Saturday, July 08, 2006
Things That Go Dud in the Night!
Back on June 19, in Swan Lake Resort just outside Plymouth, Indiana, a bartender suddenly noticed a flashing red light affixed to the restaurant’s window. Thinking quickly, or as quickly as one can think at 12:30 in the morning, he notified the police. In six minutes all the resort’s guests had been evacuated from their rooms. Around 1:30 the police announced that the light was part of a Pabst Blue Ribbon beer ad. False alarm.
On May 9, at Kyushu University in Southern Japan, authorities panicked when they stumbled on two packages inside the campus post office with strange notes attached. One read, “If you open this it will explode." The other one stated, “This one too.” Now the quick thinking university officials (this was not in the wee hours of the morning) called in the bomb squad to examine the packages. Since nothing looked overly suspicious or smelled a little funny, but actually smelled quite familia, they decided to have a look-see. They found a birthday cake inside. In the other package they found a pair of women’s underwear. They then tracked the packages to two students who had left them for a friend’s birthday. They explained that the notes had been penned to keep people from taking the packages. False alarm number two.
Neither of these two incidents, however, can compare with one in Santa Clara, California, back at the end of April. In newspaper racks, a red plastic box with protruding wires was seen on the top of the stack of newspapers inside. You probably recall all those warning that we have received about mail packages containing protruding wires. “Don’t open. Call Authorities immediately.” So what do you do if you drop a handful of change into a newspaper rack and reach in to take your paper and all you see is a red box with protruding wires? You are probably not thinking, “Oh ##???!!!. Who do I call to get my money back?” If you are still completely rational, you slowly and very carefully close the rack and run to the nearest phone. But who can be rational at a time like this. Impulsively you will probably let go of the handle and let the door slam shut. When it clangs shut, your heart probably skips a beat. If you can still think, you are thinking, “I should have closed the box very carefully. You will probably still be shaking when you call 911. The panic tone in your voice should send the bomb squad scurrying to your location. Well, something like that did happen. The arson squad arrived and quickly blew up the news rack. Their philosophy is quite simple, “Blow up anything with protruding wires and ask questions later.” Well, it turns out that the red plastic box was a device placed inside 4500 Los Angles Times newspaper racks as a promotional stunt for Paramount Studios’ Mission Impossible movie. If properly attached, it played the theme song from the movie. If not, then there were protruding wires. Fortunately, only a few were not properly attached and only one was blown up.
It reminds me of a sign that I once saw in Heathrow Airport. Unattended bags will be carried to the tarmac and blown up. That sign certainly got one’s attention. However, I am sure that the number of claims for lost baggage went way up—way up in a cloud of smoke.
Back on June 19, in Swan Lake Resort just outside Plymouth, Indiana, a bartender suddenly noticed a flashing red light affixed to the restaurant’s window. Thinking quickly, or as quickly as one can think at 12:30 in the morning, he notified the police. In six minutes all the resort’s guests had been evacuated from their rooms. Around 1:30 the police announced that the light was part of a Pabst Blue Ribbon beer ad. False alarm.
On May 9, at Kyushu University in Southern Japan, authorities panicked when they stumbled on two packages inside the campus post office with strange notes attached. One read, “If you open this it will explode." The other one stated, “This one too.” Now the quick thinking university officials (this was not in the wee hours of the morning) called in the bomb squad to examine the packages. Since nothing looked overly suspicious or smelled a little funny, but actually smelled quite familia, they decided to have a look-see. They found a birthday cake inside. In the other package they found a pair of women’s underwear. They then tracked the packages to two students who had left them for a friend’s birthday. They explained that the notes had been penned to keep people from taking the packages. False alarm number two.
Neither of these two incidents, however, can compare with one in Santa Clara, California, back at the end of April. In newspaper racks, a red plastic box with protruding wires was seen on the top of the stack of newspapers inside. You probably recall all those warning that we have received about mail packages containing protruding wires. “Don’t open. Call Authorities immediately.” So what do you do if you drop a handful of change into a newspaper rack and reach in to take your paper and all you see is a red box with protruding wires? You are probably not thinking, “Oh ##???!!!. Who do I call to get my money back?” If you are still completely rational, you slowly and very carefully close the rack and run to the nearest phone. But who can be rational at a time like this. Impulsively you will probably let go of the handle and let the door slam shut. When it clangs shut, your heart probably skips a beat. If you can still think, you are thinking, “I should have closed the box very carefully. You will probably still be shaking when you call 911. The panic tone in your voice should send the bomb squad scurrying to your location. Well, something like that did happen. The arson squad arrived and quickly blew up the news rack. Their philosophy is quite simple, “Blow up anything with protruding wires and ask questions later.” Well, it turns out that the red plastic box was a device placed inside 4500 Los Angles Times newspaper racks as a promotional stunt for Paramount Studios’ Mission Impossible movie. If properly attached, it played the theme song from the movie. If not, then there were protruding wires. Fortunately, only a few were not properly attached and only one was blown up.
It reminds me of a sign that I once saw in Heathrow Airport. Unattended bags will be carried to the tarmac and blown up. That sign certainly got one’s attention. However, I am sure that the number of claims for lost baggage went way up—way up in a cloud of smoke.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Getting the Sixth Degree!
A beautician in Davenport, Iowa, back in February got a pleasant surprise. She had been adopted when she was four-days-old, and due to a medical condition needed to contact her biological mother. She got in contact with the appropriate authorities who then started checking records. They located her mother who agreed to a meeting. Now for the believe it or not part of the story: her mother was working as a receptionist at the same salon where she was a beautician.
Such chance occurrences are not as rare as one might think. Back in Houston a number of years ago, I was sitting in a Laundromat watching my clothes spin around and around. I noticed a small child who seemed to be foaming soap suds at the mouth. As I started to get up and check on the child, his mother walked up and took him by the hand and walked out. I started talking to another lady who had been a co-witness to the incident. After a brief exchange about the child she volunteered that she had been in Magnolia, Arkansas, attending a wedding over the weekend. Having spent a good portion of my life in Magnolia, I asked whose wedding it might be. She mentioned Fred Hutchinson. I then told her, “You are not going to believe this, but Fred is one of my brother’s best friends. A chance encounter in a city of two million about a small town 300 miles away? Maybe!
In the last few years someone has come up with the concept of six degrees of separation. According to that theory, anyone of earth can be connected to any other person on the planet, through a chain of acquaintances with no more than five intermediaries. Another pre-911 concept was that there was a one in five chance of meeting someone you know in a large out-of-town airport. The odds have probably dropped since then. But our experience in Alaska is lending credence to the six degrees of separation. Back in November when we arrived in Anchorage for our winter stayover, we attended St. John’s Methodist Church where we were told that there was a member of the congregation from Magnolia. We met her and found out she was the daughter of Charles Wilkins, former president of Southern State College, now Southern Arkansas University. Now if you have checked my profile, you know that I taught at Southern Arkansas University for 33 years.
Two weeks ago a friend and I drove over to Chitna, population 132, and stopped by a restaurant. The three people who operated the café and adjoining store were all from Arkansas. My wife and I went back to Chitna over the long fourth of July holiday and camped out at Liberty Falls campground, about 10 miles west of Chitna. The campground only has 10 spots, so it is not exactly overflowing with people. The second day there we met a trio from Fairbanks, one of whom had an uncle who worked at Southern Arkansas University. Later that day I met a young man who had attended Rice University. We quite possibly are the only two Rice graduates in Alaska. The next morning we caught a Backcountry Connection to McCarthy and Kennecott. There were four other passengers on the van. Two were from El Dorado, Arkansas, and one of them was born in Three Creeks, Arkansas, which is about eight miles from where I was born. I bought two sandwiches at Kennecott and got fifty cents back in change. Incidentally, one of the quarters just happened to be an Arkansas quarter.
Back in May we drove over to Haines, Alaska, and had lunch at the senior center. Upon learning that my origins were back in Arkansas, Ray told me to go over and introduced myself to a lady who was from Bentonville, Arkansas. When she was free to talk, I introduced myself. She quickly corrected a mistake. She was not from Bentonville, but from Beebee. I asked her if she knew Ruth Couch. She replied that she not only knew Ruth, but they were best friends. I then told Doris, “You are not going to believe this, but Ruth and I used to ride the same bus to school every day.”
Chance meetings of this type occur daily. Last summer a young man who was working his last week at REI walked into the bed and breakfast where we worked to see his parents who were staying here. Ten minutes later another guest walked in—a graduate professor from the University of Wyoming. A smile quickly spread over two faces. The young man had been a student of and teaching assistant for the professor back in Wyoming. This past week a couple returned from Denali National Park to spend a night with us. While at Denali the man had met a student from Angola, Indiana. He asked the young man if he knew a certain person back in Angola. Flabbergasted, he replied, “that is my best friend.”
Chance meetings of this type are obviously not that unusual. However, they may become a lot scarcer. Sociologists warn us that our social connections and networking are starting to disintegrate. Six degrees of separation will probably continue to exist, we just won’t know about them.
A beautician in Davenport, Iowa, back in February got a pleasant surprise. She had been adopted when she was four-days-old, and due to a medical condition needed to contact her biological mother. She got in contact with the appropriate authorities who then started checking records. They located her mother who agreed to a meeting. Now for the believe it or not part of the story: her mother was working as a receptionist at the same salon where she was a beautician.
Such chance occurrences are not as rare as one might think. Back in Houston a number of years ago, I was sitting in a Laundromat watching my clothes spin around and around. I noticed a small child who seemed to be foaming soap suds at the mouth. As I started to get up and check on the child, his mother walked up and took him by the hand and walked out. I started talking to another lady who had been a co-witness to the incident. After a brief exchange about the child she volunteered that she had been in Magnolia, Arkansas, attending a wedding over the weekend. Having spent a good portion of my life in Magnolia, I asked whose wedding it might be. She mentioned Fred Hutchinson. I then told her, “You are not going to believe this, but Fred is one of my brother’s best friends. A chance encounter in a city of two million about a small town 300 miles away? Maybe!
In the last few years someone has come up with the concept of six degrees of separation. According to that theory, anyone of earth can be connected to any other person on the planet, through a chain of acquaintances with no more than five intermediaries. Another pre-911 concept was that there was a one in five chance of meeting someone you know in a large out-of-town airport. The odds have probably dropped since then. But our experience in Alaska is lending credence to the six degrees of separation. Back in November when we arrived in Anchorage for our winter stayover, we attended St. John’s Methodist Church where we were told that there was a member of the congregation from Magnolia. We met her and found out she was the daughter of Charles Wilkins, former president of Southern State College, now Southern Arkansas University. Now if you have checked my profile, you know that I taught at Southern Arkansas University for 33 years.
Two weeks ago a friend and I drove over to Chitna, population 132, and stopped by a restaurant. The three people who operated the café and adjoining store were all from Arkansas. My wife and I went back to Chitna over the long fourth of July holiday and camped out at Liberty Falls campground, about 10 miles west of Chitna. The campground only has 10 spots, so it is not exactly overflowing with people. The second day there we met a trio from Fairbanks, one of whom had an uncle who worked at Southern Arkansas University. Later that day I met a young man who had attended Rice University. We quite possibly are the only two Rice graduates in Alaska. The next morning we caught a Backcountry Connection to McCarthy and Kennecott. There were four other passengers on the van. Two were from El Dorado, Arkansas, and one of them was born in Three Creeks, Arkansas, which is about eight miles from where I was born. I bought two sandwiches at Kennecott and got fifty cents back in change. Incidentally, one of the quarters just happened to be an Arkansas quarter.
Back in May we drove over to Haines, Alaska, and had lunch at the senior center. Upon learning that my origins were back in Arkansas, Ray told me to go over and introduced myself to a lady who was from Bentonville, Arkansas. When she was free to talk, I introduced myself. She quickly corrected a mistake. She was not from Bentonville, but from Beebee. I asked her if she knew Ruth Couch. She replied that she not only knew Ruth, but they were best friends. I then told Doris, “You are not going to believe this, but Ruth and I used to ride the same bus to school every day.”
Chance meetings of this type occur daily. Last summer a young man who was working his last week at REI walked into the bed and breakfast where we worked to see his parents who were staying here. Ten minutes later another guest walked in—a graduate professor from the University of Wyoming. A smile quickly spread over two faces. The young man had been a student of and teaching assistant for the professor back in Wyoming. This past week a couple returned from Denali National Park to spend a night with us. While at Denali the man had met a student from Angola, Indiana. He asked the young man if he knew a certain person back in Angola. Flabbergasted, he replied, “that is my best friend.”
Chance meetings of this type are obviously not that unusual. However, they may become a lot scarcer. Sociologists warn us that our social connections and networking are starting to disintegrate. Six degrees of separation will probably continue to exist, we just won’t know about them.
