “Carnitine intake boosted mental and physical energy levels, reduced mental and physical fatigue, enhanced cognitive and neurological function, and improved frailty scores.”

    This sounded good. I ordered some and tried it, taking 1gm after breakfast and dinner. After a week I realized that I wasn’t unable to find the right word any more. This had been a growing problem for me, it was noticeable enough that Paula encouraged me to see a neurologist. I did, and after tests he said it was just aging – but to come back in a year for a comparison. So the Carnitine fixed a real problem for me, without my expecting it to do so! (BTW, this occurred about 10 months after I last saw my neurologist; I have an appointment in about a month and it will be interesting to see what he thinks of the effects. )

    Then I went skiing. In the past when someone lifted the ski lift’s safety bar too early I would have a pang of fear, and I would grab something. (I always sat on the outside so there was something to grab.) Now, no pang! I just said to myself “Oh, the bar is up already,” without any other reaction. Two days later we went to Newport, RI for dinner, to our favorite restaurant. The Newport Bridge is high, narrow, subject to winds, and you can see through the sides. Normally, I turn on the radio or a book to concentrate on as I drive white-knuckled across the bridge. This time, just minor fear! No white knuckles! Just high winds and a mostly comfortable drive across with hands relaxed. A little fear, but not important; I could do what I wanted! Two good, unanticipated effects of Carnitine – “unanticipated” to me indicates that I couldn’t have made up the effects. Finally, I’ve since increased my dosage to 2pm after breakfast and 1gm after dinner.

    Lithium Orotate – I subscribe to and read the Life Extension Magazine every month. Overall, I’m not impressed with most vitamin research; the sample sizes are too small and they pay too little attention to confounding effects. But the LE Mag tries, and I accept many of their results. They mostly pass my lower bound “it can’t hurt, it might help, and it’s not expensive” test. One of their reported studies indicated that 1mg of Lithium Orotate daily might reduce the likelihood of dementia. So I began taking it, didn’t expect any changes and found none.

    Over the next couple of years politics became more unpleasant, which bothered me. So I read more about Lithium Orotate and thought that increasing my dose to 5mg might reduce the bother. It tried it, and it did. So I now take 5mg of Lithium Orotate daily; I think of it as my political vitamin.

  • Breakfast

    Breakfast

    Breakfast means breakfast cereal to me. I eat the same breakfast for many years. It began when I was a teenager: Cheerios during the week, a dusty sundae on Saturday (vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, with powdered malt on top); and waffles with maple syrup on Sunday.

    I know this isn’t the right place for it, but I have to write about chocolate syrup. When I was a teenager it was always Hershey’s, and I kept using it for decades until I talked with Rita. She was from New York City, and said that Fox’s u-bet was better. I didn’t believe her and insisted on a blind taste test – she was right! In comparison, Fox’s has a better taste that was just chocolate. I now dislike and avoid Hershey’s.

    Cheerios

    This was my first long-term cereal, begun in my teens and lasting for decades. Unfortunately, I wasn’t happy with generic or any knockoff I could find. It had to be the brand name and I’d go though two of the largest boxes a week. My process: fill the bowl with cheerios, add milk until some cheerios fell out of the bowl, place the escapees carefully on top, and carry it carefully to the table. Looking back now, it was boring – but I’m happy with boring breakfasts. Paula, in contrast, has to have something different every day. Eventually, due to its sugar content, cheerios was replaced by shredded wheat.

    Shredded wheat

    About the time I became interested in vitamins (see my vitamin post) I became aware of the sugar content in cheerios. Shredded wheat was its replacement. For this, the different brands were less important to me as I found something to like in most of them. Also, as the cereal was denser, I didn’t fill the bowl as full as I could.

    Vermont Visits

    When I visited my grandfather in Vermont we always had cooked cereal for breakfast. (By the time I was visiting my grandfather by myself we had lost my grandmother.) We cycled between Maypo, Wheatena, oatmeal, and something else I can’t remember. Sundays were waffles with maple syrup.

    We always have Vermont maple syrup on hand. My grandparents retired there and they sent us a gallon twice a year while I was growing up – even when we were on Guam. Since I’ve grown up I don’t use as much, but we always have it in the fridge (it lasts longer there) or in the freezer (it lasts forever there). Our favorite is a dark grade with intense flavor without being bitter. We have more than a gallon left from 2014, the last time we found it. At the rate we’re using it we may have it for the rest of our lives – at least we hope so. Finding that kind of syrup is luck, it happens randomly and rarely. My friend Orville made some, and we split what he had left with my cousin Nate. As he has four kids, I expect his is gone – and that he will be jealous when he reads this.

    The Cereal Bowl

    While I was attending HBS (see my Harvard Business School Doctorate post) I bought a new cereal bowl. Normally, this wouldn’t be something to mention, but it turned into a production. I had wandered into a store with many bowls and decided that I needed a new one – but it was $5! I know it isn’t that much, but I had furnished my entire kitchen for $3.50 at Tom’s Swap Shop in Ohio. Somehow, it didn’t seem right to spend 40% more on a single bowl. But I liked it; it had just the right curve and was just the right size – so, eventually (it might have been two hours), I bought it. And I’m still complaining about it. Sometime in the early 2000s it cracked, but I kept using it.

    When we were driving near the Sugarbush Ski Area in Vermont, Paula and I stopped in a pottery shop. There we found some purple pottery that appealed to us, serving pieces and bowls. I looked closely at the bowls and decided that some of them would be acceptable as a replacement for my cracked bowl. I think we bought eight bowls; we now have four – of which two are acceptable cereal bowls. The others work for ice cream, for example, but I dislike them for cereal. Their curve just isn’t right. I’m hoping the two remaining bowls will last. I look for cereal bowls occasionally, but I haven’t seen another acceptable one in years.

    Muesli

    My sister ate muesli frequently. She had spent years teaching in Germany, and continued to eat muesli when she returned. I tried it several times when we were together, but it always seemed too sweet to me. After we moved to Cranston, Rhode Island (where we now live), I started looking for a muesli that I liked. After trying all of the box brands that I could find I tried one from a bin in Whole Foods – and I liked it. It had enough components that the bites varied in taste and texture, and it wasn’t too sweet. (Paula said it was too sweet, but I was OK with it. Also I sprinkle a cc of green tea extract on it, which cuts the sweetness. See my Vitamin post.) Luckily, the label had the maker’s name printed on it as Whole Foods stopped stocking it. So I ordered it direct from the company, Grandy Oats. I ordered two three-pound bags at a time for a decade. I came to like doing it that way as it was fresher. Then, they stopped selling it in three-pound bags, so I ordered a larger bag. When it arrived – thin plastic, not resealable – I was irritated. I wrote to the company and complained. They, very politely, said “Sorry, that’s the way it is. But you can now buy it at Whole Foods.” But I liked the freshness, and I didn’t like the change. So I started looking again. (Whole Foods stopped using bins because of the coronavirus so Grandy Oats began selling three-pound bags again, but it was too late to get me back.)

    Daddy’s Muesli

    I’d learned from Grandy Oats’ muesli that I liked a variety of components in my cereal. I searched. I tried Bob’s Red Mill muesli, but it was too plain. Eventually, I found Daddy’s Organic Muesli on Amazon, among several others that I wanted to try. Daddy’s was the best for my taste. I’d ordered a pound to try it, so I ordered five pounds and worked to eat up the others. It came in a non-resealable (but thick) plastic bag, so I accepted the packaging. In the early days of the coronavirus I looked at Daddy’s web site and found that they were in Sri Lanka. As I didn’t want to run out I ordered the 15 pound pack. It came in a resealable, thick plastic bag in the largest USPS flat rate box – it just fit! While I’m still using up the last of my Grandy Oats muesli (20% with 80% Daddy’s), my cereal has never tasted better. I’m almost ready to order another ten pounds; it’s expensive per pound, but this quantity is the cheapest per pound. It lasts a long time and I’ve never tasted a better muesli. My breakfast rut is now very comfortable; I’m happy.

    Fruit

    When we have suitable fruit I add it to my cereal. But I can’t find good tasting fruit for much of the year, so I thought of dried fruit. In trying other cereals I learned that I like the taste of cranberrys in cereal. That sort of tang was the one thing I thought that Daddy’s was lacking. So I looked for a supplier. While I like craisens – particularly their texture, like raisins – they have too much sugar for my taste. So I looked for unsweetened, dried cranberrys and found Cherry Bay Orchards. I like their taste, but they are more difficult to chew than the rest of my cereal. Trying to find the same effect without the hard chewing, I tried some unsweetened dried tart cherries and liked them. I’ll update this with my opinion when I have one – including about freeze dried fruit.

    Four months later: For the added fruit I’ve settled on dried tart cherries; however, the only unsweetened one I’ve found is Sareks (link) on Amazon. While some others are advertised as unsweetened when I read the fine print I found that they added artificial sweetener and/or oil — neither needed by me. Occasionally I add a few whole freeze dried cranberries. While these float on the top they give a nice burst of flavor and tartness.

    Freeze Dried Fruit

    As I don’t write about cooking – that’s Paula’s department – I don’t know where else to put this, and the subject deserves mention. I’ve tried several freeze dried fruits from North Bay Trading Co. While I haven’t tried them in cereal yet, my recent reading of comments makes me want to. I keep freeze dried bananas and pineapple near my exercise equipment because occasionally I have a blood sugar crash. So I eat a couple of handfuls and drink some water, and it goes away. I found the company through their 32 Bean and 8 Vegetable Soup. It’s far and away the best bean soup I’ve tried; I thought I didn’t like lima beans but their giant Christmas limas changed my mind. I’ve ordered some other freeze dried fruit to try with cereal, and I’ll update this when I have an opinion.

    August 16, 2020, January 3, 2020

  • Sports Cars: MGA & Sunbeam Alpine

    Sports Cars: MGA & Sunbeam Alpine

    Since I started reading sports car magazines in my mid teens I’ve been interested in cars. We lived on the Navy base in Long Beach, CA – where a neighbor had a MG TC, and was kind enough to take me for a ride in it. I liked this enough that – while my first car was a 57 Chevy – when I could make the decision for myself I chose a sports car.

    MGA

    I bought a red MGA when I flunked out of college for the first time, my reason/excuse was that I needed to be able to get to work. I still remember the leather smell that rose when I unzipped the driver’s side of the tonneau cover. Why doesn’t car leather smell so wonderful today? It doesn’t seem to matter whether the car is old or new, moderate or expensive, the leather smell just isn’t right.

    The MGA was well-used, and was one of the early ones. It had a minor oil leak, which I discovered when the oil got too low. The 1500cc MGAs had a three-main-bearing crankshaft – which was more sensitive to low oil levels than the later (1600cc, five-main-bearing) model. So, shortly after I bought it I needed to rebuild the engine. When I was driving home from the shop after buying it back I was pulled over when I went around a corner too fast. (Why else would you drive a sports car?) I told the officer of the situation and he let me go, which was very nice of him – and good for me as I’d spent all my money.

    The car also needed a battery. But this wasn’t a problem as I carried jumper cables and parked on a hill whenever I could. I was living with my parents and their house was on a hill. So I started coasting, turned on the ignition, and popped the clutch to start the car. At work, a three-foot roll was enough to start the car – I got very good at doing this, but I still bought a new battery when I was paid.

    Early Saturday mornings in good weather I went for a ride. I drove through the country west of McLean, VA – which was all farms then. Like most farming country, the roads meandered around fields – providing great corners. One of these turns also dipped to go over a bridge; on the far side of the bridge the local police were setting up a radar trap – but I was too early for it. They gave me dirty looks as I drove by, but didn’t do anything else. When I left home for my second sophomore year I sold the car.

    Porsche Super 90

    My uncle Gene, a Naval officer like my father, was fond of Porsches. His first was a 365A, one of the first in the country. When I had the MGA he had a Super 90. (My cousin Steve now owns this car. I haven’t seen it in decades except in pictures, but I see and smell it clearly.) After I took Gene for a ride in my MG and let him drive it, he did the same for me with his Porsche. (Sometimes virtue is rewarded.) First he drove one way down a favorite winding road, then he let me drive back. He sat beside me saying “Faster! Faster!”. A great memory. Gene kept the Super 90 until he bought a 911, when he sold it to Steve.

    I doubt that Steve still has it, but Gene had a diatomaceous earth oil filter for years. This was the oil filter used on ships at that time, so he adapted one to use on his car. He told me that he hadn’t changed the oil in thirty thousand miles. (He changed the filter periodically, but not the oil.) This must have been before oil additives became common, as I suspect they would be incompatible (I found no hits on a search for such oil filters). He told me of it when I read his Porche Club of America article on driving across Canada: “We kept the tach at 3 o’clock until we needed gas.”

    Sunbeam Alpine

    While I was in the Coast Guard my mother bought a light blue Sunbeam Alpine hardtop. She liked it, but I suspect she was planning to give it me when she thought I’d finally grown up. Apparently, she felt this had occurred while I’d been in the Coast Guard, as she gave it to me when I returned to college. It came with a gasoline credit card that my parents paid – it’s hard to imagine a nicer gift.

    This is the car in my mind when I think of being at Case. Some of the memories are:

    The car was almost low enough to drive under the campus gates. So I would grab the gate through the open window, lift it over the car top and drop it behind. I could do this at 10 mph.

    Driving back from southern Ohio in a pouring rainstorm without the top (it was on the lawn in front of the dorm)ll. We discovered that if we stayed over 75 then we stayed dry; only the last couple of miles were wet.

    All the parking places were taken, except for one too narrow for us to open the doors. We parked in it, lifted the front of the top, climbed out in our stocking feet, set the top back down, and climbed off the car.

    When the original tires wore out I bought radial tires, some of the first to be sold. This gave me a new excuse when an officer thought I was cornering too fast. “They squealed because the pressure is low, not because I was going too fast. I’ll get them pumped up.” It worked for me.

    On a Saturday evening I was the “responsible adult” while my aunt, uncle, and their friends were out of town. My friend took their friends’ daughter for a ride in my car. He squealed the tires around a corner and an officer turned on his siren. My friend outran them and hid for a while. Then he drove back to me – passing by the police station. Six police cars stopped on my uncle’s street with their lights flashing. My friend was taken to jail. The dean of students, who lived on the same street, said he would deal with it next week – leaving my friend in jail for the rest of the weekend. This was the only time my uncle got mad at me, but the dean of students defended me – but it wasn’t deserved.

    Saab Dealership

    When I needed repairs for the Sunbeam Alpine I took it to a repair shop owned by the local Saab dealer; it didn’t say that on its sign – or I might not have gone there – but I learned it after I’d been going there for a while. Frequently, when I didn’t have something that needed to be done, I’d go there and hang out – chatting with the manager and mechanics, handing them tools, and doing whatever I could to help. In return, they taught me about cars and mechanics.

    They repaired a lot of Jaguars because one of the mechanics, a Jamaican, was expert with them. So when the Jaguar dealer couldn’t repair a car, they brought it to him. I learned a lot from him, including many Jamaican swear words.

    They had a saying: “Don’t use force, get a bigger hammer.”

    One of the mechanics drove a Saab – this was when all Saabs were two-cycle, and you had to have oil in the gas. When an engine began to rattle – because it didn’t have oil in the gas – and was under warranty, the dealer would put it in the back room and install a new engine. The mechanic carried one of the rattling engines in the trunk, and had another installed. Every month or so he’d be an hour or two late getting to work or home. The engine would have seized, so he would swap engines at the side of the road. The engine was light enough, and came equipped with a handle on the top, to make this possible.

    The guy that owned the dealership raced a Corvette. One day he hit a deer at 120 mph during a race. He said that he survived because he was driving a fiberglass car – it crushed and the deer went under, instead of being picked up and hitting him in the face as the car had no windshield.

    One day Saab sent around a prototype Saab Sonnet, a sports car they were thinking of building. I drove it and loved it; it had an 850cc two-cycle engine – it was very light and very fast. But when they produced it for sale they used a four-cycle engine, heavier and lower-powered – so I never bought one. When I graduated, I bought a BMW 2002 (see post).

    Since…

    All of my cars since have been sedans. While some had good performance and/or personalities, they just didn’t have the attraction that sports cars have for me. But modern sports cars are so fast – and I’m getting older – that I really couldn’t do justice to one. The only one I’ve driven that I’d really like is the Mazda Miata. But when Paula and I met, she was driving a sports car and I was driving a sedan – and it has remained that way. But I’ll tell you about driving a Miata…

    Because a friend told me when to send my name in we were invited to a Mazda Track Day. There, on an old airport, we could drive all of their cars on the track. I liked all of them, but the only one I had an emotional response to was the Miata. Paula was riding with me, the track was tight – all turns. On the first turn I put the tail out and held it there. One of the Mazda employee’s head clicked around so he could watch me. For the next turn I flipped the tail out the other way and again held it – and he looked elsewhere; I considered that a compliment. While that’s the only modern car I know of where you can do such things at low speed, I can’t think of a better way to be pulled over than to be seen doing it on the road. But it’s a nice memory.

    July 27, 2020

  • Harvard Business School Doctorate

    Harvard Business School Doctorate

    HBS found me an apartment within walking distance of campus. It wasn’t a nice part of Cambridge and there were cockroaches. I moved in, cleaned it poorly, but eliminated the cockroaches. Later, when I saw them entering under the door, I added a poison strip just inside to keep them out. I planned to find another apartment after a year, so this was ok.

    The evening of the day I started at HBS I met my friend Joe while standing in line. He suggested that we go to dinner in a Harvard Square restaurant, and I agreed. We walked around a bit and he suggested a Japanese restaurant for sushi – I had spent a month in Japan when I was thirteen, but had never tried sushi. I enjoyed it a lot, particularly the wasabi. Later he introduced me to Indian food; overall, he started me on a lifelong interest in different cuisines.

    First Year

    As HBS’ experimental DBA group mostly didn’t have MBA’s they ran a special program to cover the needed broadening material. This was my first introduction to case teaching – where you are given the case with a few questions and are expected to have analyzed the case when you come to class. For the first semester this went well, I enjoyed the material, and didn’t feel so much that I was learning but that I was getting smarter. As there were fewer than thirty people in my group, I knew everyone, talked with them, and led a sheltered life.

    The second semester I took a second year MBA class; I clearly remember the first time I spoke in this very-competitive, sixty-person class: I put my hand up, the instructor called on me, the room darkened except for a tunnel of light from me to him, I said something, he figuratively patted me on the shoulder, and I don’t remember the rest of the class. After that it was easier.

    As doctoral students we had more opportunity than MBA students to talk with faculty: while working for them as research or teaching assistants, in the faculty club, and at social functions. After talking with dozens, I realized that I’d never met a group of people more willing to say “I don’t know.” (This wasn’t the same in the colleges where I later taught, where many of the faculty felt they were experts in everything.)

    My first year at HBS was successful except for marketing. Our marketing instructor called me to his office and said: “You’re in finance, aren’t you?” I agreed. He said: “I can see that you’ve been working hard at it, but you don’t really understand marketing, do you?” I agreed. He said: “If you promise never to offer an opinion on a marketing question I’ll give you a low pass. Do you agree?” (A low pass was the lowest passing grade.) Of course I agreed. (I’d been to dinner at his house and admired some of his collected art, but I doubt this affected his judgment.)

    Someone I’d gotten to know and like left at the end of the first year. His grades were in the bottom half of the class – but he passed everything. His problem was that he’d been the smartest person and valedictorian of every school he’d ever attended. He just couldn’t accept that there was a group where he couldn’t do that, so he left. It was apparent to the rest of us that the only area where we could possibly be best was in our best area – and maybe not there.

    The experimental DBA group ranged from 4-24 years of working experience. MBA students generally had 2-6 years of work experience. HBS’ faculty was mixed: about half had DBA’s from HBS and had previously been MBA students there with some work experience. But the remainder of the faculty were from programs that didn’t require work experience and usually had none. The senior faculty enjoyed the opportunity to learn of our experiences, but some of the junior faculty found us intimidating. We didn’t value their education and degrees as much as they thought we should – and they didn’t like hearing “It’s not like that” from us.

    Second Year

    After the first year I began to take more courses in finance (at HBS) and economics (at Harvard College and MIT). We were lucky; we could take courses wherever we wanted. At that time, the HBS finance doctoral students believed economics courses were better taught at MIT and econometrics courses were better taught at Harvard College. My experience in two courses at MIT was particularly notable.

    Introductory macroeconomics at MIT was taught by Paul Samuelson. The first American to win the Nobel Prize in Economics, he was known for writing “the definitive paper” in economic sub-fields – pulling together in one place all of the important thought and research in a sub-field. I certainly wasn’t going to miss such an opportunity, and signed up for his course. Each day he passed out his notes for the day’s lecture. At the start of the class they appeared to be a perfect example of schizophrenic writing, by the end of the class (and afterwards) they made perfect sense.

    Microeconomics was different; I went to class and listened carefully, all the words made sense but I couldn’t follow the logic. I was completely lost and talked about this with my friend Jonathan. He suggested I talk to his faculty advisor. I told him of my problem, he asked about my background and then told me I was using the wrong book. He said they assume you know microeconomics and are teaching you linear algebra; but you know linear algebra and need to learn microeconomics. “Try this book.” he said, handing it to me, “Bring it back after you buy your own.” That worked. The new book made sense and I did well in the course.

    Running

    In my second year I took up running. This turned out to be a major help to me. First, because it helped me handle the stress that I felt. Second, because I usually ran with my friend Jim – which gave me a chance to talk over what I was experiencing and hear what Jim was experiencing. I doubt that I would have made it through the program without those runs.

    We ran virtually every day and worked up to an hour. This was three times around Fresh Pond, where we usually ran. We ran slowly – my only running pace – Jim could run much faster. One evening when we were at the far side of the pond, a runner passed us at about twice our speed, looking half asleep and so light on his feet that it appeared that they gently tapped the ground each stride. After looking at some Runners Magazine pictures we decide that it was Bill Rodgers, who won the Boston Marathon four times around this period.

    Tests Before Thesis

    Before you could start on your thesis you had to pass three tests. The first test was a complex case analysis. You were given the case on a Friday afternoon and turned in your write-up Monday morning. Sometime during the week you defended your written analysis against three faculty members. Sixty percent failed the test the first time. I was thrilled: I received two satisfactory’s and one low pass – I passed. My friend Pierre received three outstanding’s – the first time in the history of HBS! Wow!

    The second test was just for finance majors and was on economics. My microeconomics and econometrics were strong, but my macroeconomics was weak as I’d just had the one course. A friend from Nigeria tutored me, which made learning it well enough to pass possible. But my real difficulty was psychological: I’d never worked as hard as I could at anything! I felt that if I did my best and failed it would be worse than not trying my best and failing, because I wouldn’t have the “I could have done it if…” excuse. Happily, I was finally mature enough to recognize the problem and actually did my best – studied all waking hours – and passed.

    The third test was a discussion of your planned thesis area – also defended against three faculty members. The official rule was that you could wait until you were ready. But it had been instant dislike between my assigned faculty advisor and me. He told me “You’re not ready, so you have to take it as soon as possible.” I did, but I was lucky: I had chosen an area so narrow that I could virtually memorize all of the articles in the area, which I had done. The faculty members didn’t have enough time to do the same. They had broader knowledge and could better assess the implications – but I’d though longer about it. I happily remember the door opening and the committee chairman holding out his hand and saying “Congratulations!” while seeing my advisor looking unhappy behind him.

    Good Luck In Your New Endeavors

    At the end of our first thesis year, HBS sent us a survey, asking what else we had been doing while working on our thesis. I told the truth: I’d been teaching and consulting while working on it, a third of my time for each part. They responded with a letter that ended: “Good luck in your new endeavors.” It arrived on a Saturday. I talked about it with my friend Jeanne, who said: “You told the truth? Why? Didn’t you see what they were doing?” No, I didn’t see it. (She saw everything! She was the most politically astute person I’ve ever met.)

    On Sunday, I visited my uncle for advice (the same uncle who was on the faculty at Case, now retired and living near Boston, please see my Undergraduate College post). He said: “They’re trying to get your attention. They want you to come in and say that you’ll work to get back in.” So that’s what I did. My particular hurdle was completing the theoretical part of my thesis. (HBS was accused by other finance schools of not being theoretical enough; we were a means to refute this.) The theoretical part was a mathematical model of how I thought the financial management of municipalities affected their borrowing cost.

    My problem with the math was that my head wouldn’t let me sleep more than two hours before waking me with dreams of equations and what I should be doing with them. It took me four months of sleep-for-two-hours-work-until-too-sleepy to finish. The last six weeks were a back-and-forth with my committee as they tried to have me make the model more complex without actually requiring it. I kept answering their questions with new uses of the simpler model. Eventually they accepted my thesis proposal and HBS readmitted me. Either I’d answered enough questions or they just decided that I’d done enough work.

    What To Do Next?

    I continued consulting and teaching, but gave priority to my thesis. When the end of the thesis was in sight I began considering what to do next. I had more choices than most. As my mentor was HBS’ specialist on investment banking, his recommendation was a guarantee of a good job in those firms – and I was the first person he’d been willing to mentor. But I didn’t like New York City; it was too big and for some reason I didn’t care about making a lot of money. So I never really considered it. Ditto for full time consulting; 80-100 hour weeks forever didn’t attract me.

    So I started looking for teaching jobs. HBS was a possibility – but not in finance, in “control”, HBS’ superset of accounting. This was an interesting and exciting possibility, but it meant eighty-hour weeks – not because it was required (it wasn’t) but because it would be necessary for me to meet the standard: first rate teaching and first rate research. So I looked at colleges considered “Harvard satellites” – while not officially associated, they had many HBS graduates on the faculty and emphasized case teaching.

    While I was exploring where to go I received a phone call from George Low, the president of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute (RPI). Low’s previous job had been to put men on the moon – I was thrilled to speak with him. He told me that he considered HBS’ experiment to be an opportunity to upgrade RPI’s management school. He wanted to staff much of the school with people who had worked, not just studied about working, and particularly wanted people with science and engineering backgrounds. This sounded exciting to me, so I visited. During my conversations with people there it was clear that the students were great – engineering undergraduates like I knew at Case – and that RPI was committed to improving teaching. So I and three of my friends, Jim, Jeanne, and Pierre (yes, that Pierre) decided to go to RPI.

    July 20, 2020

  • First Real Jobs And Masters Degree

    First Real Jobs And Masters Degree

    When I returned home to look for a job after graduating from Case, my father talked about my studies with one of his friends. He said that my background sounded like “human factors”. As I didn’t know what that was I went to the library – this was before the Internet – and looked it up: It was the relationship between people and machines; it started with knob design, and expanded.

    I looked under human factors in the yellow pages and found about 50 entries – this was near Washington, DC, so there were many consulting firms. I worked through the alphabet, calling each company, and found a job with Serendipity, Inc. My technique was to call a firm and ask about employment (I had a 30 second spiel), usually they asked me to mail a resume. Sensing a pattern, I began asking “Is this just an easy way to end this call, or is there a possibility of a job?” This seemed to get an honest response and, I suspect, made me memorable – increasing my chances.

    Serendipity, Inc.

    Serendipity was an interesting firm. Founded by three beer drinkers, it provided free beer after 5pm. As it was located in the suburbs – near where everyone lived – most stayed 30-60 minutes to chat about what they had in common: the work. This led to many good ideas. After a couple of years the company moved near National Airport, 30-60 minutes from everybody’s homes, and no one stayed. A few years later the company closed – I believe this was from a scarcity of good ideas.

    While at Serendipity I worked on two projects: diagrammatic guide signs and exercise facilities for long term space flight. As there’s a blog post on the former, I’ll write here about the latter. The first thing that the principal investigator had done after winning the project was to write every large toy company in the country asking for free samples. Wham-O sent several of everything they made, so when we got bored we played Frisbee in the hall. One of my tasks was calling companies for advice and assessments of likely technology 15-20 years in the future; I found it enjoyable to work through people in a company over the phone to find the right one for my question.

    When I joined Serendipity I was given a choice of job titles, and picked one at random. Years later, when I asked about a raise, I was told that I was at the maximum for my job title. I related the story of how I choose that job title and pointed out that the person who gave me that choice was still at the company to confirm my story. I asked about changing the job title and was told that that would be a promotion, and that no promotions from that job title were allowed. So I looked for another job.

    Federal Highway Administration

    After working a few months for another human factors consulting company, I found a job with the Federal Highway Administration. They were taking over the diagrammatic guide sign project and wanted someone with experience in the area. Working there was notable because it was adjacent to the CIA, and shared the same exit from the nearby parkway. As our building had no lunch facilities, we could go through a gate in the fence and eat in the CIA’s cafeteria.

    During some open time in the project, we decided to see what happened to US Park Police during their extreme driving training. We took one of our instrumented cars to their training facility. (I rode in the back seat of a police car while our car followed. I’d never seen traffic open up like that!) First, we and the instructors drove it on their wet skid pad – which was a figure-8, so we had to avoid collisions with the other car using it – we called this a baseline, but it was really for fun. Then, a dozen of the students drove the instrumented car too. We never wrote anything about it.

    During a down period, I was assigned to redesign the main office area, where there were several dozen cubicles. I designed it as a spiral, with me at the center end of the spiral. I justified it as the most efficient layout, with the lowest ratio of aisle/cubicles. But it was really to avoid unexpected interruptions.

    When the project was finished I realized that I’d worked on guide signs for five years – and didn’t want to work on them for the rest of my life. So I decided to go back to school.

    Masters Program

    As my undergraduate grades were so poor I decided to go back to Case – now part of Case Western Reserve University – because I hoped that having actually known me they’d be forgiving. They accepted me into their one-year Master of Science in Management program (it was only the second year of the program, so I had little competition). As I had taken statistics as an undergraduate and a year of mathematical statistics in a night course while I was at the FHA, they suggested that I take the epidemiology department’ statistics course. This was different and enjoyable.

    The teaching assistant for the course and I became friendly. One day he mentioned that he read introductory texts because he found that those authors worked harder at explaining than the advanced books’ authors. He said, “You can never understand the basics too well.” Years later, I found the same when I was teaching; I couldn’t teach it well unless I understood it perfectly.

    I had two major surprises during that year: first, that I had all A’s; and, second, that I really liked finance. So I looked into doctorate programs.

    In introduction to accounting, which I hadn’t taken as an undergraduate because it was only offered at 8am, I learned “Credits by the window, debits by the door.” It still works because remember the room layout.

    Doctoral Programs

    My choices for doctoral programs were three: the University of Michigan, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), and Harvard Business School (HBS) – the latter two had said “maybe, please visit”. The U of M was close enough to drive to, so I visited. I spent a very pleasant day there and learned that they felt like an anomaly in the midst of a football campus. Also, I was told: “If you can go to MIT or Harvard, why would you want to come here?” I planned a trip to Boston.

    My plane landed at Boston in the early morning and I took a taxi to MIT. As we were driving there I thought: “Of the two people in this cab, the wrong one has been driving race cars.” This put me in the proper frame of mind to visit MIT. There, I had two perceptions: (1) These are, by far, the smartest people I’ve ever met; and, (2) They don’t talk about anything but finance. After the visit, they said “we’ll think about it” and I thought “I’m not sure…” and took a taxi to Harvard Business School.

    A finance doctoral student took me to lunch in the faculty dining room. He talked of finance, and lots of other things. HBS was experimenting, he said, they wanted to shorten the time spent in the doctoral program and thought that people with work experience would go through faster. My unusual work experience with engineering, psychology, and statistics backgrounds should give me advantages in the program. I talked to several faculty members (I don’t remember who), and left thinking “I’d really like to go there.”

    A couple of weeks later I received a regrets letter from MIT and an acceptance from HBS. Yea. (Please see my Harvard Business School Doctorate post.)

    July 20, 2020

  • Not Building A House In Vermont

    Not Building A House In Vermont

    I’d dreamed for decades of building a house adjacent to my grandparents’ land in North Shrewsbury, VT. But we put building off until we were in our 70s – which turned out to be too late. However, we learned a lot about building in the North, and I’m taking this opportunity to pass some of it on.

    The Land

    We owned about 100 acres in North Shrewsbury, VT. My parents purchased this land from a neighbor more than 40 years ago. In many farming communities it’s traditional to accumulate land while in your prime; then to sell it to others as you age and don’t want to work so hard. But changes in productivity made farming at this altitude less economic, ending that traditional pattern. Summer homes and longer commutes opened a new market, but this land was less useful for those purposes.

    The land runs steeply uphill from Bailey Road; this steep part is heavily treed – with a break for a power line that runs parallel to the road. The land levels above this, with a large open meadow. (My friend Orville remembers helping his father clear this land when he was twelve.) The narrow Saltash Road runs from Bailey Road past the meadow and continues uphill. There’s a line of trees – and a stone wall – separating the meadow from the road, with access breaks at each end of the meadow. The meadow isn’t flat – that’s rare at this elevation in Vermont – with a slope in the middle, separating the flatter portions at each end – and breaking the sight-line between them. (This is important, as you will see below.) Next to the road, on the other side from the meadow, is a Red Spruce-Cinnamon Fern swamp, sitting on at least 12 feet of peat. This may be unique in Vermont, and is protected by the state, although decades ago electrical poles were placed in it. The land continues up the slope beyond the swamp, as it is on the flank of Saltash Mountain – and the road eventually becomes a path to the top.

    Both Bailey and Saltash roads are unpaved. (Shrewsbury allowed adjacent landowners to choose whether to pave, so some roads are intermittently paved.) Bailey Road to the west of Saltash Road isn’t plowed between a nearby driveway and my grandparents’ house because it’s so steep and there’s a way around. This makes a fine sledding hill, particularly after the snow is packed by snowmobiles. Saltash Road is a “Class Four” town road, indicating that it is not maintained by the town. Over the years, a combination of loggers working beyond our land and neighbors maintained the road. (A few years ago a logger gave us the choice of his widening the base of Saltash Road to allow a turn to the left – or having the large logging trucks go by my grandparents’ house. We choose widening the road.)

    Finally, as the land passed through the hands of the Vermont Land Trust, it is limited to a single dwelling with no commercial use except farming. We like that.

    Shrewsbury Limitations

    Shrewsbury limits development in several ways: at least five acres per dwelling in most places; only a dozen houses to be built each year; strict enforcement of building standards and zoning; and, preserving the views that make the town so attractive. This last is generally interpreted to prevent building in meadows – especially in the center. We were able to obtain a building permit for a house in the meadow because we planned a one-story house near the meadow’s edge. The contours of the land would hide a house from the lower part of the meadow and trees would obscure it from the road. (Shrewsbury very smartly made the final permit conditional on their measuring the distance of the staked site from the road – so creative misunderstandings are not possible.)

    Septic System

    Septic systems are generally a problem in this part of Vermont because there is clay in the soil. This prevents ideal drainage and a particular quality sand is needed – but its sources are far away, making it expensive. While there are septic systems that don’t use sand, they are more complex and expensive – and complexity is an issue with something so fundamental. To be able to properly estimate our house’s cost, we needed an approved septic design. While this cost several thousand dollars, it’s design is now attached to the land and, so long as it’s built as designed, no further approvals are needed. Pleasantly, the siting of the sand portion will make it invisible from the house. (Water isn’t a problem in Shrewsbury as wells are invariably successful.)

    What We Planned

    We wanted a small, open-plan, 3 or 4 bedroom, 2 bath house, with the master bedroom on the ground floor to allow our grandchildren and their parents to visit. We also wanted a pantry – as Paula has never had one – and a garage so we wouldn’t have to dig the car out when it snowed. A preliminary look at plans and costs convinced me that a single-floor house would be cheaper at this size, as it avoided using floor space for stairs. We wanted a knowledgeable advisor so decided to find an architect. We found 2Morrow Studio in Vermont; they work with factory built homes, as they are concerned with greenness and consider this the best approach for most. They were extremely helpful, took us on tours at several house factories, and we enjoyed spending time with and learning from both John and Gio.

    Factory Built Homes

    One problem that factory built homes face is transportation; shipping boxes of air is always expensive and inefficient. Additionally, their width and height are limited by road dimensions and bridge clearance. Finally, they have to be built strong enough to survive the trip. So they must find enough savings from the “factory built” environment to overcome these problems. They do, of course, or they couldn’t stay in business.

    My approach to looking at a factory is a bit different than most. As I know that a key to an efficient house is doing many small, invisible things right I look far past what is in front of me. I don’t look much at what someone is showing me; instead, I look in the distance to see how the people who don’t know I’m watching them are doing their job. I saw only one firm where the people who didn’t know I was looking at them all did their job properly: Vermod Homes. (This may be because they are the only firm we visited that commits to year-round employment – difficult in this highly seasonal industry.) They started making trailer replacements after the floods from Irene in 2011 – and they built them as they should be built: net zero – and they are expanding to larger homes. They also introduced me to my favorite HVAC component: the CERV2 ventilation system. (I’m surprised to find myself with a “favorite”, but it is unusually well conceived and constructed.)

    Another firm that I’ve visited and read a lot about (but didn’t take a factory tour) is Unity Homes. Started by a builder of very expensive, timber frame homes, he wanted to build houses that his employees could afford to own. While factory built, they are mostly shipped as flat panels – greatly reducing shipping costs. They ship modules of kitchen and baths, but still ship very little air. They will do turnkey projects if they are close enough, and shell constructions farther away – without requiring a second profit margin as factory built home dealers do. So the critical exterior part of the home benefits both from being factory build, and factory staff-assembled. We didn’t include them in our process, as their designs didn’t quite fit what we wanted (for esthetic reasons, Paula wanted a steeper roof than they offer for single story houses). But I continue to follow them as I like their approach so much.

    Since we abandoned our house building effort, I learned about Bright Built Homes. This firms seems do want to build properly, and their designs are attractive to me. If we were to resume our effort, I would include them in our list of approaches to try.

    Finally, we looked seriously at Foard Panels. While basically a SIP manufacturer, they help with structural design, and install the panels. Thus they avoid the potential finger-pointing that could result if they didn’t do so much. We would have gotten a tight, well-insulated shell to be finished by local carpenters. This is a good combination of factory and local building, but we thought it would be too difficult and time consuming to get the price and timing that we wanted. Unless part of a standard process, you can have only two of fast, cheap, and high quality – and this approach isn’t common enough to be standard.

    Why We Didn’t Build

    As you probably expected, it’s a combination of reasons. While we have the money to build the house, it would leave us with too much our net worth in houses. This isn’t an appropriate allocation as it would take away too much of our long term flexibility – important at our age, as we don’t have the time to recoup losses.

    Our second reason is that we wouldn’t use it as much as when we were younger. We used to drive to Vermont most weekends in the winter to ski, as we both enjoyed it, and frequently brought friends along. But Paula can no longer ski; I still can, but it’s not as much fun by myself. Additionally, the four hour drive takes more out of us than it did when we were younger.

    Finally, much of my desire to build was the result of a long term dream. My grandparents’ house was the only constant place while I was growing up and I spent many summers there. So having a house nearby seemed like a continuation of my childhood. When I reconsidered it, it just wasn’t as important. (I try to address emotional decisions by imagining I’ve made a choice and seeing how it feels.) We can still use my grandparents’ house, and we can stay nearby if our cousins are there so we can see them – and even bring our dog. So we’re not missing as much as it might seem.

    I’m still on mailing lists that I joined when I was investigating building – but probably won’t build. I still want to have a house with a CERV2-based HVAC system – but I probably won’t. Regardless, it was fun and a good learning experience.

    July 18, 2020

    In 2022 we moved from a cape-style house to a single-story house. To help finance the move we sold the VT land to a neighbor. We still enjoy walking up the road through it.

  • Our Precious and Fragile Democracy

    July 15, 2020

    Dear Friends:

    I have sent this letter to classmates and other friends. I hope you will read it and understand my deep concern at what I see happening in our country. Please note that I am not writing to ask you or anyone else to change political affiliation or to engage in a political debate. Rather, I hope that, in my small way, I can encourage all of us to work together to overcome what I believe is a very serious threat to our democracy and our nation.

    In a recent Facebook post, a friend expressed the view that we should respect (and be loyal to) our president. I’d like to offer an alternative point: The framers of our constitution, I believe, recognized the fragility of a democracy, a government “of the people, by the people and for the people.” They saw the great power that the structure of the government could place in a limited number of hands, especially that of the president. Consequently, they created a framework to check that power, notably a judiciary and a system of congressional oversight and, ultimately, a system where every citizen participates through her or his vote.

    I believe that what we have seen, and are seeing, is an erosion – if not intentional corruption – of the systems and principles of these checks on power. Some limited examples are: 1.) Suppression of witness testimony in the trial by the Senate on the impeachment of the president. 2.) Discharge of inspectors general when their investigations threaten to expose corrupt practices in the Executive Branch. 3.) Corruption of the federal prosecutor process to prevent prosecution of political allies and punish political foes.

    In addition, we have seen actions to silence the voices of the people. Among them: 1.) Forceful suppression of lawful protests, 2.) Voter suppression (many examples, from gerrymandering to outright closing of polling places or, in Iowa and elsewhere, actions by state legislatures to end absentee voting, and even to the threat by the president to close the US Postal System to prevent vote by mail), 3.) Use of Twitter and other social media to advance inflammatory falsehoods aimed to divide the American people along political (and racial) lines. 4.) Publicly branding as thugs or terrorists people in movements that would call attention to what they believe to be misuse of government power and inciting violence against them, in order to intimidate and silence them.123

    Fundamentally, the future of our democracy depends upon open, truthful information available to the people of this country. It also depends upon open acceptance of all points of view, in a common interest of the best future for us all. Advertising media, including “social media,” have enormous power to influence beliefs. When used to perpetuate half-truths or outright falsehoods or make political issues out of crises that require all of us to work together, they do fundamental damage to our ability to cooperatively manage our affairs. I believe that these divisive actions deliberately intend to increase the power of a limited number of individuals and lessen the power of the people to govern themselves.

    All of this may seem as meaningless rhetoric, but history suggests that it is not.45 By allowing an individual to accrue excessive power and by allowing the mechanisms we have to check that power to become defeated or corrupted, we set in motion a process that will only gain momentum. This, I believe, was well understood by the framers of our Constitution, even though the lesson seems to have been forgotten or disregarded today.

    I understand the concern that we must respect the individual who holds the office of the President. However, it is incumbent upon us to ensure that the occupant of that office is one that all citizens can respect, both for his or her integrity and moral values and for actions that unite us as a country rather than divide us.

    Above all, I respect our democratic system. I believe that its survival, though, depends upon public oversight and checks on the actions of any individual or groups of individuals who may use the power of public office for their own personal gain. I hope that we will all work together at this critical time, to ensure that we do not lose that which is most precious to all of us: Our democracy. Thank you for reading my thoughts.

    In friendship and caring,

    Jim Biteman

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  • Undergraduate College

    Undergraduate College

    I had selected Case Institute of Technology because my uncle was on the faculty. Our family had moved from Long Beach, California to McLean, Virginia during the summer before my freshman year. My parents drove me to Cleveland, Ohio – where it is located – and I moved into the freshman dormitory with my first roommate (a chemist, he muttered about methyl-ethyl-ketone in his sleep).

    Freshman and First Sophomore Year

    My two main memories during my freshman year were: (1) working little and getting B’s while seeing others work constantly and fail; and, (2) hearing screams of frustration from others with their head out the dorm window (traditional behavior at Case). I continued working little and flunked out in the middle of my sophomore year.

    The time I should have been studying I spent playing contract bridge. My bridge partner, who I’d gone to high school with, also went to Case. More mature than me, he was able to get good grades and still play bridge. He probably blamed me for his going to Case instead of MIT, where he also was accepted. This was justified as I’d tried to persuade him to go to Case. I lost touch with him after I flunked out the first time.

    My physics course was an exception during my first sophomore year; I hadn’t done enough homework to memorize the formulas so I spent exam time deriving the ones I needed. This impressed my instructor enough that he gave me a D instead of failing me as I deserved. My other instructors gave me the grade I deserved, an F.

    Second Sophomore Year

    I returned home and found a job for 18 months testing electronic components. When I asked to return to Case, they required me to promise that I wouldn’t play bridge. So I played hearts – to be playing something – but the dean of students saw me playing and called me to his office. He told me: “You promised you wouldn’t play cards.” I responded: “I promised I wouldn’t play bridge, I was playing hearts.” He said: “We’re changing your promise to include all card games.” I responded: “We?” and left to find a bridge game – demonstrating my immaturity. A couple of months later I realized I was failing all my courses, asked for and received permission to withdraw from my classes (they kindly considered this “progress”), and I returned home planning to enlist in the Navy.

    You may be wondering what my uncle said while I was being unpleasant to the dean of students (a neighbor) and flunking out. He was warm and kind throughout. I had a standing invitation to his house for Sunday dinner, enjoyed listening while he read out loud before dinner (as he did every day), and always felt welcomed. He and his family could not have been nicer.

    In addition to being naturally a nice person, he may have been remembering his own past. His family lived in Dedham, Massachusetts, and thought he was working on his doctorate in physics at Harvard, a few towns away. They learned he was in Egypt when they received a picture postcard.

    My father suggested the Coast Guard instead of the Navy; he said that my stuttering wouldn’t be as much of a barrier. I now believe that he saw the Vietnam War coming and was trying to keep me away from it. I joined the Coast Guard for one year active duty plus 5 years in the reserves. Boot camp was a good thing for me: while I’d played tennis in high school, I’d never been strong since I’d never done anything extra after polio (see Growing Up: Age 5-8; Isle Of Palms, SC).

    The Coast Guard provided incentive to be stronger, and I met the requirements. One day they posted the armed forces qualifying test results for most of my group – not including me. As I knew my score, I was initially disappointed as it was higher than the highest posted. But that person was large, strong, and outgoing – accepting and enjoying the hard time that the cadre and recruits gave him. I couldn’t have done that. For the first time I began to get an idea of how much smarter than most I was, and began to think about what it meant.

    After boot camp I went to a Navy fire-control technician school to learn how to maintain and use the equipment that aimed the guns. There I did well and began to help others if they had difficulty.

    Third Sophomore Year

    Case accepted me back and I moved back to Cleveland. And this time I had a car; my parents celebrated my new maturity by giving me my mother’s car, a Sunbeam Alpine sports car with a removable hard top. I moved into the same dormitory as my previous sophomore years. When the weather was good I left the hard top on the front lawn of the dormitory.

    When I returned to campus I was surprised: the sophomore class that I was joining included girls – the first class at Case to do so. As the Case dorms lacked facilities for them, they lived in the Western Reserve dorms. No surprise, they were both smarter and more mature than most of their classmates. They needed to be as Case, like all engineering schools, is well supplied with students and faculty without social skills – a/k/a nerds.

    Now a bit older and more comfortable with myself, I found friends and moved into an apartment with three others for my last two years. As she was dating one of my friends, I got to know Ruth – a math major at Case. One day she showed me a 30-page derivation she had just received back from her professor with the single notation at the end of “Not so” – and a low grade. (This was probably the result of her professor’s inability to communicate, not because she was a girl.)

    On To Graduation

    I majored in systems engineering while taking as many psychology and organizational behavior courses as possible. This exposed me to a greater gamut of professors than most. One of my organizational behavior professors was at the other extreme from Ruth’s. He frequently put a sign on his door that read “Yes I love you. I am very busy. Please go away.”

    During the three years to graduation one of my clearest memories is of Professor Louis Green. I had taken Basic Mathematics from him my first sophomore year. It was the filter course for math majors; if you attempted all the homework, took all the tests, and were not a math major you were guaranteed at least a D – and you could stop being a math major until he had to turn in the grades. I lasted a month before I realized I was over my head, dropped the course, and changed my major.

    The second encounter was when he was teaching the required math course for engineers in my third sophomore year to 600 students. The first test median was zero (60% received that), the average was 5, the high grade was 91, and I received a 45 – probably the highest relative grade I’d ever received. Professor Green had assumed that we knew the material and tested what we could do with it. The class rioted (in a well-behaved manner), hung him in effigy, and protested to the Dean – my uncle. They reached a compromise: another exam on the same material – to see if we’d learned it. This time the average was 85; I got another 45 – and a needed wakeup call. I skipped the last week of classes as it was review and I knew I’d learned the material. As I was walking out of the final exam he asked me: “Where were you last week?” I confessed. He asked: “How did you do, Fred?” (the first time he’d spoken to me in five years and he remembered my name), I replied, “I think I did well, but maybe I didn’t understand it at all and flunked it.” It was the former.

    Another notable professor was Frederick Way; an early user and researcher in computers, he was one of the rare Case faculty members without a doctorate. When asked about it he usually responded: “Who is competent to examine me?” I was talking to him in his office one day and he mentioned a paper, went to one of the many tall stacks of paper, ran his fingers down one side – and pulled it out!

    The Burroughs 220 computer at Case had a brass label on its On/Off switch: “Robert M. Kosterbanic Memorial Panic Button”. Bob had crashed the computer so many times that he was told he would need a memorial if he did it again.

    Most of my friends had jobs when they graduated, I didn’t. I enrolled in the Educational Psychology department at Western Reserve University, across the street from Case. (Looking back, I clearly wasn’t as mature as I thought I was.) The course material was easy, but I was dismayed to learn that my advisor was working on a third repetition of the research for his doctorate – and when I read what he’d written (including his dissertation) I judged his research fatally flawed. This ended my interest in learning from him, so I left the program and returned home to look for a job. (Please see my First Real Jobs and Masters Degree post.)

    July 14, 2020

  • College Pranks

    I grew up with stories of Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) as my father had grown up nearby and he received his masters degree there. Here is my favorite story from him:

    A streetcar stopped in front of MIT and was surrounded by a crowd of students. They began to get on and off the car – one student would board, drop a nickle in the till, walk to the back, and get off. Then another student would enter… The driver knew the students were crazy, so he just waited until they were finished. They backed away so he could continue his route. He put the streetcar in gear, but nothing happened. He got out and looked at the wheels – all had been welded to the track with thermite.

    When I went to Case Institute of Technology they had a similar tradition. Below are some that occurred while I was there.

    A group of ROTC students put on their uniforms and began directing traffic in front of the school (a main road). They directed it into the campus. Others directed it through campus and out the side, onto a side road. All went well until a semi-trailer couldn’t make a turn in the middle of campus. The students went back to their rooms, changed their clothes, and went back out to watch.

    A particularly boring professor was giving a lecture to half-asleep students. Suddenly, there was a duck call, two shots, and a plucked chicken landed on the stage. The professor immediately gave an impossibly difficult quiz and said he would count it as half the course grade unless the people who did this confessed. The line to confess stretched halfway across the campus.

    The school ended improper file alarms by notifying the students that the resulting fines would be paid from the school’s scholarship fund.

    In addition to pranks, Case had some other traditions – my favorites are colored icicles and floods next to campus. My original freshman dorm – and the same dorm for my three sophomore years – was three stories of rooms, plus a basement at the top of a 100’ cliff overlooking a major traffic artery.

    In the winter, those with rooms above the cliff would set up large containers of colored water with tubes to drip it out the window. Usually, those on the three floors would coordinate their colors. This resulted in 50+’ colored icicles, generally several feet thick. Today, that dorm is faculty offices, and I doubt they have continued the icicle tradition.

    In the fall one year I was there, the fallen leaves in the fall plugged the drains and the major artery flooded as deep as 5’. Most of the students went into the water to play, swim, and push cars and buses out of the water.

    When I was at Harvard Business School I heard of another MIT prank.

    During the half-time of the Harvard Yale football game smoke came from the ground in the middle of the field, then there was a loud bang. Finally, a large balloon inflated, with MIT in large letters on it so both sides of the field could read it.

    A friend at HBS, who had gone to the California Institute of Technology (Cal Tech), told me of some of their pranks – which they are known for. I actually saw the first one while I was in high school.

    Card displays in the stands was a Rose Bowl tradition. Students from each school would take large colored cards, and hold up one on command. Some Cal Tech students modified the instructions and “Cal Tech” appeared in giant letters during the game.

    Some Cal Tech students experimented with water balloons. They calculated that with the proper elastics they could drop water balloons in the middle of a campus a couple of miles away. Of course, they had to test it – and several dozen balloons were launched.

    At least one car – a VW bug I was told – was taken apart and reassembled on top of a building. Apparently, a crane was needed to remove it.

    HBS had no prank tradition – no surprise. So when I began working at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute I was looking forward to learning their prank traditions, but they had none. The closest I heard of was rappelling down the side of the nine story engineering building – unusual, perhaps, but not a prank. I went so far as to offer extra credit on an exam for suggesting a prank, with more credit if it occurred. But the suggested pranks were unworthy of an engineering school, and none occurred.

    Not pranks, but equally interesting to me, I grew up with Norbert Weiner stories – a prototypical absent-minded professor at MIT.

    Weiner asked if there were any questions about the homework problem. “Yes”, a student replied, “How do you solve it?” Weiner thought for a few seconds and wrote the answer on the blackboard. “Does this answer your question?”, he asked. “No, professor.” Weiner thought longer, and wrote the answer again. “Is it clear now?” Same answer. Weiner thought for a long time and wrote the answer on the board for a third time. Then, he said: “I’ve worked it for you three different ways. If you don’t understand it now you probably never will.” And he began the lecture.

    Weiner was walking across the MIT campus and stopped to talk with someone. After they finished the conversation, Weiner asked “When you stopped me, which way was I going?” “You were going that way Professor.” “Oh, then I’ve had lunch.”

    One of my thesis committee members told me another.

    Weiner had just moved to a different house in Cambridge (where MIT is located). While he was walking home the first day after the move he realized he didn’t know how to get to his new house. He decided to go to his old house and quiz someone. When he got there a young girl was playing in the front yard. He said to her “Do you know that I used to live here?” “Yes, I know that.” she answered. “Do you know where I live now?” he asked. “Don’t worry Daddy, I’ll take you home.” she answered.

    While I was at HBS I visited a great aunt on my mother’s side, my grandfather’s sister. She lived in Andover, Massachusetts with a friend. During our conversation I learned that her friend had been the secretary of Harvard’s Dean of the Medical School for many years. Then I learned that she had gone to grammar school with Norbert Weiner. She said he was obviously very smart, but was frequently late to school by an hour or more. Invariably, he’d gotten interested in something (ant hill, growth on a tree, etc.) and lost track of time as he concentrated.

    Finally, again not a prank, there are spoonerisms – I was told that they are named after an Ensign Spooner, who was assigned at the Naval Academy. Here’s the one I remember:

    “Mardon me Padom, you are occupuing the wrong pie, may I sew you to another sheet.”

    I think of this frequently when talking with our friend Lois, who often chooses a wrong – but similar – word in conversation. We call it “speaking Lois” and can usually translate it.

    July 11, 2020