An International Observation

"A painting in a museum probably hears more foolish remarks than
anything else in the World."
Edmun & Jules Concourt

Esteemed Readers,

I fear I am about to add to the cacophony of fools.

Graffiti, it seems, knows no international boundary. You find it all over the world. Recently, it dawned on me that there exists an eerie similarity to all graffiti. Graffiti artists seem to find themselves limited to use of the same ‘font'. The vast preponderance all tend to use big, puffy white letters outlined in black; although, often the letters themselves come from no established language’s alphabet.

As you might surmise, I noted this observation on one of my many and varied cab rides from hotels to airports and back. Rather than collapsing into the flat-lined alpha wave state I normally adopt during transport to and from work, I spent some time wondering why graffiti would show such a homogeneous structure throughout the world.

Because my default state is as a mean-spirited, bigoted, xenophobic American, my first explanation for this sameness was ‘Amerocentric’. I surmised that – like other pop culture art forms – American graffiti artists have forced their influence on the rest of the world. I apologize for any discomfiture this has place on any of my international esteemed readers. Idly, I wondered why our President missed his chance to apologize for this coercion during his recent World Apology Tour.

This thought process naturally led to a desire to improve my mental discipline and become more cosmopolitan and I realized that I might have this explanation exactly backwards. There very well could be a continental European influence on American graffiti.

This morning, however, as I was shaving and performing other preflight ablutions, I realized there is a much more likely technical explanation for this sameness.

As all artists have known since time immemorial, the results of your art are constrained by your materials and environment. The cave drawings in Lascaux look the way they do because of the ‘canvas’ and pigments available to those artists. Davinci’s sculptures are formed by the choice of marble available. The Renaissance Artists results are framed by the canvas, brush and paint options available, and so on.

Consider a generic graffiti artist. He* finds some fairly significant constraints upon his art form. Working hastily in the dead of night to avoid political and legal oppression, standing on some sort of hastily erected ladder or scaffolding next to some boxcar, bridge abutment or other wall, under poor lighting conditions, limited in palette and brush stroke by the selection of spray cans available, it is no wonder that our artist’s final results look related worldwide. It seems obvious that big puffy white letters outlined in black would naturally result from such environmental and material constraints.

Just now, esteemed readers, I realized that a google search might shed light upon this inquisition. Frankly, the consequence to my already established geekish reputation were I to make such an inquiry frightens me . If you wish, I leave the googling to you. Feel free to liberally comment below.

I remain,

Dad / Geoff

* Please allow me the use of ‘he’ to mean a generic human being of non-specific gender; I detest the horrid ‘he/she’ formulation.

A Tale of Two Resaurants - Memphis and Frankfurt

“We never repent of having eaten too little.” Thomas Jefferson

How true TJ’s words are!

I try not to whine often about my eternal battle with jet lag, but this once I have to use it as an excuse to explain why it has been a week since I last posted - even though I’ve been on a trip where some fairly interesting things have happened. It has been more important to use the time I’ve had in the nice hotels FedEx puts us up in to show up to fly well-rested than it has been to write.

In any case, the layover in Memphis was fairly short and there was only time to go to lunch, watch the final day of the Masters and then nap before the midnight alert call.

Just about every state in the union has a Barbecue that they are proud of. (No … BBQ in Minnesota is not called ‘Lutefisk’) Memphis rightfully holds claim to some of the best BBQ restaurants to be found. You can get a nice plate of BBQ anywhere along Beale Street but Corky’s is right around the corner from where we stay in Memphis and we went there. An old friend who hired on at the company when I did and was in my ‘New Hire Class’ was staying at the hotel too and we joined up and walked over.

You can experience Corky’s ribs yourself! Just click this link and you can order a mess of them and Corky’s will FedEx them to you tomorrow. You get a great meal and we get business….can’t recommend this highly enough. Drop everything you are doing and go order now.

That night we took off from Memphis and crossed over the Great Lakes, Newfoundland, the Big Pond, Ireland, England and landed at Frankfurt, Germany. The trip was boredom at its best - my favorite kind of flight. It was cloudy most of the eight hour flight, but I did get this one picture over England out east of London.

And this one flying down the Rhine as we approached Frankfurt from the east:

Manfred, the guy who owns the transportation service for us at Mainz, picked us up and took us to the Mainz Hilton. Enroute to the hotel, He told us about the Mainz Spargel Festival. I’d never heard of spargel before, but it is a specially grown white asparagus.

We turn now to the second restaurant in the tale of two restaurants. Here is the reference from the internet:

Rosi`s Schinderhannes
open daily from 17:00 – 22:30 (opens longer only for Fedex Crews)
traditional german food, special Schweinshaxe “Big Ed” (knuckle of pork)

Schinderhannes was a famous local Robin Hoodish character and Rosi’s Schinderhannes is named for him. There are old pictures painted on the walls of his execution that are turning brown from age.

We sat down outside on the sidewalk tables and had a nice dinner of schnitzel – I had chicken and the other two guys had veal. Of course we ordered a big platter of spargel just afloat in butter and other spargel enhancing spice that was just wonderful. Bitburger, Pils too.

One of those interesting coincidences happened as we ate. There were two other FedEx guys sitting at table next to us and we struck up a conversation.

First some background. When this travelog was just an email I sent around to family and friends, I would name names and give histories of folks I flew with. I am hesitant to do that now as once I post this I now longer have control over who sees it.

My FO on this trip - who will remain nameless - is an interesting guy. He was a student pilot at Laughlin AFB when I was an instructor there. He has some time as a bush pilot in Alaska and is presently still with the AF Reserve unit there at Anchorage’s Ted Steven’s International Airport as a Blackhawk Helicopter pilot. He has rescued folks from the sides of Mt Kinley and done other things that I am in awe of. More on that in a later post.

The most famous bush pilot in Alaska’s history is Don Sheldon. He has a biography called “Wager with the Wind.” When Alaska pilots get together there is always at least one mention of him. He landed airplanes on glaciers high up the side of Denali and rescued trapped skiers. He landed airplanes on raging river canyons and rescued capsized fishermen. He is immortal.

As we sat and munched our spargel and schnitzel, my FO says to one of the guys next to us:

“Did I meet you on the airplane in Bagram?” (Afghanistan)

“I thought that was you!”

This started one of those “Hail Fellow, Well Met!” episodes that I will always remember.

My FO was activated to go with his Blackhawk unit to Bagram some time back and got ‘military leave’ from FedEx to go do his duty and defend his country. FedEx started doing military charters into Afghanistan about the same time. He made it a policy to go out and greet the FedEx crews on the ramp after they landed if he could.

Conversations ensued and bush pilot stories began to fly. That’s when we discovered that the new fellow sitting next to us was married to Don Sheldon’s daughter and he knew a lot of lesser known Don Sheldon stories.

So, I got to sip my Bitburger Pilz, and listen to good stories as I watched the setting sun light up the watch towers that define the confines of the Old Mainz City in a golden light. Like an idiot, I forgot my camera so I don’t have an image to share with you.

On that note, I remain,

Dad / Geoff

More Tales from Ilona's

Esteemed Readers,

I am sitting at the kitchen table in Ilona's Bed and Breakfast's 'New House' as I prepare for what may or may not be an interesting trip. The First Officer and I will circumnavigate the globe in the next week and a half and I hope to capture some interesting stories to relate to you.

The Redoubt Volcano, eruption which I discussed here and here has had local effects on Anchorage. When I rode the MD-11 jumpseat up here to Anchorage yesterday morning I had hopes of capturing pictures of the eruption but clouds were covering that side of the Cook Inlet.

I did get these two interesting pictures to share with you. The first is of the Cook Inlet itself, the ice floes that still exist on the inlet, a cargo ship leaving the inlet and the 'Sleeping Lady Mountain' / Mt Susitina in the background. The sun is just rising so that my little camera was challenged to have enough light to get a clear picture, but I think the colors were very nice.

Just after that scene, we lined up to land on Ted Steven International Airport's Runway 07R. I was sitting in the center flight deck jumpseat and got this striking picture. You can see the Chugach Mountain Range, downtown Anchorage, the runway and the airport control tower. (Ignore the bug spots on the windscreen please.)

Several of the other pilots staying here at Ilona's were here when the big Redoubt eruption covered the city with ash. They say it looked a rainstorm approaching, except it was a brownish gray. The ash is very fine and gets into everything. After washing their cars several times the ash is still in the fine cracks and crevices.

These pictures are of Ilona's backyard. The black dots are clumps of ash. The ash is everywhere now and gives a sort of dreary gray overcoat to the countryside.

This has been kind of a boring post but as I was showering this morning, I remembered the saga I'm about to relate to you. This was part of an email I sent home on May 11, 2007. I hope it will liven things up a little.

Before I begin, please examine this picture.

Take note of the protuberance at the bottom and the sticker which clearly states "Automatic Shower Cleaner". I'll wait while you do this. Ready?

I awoke this morning and went to the bathroom to begin my morning preparations and ablutions. I'll spare you the details. An important point to note was that it was nearing the time that the ANC Ramp Agent calls my cell phone to 'alert' me for my trip. Knowing this, I'd still left my phone back in my room.

I had just doffed my pjs and pulled back the shower curtain to get into the shower when I heard this muffled beeping coming from somewhere. I also note that there is a strange looking device hanging from the shower head that wasn't there last I stayed here. You, gentle reader, must understand that decades of flying noisy jets has left my hearing in the audible range of 'beep' less than satisfactory. Beeps befuddle me and I no longer possess the ability to eco-locate their origins. Ignoring the obvious, I figure the beeps are my cell phone and the ramp is calling me so I turn back to where my pjs are hanging to get dressed and go back to the room.

This precise moment is when I'm struck in the face and eyes by a noxious stream of shower cleanser as the rotating head from hell on the bottom of the shower device comes alive with a loud whirring sound. Whirling and squirting, it is going about its designed and assigned task of liberally coating the shower and shower curtain once a day automatically. The beeping was obviously its polite and generous way of warning me that it was about to open the gates of hell.

With all this in the back of my mind, my body reacts to the emergency and I find myself standing there, naked, hands ineffectively cupped around the whirling head, as soap squirts everywhere through my fingers, continuing to drench the shower and yours truly. My eyes smart mightily and I'm more than moderately concerned about them. I'm here to tell you that it is possible to feel the emotions of panic and foolishness simultaneously.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only seconds, some rationality returned and it occurred to me that I could solve my dilemma by stepping back, closing the shower curtain, and letting gorgon finish its task, leaving me free to grope for a towel.

So I did.

As many have noted before, there is always some knucklehead who doesn't get the word. Today it was me. Finished laughing yet? Good.

Until my next saga, I remain,

Dad / Geoff

Falling Stars

Gentle Readers,

Back in November, I told a story about two meteors.

I have subscribed to Sky and Telescope magazine since I was a kid. That worthy publication just published a wonderful article. I highly recommend reading it.

http://www.skyandtelescope.com/community/skyblog/newsblog/41873107.html

I remain,

Dad / Geoff

Redoubt Redux

Esteemed readers,

I have recently published two posts, here and here, about Alaska's Mt Redoubt.

It finally erupted last weekend. Flight are being rerouted around the ash plume.

I have had vacation for the last week so I do not have any pictures to share. On the other, the Alaska Volcano Observatory (AVO) maintains a wonderful website that has some striking pictures. I highly recommend that you click that link and look through the pictures. Fascinating stuff. For sure, please click this picture. It was taken by a satellite over Asia and is pretty cool.

I go back to work early Sunday morning, Mar 29th, operating from Chicago's O'Hare International up to Anchorage. We may or may not actually make it to Anchorage depending on if there is an ash plume and where it is. Some flights have been diverted to Fairbanks, Alaska.

If something interesting happens, I will tell you all about it.

I remain,

Dad / Geoff

Gone West

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones All,

I had vacation last week and nothing much new has happened to me personally.

On the other had, the last week has been very eventful to my professional life.

I've been mulling whether to mention this here or not....and I've decided I have to.

FedEx had its first "fatal mishap" - as the euphemism goes - recently. A friend and his first officer did not survive their landing at Narita International north of Tokyo. I leave it to you to google what you will of the information available about what happened. The video was splashed all over the news...if you haven't seen it, I recommend you think hard before you search for it. It is disquieting at best.

Capt Mosley and I spent two weeks together in class almost three years ago as we upgraded to Captain. He was also domiciled in Anchorage as I am and yes, the mishap happened in the airplane I fly - the MD-11.

I do not remember meeting First Officer Pino.

The company quietly "FedExed" them home Thursday night with FedEx Pilot Honor Guards riding along with them. They flew on an MD-11 from Narita to Oakland to Memphis then San Antonio for Pino and Portland, OR, for Mosley. There was a memorial held for them that night in the Memphis Hub.

I really don't know what else to say about this. Later, rather than sooner, the NTSB and the Japanese equivalent will publish an official cause. Since it's been almost a week since the mishap and there have been no emergency airworthiness directives about the mechanical condition of the aircraft, I assume it will wind up being some sort of "human factors" problem. We don't say "pilot error" any more.

Requiescat in Pax.

I remain,

Dad / Geoff

The Moose

Nature, red in tooth and claw"

Gentle Reader,

Occasionally, one is privileged to be witness to a moment that cuts through the fog of our mundane existence and reveals the essential nature of the human condition. As is usual with my tales, some explanation is required. I hope you will stay with me as I have to braid together several strands to tell the complete tale.

First, these pictures:

This is the backyard of Ilona’s Bed & Breakfast’s ‘New House’. Even though Anchorage, Alaska is an urban area much like the rest of the US, its citizens live much closer to nature than most American’s are used to. Moose (Meese?) are found everywhere throughout the city – it is not at all uncommon to find them in your yard. Moose are generally placid herbivores – but they are evolved to defend themselves against the wolves – their hereditary enemy. The bulls are generally only dangerous during rutting season and the cows will defend their calves aggressively. They defend themselves by using to their size – well over one thousand pounds – and their hooves to kick and stomp an enemy to death. Alaskans respect the moose.

These pictures appear to be made in close proximity to the moose, but this moose was neither in rut nor with calf and was fairly tolerant of the photographer. I did not take the picture – a fellow friend and occupant of Ilona’s took them. More on these pictures later.

The next strand of my story is to tell a theory of human development that I have found to be very illuminating as it concerns relationships between men and women. I first heard this theory on National Public Radio over a decade ago.

The theory reasons thus…. Homo Sapiens first emerged several million years ago in the Rift Valley in Africa. It is only in the last several thousand years that mankind has begun to place a veneer of civilization over our vast history of membership in small ‘Hunter / Gatherer’ tribes. Let’s examine how millions of years of evolution have shaped Men’s vs Women’s basic psychology.

Consider first the ‘gatherer’ part of the Hunter / Gatherer meme. In these societies, women generally stay near ‘home’, caring for the children and gathering what bounty nature provides. Success at this vital activity requires women to be very social, cooperative and gregarious. They spend hours together preparing roots and tubers, vegetables, curing furs….on and on. The important issue here is that women in Gatherer societies spend a lot of time talking to one another, gossiping – if you will allow me that term – and sharing ‘corporate knowledge.’

The men on the other hand – as hunters - spend a lot of time loping across the countryside, quietly and stealthily stalking their prey. The men also need cooperation to succeed in the hunt, but it is a different kind of cooperation than that required of women – the ability to remain quiet for long periods has great value. It is only after the prey is in the bag that men can relax their conversational requirements. Men’s corporate knowledge is shared around the campfire in the evening when the hunt is done.

Here, then is an explanation of the age old questions: “Why can’t she just shut up?” and “He never talks to me!” Men and Women are evolved to view talk differently. It is important to note that it is an error to make a value judgment as to which sex is better at communication. Each sex has different skills for valid reasons.

But that is an aside…. The main point I want to make is that men are also evolved to possess a strong drive to “Kill something and bring it home to Mama and the Kids.” Hold that thought.

Change gears now and let’s consider Skype. The modern Professional International Pilot is gone from home for weeks at a time. In the past, we only had mail, then email to use to communicate with home. You were out of the loop with your loved ones for much of the time.

Now, if you have a laptop computer and an internet connection you can use the ‘Voice Over Internet Protocol’ to talk through the net for pennies. If your computer possesses a webcam, you can talk with your loved ones in a teleconferencing format.

Finally, we reach the point in my narrative where I can weave these strands into a story. Imagine this scene in the ‘New House’ at Ilona’s Bed & Breakfast. My friend had just shown me those pictures of the moose on his laptop and I had requested that he email them to me. I had some vague notion of sharing them with all my Esteemed Readers. I am sitting at the dining room table next to the large window that looks out over the backyard and my friend is across the room on the couch, watching TV. He has just connected with his wife on his Macbook and is teleconferencing. He has on a headset and is murmuring through it to his family. I have just downloaded the pictures and am organizing them on my disk drive. There is movement out of the corner of my eye that attracts my attention. Out the window, our Moosey friend is back, placidly munching on the low hanging branches of the backyard trees.

I turn to my friend and say: “Speak of the Devil! The Moose is back.” My camera is in several parts and I am not dressed to go out. I pull the camera’s memory card out of my laptop and go downstairs to throw on a jacket, get my shoes and assemble the camera.

When I get back upstairs my friend is outside. He has disconnected his laptop from its power supply but the headset is still on his head. Standing ankle deep in the snow with his laptop computer reversed and turned around towards the moose, so that the webcam could see the animal, he is saying: “Can you see it now?’

Initially I started to giggle at this silly scene.

Then I suddenly stopped laughing as it hit me: he was satisfying his deep and ancient need to “Hunt something down and bring it home to Mama and the Kids.”

I remain,

Dad / Geoff