Category: Uncategorized

The primary reason why my wife and I selected our present place of residence seems now pointless given that our income generation has no longer a geographic requirement. There is one item from my “nice to have” list when selecting this home (it made the cut), that has now become a must have: Namely,  living within reasonable distance from the public library. I find myself spending more and more time here (yes, I’m typing this at the nearest of two libraries in my small town), and utilizing ever more of the many resources.  

The Library of things.

I just returned a board game. I do have some board games at home, but my library lends games and puzzles of all kinds, and for all ages. Obviously I enjoy saving money, and the impact of being able to share resources within the community. But the value to me goes beyond that. I live in a small home. Not tiny-house small, but roughly half the size of the average modern home. So we have to watch the amount of stuff we bring in. Therefore having the ability to easily borrow things like games, toys, musical instruments, telescopes, slide projectors, wood burning kits, 3D printers (ok, you have to use that on-site) is quite the problem solver. As I am typing this, a woman just checked out a WiFi hot spot, because the internet at her home had gone out, and she needed to continue working. How great is that?

Magazines and newspapers.

To me, these present a two-fold problem: The bigger one is when one enters my home, I now feel compelled to read it, lest it be a total waste. Thus every periodical which enters my home represents an obligation. As someone who values freedom, I strive to keep obligations to a minimum. Then there is the second waste of disposing of it, read or not. Digital subscriptions are one way to address this, but that’s not for me. While I enjoy creating on the digital, paper is my preferred medium for consumption. I’ve discovered my library stocks all of the titles I was reading, and since I am usually just interested in an article or two, they don’t even come home with me. The truth is, I rarely even look at them now, but it’s nice to know I can if I want to.

Workspace. 

I’m taking a distance learning class right now. Having earned my undergrad online, I’m no stranger to this. However, that was at a time when my home was empty during the day, and I could go into my place of work and reserve a conference room at any time. No longer, but I can reserve a private room at the library if I need to take an exam, or such. Although I’m normally just with my laptop at a table, sometimes by the fireplace. The library is my office. 

A/V. 

Streaming music is amazing, but I don’t listen often enough to feel I’m getting my money’s worth on any of the platforms. I really just listen when I’m in the car by myself, which is only a few minutes on any typical day. But there’s always a disk from the library in there if I want something other than silence (or ad-laden radio). Audiobooks are great, and I listened to a ton when I used to have a long commute. I listen to exactly three podcasts, and will still throw an audiobook in the mix now and then. As a family, we schedule one to three films per week to watch together, thus I’ve found video streaming to be worth the cost. We will still occasionally borrow a film if we can’t get it on one of the streaming services.

Refuge.

In most locales in which I’ve resided, public libraries are the place where the homeless can get out of the cold for a bit. While this is a function I wish didn’t need to exist, it’s an important benefit.

I seldom purchase books. 

Yeah, this one seems obvious, but I take it further than I used to: When I want to read a title that isn’t available to borrow, I request it for purchase. While novels are my preferred genre, these purchase requests are usually newer non-fiction books I’ve heard about. In each and every case the library has approved my request. I don’t have to own it, and the community can benefit as well. 

My kids are well read. 

My wife and I were able to instill a solid daily reading habit from birth in both of our kids (now 4 and 7). One of the benefits of having only scheduled screen time, is that they both are voracious readers (the younger still needs to be read to, but he asks for it incessantly). Right now I have 46 items checked out, and that’s my card alone. My wife takes the kids at least once per week herself, and has a good number checked out as well. When the kids aren’t in school or summer camp, my checkouts have hit as high as 70 titles. And yes, every single book is read, often multiple times.

I’m saving quite a bit of money.

Another obvious one. But have you ever stopped to calculate the savings? Well let’s see: In the past three years, I’ve borrowed 931 items from my library. Figuring an average price of $12 per item (and that’s got to be low), that works out to $11,172, or $3,724 of value per year. Dang, that’s about half of what I pay the town in property tax coming right back to me (stickin’ it to the man!). But you would never actually purchase that many books, you say. And yes, that’s rather the point: I’m able to live this lavish life with all of the knowledge and entertainment I could ever want for me and my family, never mind that it costs me nothing aside from the taxes I am compelled to pay (and the occasional late fee). 

I think public libraries are indispensable. Stop by, if you haven’t been to yours in a while.

-Wilson

Do you drive a motor vehicle? 

Does it feature a working horn? 

Where I live, I have the opportunity to hear the sound of vehicle horns regularly. I also drive a car with a working horn (yes, I’ve had at least one without). Subsequently, I’ve given this matter a certain, perhaps undue, amount of thought, and here is a list of times I feel horn use is and isn’t appropriate:

• The Golden Rule of horn use is this: If an opportunity arises to use a horn, but using the vehicle’s brakes would accomplish the same thing, it’s always better to use the brakes.

• When directly behind a vehicle stopped more than a couple of seconds at a newly green traffic light, and it’s obvious the driver isn’t waiting to make a left, or is otherwise having real trouble, an abbreviated, friendly toot can be a kindness both to the daydreaming / distracted driver ahead, and others waiting behind.

• Any sounding of the horn longer than one second, in any circumstance, is excessive. These are practically always done in anger. I strongly feel that the driver of a vehicle should not allow anger to rise. Yet it happens – we are human. There are much more effective ways of dealing with this, both in the moment, and in general. Making a scene only reveals your temper to the world.

• Do you sound the horn upon seeing someone you recognize? That’s not my style, but I see little wrong with it, aside from noise pollution.

• Do you sound the horn outside the home of someone you are picking up, so that they will know you have arrived? If the home in question has parking, park the car and walk to the door. If not, you are probably blocking the roadway in some fashion while you wait, and there is usually a better way to alert your passenger. In both scenarios, you are making unnecessary noise in a residential area.

• Do you sound two or three quick toots when leaving the home of someone you just visited? Congratulations, you are eligible for Social Security. Please save some for me.

• When driving through a tunnel with no other vehicles in view, do you roll down the windows, and sound the horn? So do I.

-Wilson

I’ve long suspected that freedom is a construct which simply does not work in societies. At least not on scale: As soon as a freedom is granted to me, it invariably impinges a freedom of someone else. There may be an exception I haven’t considered, but by and large, I believe this to be true. So long as people have the freedom to think, and form their own beliefs, we are going to bump heads.

I recently enjoyed a leisure excursion to the White Mountains area of New Hampshire, that provided me with food for thought on this matter. As a lifelong New Englander, I’m well familiar with the NH state motto: “Live free or die.” Now this motto is clearly derived from the colonial sentiment during the American revolution. It’s interesting to note, however, that this was adopted by New Hampshire as it’s first official state motto in the middle of the 20th century. In fact, the motto’s inclusion on the NH motor vehicle license plate began in 1971. So it would appear that freedom is still very much on the mind of the people of New Hampshire. 

So Live Free or Die, hmm. What does that mean in our present America, our present world? I have to say, while the people of NH may be passionate about the motto, I’ve long regarded it as hyperbole. I mean, come on, the colonies have not been under British rule for centuries. Therefore, I considered it to be either patriotism, or more likely, a statement on personal freedom. And that second point especially, I regard with a bit of prejudice: When I think of modern-day Americans espousing the ideals of personal freedom, I usually envision individuals who aim to assert their beliefs on what is morally right and just by which everyone must abide. This is in stark contrast to my own belief on the concept of freedom. In fact, it’s literally the opposite of the aim of democracy (another construct). This, however, was not my experience. While in New Hampshire, I saw communities of people seemingly willing to “live and let live.” A very refreshing two-way street take on the concept of personal freedom. It seems to be a place where one can be free to be ones-self. Of course the sampling of communities I experienced was small, and admittedly there were other tourists about. Nevertheless, it’s a feeling I haven’t felt in any place I’ve ever lived or traveled. And I wasn’t the only one in my small traveling group who noticed this.

Perhaps this is how things are as you venture farther away from big cities. Or perhaps, it’s what happens when a state government allows its people to act with just a little more autonomy. In any case, I’m looking forward to returning to New Hampshire.

I’m not a fan of the “fake it ’till you make it” mentality. It seems a tad disingenuous. I believe there’s also a danger in pretending to be something you are not. Unfortunately for me, that mantra’s adherents have a distinct advantage when it comes to making changes.

For context, I gave up a career in corporate IT a couple of years back. I had some health issues, as well as some important personal projects to attend to. The job was interfering with both. More importantly, however, I never felt at home in that field. I certainly knew more than the people who needed me to be in that cubicle. But I never felt confident as an IT professional at any time during my career. I’d dream of finding another job, or even better, a job in another field. But it’s less scary for a person like me to continue living the hell I know, than taking a risk with the hell I don’t. Plus the income was nice. So I stayed at all three of the IT jobs I had, well beyond their expiration dates.

It was my wife who finally convinced me to just submit my resignation after one particularly difficult week. With no backup plan, I did just that. I absolutely do not recommend this path, but I personally have no regrets. As things turned out, I would have ended up leaving there anyway, once the initial shutdown of the COVID 19 pandemic hit our shores. There is no way both my wife and I would have been able to fulfill our full time job roles, and take care of our two young children to the standards we’ve set. Because of this shortly after walking away from my career, I found myself in the role of stay-at-home dad. So my time of unemployment ended up being quite a bit longer than intended.

Presently, public schools are back in-person (have been for over a year), and my 4 year old will be entering Kindergarten in the fall. So the time where I plan to re-enter the workforce is quickly approaching. And yes, I have been giving this some thought over the past couple of years. With an IT degree, and more than 15 years of experience, another job “in my field” is always an option. However, I’ve long fancied writing as at least a pursuit. Why not as a vocation? Well for starters, I wasn’t writing. At least not for others. Which is sad, since in this day and age, the barrier to entry is pretty dang low. So I began this blog (not my first) as a way to test the waters, and maybe create a body of work to serve as a way to grow and eventually showcase my ability.

One of the essays I had been working on turned out to be longer than what I would deem blog worthy. It was essentially a short (5,000 word) non-fiction story based on a specific lifelong interest of mine. The events I wrote about are themselves unremarkable. That is probably its strongpoint, however. It’s relatable to pretty much anyone. Without knowing what would become of this piece, I clicked away at it during my designated writing time, when I didn’t feel inspired to work on anything else. Well that little project graduated from the writing stage to the editing stage a few days ago.

While the line editing has been mostly completed (I’ll argue it’s never fully complete when you are editing your own work), I’m still in the copy editing and proofreading stages. That didn’t stop me from printing up several copies in zine format, and distributing them personally over the weekend. I don’t know what came over me, but I could not ignore the urge to get this story into the hands of people. I know at least two people have read it already, and have given encouraging feedback.

So at this moment, I’m calling myself not just a writer, but an author. I have a (mostly) completed work, published it, and distributed maybe 8 or 10 copies. And you know what? As a self-ascribed author, I now feel both the validation, and more importantly, an intense desire to promote my story and create more.

I’m not going to adopt the “fake it ’till you make it” mantra wholesale. But I must admit there is something to it.

-Wilson

I write this on the day I’ve earmarked to pack for my latest trip. For nearly eight years, I’ve committed to bringing, regardless of trip length, only what I can carry on my back. And by that, I mean a backpack that conforms to airline personal item criteria. I also sometimes bring a folding bicycle, but only when the inclusion of such simplifies my excursion, making it’s portage a net-positive.

I wasn’t always this efficient. For those who know me as a minimalist, it might seem as though this way of travel is the natural progression congruent with trying to live a simple life. The opposite, however, is true in my case. The realized benefits of traveling light seem to have slowly transfused throughout much of the rest of my life. No, I didn’t discover minimalism through a blog or documentary. Nor did I inherit it from my Father, who owned very little, and seemed unbothered by the allure of consumerism. I learned the value of less through a travel mishap.

In 2012, I found myself in a job which required moderate travel. These trips ranged from an overnight, to a couple of weeks. Because I didn’t know any better at the time, I’d simply pack whatever I thought I might need for the trip, including a complete change of office appropriate, and off-hours attire for every day I’d be away. As I look back, I find it a little ridiculous that I’d pack a full-size checked bag for a three night trip (I must have packed it tighter for a week). But I wasn’t footing the bill, so why not? That’s not to say I packed any lighter for personal trips, mind you. It’s just notable that the change occurred during this time of much more frequent than normal travel. And no, I didn’t learn anything by repeating the same behavior again and again in a protracted period of time. Rather, there was an event.

I was on my way to Edmonton, Alberta, Canada one spring for a one (which would then become a two) week work trip. Not only did I have my huge roller, and my backpack, I very nearly bought a new skateboard while on layover (more on that later). 

To set the stage for how I got into the predicament, I have to share my approach to business travel: It’s not that I hated the trips (although I far from relished them), nor were they an inconvenience on my pre-parent life. But I had the attitude that if the company was going to inconvenience my life, I would do well to maximize the experience to my benefit. Now a normal person would use this opportunity to experience new places, and eat and drink well on the companies dime. I did those things. But I also did my very best to make myself available to give up my seat on any flight which offered compensation for doing so, thus helping finance my personal travel. And I’d been successful on a couple of prior trips. This trip would prove to be the most lucrative of these wins. And also teach me to pack light.

My flight was on a Sunday morning. I parked my car in the long-term parking at Bradley, Hartford, and made my way to the Delta terminal, where of course, I had to check my huge bag. I wasn’t required to be at the office until Monday morning, but in order to get the most out of my trip, I oft opted to depart a day earlier. I rationalized I was positioning myself to be fully ready for an early and energetic start on my first day. And there was truth to that – I long prided myself on being the first one in (and often last one out). I was not a business major – rather, I took some pages from George Costanza (episode where his car was broken in the Yankees parking lot). I’d like to think my work ethic was far from what George was trying to affect – I found the solitude allowed me to do my best work during my peak performance hours. Staying late was all for show, however. At this position, I reported directly to the CIO, who lived in Vancouver, BC, but had a condo and car in Danbury, CT so he could work full time near the head office. So he basically had no life while in town. And aspiring at the time to rise up the ranks, I too, fell into that rhythm. 

I boarded my plane in Hartford on time, with my backpack on my back. For some reason, I had only, and all of my work gear in the backpack, and maybe some socks and underwear. I was helping to move an office (I was in IT), and even brought my telephone wireless headset and docking station – basically my entire office aside from monitors and a network drop. I had a layover in Minneapolis / St. Paul Minnesota. And here is where the fun begins. Waiting at my gate, I hear the anticipated call over the PA that my flight is overbooked, and they are looking for volunteers to give up their seats in exchange for a $500 voucher for use on a future Delta flight, and two $25 meal vouchers to use anywhere in the airport. Jackpot! No one was waiting for me at my destination, so I enquired. Turns out they could give me a flight the same day, just six hours later. Done deal. So I headed over to the nicest looking restaurant in the terminal, ordered a beer and a burger, and contemplated my next trip to California, paid for by my shrewd travel hack. I then thought since I’d never been to Minneapolis before, I should get out and see the town before my flight to Edmonton. I asked a passing MSP airport employee what I should see on my abbreviated visit, and he suggested the Mall of America. Not what I would have come up with on my own, but why not? I didn’t have much time to research other options, either. This helpful fellow pointed me to the light rail in the terminal, which would take me directly to the mall. He also suggested I present my flight ticket, as that would comp my train ticket. So I pocketed my ticket, a few bucks, a credit card (just in case), and rented one of those little lockers to stow my backpack. Because now I decided to travel light on foot – the way in which I did, I would come to later regret.

So for those who have not been, the Mall of America is pretty impressive. It features a 1.3 million gallon aquarium, a theme park (replete with roller coaster), and 8 acres of skylight providing passive solar heating. It’s an impressive space, without question. And so I spent some hours walking it’s miles. At a Tilley’s store, I was introduced to the latest longboards from Landyachtz, and wished I’d had the foresight to bring my 48” Sector 9 (a board I’ve flown with before). Riding from the hotel to the office every day seemed so tempting, I very nearly purchased a new board. Now anyone who has spent time in Alberta province probably knows that the road maintenance workers spread literal gravel on the roads for traction during the winter months, the way we use sand here in New England. And at this point in Spring, that gravel was very much still on the roads. I’m rather glad I didn’t buy that board at the time (I did later get a Landyachtz Dingy), as I was unable to use it. 

At some point during my meandering, I realized I was going to have to go through airport security again to re-enter the terminal. I also realized that, I’d left my wallet (with all ID) and passport in my backpack, which was locked on the other side of security. I know you’re reading this, and thinking how dumb that was – and you would be right. I have this weird thing about the security checks, where I have to have my shoelaces all undone, and every item not sewn to my garments (that includes belt) in the backpack prior to getting to the belt. I just don’t want to be that person holding up the line. So upon that realization, I immediately headed for the train back to the airport. I figured it might take a little longer to get through security this time.

Well the line at security was normal. When I explained the situation to the TSA officer, I was asked if there was anyone on the other side who could get my things for me. There was no provision to handle my dumbass situation. Having my ticket on me did help some. If you recall, I was told I could be comped for the rail trip back to the airport by showing the ticket. This didn’t work out in practice, as at that time on a Sunday, there were no humans at the depot, and I had to buy a ticket out of the vending kiosk. Well TSA had to get on the phone with someone who had access to my “permanent record.” They asked me questions like the names of my neighbors, which I would normally be able to answer, but out of nervousness, did not do well. I was eventually able to convince them I was who I said I was, and had no intent to harm anyone. So I was then brought through the metal detector, and got a pat down. The worst part about getting one of these, is that the officer announces every move before doing it “running my hand against the inside of your left leg.” It’s already an uncomfortable situation, and this courtesy for some reason made it more uncomfortable for me.

Well I got through it, and was able to make my flight to Edmonton. My huge checked bag, unfortunately, did not make it. Presumably it was on the flight I was originally scheduled to take, but Delta was unable to re-unite me with it there at the destination. There’s more to tell about how I had to show up at the office in worn clothes, and how that affected my confidence. However, the aforementioned events were enough to affirm that it’s best to travel light, and not check a bag, if possible. These days, not only does my backpack suffice for my stuff, I end up packing some of the kids things, as well. I’ve learned about quick-dry travel undies. I’ve left some clothes I would have otherwise donated, at a destination I visit multiple times per year. Those aren’t really necessary steps, but it shows I’m able to learn a lesson, and really be thoughtful about what and how I pack.

Post Script:

I was able to bring home some local beer unavailable in the US, thanks to that big checked bag, which a couple of days later, was delivered to the hotel, as promised. 

I’ve been selling off some bikes. Sadly, I’ve finally come to admit that I’ve mistakenly sold one I should have kept. Or perhaps not. The bike in question happens to be a 1955 Schwinn Corvette 3 speed. Mine was slightly customized to suit my riding, and aesthetic tastes. I sold this bike well over a year ago, but only this week came to the realization that I would reverse that transaction, if possible. I’d owned this bike for over 11 years, and it’s the first bike I bought when I returned to bicycling – having not ridden much in the preceding 16 or so years.

That old Schwinn evolved over the time I owned it. When I began to get more interested in riding, it took me on 12 mile rides on my lunch break on many workdays. I also commuted on it. I learned about bicycle repair, and old bike preservation on it. I learned a lot about old bikes in general, which led me to want fancier and rarer models, which I eagerly added to my “collection.” Nevertheless, the old Schwinn had its place still. It got me around. It both held a child seat, and pulled a trailer (often simultaneously). I probably never rode it more than 20 miles in a single ride, but it took me on group rides. It never failed – not even so much as a flat tire. I didn’t have any sentimental attachment to it (I generally don’t attach sentiment to objects), but it’s fair to say that this bicycle and I had history.

As my kids got older, I got more “serious” about my equipment. This culminated in a Surly Big Dummy set up for kid portage. However for all its good points, a Big Dummy isn’t the most pleasant bike to just tool around on. So I’ve been able to justify having at least one other bike. I had been thinking that bike would be my Humber Sports, a three speed utilitarian bicycle from 1956. It’s in fabulous original condition, a definite classic, and enjoyable to ride.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I took an old 1963 Raleigh Sports out of the basement. This is a neglected, weathered beater, very similar in design to the Humber. I initially bought the Raleigh as a parts bike. I was rather into English three speeds by then (still am). I have a problem with parts bikes, though – I tend to fix them up and ride them before breaking them down. Therefore, I installed a used chain, lubed up all of the bearings and cables, and rejuvenated the dried out Brooks saddle. Turns out this wreck was, in fact, a pretty nice rider. And once I ride a bike, it’s hard for me to dismantle. So it became another old bike kicking around. But it possessed one small advantage over my other bikes: I felt comfortable leaving it outside. This Raleigh was now my go-to bike for quick rides with the kids, or even for an evening ride after they went to bed. And I realized the advantage of having completely removed any barrier from riding. I simply remove the saddle’s rain cover (or not), and go. It became a great bike for winter use as well, since I didn’t give much thought to the effects of salt on this already thoroughly rusted pile. It also serves to remind me that I still like the very essence of bicycling. There is no pretense to this completely valueless, disgustingly weathered, step through bicycle. After spoiling myself with bikes bearing names like Rivendell, Surly, and Bianchi, it felt reassuring to realize that if all I could afford was a beat up $20 junker, I’d still be ok.

As stated I took the Raleigh out of storage, and returned it to it’s former spot near my kitchen door. I then took a spring break trip to Florida (where I very nearly abandoned my Brompton at MCO – topic for another post). Upon my return, I cast a fresh eye on the Raleigh. I installed a used Wald basket on it, and finally got around to lacing the dilapidated Brooks saddle to bring it back into shape. I got to thinking about how much better it could look if I took the time to clean it up a bit. I concluded it could look a whole lot better, but it would be a lot of work. Right now, I need to be discriminating as to how I spend my time. Yet my Humber, while having been fantastically preserved, also really deserves a full disassembly and deep cleaning. The Humber would actually require more time, as it would be done to a much higher standard. And all the mechanicals (save for new tires – which the Humber would also receive) have already been done on the Raleigh. For the first time, I began to ponder keeping the crusty Raleigh, and passing the Humber on. I know I would be precious with the Humber, but not with the Raleigh. There would be a financial upside to selling the Humber Not enough to be a major deciding factor, yet it’s something. But the main reason to keep the Raleigh over the Humber would be I’d ride it more. It wouldn’t need to come out from its storage space in the basement on special occasions (garage is already at capacity).

OK, so somehow my remorse for selling a Schwinn turned into an ode to a Raleigh. But I can connect the dots: I realized that in cleaning up, and personalizing that Raleigh, I’d essentially be reincarnating that old Schwinn. Not only was the Schwinn infinitely cooler than this Raleigh will ever be (my opinion), but the work was already done. So yes, for the first time, I am in regret over selling a bicycle. Now middleweight Schwinn bikes are rarer than English 3 speeds, at least where I live. But they’re not actually rare. So I thought about putting my mistake right, and acquiring another. It wouldn’t even need to be a Corvette (but a three speed would be a huge plus). I quickly realized, however, that building up a bike similar to the Schwinn I sold, would cost far more than I collected at its sale. And that’s a hurdle which is tough for me to navigate. 

This blog series is all about the lessons life has taught me. I could leave it here, and let the reader conclude I learned I should not sell off my bikes. That would be a terrible lesson, but one I could see myself embracing. But then I had this thought: I’ve sold off many bikes in the last year and a half. And recouped many dollars which were just sitting in steel, hidden in a basement. I could put together a really fine replacement to that Schwinn, and still be way ahead of where I was a year and a half ago. The important lesson is that I needed to let go of all of those unused bicycles before I could realize which one I would miss. It was an essential part of the process. So while I sold a bike that, in retrospect, I would rather have kept, I ultimately have no regret about selling it.

To a neighborhood get-together