Our Brave, New World...

Our Brave, New World

Earlier this week my attention was turned to an article posted to the CBC News website written by Ira Basen: “Big Data’s got your number. Should you care?” Mr. Basen seems to be questioning the ethics and implications behind “data mining,” and how secure and accurate the analytical results might be. Through online multi-media, specifically Facebook, Twitter, email, and web based searches, are we providing too much personal information to those that make a point of monitoring our key strokes?

I found the article thought provoking, but for reasons not intended by the writer. 

This is the line that caught my attention and started me thinking:

"This is a world where massive amounts of data and applied mathematics replace every other tool that might be brought to bear …”

My first thought was of “Psychohistory.” 

My second thought was “Why does any of this surprise us?”

Thirdly, “Why does it upset us so?”

If an ad appears on your Facebook page, chances are it’s for something you have an interest in. Most of the ads I see on Facebook are for travel, hunting or fishing. Same with my Gmail page. On occasion I see an ad for Jeep or Apple and sometimes camera equipment. I drive a Jeep, my laptop is an Apple, I claim to be somewhat of a photographer. Rarely, if ever, do I see ads for prescription meds, hockey paraphernalia, tickets for the latest Broadway musical and thankfully porn nor male enhancement balms! Guess the "data miners" have my libido figured out!

Why doesn’t any of this surprise me? “Psychohistory” is why! Hari Seldon developed Psychohistory in the year 0 F.E. Psychohistory is a field of science and psychology that uses mathematics to predict the future, and with great accuracy. Didn’t anyone else see this coming?

We’re living in a world of information. And with all that information available to us and all the personal information we choose to post to the “Great World Wide Web,” why are we upset when others use it to predict our actions or hope to profit from our wants and desires? 

And why are we surprised by it?

We were all warned, folks. In high-school, in college, by the writers of novels we studied or read for fun. 

So for those of you that think we were blind-sided by the “data miners,” are upset by how third parties use the information you share, rant about the control others supposedly have on what and where you can share, or are simply upset by the images you view, it’s time to crack open a few books. 

All of what we have come to fear in this "age of information" was predicted years before the world wide web created the global village we now all call home. The printed word has always been a map to the future. The facts that shock us now are the fictions that amused us in the past.

Mr. Basen has prompted me into opening up some of those old “maps,” to retrace my travels and the routes that society has taken over the past few decades. I want to see just how many times we ignored the warnings these literary cartographers mapped out for us. Maybe we didn’t take the journey seriously enough, treating our travels like vacations and not fact finding missions.

So here is a list of the “literary maps” I’m going to reread, and in no particular order:

A Clockwork Orange

Anthony Burgess, 1962

Are any of us really surprised at the desensitizing of society? Acceptance of violence in everyday life is shocking, but so often we turn a blind-eye to it. And the state of modern music! 

Alex and his “droogs” adopted a new language, a complete disregard for society's mores and imbibed in new designer stimulants. 

Foundation

Isaac Azimov, 1951

Hari Seldon's “Psychohistory” is not real, sorry! It’s the underlying theme in Foundation. But analytics and the algorithms built about data-mining will be as close as we’re going to come to it in this day and age. Mr. Azimov I’m sure, would not have been shocked at the ads that appear on Facebook!   

Brave New World

Aldous Huxley, 1931

Malthusian belts and state-sanctioned promiscuity. For my observations on this, one must ask me... 

Lord of the Flies

William Golding, 1954

Just look what happens when the selfish, the sociopathic and amoral go unchecked. Schoolyard and online bullying. And when those of questionable characters start running the banks, big business or parliament? The bullying of society in general.

1984

George Orwell, 1949

Bullying and political correctness to the extreme.

Heart of Darkness

Joseph Conrad, 1899

A corrupt psychopath bent on becoming a god to those around him, bringing moral destruction to a people and environmental disaster to the land.

Girlfriend in a Coma

Douglas Coupland, 1998

Dystopia in Canada and from a pop-culture point of view; If for no other reason.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Douglas Adams, 1979

The actual “Hitchhiker’s Guide” was no more than a tablet, without the phone, the camera or the apps! But the storage capacity was unthinkable in the early ’80’s!

Most of these books have been made into movies, so if your summer is too busy for reading, watch some of them. If you’ve already read them, as many of us did in high-school or college, are the ideas expressed less shocking now than when we first read them? 

I don’t fear the data-miners, I don’t even fear how the information is crunched, ground up and processed. What I fear, yet also find the most compelling and provoking, is whether “Big Data” will lead to a Utopian Global Village or a grand Dystopian society. I have my suspicions.

Didn't we all see it coming?

    

Father's Day, 2013

First Father's Day without Dad...

Dad died nine months and two days ago. In honour of the today, I'm going to share my thoughts of him. These were the words I shared with friends and family at his memorial service last September.

Dad’s Memorial Service; September 27th, 2012.

I would like to share a few thoughts and memories of my Dad. I’ll read them, as speaking off the cuff will be a little difficult right now.

Dad taught me many things over the years. He encouraged me in many pursuits, even the ones that were of little interest to him. And he always shared with me his observations of what went on in the world, our neighborhood and our family. 

Here are a few of the things he taught me;

Dad taught me how to light a fire.

He taught me how to polish my shoes and boots. Dad also taught me, no, instilled in me the importance of polishing one’s shoes and boots. First, they will last longer and second, many people will judge you by the state of them.

Dad taught me how to tie knots, and also how to tie a tie, properly! Ties were very important to Dad. I recall meeting him at Union Station one morning as we were going to the Auto Show. Even though he’d been retired for a few months by this time, he still couldn’t leave the house on a week day without putting on a tie. I insisted he remove it. Reluctantly he did so! 

For Dad, wearing a tie seemed almost as important as having a good shine on one’s shoes.

Dad taught me to drive standard.

He also taught me how to use simple hand-tools, but most importantly to put them back from whence they came! 

Dad taught me that having a good sense of humor was a very important tool for dealing with one’s problems, easing a difficult situation or putting others at ease. Dad’s wit, not unlike the tools on his bench, was always so very sharp.

But Dad’s sense of humor, his witty responses or observations, they were never meant to harm. His joking, or “pulling of one’s leg” were always in good fun. Always “joshing” and never aimed at someone who couldn’t handle it.

Dad didn’t tell jokes though, he told funny-stories, he made light of serious situations. He did this to put you at ease, break the ice, or simply to get a rise out of you.

Dad loved to go for a swim. Whether it was a “dip” in the Roses’ pool or a “paddle” in the sea, he enjoyed a swim. Many years ago, when I was maybe 9 or ten we used to go a couple of times a month to the local public pool. He also took me there for swimming lessons. This was one of those instances where he “encouraged” me as opposed to “taught” me. I was curious to know how Dad had learnt to swim, so on one of these outings I asked him.

Well, where Dad grew up there were no public pools at the time. All the kids went down to the local canal and their parents taught them to swim there, by just throwing them in. Only thing was though, while all the other kids had bathing suits on, Dad had a sack full of rocks!

I don’t think Dad had an easy childhood. Growing up through the war, the threat of bombings and having been moved around so much was difficult. Making light of these difficult times was Dad’s way of dealing with difficult situations. For as English as Dad was, and as English it is to have a “stiff upper lip,” finding humor in what otherwise might be bleak can be very therapeutic. 

Something else Dad taught me, which again finds its roots in his early years, was the importance of being on time. Something even more important than having a good shine on one’s shoes! Dad was rarely if ever late. He NEVER left the house without his watch.

Photography was a hobby Dad encouraged me to pursue. Dad’s interest in photography though was not an interest in the actual art or science of it. Dad took pictures to record an event, or for a recollection of the places we had been. Later though he took less pictures and his interest in the equipment involved grew. Many times I would show up at Mum & Dad’s with a new camera and Dad would enquire if I was leaving it for him to look after. Most of the time though I think this was simply in response to me asking him if he wanted me to look after his Rolex! 

Dad taught me many lessons over the years. Some very important ones. Dad taught me to have a strong work ethic. He taught me to take responsibility for my own actions, especially when they affected others. To say you’re sorry when it was your fault. Own up to your mistakes, admit it when you’re in the wrong; unless of course I was involved in a car accident. 

Mostly though, I was taught by my Dad through the examples he set and by his actions; not often by his words. The “Old Guy” never said to me “I told you so,” or “What did I tell you.” Never commented “Should have listened to me,” or “That was stupid!” But he always asked if he could help somehow. 

Dad loved my Mum, loved her dearly, treated her like a Queen and taught me to do the same. Most of all, and certainly most importantly, my Dad taught me respect.

Mother's Day

Today marks the first Mother’s Day in many years where location prevents me from expressing my love, admiration and thankfulness in person to my Mum. She won’t be getting flowers from me either. So, I’m hoping that these words, expressed publicly, and the images accompanying them, will be of some consolation, a remittance of sorts, representative of a closeness I feel for her, not reflective of the distance between us.

The past year was trying for Mum. The hardships, her trials and sufferings eclipsed any she may have endured in previous years. Early last year her Dad died. Although a burden was somewhat lifted from those closest to him, all were saddened by the ending of a life, the passing away of a figure prominent in lives since their first thoughts. But celebrating a life of one-hundred and three years is a great solace.

Mum also spent the past calendar-year awaiting replacement hip surgery. Although our healthcare system is fantastic, waiting lists can be long, prolonging suffering and discomfort, resulting in a diminished quality of life. Mum was to endure further waiting when the worst tragedy of all occurred. 

Dad, Mum’s companion for over fifty years, fell ill in late August of last year. Dad was diagnosed with Legionnaire's Disease. The week of his diagnosis Mum was scheduled for her surgery. It was recommended that it be postponed. 

Over the past few decades, Dad had suffered a number of heart attacks, undergone numerous surgeries including a quadruple by-pass. While Dad lay in a near comatose state I had commented to Mum that Dad had suffered worse. Mum responded by saying this was the worst she’d ever seen him. 

Soon after, during mid-September, Dad passed away.

Mum had much support at this time. Friends and family, near and far, sent their condolences and shared their happy remembrances of Dad. His memorial service was well attended, many gathering to express their love and share in Mum’s sorrow. 

Many people, at the event of such a loss, are supported in like manner. Mum’s ability to cope and carry on during this emotional crisis though was mostly due to her great inner strength and personal faith. Mum still suffers great pain from her loss, but her long-suffering spirit, her positive and strong personality, make each of her days more endurable than the last.

Before the end of the year though, Mum would have her surgery. A number of months later and Mum’s getting around better than she has in years! If only she had been this mobile four years ago when we travelled to the UK for a two-week jaunt about the countryside!

On this   Mother’s Day, with me being unable to give her flowers, my gift to her is really a gift to those that read this. 

My mum has given me quite a bit of good advice over the years. For this I thank her. I’m going to share some of it.

“Never put down on paper something you don’t want anyone else to read, anyone.”

“Always err on the side of compassion. Yes, compassion, NOT caution.”

 

“There is always someone worse off than you.” 

“God never allows trials to become part of our lives that He hasn’t given us the strength or resources to deal with.”

I love my Mum. After all, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her!                                                         

But I also love her because she has a positive attitude, a strong personality, and a wisdom that eclipses most, if not all, I know! She is, simply put, a great person!    

                 

Life's An Adventure... Or At Least It Should Be!

Life's An Adventure... Or at Least It Should Be!

Sometimes our travels are planned, other times you just get up in the morning and decide you need to be somewhere else; even if just for the day. Maybe that’s the difference between adventure and leisure?

When it comes to business travel, one week they tell you you’re needed in Waskaganish and a week and a half later you’re on a plane to Kashechewan. A month later, Sandy Lake. 

International travel can be different. Sometimes not. 

My past two trips to the UK involved months of planning. B&B’s to book, youth hostels and sites to visit researched. Yet on both those occasions I found myself booking into a four-star hotel on-the-spur-of-the-moment! 

Our travels to Crete were well planned; rooms booked, meals planned, well in advance. Yet we still found ourselves far off the beaten track.

The Bahamas were quite the same. A condo reserved for a few weeks, but transportation, whether boat or car, and cultural events, simply by happenstance! 

One of our last ventures through customs was planned in a mere fifteen minutes. A call at seven in the morning meant a trip south of the boarder by noon.

This latest adventure we have embarked upon has maybe been a combination of “spur-of-the-moment,” and “intense, long-term planning.” 

After first living for a short while in Nakina we decided that we really wanted to be there. We would work five or so years, buy a small place and maybe spend our summers there; fishing, hiking with the dogs and picking blueberries. But one phone call can really change your plans.

Within three days of that phone call, both Aimee and I were offered jobs in Nakina. It was an opportunity not to be passed up! Within ten days, Aimee and Alfi were headed north to Nakina. I planned a travel-date six weeks later, accompanied by Lyndy and George.

Aimee started work less than two days after her arrival; spur-of-the-moment. I stayed behind in Whitby; packing... And planning.

For me, the adventure started early one Thursday morning last month. For almost seven-hundred kilometers I drove through showers and absolute downpours. By the time I arrived in Cochrane the rain was freezing upon whatever it fell! 

Having been turned away from a few motels because of the dog and cat, I drove another twenty clicks to the next town. Waking the next morning found the Jeep covered in a quarter-inch of ice. Blowing snow and white-out conditions greeted me as I drove out of town.

Continuing towards Hearst, the adventure intensified! But I only had five-hundred kilometers to go. According to plan I would see Aimee that afternoon for the first time in six weeks! 

Weather-conditions worsened, correspondingly, so did the roads! I have never driven in such conditions and never wish to again! 

For many long stretches of road I followed plows. With the wind and snow, visibility was virtually nil as the ploughs pushed snow from the road and into the northerly wind. But still semis with their trailer loads insisted on passing! 

At times I was forced to travel long winding stretches with my windshield coated in ice before I could find a safe spot to stop and clear the wiper blades.

Conditions only worsened! Fifty-K east of Longlac there was a snow-plow in the ditch, on its side! Twenty kilometers later a westbound eighteen-wheeler in the eastbound lane with its entire right side sheared off!     

Finally, after seven hours of driving I arrived in Longlac; one-hundred kilometers from my destination and the first coffee shop since Hearst! But traveling any further was impossible. The police had shut the entire town down. All roads, in all directions were closed.

Meeting Aimee that evening wasn’t going to happen. 

Burns and Steinbeck were coming to mind:

“The beast laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”

A couple of glasses of red, a roast-beef sandwich and a warm hotel room; but still no compensation for dashed hopes and my “best laid plans.” But tomorrow would be another day!

Saturday, my third day traveling, found me under bright blue skies, surrounded by three and four-foot drifts of snow, but traveling on plowed roads! An hour and a half later I had returned to Nakina, and a long awaited reunion with Aimee! 

Making plans is quite often the prudent thing to do. Often times though plans change. But if plans didn’t change, life wouldn't be nearly as adventurous!

  

  

The Lions are at the Gate

Smoke signals aren’t reserved for our Native American population. And the signals are not always black and white.

You can’t turn to a news broadcast without viewing an image of either the Colosseum or Vatican City. Seemingly quite ironic considering that one is representative of a society that chose to feed Christians to the lions and the other claims to nourish Christians in a world dominated by lions still aching to feed on them. Maybe we should question where and who the lions really are?

In the eyes of the world right now, the question is “who will be the next Pope?” not who the lions are. It’s easier to look for a lion tamer than the den of the lions. But maybe they’re one in the same. Let’s leave that for future consideration.

The visuals of Rome are bombarding us because of the mystery that surrounds the choosing of a new Pope. This time though, it’s far more political than any could have ever believed. The new Pope will be more diplomat than preacher, and certainly more hunter than fisherman.

Here’s my “pontification” on the upcoming selection of a replacement for Pope Benedict: The new Pope will be either Angelo Scola or Gianfranco Ravasi. Both are Italian and both conservative. The “conservative” part has nothing to do with it, the nationality though, is pertinent. And not just the nationality, they’re both European, the Catholic Church needs a European Pope. 

The economic crisis that engulfs the European community, the strife caused by in fighting amongst its members, these are symptoms of a society that suffers from spiritual loss. 

The lions can smell that loss of spirituality, and it’s not in the smoke.