Intro

Playing Catchup

Thu, 15 Sep 2011 10:36:17 -0700

I’ve been remiss in keeping up my blog, not having written an entry in some 9 months. I actually had a few adventures, as well as opinions, but have to plead inertia and laziness. So here are some random observations in an attempt to close the gap.

The photo is Socorro Island in the Revillagijedos Archipelago. Mike Lever of Nautilus Explorer took me on a flying trip there, resulting in some good photos and video.

I made the big step from a dedicated camcorder to shooting video on a DSLR, the Nikon D7000. It lives in a Nauticam housing for underwater use. I was extremely impressed by the ergonomics of Nauticam. I used to say that my old housing handled like a camera. This one handles better than the camera, especially in accessing Live View and video. My background is still photography, so I feel a lot more at home shooting videos this way than with the camcorder. It’s not the ultimate form factor, but for now it works for me despite a few limitations.

The 12th annual San Diego UnderSea Film Exhibition was last weekend. For the first time, we sold out Qualcomm Hall on Saturday night, 530 seats. And on Friday we came within about 20 seats of a sellout. This was despite the Great San Diego Blackout (12 hours without power) the previous night. We didn’t know until 9 am Friday that the show would go on. The people who attended were treated to the best SDUFEX ever. I say that every year, but it’s true. I was lucky enough to get two videos past the judges, but it gets tougher every year. One of them, “Marine Mammal Harassment,” is posted on the video page and on YouTube.

Karen and I were blown out of two dolphin and tiger shark trips, first by Tropical Storm Emily, then by Hurricane Irene. On the second one, we got as far as West Palm Beach, and actually made one dive on Blue Heron Bridge, 2 1/2 hours at 10 to 15 feet. Great muck diving. The next day, the trip was officially canceled. We had to drive our rental car to Tampa to catch a flight out of Dodge.

That leaves the Cubs, and the less said about this lousy season, the better. Hendry is gone, and I’m sure Quade and his lousy coaching staff will soon follow. I had low expectations going into the year, and as usual the Cubs didn’t live up to them.

Welcome back, Kerry

Fri, 17 Dec 2010 14:24:37 -0800

Athletes are competitive. Everything is a form of competition, even the amount of money in the contracts they sign. Let’s be real here. Does Alex Rodriguez really need another $100 million? He has enough money now that his great grandchildren will never have to work a day in their lives. Yet when it comes to contract time, he and almost every major league baseball player will squeeze the last dollar, mostly for bragging rights.

Not Kerry Wood. He is returning to the Cubs for one year at $1.5 million. He had offers for lots more, including $3.5 million from the White Sox. He could have returned to the Yankees and been guaranteed to make the post season. Yet he came back with the simple explanation, “I’m a Cub.”

In these cynical times, it’s highly unusual for an athlete to be as loyal to a team as the fans are. Jerry Seinfeld once said that rooting for a team is like rooting for laundry. When Kerry Wood struck out 20 hitters in the 5th game of his major league career at the age of 20, we were ready to reserve a spot for his plaque in Cooperstown. A slew of injuries, bad teams, and misfortune has thwarted that promise. Yet through it all he has been a quality athlete and a quality human being that everybody looks up to. With him back in a Cubs uniform, where he belongs, we’ll be rooting for more than laundry next season.

Ron Santo 1940-2010

Tue, 14 Dec 2010 17:18:38 -0800

So many words have been written about Ron Santo’s life and death that there isn’t much I can add. Except maybe my own Santo story.

In 2002 my wife, Karen, was the editor of Diabetic Cooking Magazine. She started a feature called “Tales from the Front” in which she did interviews with people from all walks of life who were coping with the disease. We were going on our annual spring training pilgrimage to Mesa, Arizona, and an article on Santo was an easy sell to the publisher who, like us, was a long time Cubs fan. So we contacted Ron through the Cubs, and he invited us to his home in Scottsdale.

Ron had recently had his right leg amputated and was still learning to get around on his new prosthesis. So he was on crutches, but was upbeat and gracious throughout the interview. It was tough for Karen to keep him on the subject of diabetes, because he and I started talking Cubs. When he came up to the Cubs, I was still living in Chicago and he quickly became one of my favorite players. So we reminisced about those days, and the discussion rambled to the prospects of today’s Cubs. Karen tried valiantly to keep him on message, but we were having too much fun talking baseball. Consequently, an interview that should have been done in 30 minutes lasted nearly two hours. I shot the photos for the piece, including the one above where Ron is posing with the picture of the all-time Cubs team. Naturally, he is at third base.

About four years later, I ran into Santo in the Wrigley Field press room before a game. By this time his left leg had been amputated and he was walking around on two prostheses. One was decorated with Cubs home pinstripes, the other with traveling grays. Both bore his number 10. I introduced myself, and reminded him about the interview for Diabetic Cooking. Now, I don’t know if he really remembered that one out of countless interviews, but if he didn’t he did a good job of acting like he had.

Everybody has written about Santo’s graciousness and positive outlook on life. I was fortunate to experience it first hand. That he didn’t make it into baseball’s Hall of Fame during his lifetime is the Hall of Fame’s shame. Sometimes we equate clutch hitting or pitching with courage. Courage is living life to the fullest and maintaining an upbeat, positive outlook in the face of multiple problems and misfortunes. Ron Santo exemplified courage. He led a Hall of Fame life.

Porsche Pilgrimage

Thu, 14 Oct 2010 12:19:06 -0700

Every devout Muslim male, at some time in his life, yearns to make the Hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca. Every devout Porschephile, male and female, yearns at some time in their lives to make the pilgrimage to the factory in Zuffenhausen, an industrial suburb of Stuttgart. I finally made it on my third try. The first time, the factory was closed due to a steelworkers’ strike, the second time for changeover to a new model. Finally, in September 2010, Karen and I embarked on our Hajj. This would be more than a factory visit. I was born in Stuttgart, and it provided a chance to show my wife my hometown.
Taking no chances this time, I applied some three months in advance. At 10 AM sharp on the appointed day, about 100 Hajjis gathered at the sparkling new Porsche museum. We were divided by languages into groups of about 20, each with a guide impeccably dressed in a blue sport coat, tie, and slacks. Ours was a blonde, blue eyed, fourth year automobile engineering student who looked like he had just stepped out of the movie set of “Cabaret.” Like many Germans, his English was as good as ours. The only jarring note was that he kept calling the founders “Porsch.” When asked why, he replied that this was the pronunciation he had heard from most Americans. I apologized for my compatriots, and tried to reassure him that for most of us, Porsche is a two syllable word.
We were led across the street to the first of several factory buildings. Unfortunately, we had to leave our cameras behind. A lot has changed from the days when Porsches were primarily hand made and one worker followed his vehicle down the assembly line. Robots do most of the repetitive work now; humans do everything that requires a brain. Parts are delivered to the factory as needed; most spend less than a day in Zuffenhausen before being used. They are brought to the line by robotic carts, which are smart enough even to stop for lagging tourists.
With production at lower levels due to recessionary sales, Boxster assembly has been moved to Zuffenhausen, alongside the Carreras. Caymans are still made in Finland; Cayennes and Panameras in Leipzig. All engines, however, are still assembled in Zuffenhausen.
I was impressed how quiet and clean everything was on the line. It takes around seven hours for final assembly, and it seemed that Boxsters, Spyders, and all sorts of Carreras moved along in random order. Each car had instructions as to what was to be attached. Our guide explained that every Porsche on the line is pre sold, either to a dealer or to an individual. Europeans are more likely to order their cars, while Americans usually select from dealer stock.
The tour moved casually but steadily, so if we straggled, it was up to us to catch up. There was lots of time for questions, and we saw just about everything except the upper floor where the body shells were painted. The most dramatic was the point where the body was lowered from above and mated with the chassis. At the end of two hours, we had walked around five kilometers, and were ready for the museum.
On my previous visits, the former museum consisted of one large room, jam packed with around 25 cars. You’ve probably seen photos of the new building, but nothing compares with being there. It’s a model of German organization, complete with coat and bag check, a coffee shop and restaurant, a gift shop, and an efficient, friendly staff. Riding up the long escalator to the lower display level, you first encounter the aluminum body shell of the Volkswagen that Erwin Kommenda designed for a 1939 Berlin to Rome race that was never held because of the war. Like everything else in the museum, it is dramatically illuminated by studio lighting worthy of a movie set. There’s lots of room to wander the multi levels, to stop and admire a historic Porsche, or to view the many special exhibits. They range from a sampling of racing trophies to an illuminated outline showing how the silhouettes of today’s Carreras follow the lines of the original 356. One that struck home with me was an explanation of how important good Schwäbian meals are for keeping factory workers productive and happy. It was illustrated by a spätzle press, which makes the noodle-like dumplings that were my favorites growing up.
One of the most impressive displays was a row of 917s, looking ready to sweep Le Mans again. Among the oddities were a Diesel tractor called a Schlepper, an updated version of the Kubelwagen built in a competition for a German army contract in the 1950s, and several police Porsches. Perhaps the ugliest Porsche ever was a design study for the 1990s Targa which fortunately never saw production. Also on display was Butzi Porsche’s first 911. The back end was modified before manufacture, although the classic front made it through. And of course everybody played homage to Porsche number one, the mid engine roadster that started it all.
Conspicuous by their absence were some of Ferdinand Porsche’s masterpieces for other manufacturers, like the Mercedes SS, and the Auto Union GP cars. However, Sascha was on display, along with the Cisitalia.
There’s lots more to Stuttgart and Germany than Porsche, and this visit represented just one day out of two weeks for Karen and me. We wandered in to a torchlight demonstration pitting supporters of Stuttgart 21 against opponents. The plan is for expansion of the main railway station into the Schlossgarten, Stuttgart’s central park. A few days after we left, tensions escalated as some two hundred year old trees were bulldozed. Police responded with water cannons and a show of force that made national TV.
While Karen visited the zoo to photograph birds, I went to the Mercedes Museum. It’s about four times the size of Porsche, with about ten times as many visitors. The Porsche staff was friendlier and more helpful, while those at Mercedes were there primarily for security. But the displays ran the gamut of motoring history, from Otto Benz’ first automobile (a replica) to the newest Gullwing.
We didn’t need a car in Stuttgart or in Berlin, because public transportation was so fast and efficient. We bought multi day passes, but at no time did anybody ask to see a ticket. They trust people in Germany. On the walking streets, merchants display their wares outside with no apparent concern of theft. On the other hand, graffiti is not only tolerated but apparently encouraged. Some of the more ornate inscriptions must have required many hours to complete.
We rented an Opel for a trip through the Black Forest, partly on the Autobahn and partly on local roads. The GPS we brought along was a life saver. The Autobahn was a mixed bag. In the right hand lane was a slow moving line of trucks from all over Europe. That left only one lane for cars most of the way, driving well under the 120 km/h (75 mph) speed limit. On the few stretches with unlimited speed, the left lane is used only for passing. Nobody ever passes on the right. And it’s a socio-economic alignment, with upper class Mercedes, BMW’s, Audis, and Porsches zooming by the middle and lower classes in the right lanes.
We drove the Schwarzwaldhochstrasse (Black Forest Highway) from Friedenburg to Baden Baden. This is southern Germany’s version of California Highway 1, with mountains and twisties all the way. It would have been a great Porsche drive, except we did it in pea soup fog, creeping along, barely seeing the white line and the lights of the car in front of us. Forest? Never even saw a tree.
Random observation indicated that around 75% of German cars are hatchbacks, with Volkswagen Golf the most popular model. There are even BMW and Mercedes hatchbacks that never make it across the pond. I’ve read that about half of all German vehicles are diesels, and from the sound, that seems about right. Japanese cars are rare, American cars are rarer.
Following are some additional personal observations about Germany that may or may not be accurate:
German food gets a bad rap due to the meat and sausages served over here. Karen is a vegetarian and a former food writer. She loved the food, especially the Schwäbian variety. They also make excellent dry wines, not the sweet stuff you usually get over here.
There are fewer fat Germans than Americans. Maybe it’s because they do lots more hiking and biking.
Or maybe it’s the smoking. There’s lots of coughing. Either everybody has a cold or it’s smoker’s hack.
Never pass up an information center in a new city. They’ll help you find lodging, food, transportation, and tourist attractions.
In California we don’t know what old is. Two hundred year old German buildings are not unusual. In Schwäbisch Hall, we stayed in a hotel that was founded in 1580.
Public transportation will get you almost anywhere. Electronic signs tell you when the trains come and where they are headed. And they are always on time.
Lots of Turks live in Germany, and many of them have fast food restaurants featuring doner, which you may have encountered as middle eastern shawerma or Greek gyros. Good stuff.
The public baths at Baden Baden are like a water park for adults. They are built above the ruins of Roman baths.
We were at the Brandenburg Gate for the 20th anniversary of reunification. Those guys sure know how to throw a party.
Germany has come to grips with its Nazi past. One section of the Berlin Wall was built over the ruins of Gestapo headquarters. It’s now the site of a memorial display and museum depicting history in all its gory details. I still get the creeps looking at photos of Hitler and his thugs.
Another indication was at the 1936 Olympic Stadium. I tagged along with a group of school kids, and they were able to answer the guides’ questions about the Nazi era. So it’s being taught in the schools.
When you make your Hajj to Zuffenhausen, don’t pass up a chance to see and experience Germany. Whether it’s the medieval gated towns of the Romantic Road, castles along the Rhine, Oktoberfest in Munich, or the splendid museums of Berlin, there’s lots more there than Porsches.

Fifteen minutes of infamy

Thu, 9 Sep 2010 13:55:03 -0700

What do you do if you have a failing church with a larger percentage of empty seats than the Wrigley Field bleachers in a losing September? If you are the reverend Whatsisname (I don’t remember his name and don’t want to look it up) you threaten to burn Korans on September 11. Whether he goes through with it or not, he’s inspired a media frenzy far beyond anything his feeble, impaired brain could ever have expected. Even the BBC and the president of the United States have weighed in.

Does this moron even know any Muslims? I do. I’ve spent nearly a year in Egypt, spread out over a dozen trips. I’ve lived in Egyptian homes, discussed politics and religion with them, and although many disagree with aspects of our foreign policy, they generally like Americans on a personal basis. Are there Muslim terrorists? Of course. Just as there are Christian terrorists, Jewish terrorists, and Hindu terrorists. It’s utter hysteria to blame an entire religion for the actions of the lunatic fringe.

Speaking of lunatic Christian terrorists, is Reverend Whatsisname willing to accept responsibility for American and European deaths resulting from his publicity ploy? The dollars now rolling in to his failing church from like minded bigots are blood money.

He’s already surpassed his allotted fifteen minutes of infamy. Burn them books and pass the Kool-aid.