For over half of my life, I have worn sideburns of varying length and … ah … lushness.
General Ambrose Everett Burnside, a man who would not understand me.
Image from Wikimedia
For this entire period, I have been flummoxed by what must seem like a trivial issue. I could never get my sideburns to be even from one side of my face to the other. When the time came for adjustments, I positioned myself close to the mirror, looked for landmarks on my face, and carefully trimmed one sideburn to what seemed like the appropriate length of the day. I would then repeat this procedure with the opposite side. The trouble came when I took a step back and saw that they were nowhere near the same level.
Today, after decades of turmoil, I struck upon the root of my problem. My ears are not even; my left ear is higher on my head than my right. So when using my ears to fix the correct position of my facial hair, I was doomed.
While listening to one of my favorite podcasts, I heard a recommendation for the album The Race for Space by the British band Public Service Broadcasting. Now I'm not a huge electronic music fan, but this is a good album. I have to admit, I may enjoy it a wee bit more because of the extra-geeky history portrayed through the songs.
While listening to this album the other day, my four-year-old daughter asked me about the music. I told her what the songs were about, and like the good daughter of a nerd, she asked for more information. We were soon looking up and drawing pictures of Sputnik, Yuri Gagarin’s Vostok 1, Apollo 8, and the Eagle (LM of Apollo 11).
Clearly this is Yuri Gagarin on his way to Space,
The only downside to this whole activity is that my daughter loves the song "The Other Side," and asks for it to play repeatedly.
There is a point in the song where Ground Control in Houston finally regains contact with Apollo 8 as she clears the backside of the Moon. For some reason, the emotion of that moment gets to me, and I actually well up a little ... each and every time my daughter requests the song. I can't play it off as something else; it's not even dusty in my house.
So let this be a lesson to you: beware of recommendations from podcasts. Thank you, Brady Haran, for all of the unnecessarily expended emotions these past few days.
A nearly photorealistic rendition of Apollo 8 going behind the Moon.
I miss my father. I am hit by waves of sorrow and nostalgia at the strangest of times. Just the other day, I was reading a book to one of my daughters, and a part of the story brought forward such powerful memories that I had trouble getting through the final few pages. Other times, however, I am reminded of such great memories that I have to smile and even chuckle to myself.
I was out for a walk with the girls this morning. We went to go play in the gym for a while. It is really nice to have a big empty space to let them run around and climb to their hearts' content. On the way, we passed the rink. All weekend, there has been a hockey tournament for girls' travel teams. My little ones have liked to peek in on the skating and hopefully get a chance of seeing the Zamboni in action.
Today I was brought back to post-game conversations with my father. Regardless the sport, my father was an expert. He would enthusiastically show my sister how to follow through on her backhand while standing in our livingroom. One brother was shown how to properly apply pressure on the outside edge of his skis while carving up his bedroom floor. Another brother was shown the proper approach angle while high jumping an imaginary bar on our patio. My lessons usually involved posting up our high backed dining room chairs. My dad had an answer for everything, and after a great number of athletic outings, my siblings and I were put through his lessons.
Today while by the rink, I was transfixed by this very earnest mother recording her daughter's goaltending efforts.
It is hard for me to describe what captivated me by this scene. I watched this for at least fifteen minutes. At first, the mother was holding the iPad while recording from the stands. If you are a parent and attending a child's performance, do not do this. The mother then moved of to the side in what I thought was an act of courtesy. In fact, she was just moving closer to her daughter and looking for a place to prop up her iPad so she would not have to hold it any longer. As you can see from the image above, she rather precariously perched the iPad on the supports of the glass, held in place by the ropes that tie down the netting. I may have audibly prayed for a player to crash into the boards and put an end to this whole exercise. My daughters looked at me inquisitively.
A closer look at the image may reveal what really irked me.
If you are unfamiliar with Vertical Video Syndrome, then stop reading and watch this:
or this:
So if Vertical Video Syndrome is not enough of a concern, the mother did not even bother to level the camera. Look again at the horizon line created by the opposite boards in comparison to the iPad.
Imagine trying to watch that video! No wonder there are no offensive players to be seen, they have had to skate uphill the entire period.
Several, and I mean several, minutes later, the mother was struck by the need to correct her camera work.
Hooray, no more V.V.S. and it could actually be close to level. You will note, however, that there are still no other players in the picture aside from the much videoed goalie. That is because the white team was crushing their opponents. In the whole time I was there, the only time I saw the puck within twenty feet of this goal keeper was when the opponents finally got possession and dumped the puck to do a shift change. The rest of the time, the white team was controlling the puck and peppering the other goalie (and goal).
So why have I written this snarky post about a very well-intentioned mother trying to capture her daughter having fun and eventually share those moments, perhaps, with some family members unable to attend.
Here are my reasons, increasing in importance:
4 - Vertical Video Syndrome must be stopped.
3 - I hate watching parents use their iPads to record their children's performances and/or games.
2 - I miss my dad.
1 - I thank God that my father did not have a video recorder. His post-game lessons would have been completely intolerable if he had any actual evidence to support his points.
