So, here are the facts (I’ll post next on my reactions):

• moved to West Fargo late summer of 1986.  I was 16.
• registered for school with my Mother at the old high school (they were building a new one for the following year)
• chose Journalism I & II for electives (vaguely, probably incorrectly, recall my mother suggesting it as possibly something she took)
• local restaurant (Valentino’s Ristaurante) within riding distance on my ten-speed was looking for dishwashers, I applied (mother, step-father wanted me out of the house)… during interview, the manager, Rich, called me Andy.  It was my first interview and I was nervous.  Never corrected him.  Got the job.
• School started and some kids from work brought the name Andy with them and I’ve been him ever since.
• English and Journalism proved to be my favorite classes… I don’t really remember any others.
• I made my first friends in English.  Carrie, Bryan, Jeff, Tony, Eric… those are who I remember.
• Journalism forced me out of the box and my comfort zone.
  • I had to write some creative literature paper and read it.  I told the instructor I’d rather not read it in front of the class.  He pushed me until I explained I’d be embarrassed.  I did it, I was embarrassed (turned hot red) and I got an A.  The instructor asked me if I was interested in Speech.  Not me, no thanks.
  • as far as articles, the only one I recall writing was a movie review for Platoon; I focused on the two Sgt’s (Tom Berenger and Willem Dafoe) serving as father figures to the young private Charlie Sheen.
  • I asked the paper photographer, Gregg Brekke, to teach me how to take pictures.  He told me the type of camera to buy (Pentax K1000, the work horse of cameras) and spent a few days showing me how to use it.
  • mostly, I talked with Mark, Kurt, Jay (was Jay in Journalism?… I think he was…) and others about how cool it would be just to write for a job while crushing on the editor of the paper… she was cute and talked to me.  She was nice.  A few years later, she invited me to her wedding.
• the rest of my life was subsumed by Val’s and my other friends… Craig, Dean, Carrie (same from English… she wanted a job and I told her to go apply there).  It wasn’t until the next summer that I “partied” with anyone, but I lived there as much as they’d have me.  People were nice, they talked to me and I was good at my job.  More often then not, I rode my bike to work that winter along the cleared city streets while Craig, Dean or one of the busboys/delivery guys would give me a ride home after work.
• at the end of the year, the Journalism instructor recommended me for editor of the paper for the following year.  This was his last year, so I was never sure if he thought I was a good choice or just didn’t care… an English teacher who also instructed the Yearbook staff was taking over
• Mark thought it would be good for us (and probably score some browny points) to go to a Yearbook/Journalism few day “camp” that summer she was taking students to.  I don’t know what I learned about journalism, but I did find out you could sniff rubber cement and that the other kids and our instructor were ok.
• That summer at Val’s, I moved up to line cook/pizza guy and started hanging out with the older guys (Jeff, Todd, Tom, Steve, Rich).  After a long night, Craig, Dean and I would end up at one of their places mooching beers with Carrie joining every now and then.  She was cool, however, and actually had friends and a boyfriend.
• In an attempt to get me out… away… whatever, my folks sent me to spend a week with an old friend from a city we had lived in a couple years ago.
• Shortly after returning, Carrie threw a party at her house.  It was an odd mix (for me) of work and school friends.  Bryan, Craig, Dean, Carrie and others… later we would dub it Puke Fest due to the gross amount of beer and wine coolers that were consumed and subsequently vomited up around Carrie’s parents finished basement…
• A week or so after the party, Carrie and Dean began dating.  That was the end of our trio, though I spent time with each separately.
• When school started, I was hanging out more with Mark and Jay.  Mark really thought I needed a girlfriend.
• My main course was Journalism.  I was friends with most everyone.
  • Carrie started as my assistant editor and we wrote a film review column together until she dropped the class.
  • Mark and I, then Bryan and I wrote a column called “With Pen in Hand…”.  For Mark and I, it was more of a satirical look at school, organizations, the like.  When Bryan and I did it, it was just weird ramblings of things we both found funny.
  • I added in editorials and bad, somber poetry to every issue.
  • The rest of the time I helped the other student contributors on coming up with article ideas, building lists of questions and editing.
• Overall, I had decent grades, pulling in A’s or B’s without really applying myself other than last minute cramming
• At Val’s, the assistant mgr responsible for the busboys/delivery staff and hostesses hired a new group of girls (I liked Curtis) and we started into an era of Hostesses and Bus Girls.  It was my constant mission to get any and all of them to come party with us.  Nothing ever came of that for me personally (in a 17 yr old male way), but I made some casual friends and one good friend.  Kathy was a hostess and became my movie buddy.  Of all the people I knew at Val’s or felt close to, Kate (as she now is called by everyone but me) is the one person I’ve stayed in contact with.
• the basketball team made it to state that year and since my parents were out of town, I volunteered to drive a few of my friends from school across the state to attend.  I don’t think any of us told any of our parents we were going and it’s one of the most spontaneous things I have ever done.
• halfway through the year, my mother said they’d help me with college if I went for “computers”.  I knew I wanted to write and told her so.  If they didn’t want to help me with that, that was ok.  I joined the Army Reserve as soon as I turned 18 and planned on going to basic training late that next summer after my senior year.  In all fairness to me, I did pursue a dual major in English Lit and Film and came somewhat close to completing it before life reset that dream and I found new ones.
• After I turned 18, I could sign myself out of school.  My  buddy Bryan and I would go have beers.  He lived across the street from school and we’d wave at the marching band as they practiced.  I enjoyed it probably as much because he was president of the band at the time.
• Graduation went off just fine.
  • There was no party at our apartment.  My grandparents came up.  It was the first time I had seen them and my brother in a couple of years.
  • Someone had a great idea to get the class to rent out as much of a camp ground near Devils Lake as we could (ended up getting around half of it, I think), so that’s where most of us went.  There were tents and people sleeping in cars or not sleeping at all.  It was a good time.  I actually talked to a girl.

Former NFL star running back and one-time murder suspect O.J. Simpson is visiting the Fargo area. Simpson says he`s visiting friends and playing golf, and also hopes to catch his first walleye during his five-day stay. Simpson drew a crowd at a Fargo bar Tuesday night, as word spread that he was in the city.

The Fargo Forum website also picked up the major event:

O.J. Simpson spent Tuesday night in Fargo sitting behind a table at JT Cigarro surrounded by interested onlookers and at least one burly bodyguard…. Simpson was seated behind a table in the rear corner of the room. Typically he was surrounded by at least 15 people, just soaking in the moment. A massive bodyguard created with chairs a perimeter around the area and stood guard to allow people in or out. Simpson, donning his trademark white golf visor, seemed to enjoy the spectacle, often smiling, high-fiving people and posing for photos cheek to cheek. Some in the bar said Simpson arrived around 8 p.m. Though the reason is not perfectly clear as to why he was in Fargo on Tuesday night, one witness said his girlfriend is from the area. It was also unclear who was part of Simpson’s entourage.

A couple items to mention…

Well, duh, they found him in a bar… That’s what you do in Fargo.

I once saw Rick Springfield in Valentino’s Ristaurante, where I worked, across from the shopping mall, West Acres.  He was a vegetarian.  Luckily, we had a vegetarian pizza on the menu.  I don’t think the Juice is a vegan… not after he’s tasted blood.

It’s hard to believe he went there for the golf.  REALLY hard to believe that.  The fishing, sure.  Really, he should have just stuck with a “getting a drink” story.

I buy the fact that his girlfriend is from there.  Hot women from North Dakota generally move away.  I’m assuming he has a hot girlfriend.

I love how they always vaguely describe him as a “retired football player” and mostly describe his “alleged” murder of his ex and her boyfriend.  They NEVER mention Naked Gun!  That’s just sad.

This seems like a really big alliby.  Has anyone seen his kids lately?

I’m a North American boy… grew up near Canada, visited Mexico a few times, but mainly hung in the mid-west of the US of A.  I’ve been to both coasts a few times.  Why is that meaningful?  Well, it probably isn’t, but it should give you context to my point of view.  My conclusions may just be based on uninformed perspectives/experiences.

What was most apparent when I stepped out of the airport in Bangalore was the extreme dichotomy of wealth.  Bangalore is one of the fastest growing tech centers in the world with all of the megacorporations present.  Driving down any street will reveal multi-million dollar homes/buildings next to squaler and poverty.  Two of the wealthiest men in the world are brothers who head some concrete/building corporation in India (billion$).  India’s long past is based on a rigid class system.  I’ve been told that it is slowly and quickly (depending on where - again, dichotomy of social norms) being replaced by a society following a western free-enterprise approach.  But the growing pains are obvious.  There are beggers, there are homeless just as you will find in any major city around the world.

Here’s the difference for me… when I meet poor, impoverished in the US and surrounding areas, it’s more common to see the look of failure in their eyes.  In these people, they’ve given up, perhaps due to a feeling that society has given up on them.  In Bangalore, I did not see that.  The poor did not have much, but they were not defeated.  They still had the look of hope in their eyes.

I don’t draw any conclusions here… they have a strong sense of faith (varied across the areas), corrupt government, poor health standards and a growing sense of have’s/have not’s, but how is that really different from here?

• •The people are incredibly nice. Often, they want to practice their english with native speakers, so you will find yourself being engaged in conversation with everyone.
• •Even though you may be tempted, DO NOT ORDER A STEAK AT ANY RESTAURANT. It’s not that they will be offended. If it’s on the menu, it’s there for a reason. It’s not going to be good, though. I told a friend I was going to India and going to have a steak, so I felt obligated. It’s not that I wanted to offend anyone, I thought it would be ironic. Little did I know the levels the irony would take. It was the most dreadful piece of meat I’ve seen. Not only did that cow die of old age, it must have laid alongside the road while someone performed some ceremony for days on end.
• •Chinese food is really good there. India is part of Asia and pretty much every restaurant had some “traditional” asian cuisine on it, but prepared with very subtle Indian spices.
• •If you like Indian cuisine, you will be in heaven. Most places offered sampler meals. It can get pretty hot, so be prepared. Also, it appeared that the majority of people ate vegetarian. So, you will be asked (or not, so prepare to ask for) “veg” or “non-veg”.
• •Enjoy the ride where ever you go… the roads are packed with toy cars that make MG’s look huge. Well, about 1/3 of the vehicles are “cars”, another 1/3 are powered (kerosene more likely than not) rickshaws and the remainder being scooters. Helmets aren’t really even suggested and don’t be shocked when you see little kids sitting up front on the scooters. The Britt’s planned all the road ways so you’ll see everyone on the wrong side of the road, but side is really relative there. The lines are more suggestions than real restrictions. Think New York city with 3 times the honking, more chaotic driving, but with none of the road rage. Yep… again, see bullet number 1. Honking is just the way they let everyone know they are there. No one yells or screams, everyone is relaxed. They even honk at the traffic cops who sometimes try to direct traffic. It’s all a game. It’s more fun at night. There are no orange flags, flares or reflectors if there is a breakdown. Trucks just carry football size rocks in the back and lay them out around the vehicle as they fix a flat, for example. When they are done, they just drive away leaving the rocks in the road. Two incidents worth noting:
  • →I saw only one accident. It looked like a bus hit a scooter. Everyone helped move the scooter out of the road. The driver was walking around and didn’t look seriously hurt.
  • →I saw only one fight as a result of some traffic incident. Two men were in each other’s faces raising their voices and gesturing at the vehicles. A group of people gathered around them. Just as it looked like they were going to escalate into a physical altercation, they both broke out into big grins, waved at each other and returned to their vehicles. It was like they put the show on for us as a joke, but just couldn’t keep it up.
• •If someone offers, go sight seeing. My trip was 11 days with (obviously) a weekend in the middle. Get the vendor/company you are visiting to take you on a trip. They either a) want your business or b) want to keep your business. Most of them probably never will see the sights on their own, so they will enjoy it, too.
  • →On saturday, we went on a tiger safari. Now, I’m sure I was safe the entire time, but it felt more like if Jurassic Park was set in the backhills of Kentucky. The bus was an old city bus that was closing in on 40 quicker than I am and our main source of protection was the chain link fence that went over the class of the windows. Well, all the windows except the driver window. I guess he was trained in special martial arts he could employ in the case of a Bengal tiger breaking through the windshield. The park was divided into sections with man made stone walls with gates made up of more chain link fences and steal sheets slid back and forth letting the bus through. It was actually pretty exciting (in a good way). The only ohmygodwhathaveIdone moments were when we went down a blind turn at the bottom of a hill and came face to face with a bus coming right at us (no edges/side rails on these loose gravel/dirt roads) and when the “tour guide” standing on the steps by the door (right behind my chair) opened the door so some guy could get an uninterrupted shot of the fully grown male tiger walking next to the bus. YES! YOU READ THAT RIGHT!  He opened the door with the tiger right there. I quickly determined the kids looked like easier prey than me and slouched down in my chair waiting for the screams. Nothing… the tiger and tour guide were in on the joke together or he had just ate when the last bus came through.
  • →On sunday, we went and toured some palaces dating back a few hundred years. They were really interesting and, surprisingly, the Britt’s did a decent job keeping them up after they took over. The odd part about this visit was, while waiting in line (5 hours from Bangalore), I ran into 4 people from AOL who I used to work with (one from here in Columbus). They were in Bangalore on business and decided to go site seeing, too. Makes you think the world’s a little smaller…

  

• •Learn to barter… if you are going to buy souvineers, do not pay full price. This is one of the countries (like 99% of the world) that assume you will barter with them. Don’t be nervous. Determine what you want to spend, offer less, don’t be rebuked when they act insulted and talk about their family, etc… When it’s all done and if you buy something, compliment them on the item and let them know you think they both got a fair deal. It’s part of the experience. You can make it bad or enjoy it. If you don’t like something, just walk away. But if you look and try, you can get decent deals on hand crafted silver, wood carvings and other fun stuff

→ agile development
→ open source/Internet development communities
→ building applications that people I know will use and find value in
→ doing something I can show my kids and they’ll get

Luckily, a local company I’ve had my eye on opened up a management position. Three people who were on my team at AOL all have jobs there and were kind enough to go recommend me to the hiring manager. In my second week, I’m already more relaxed then during my 5th month at the other place. I have no more insight into the “business” of what we do here than I did at the last place, but I’m more comfortable with the people and my abilities to contribute. I need to research and post about “rebound jobs” in the future, but I still need a bit more distance to get that objectivity back.

1. flight out of columbus was canceled due to poor visibility at O’hare… got on standby for earlier flight that was delayed and ended up at O’hare at the same time as canceled flight… not much weather problems… [American Airlines]
2. flight out of O’hare to london was delayed 3 hours due to mechanical issues that only Boeing mechanics could fix… couldn’t get them there in time, so switched to a 777
3. travel agency changed original booking and didn’t arrange for my baggage to be checked all the way to bangalore (I should have noticed, but was ignorant)… had to leave immigration at heathrow, go to baggage claim, get on express train to new terminal, check in bag, go through security in under 50 minutes to make flight… made it with 5 min to spare [British Air]
4. arrived in bangalore at 4AM… someone suggested arranging for a car at the hotel to pick me up… it was one of the smartest things I did… there was a mass of people outside the airport trying to get you to let them drive you wherever you were going (which would have required me to know where I was going) [Taj Residency]
5. didn’t rent a car, don’t rent a car… it’s chaos on the streets! The hotel can arrange for a car, you could get pay a motorized rickshaw driver (equivalent of a taxi) to take you most places or, if you are there on business, have the company you are meeting pony up for a car. They’ll do it. They want your business.
6. don’t drink the water… everyone will tell you that… that also includes ice… no ice. I listened and didn’t really get sick (pollution… more later), but one of the people I went with must have because he got pretty sick. Everyone will offer you plenty of water bottles, warm soda (couldn’t find a cold can of diet coke to save my life) and coffee and tea. I used this as an opportunity to pretty much break my caffeine addiction. I don’t know if I’m healthier for it, but I’m definitely more tired.
7. don’t breath the air… ok, good luck with that, tell me how it goes! The air quality is terrible in city. I went out of the city on the weekend and it’s perfect, but in city just suffers from too much smog, vehicle pollution… some folks are burning kerosene along with their gas… I’d get up in the morning to hit the gym, but after I was done with the treadmill, my lungs burned and my head hurt. It was the pollution… seriously, I’m not THAT out of shape
8. Ok, slight tangent… the gym. State of the art equipment in this hotel, clean towels, water bottles, everything you could ask for. I’d get up and go somewhat early (6-ish). It was just me and the security guard. He’d follow me around (me with my ipod blaring in my ears) and stand by me just in case I needed something. Again, seriously… the guy was very friendly, huge smile, kept offering me another towel or bottle of water. I smiled back and nodded towards my towel and bottle. He’d stand right next to the treadmill near my arm watching me. Now, I missed my kids, but this guy really helped fill that void left by a 4 year old (once you realize he’s not creepy, just WAY TOO FRIENDLY). With his broken english, I never learned his name, but I called him Stan and for an hour each day, he was my faithful companion as I lifted weights, ran a few miles and inhaled more pollution than I want to think about.
9. Plan your trip when there is a chance of snow… It was in the 80’s, no humidity and not a cloud in the sky when a freak snow storm in March hit Columbus, Ohio. For those of you up North, just trust me here… a foot of snow fell in 12 hours and pretty much everyone in the city was locked down for 3-4 days. My wife would have been fine, but she was left with our mini-van with my SUV at the airport. She wasn’t thrilled with me
10. midway through the trip, the airport workers union started threatening a strike. Concerned we wouldn’t make our flights, we modified our departure plans and got the least risky flight options home. Leaving Bangalore was fine, but in Delhi, the signs of the strike were obvious. It appeared that the main workers on strike were the janitorial staff. We had an 8 hour layover. We couldn’t actually get into the terminal (where the airline’s business class lounge was located) until 4 hours before our flight. There was a general “waiting area” outside the terminal, but the janitorial staff hadn’t cleaned in 2 days. It was a pit. There were newspaper and television reports all over the place taking pictures of people walking through the trash. At one point, I had a photographer come up and ask me if I would walk through the refuse while they took pictures. I kindly refused. You’d be surprised how many people agreed to do it. [King Fisher airlines from Bangalore to Delhi]
11. 4 hours later, we were able to go through security… Here’s a nugget to remember, if you see a long line in security, it’s perfectly fine to bribe the security guards to bring you to the front of the line and bypass everything. You still have to go through security, but $5 will get you ahead of the pack.
12. Fly business class if it is at all possible… for no other reason than having a nice place to relax when you are waiting for your flights. The food wasn’t bad, drinks were free and no one bugged you.
13. Indian airport security measures don’t meet the standards of the major airlines (gosh, wonder why?). So, prepare to go through the same questions and inspections on the gangway down to the airplane. [British Air]
14. For some reason, the airline food was better going TO India than it was coming home.
15. They will pass out your immigration card to fill out… do it on the plane and try to get quickly to the lines. They pass you through fast, but still. It was 5 AM after around 17 hours of traveling already… (leaving bangalore, going to delhi then O’hare).
16. I dragged my bad to the bag checkin for my return flight home… pretty smooth
17. Got to the terminal in O’hare, grabbed a triple Venti white chocolate mocha from Starbucks to celebrate and staggered to the gate.
18. It’s O’hare, so the flight was delayed 2 hours. I spent the time watching a bunch of high school kids waiting to start their trip to Mexico with 3 very nervous looking teachers.
19. It was good getting home.

Next… The people and things to do…

So here’s the point. I’m tired of everyone complaining about killing trees when they print hard copies of something. No one whines when they go into a library or book store or pick up their Entertainment Weekly. I was reading a literary agent’s blog recently and she made a passing comment on modern historians’ concern over the lack of physical letters written between people. In the past, these provided great insight into the personal lives and inside stories of historic events. With the advent of email, it’s just too easy for people to simply delete these correspondents. And before you say it, these people aren’t necessarily blogging. Further, don’t forget that jobs in the timber industry, while significantly declining over the past several decades due to increased automation, environmentalist pressures and foreign competition (damn those canucks), are still US jobs that people depend on. They aren’t high paying and regularly labeled some of the worst jobs, but they are still jobs critical some a subset of our society.

Ok, ok… we can debate this, but that’s not really my point. The recent comment was followed by the rhetorical question: how many trees are killed to make one piece of paper? The question itself is a bit absurd in it’s implications, but it made me wonder how many pieces of paper ARE made from a single tree.

A quick Google found an article (that appears an accurate summary) from an organization called “TAPPI - The Leading Technical Association for the Worldwide Pulp, Paper and Converting Industry“. Granted, I’m sure they are biased, but the data seems right:

…let’s assume that the following paper products have been produced using 100 percent hardwood.
A cord of wood is approximately 8 feet wide, 4 feet deep, and 4 feet high. A cord of air-dried, dense
hardwood (oak, hickory, etc.) weighs roughly 2 tons, about 15-20 percent of which is water.
It has been estimated that one cord of this wood will yield one of these approximate quantities
of products:
• 1,000-2,000 pounds of paper (depending on the process)
• 942 100-page, hard-cover books
• 61,370 No. 10 business envelopes
• 4,384,000 commemorative-sized postage stamps
• 460,000 personal checks
• 1,200 copies of National Geographic
• 2,700 copies of an average daily newspaper

Source: A Tree for Each American, American Forest & Paper
Association, Washington, DC

Ok, that’s a lot of paper. I don’t know how many pieces of paper are in a pound, but I’m guessing 1-2,000 pounds of paper is a lot. But I know that’s now how paper is made. When I was a kid, I spent summers with my grandparents. My grandfather was a logger (still is, really, in his 70’s) in the Iron Range area of Minnesota. He’d hall loads to the paper mill in Grand Rapids. The process is much more efficient than those stats indicate. The same article provides a decent summary. Paper is really made of wood fiber. Yeah.. duh. Well, not so duh as some of the high quality paper (think resume paper) is made from a different mix of raw materials. The kind of paper I’m talking about is your run of the mill printer paper.

About 1/3 of the raw materials going into the wood fiber is actually excess scrap left over from lumber mills and the logging process. They cut up logs for lumber but there is a lot of waste materials in the form of branches, strips of wood/bark when they square off the logs, etc. That’s chopped up into pulp.

Another third of the paper comes from recycled paper.

Only the last 1/3 comes from whole trees. These are trees smaller than 8 inches in diameter or otherwise not deemed good enough for lumber. Many of these trees come from efforts to thin out forests. Keep in mind that we really don’t like forest fires. Well, in nature, they aren’t that bad. Some trees only drop their seeds after a fire (too lazy to google, but I saw it on PBS <g>). The fires help clear out the scrub or older trees and make room for new growth. Absent fires, enter loggers.

Now before you freak out about deforestation, the government (state/federal) does a pretty good job of protecting the “historic” forests we have left. I’m all for saving the rain forest. I think what’s happening there and in Africa is terrible. But they aren’t going to the rain forest to cut down trees to make paper.

Here are some additional data points from that article:

Each year, the U.S. forest community plants some 1.5 billion seedlings. That’s an average of more than 4 million new trees planted every day!

More than 5 new trees are planted each year for every man, woman, and child in America, and millions more regrow naturally from seeds and sprouts.

There are more trees in America today than there were 70 years ago.

In summary… that 10 page doc you print out at work isn’t going to take out a forest. Make sure you recycle it when you are done. Don’t quit printing cuz you’ll just put my grandpa out of a job and that’s not nice. He’s a tough old bastard and could probably kick your ass. Oh… and deep… deep in my heart, I’m a lumberjack. And I’m OK.