On this day of remembrance, only the most unaffected among us can help but reflect on where they were and how time in our minds has forever been cleaved into two parts: before the morning of September 11th, 2001 and after.
Like everyone old enough to retain a memory of that day, I have very distinct memories of where I was (on the Metro North train heading to Grand Central Station) and how the day unfolded. (I was lucky and never made it into the City).
As indelible are the memories of that day--making it home after a time to the juxtaposition of my then six-month old beamish boy Taylor and the images that repeated on the television screen--what I think of more is the night before the world changed.
My friend Peter Frishauf invited me to see Les Paul perform with his trio at one of his weekly gigs at the Iridium. I had to go uptown from 42nd street and got caught in an flash downpour that made every cab in Manhattan vanish, leaving me to walk about 10 blocks. My umbrella was no match against the torrent, the rain bouncing up from the ground to leave me completely drenched. But even that was a treat as it gave me an excuse to trade my sopping wet dress shirt for a Les Paul t-shirt.
The show was remarkable in so many ways - Les' obviously arthritic hands couldn't play some of the furious riffs of his former years, but his gift for music was still undeniable. Even more, the field of musical gravity that pulled talent from the furthest reaches into his orbit. More than one famous rocker was in the audience that night, there to pay him homage, which he repaid by handing over his guitar and letting them sit in. Suddenly this big, bearded rock star turns into a little boy who has just been handed Superman's cape by the Man of Steel himself and told to try it on for size. I thought he might cry. Instead, he played it with reverence and skill--like the little drummer boy, repaying a gift he had been given with every ounce of his being.
It was an exhilarating, cathartic experience. One that provided profoundly needed perspective for what followed.
My strongest memories of what followed are from the Friday of that first week--my first day back at work in Manhattan. No one worked, really. We all spent time making sure that everyone was okay and keeping mindful of the continuing uncertainty of when and where the other shoe would drop. Grand Central Station had dramatically changed. Before 9/11, it represented to me the left ventricle of the world, where hundreds of thousands of people of all colors, shapes and dress traversed each day, pulsed with energy that seemed to flow from sheer momentum to the farthest corners of the world. Now it was a terrorist target, crawling with heavily armed police and soldiers and surrounded by large military trucks to protect it against bombs or chemical attack.
Since there wasn't much in the way of real work to do, I decided to venture out to see how close I get to ground zero on foot. I had been to the World Trade Center many times, taking my nephew to the observation deck just a month before and attending a two-day conference at the Windows of the World about a month before that. But I had didn't have any true perspective on how close it was from my daily grind.
So I started walking south. The first thing that struck me was how the character of New Yorkers had fundamentally changed. These people notorious for being abrupt and avoiding eye contact with strangers, were purposefully looking directly into one anothers' eyes. "Are you okay? Really, are you? I'm here for you" were the unspoken words exchanged.
Walking through Greenwich Village and Washington Square was perhaps the most surreal part of the journey. The candlelight vigil that had spontaneously formed that first night in the square had grown into an organic memorial of remembrance. And the Village, known more for its only-in-the-Big-Apple unique form of rebelliousness that was distinctly American but hardly patriotic, was shrouded in more American flags than I could possibly count.
But my first true sign that we would rise from the ashes of this tragedy came at the end of my journey: Houston Street, where a makeshift plywood barrier had been erected that kept all but those involved in the rescue and recovery efforts. There was a carnival of humanity--people milling about slowly, some still clearly in shock, others moving more purposefully. Within this milieu was an unmistakable sign of hope--just three days after this day of unimaginable horror, enterprising merchants had already created buttons and t-shirts commemorating the day. My favorite was one had been created in such haste that the grammar wasn't even correct: "I Survive the Attack" it read.
On further reflection, though, I decided that the use of the present tense was more reflective of our true condition. We do survive the attack and continue to persevere as Americans and as world citizens. Even now, as the long-term repercussions of that fateful day continue to make casualties of our economy, our soldiers and our psyches, we endure.
After 9/11, I wrote "United, We Stand"--one of my Infinite Poetry pieces--as a reflection on the day. You can find a hastily constructed video and recording of the song that I wrote several years later on YouTube. It says simply:
...United, we stand
Standing, we rise
Rising, we soar
Soaring, we're free
Free, we unite
United, we stand...
Beginning as it ends, it is designed to continue on in a virtuous cycle that reflects our better selves as Americans. It is this aspect of the American spirit that I continue to strive to emulate. Even in the face of challenge and even decline, we can remain true to what has made us a great nation and people--our unity, our perseverance, and the freedoms we enjoy, which make it all possible.
Spending that night before the world changed with good friends, a soaked shirt, and Les Paul, continues to inspire me to live my life in a manner honoring the spirit of that night and I am ever grateful to have had that special moment.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
RobotBoy2001 Creates New Series - Zibit Wipeout!
My ten-year-old son, known on the Internet as RobotBoy2001, has been working diligently on a video project he calls "Zibit Wipeout!" - it combines two of his favorite things: Zibits (a small, radio-controlled robot toy) and the TV show Wipeout.
Dad helped out a little, but I need to emphasize that I didn't spend much time on this one - it was T's project from the start and he did nearly all the designing and editing. Mom and Dad occasionally helped out by working on the obstacle courses and holding the camera when he was the talent (along with his neighbor friend, Andyman2001), but otherwise it was his project from beginning to end. Today, T and I worked on the boring task of rendering the final video and posting it to YouTube. Because of YouTube's length restrictions, we had to cut the 30-minute video into smaller chunks. But they can all be seen on the playlist below.
Hope you enjoy the show! Let T know what you think by posting a comment on YouTube or on his blog, http://robotboy2001.wordpress.com/.
Click Here to see all five parts of Episode 1 of Zibit Wipeout!
Dad helped out a little, but I need to emphasize that I didn't spend much time on this one - it was T's project from the start and he did nearly all the designing and editing. Mom and Dad occasionally helped out by working on the obstacle courses and holding the camera when he was the talent (along with his neighbor friend, Andyman2001), but otherwise it was his project from beginning to end. Today, T and I worked on the boring task of rendering the final video and posting it to YouTube. Because of YouTube's length restrictions, we had to cut the 30-minute video into smaller chunks. But they can all be seen on the playlist below.
Hope you enjoy the show! Let T know what you think by posting a comment on YouTube or on his blog, http://robotboy2001.wordpress.com/.
Click Here to see all five parts of Episode 1 of Zibit Wipeout!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Legend of Bob the DERF
The Legend of Bob the DERF
 |
| Click here to listen to the song |
The College has received several solicitations from potential members - requesting reviews of health IT related lyrics or recordings. We thought it would be instructive to bring out some of the original works that led to the establishment of the College. There is no better place to start than at the very beginning...
The National Council for Prescription Drug Programs (NCPDP), is an ANSI-accredited standards development organization focused on pharmacy-related electronic information transactions headquarted in Scottsdale, Arizona. In 2005, Dr. Ross Martin offered to compose a song for NCPDP for their Annual Conference. His offer was accepted and a sponsor stepped forward to support the recording and reproduction costs for a CD. Special thanks go to Lee Ann Stember, NCPDP's President, for sponsoring the song. The lovely and talented Eric Schwartz (WARNING: he is brilliant, but uses his powers for evil, so his site is not for those of sensitive dispositions) produced and recorded the song, adding many of the vocals and most of the instrumentation. Dr. Martin performed the song twice at the conference and several hundred copies of the CD, now considered a collector's item among devoted informatimusicologists, were distributed.
The song, "The Legend of Bob the DERF," tells the tale of how we moved from our darker days of winner-takes-all standards setting to our current consensus process. Those unfamiliar with NCPDP and its methods may be curious of the meaning of the term DERF. It stands for "Data Element Request Form" and is the main document used in the NCPDP standards development process to establish or modify a standard. Many who heard the song and are familiar with the history of NCPDP opined that the two characters depicted in the song - Bob the DERF and Margaret, aka, The Wacker - bore striking similarities to two long-time members of NCPDP, Bob Beckley of Surescripts and Margaret Weiker of EDS, both of whom are known for their strong leadership and equally strong opinions, which have occasionally put them at odds with one another, creating some of the more tense moments experienced at workgroup meetings. Their southern accents and Margaret's diminutive stature (she is rumored to be around 4' 5" tall, though no one has had the kahunas to actually measure her or ask) provided reinforcement for some of these opinions. In fact, the characters portrayed in the song are not based on any known individuals, living or dead. Anyone who says otherwise is itchin' fer a fight!
The Lyrics:
Way back a hunert years ago
In a desert land devoid of snow
’Fore Scottsdale started dottin’ any maps
Snake Oil Salesmen roamed the West
Pitchin’ potions from their treasure chests
And shaftin’ any sucker wearin’ chaps
There was one man who had a dream
’Bout raisin’ druggists’ self esteem
By protectin’ the apothecary’s turf
He saw that standards were the key
For improvin’ drugstore quality
That man was known by all as Bob the DERF
Now any tale worth bein’ told
Includes a woman, guns or gold
Our hero’s rival ponied up all three
Margaret was her given name
But winnin’ gunfights brought her fame
So the name “The Whacker” fit her to a tee
And ev’ry time The Whacker flashed her gold incisor in a grin
The undertaker knew he’d soon be callin’ next of kin
CHORUS:
Hoo-ee ’n’ Yippee-ki-ee
Before the NCPDP
Consensus was a notion seldom found
Hoo-ah ’n’ Yippee-ki-yaw
The fastest shot laid down the law
The other laid down six feet underground
Now The Whacker had her standards too
And had in mind just what to do
To make sure things got done by her own rule
She called on Bob the DERF and said,
“You lily-livered pudd’nhead
It’s my way or the highway, ya’ dang fool!”
She knew her taunts would be enough
To razz him so he’d call her bluff
He slammed his whiskey down as if on cue
“Well we’ll just see ’bout who’ll be number one
High noon, tomorrow – bring your gun
But I’d skip town tonight if I was you!”
The bookies laid odds eight-to-five
The Whacker’d make it through alive
Her dead-eye aim was known throughout the land
It’s true that Margaret had her chance
But once they started in to dance
The DERF felt sure he’d be the last to stand
And so they set the stage to see whose standards would prevail
One slinger’d see sweet victory – and one the gates of Hell
REPEAT CHORUS
The clock chimed twelve – the wind was still
Too scared to see red rivers spill
And learn who’d bite the dust who’d survive
The two stepped out into the street
To face their fate at fifty feet
Then in a flash their pistols came alive
Bob the DERF’s resolve came through
His steady hand shot straight and true
A normal foe no doubt would have been dead
But one fact he failed to calculate –
The Whacker stood at four-foot-eight
And so her Stetson flew clean off her head
The DERF’s luck went from bad to worse
Didn’t even have a chance to curse
As The Whacker’s dental work gleamed through her smile
Her single shot was on the mark
It pierced his heart – the sky went dark
Right there he fell into a bloody pile
And as he died, The Whacker cried, “Oh, help me, Lord above!
All in the name of standards, I’ve just killed my one true love!”
REPEAT CHORUS
She lay her pistol down and swore upon her golden tooth
Consensus now will be pursued in healthcare’s quest for truth
“No longer will our blood be shed for standards to be set
We’ll gather round and talk until a compromise is met”
So now you know just how we formed the NCPDP
And how this modern standards settin’ process came to be
And after endless hours of meetings why my eyes will glaze
I’m dreamin’ ’bout how things got done back in those glory days when…
REPEAT CHORUS
Words by Ross Martin
Music by Eric Schwartz and Ross Martin
Lead vocals: Ross Martin
Background vocals: Ross Martin and Eric Schwartz
All instruments and sequencing: Eric Schwartz
Produced and engineered by Eric Schwartz, Claritone Music
Special thanks to Kevin So
Way back a hunert years ago
In a desert land devoid of snow
’Fore Scottsdale started dottin’ any maps
Snake Oil Salesmen roamed the West
Pitchin’ potions from their treasure chests
And shaftin’ any sucker wearin’ chaps
There was one man who had a dream
’Bout raisin’ druggists’ self esteem
By protectin’ the apothecary’s turf
He saw that standards were the key
For improvin’ drugstore quality
That man was known by all as Bob the DERF
Now any tale worth bein’ told
Includes a woman, guns or gold
Our hero’s rival ponied up all three
Margaret was her given name
But winnin’ gunfights brought her fame
So the name “The Whacker” fit her to a tee
And ev’ry time The Whacker flashed her gold incisor in a grin
The undertaker knew he’d soon be callin’ next of kin
CHORUS:
Hoo-ee ’n’ Yippee-ki-ee
Before the NCPDP
Consensus was a notion seldom found
Hoo-ah ’n’ Yippee-ki-yaw
The fastest shot laid down the law
The other laid down six feet underground
Now The Whacker had her standards too
And had in mind just what to do
To make sure things got done by her own rule
She called on Bob the DERF and said,
“You lily-livered pudd’nhead
It’s my way or the highway, ya’ dang fool!”
She knew her taunts would be enough
To razz him so he’d call her bluff
He slammed his whiskey down as if on cue
“Well we’ll just see ’bout who’ll be number one
High noon, tomorrow – bring your gun
But I’d skip town tonight if I was you!”
The bookies laid odds eight-to-five
The Whacker’d make it through alive
Her dead-eye aim was known throughout the land
It’s true that Margaret had her chance
But once they started in to dance
The DERF felt sure he’d be the last to stand
And so they set the stage to see whose standards would prevail
One slinger’d see sweet victory – and one the gates of Hell
REPEAT CHORUS
The clock chimed twelve – the wind was still
Too scared to see red rivers spill
And learn who’d bite the dust who’d survive
The two stepped out into the street
To face their fate at fifty feet
Then in a flash their pistols came alive
Bob the DERF’s resolve came through
His steady hand shot straight and true
A normal foe no doubt would have been dead
But one fact he failed to calculate –
The Whacker stood at four-foot-eight
And so her Stetson flew clean off her head
The DERF’s luck went from bad to worse
Didn’t even have a chance to curse
As The Whacker’s dental work gleamed through her smile
Her single shot was on the mark
It pierced his heart – the sky went dark
Right there he fell into a bloody pile
And as he died, The Whacker cried, “Oh, help me, Lord above!
All in the name of standards, I’ve just killed my one true love!”
REPEAT CHORUS
She lay her pistol down and swore upon her golden tooth
Consensus now will be pursued in healthcare’s quest for truth
“No longer will our blood be shed for standards to be set
We’ll gather round and talk until a compromise is met”
So now you know just how we formed the NCPDP
And how this modern standards settin’ process came to be
And after endless hours of meetings why my eyes will glaze
I’m dreamin’ ’bout how things got done back in those glory days when…
REPEAT CHORUS
Words by Ross Martin
Music by Eric Schwartz and Ross Martin
Lead vocals: Ross Martin
Background vocals: Ross Martin and Eric Schwartz
All instruments and sequencing: Eric Schwartz
Produced and engineered by Eric Schwartz, Claritone Music
Special thanks to Kevin So
Monday, August 30, 2010
Ross Sets New Pen Spinning World Record
In his relentless quest to achieve eminence through hyper-specialization, Dr. Ross D. Martin, MD, MHA, FACMI*, President, Founder and Fellow of the American College of Medical Informatimusicology (ACMI), has been officially recognized as the world record holder in over-the-thumb pen spins in one minute, completing an astonishing 48 spins in a minute on August 26th, 2008, hereinafter known officially as Dr. Ross "Pen Spinmeister" Martin Day. A video of this monumental achievement can be found at the Universal Record Database website at http://urdb.org/wr/over-the-thumb-pen-spins-minute.
Dr. Martin is equally proud of his son, known to the blogosphere as RobotBoy2001 for setting several records on that very day, one of which has been officially recognized by the officials at URDB: Most bounces on BOSUs by Two Boys in One Minute. Other RobotBoy2001 records are currently under review.
Greatness clearly runs in Dr. Martin's family. Someday, perhaps, his son will follow in his footsteps and become a great informatimusicologist like his father. The world waits with great hope and anticipation for that day and will rejoice should it come...
*Fellow, American College of Medical Informatimusicology
Dr. Martin is equally proud of his son, known to the blogosphere as RobotBoy2001 for setting several records on that very day, one of which has been officially recognized by the officials at URDB: Most bounces on BOSUs by Two Boys in One Minute. Other RobotBoy2001 records are currently under review.
Greatness clearly runs in Dr. Martin's family. Someday, perhaps, his son will follow in his footsteps and become a great informatimusicologist like his father. The world waits with great hope and anticipation for that day and will rejoice should it come...
*Fellow, American College of Medical Informatimusicology
Monday, June 28, 2010
United, We Stand - Reimagining an Anthem for Our Nation
A couple of weekends ago, PRI’s Studio 360 asked listeners to think about updating a couple of our traditional icons as we approach our annual 4th of July celebrations. One was Uncle Sam – what would a “mascot” for our nation look like today? The other, our National Anthem (which, according to one pole, 27% of Americans believe has a last line of “And the home of the brave… Play Ball!”).
I personally like our National Anthem a lot – it is a beautiful song with brave and poetic lyrics. But it is undeniably a challenge to sing for all but the upper tier of vocalists, with its greater than 1½-octave range (for perspective, Madonna never sings anything with more than a one-octave range, not that this is a shining example, but I hear she has made some money as a singer).
So last weekend, I posted a reimagining of the National Anthem in response to the Studio 360 challenge based on some Infinite Poetry® I wrote after 9/11. Let me know what you think… The song and a quickly assembled video are posted on YouTube:
It’s a simple song with only five lines that intuitively cycle back on themselves, so they are easy to remember:
…United, We Stand
Standing, We Rise
Rising, We Soar
Soaring, We’re Free
Free, We Unite
United, We Stand…
The simplicity of the song makes it easy to add parts, variations on the theme and personal interpretations—which reflects, to me, the bedrock of what makes our nation such a compelling and inspirational place: simple principles that allow for diversity and creative growth to live in harmony.
If you like it, please vote for it (you may have to join the group to vote). You can also leave a comment or “like” the video (you will need a Google or YouTube account).
Thanks for taking a look. If my submission is one of their favorites, it will be mentioned on the show this holiday weekend. Fame and fortune are sure to follow, so my future is in your hands...
;-)
Happy 4th!
I personally like our National Anthem a lot – it is a beautiful song with brave and poetic lyrics. But it is undeniably a challenge to sing for all but the upper tier of vocalists, with its greater than 1½-octave range (for perspective, Madonna never sings anything with more than a one-octave range, not that this is a shining example, but I hear she has made some money as a singer).
So last weekend, I posted a reimagining of the National Anthem in response to the Studio 360 challenge based on some Infinite Poetry® I wrote after 9/11. Let me know what you think… The song and a quickly assembled video are posted on YouTube:
It’s a simple song with only five lines that intuitively cycle back on themselves, so they are easy to remember:
…United, We Stand
Standing, We Rise
Rising, We Soar
Soaring, We’re Free
Free, We Unite
United, We Stand…
The simplicity of the song makes it easy to add parts, variations on the theme and personal interpretations—which reflects, to me, the bedrock of what makes our nation such a compelling and inspirational place: simple principles that allow for diversity and creative growth to live in harmony.
If you like it, please vote for it (you may have to join the group to vote). You can also leave a comment or “like” the video (you will need a Google or YouTube account).
Thanks for taking a look. If my submission is one of their favorites, it will be mentioned on the show this holiday weekend. Fame and fortune are sure to follow, so my future is in your hands...
;-)
Happy 4th!
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
To Dr. Ida Critelli Schick, Dean of Xavier's MHA Program, On Her Retirement
Word of your retirement escaped the ever-expanding pile of unexamined mail in my office. It gave me pause to reflect on the tangible and lasting impact your diminutive powerhouse of a self has had on my own. Your academic mentoring, your words (and letters) of support, your example of integrity in its purest form, your comforting words of assurance during a dark passage of my life—all speak of an investment you made selflessly.
As I rough out the calculus and consider the hundreds upon hundreds of lives who have similarly passed through your gravitational field and continued on to their own places of influence and investment, I can see that your impact on the human condition in general—and the ethical delivery of healthcare in particular—exponentially approaches the immeasurable. Even as you close this rich and meaningful volume of your life's work and begin scribing the next, your clarion contributions will continue to resonate and empower those like me who were so fortunate as to hear the sounding from its origin.
With highest regard and gratitude,
Ross
As I rough out the calculus and consider the hundreds upon hundreds of lives who have similarly passed through your gravitational field and continued on to their own places of influence and investment, I can see that your impact on the human condition in general—and the ethical delivery of healthcare in particular—exponentially approaches the immeasurable. Even as you close this rich and meaningful volume of your life's work and begin scribing the next, your clarion contributions will continue to resonate and empower those like me who were so fortunate as to hear the sounding from its origin.
With highest regard and gratitude,
Ross
Saturday, March 27, 2010
To the Design Engineers at Thermos
I know I'm a geek, but I just wrote this note to the design engineers at Thermos:
It's not often that a product as routine as a water bottle gets me motivated enough to write a letter to the company about it. Your intak bottle, however, is worth the trouble.
My wife picked four of these up for our family a few weeks ago. We go through water bottles like we go through, well, water. Most of them do the job, though occasionally you wonder how anyone could be shameless enough to create such a lousy product.
But when I saw the intak bottle, I was immediately struck with the quality and ingenuity of the design. Click, it's open, with the lid back out of the way--where it stays until you shut it. Snap, it's closed tight. Flip the latch, no fears of leaks. It's easy to clean (which, as Chief Bottle Washer, is a must-have feature), easy to carry and hold, and--oh, yeah--it has just the right sized opening for drinking--without spills and without having to suck and slurp and make a bunch of noise.
In a word, this bottle is brilliant.
I'm not an engineer, but have always appreciated the simple elegance of a good design where it is evident that the designers actually dug into the lives of the people they were designing for. Keep doing what you're doing and I'll keep telling everybody I know about how great these bottles are.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
David & Goliath on YouTube
GreenPaperMonster's posting of my March 1st debut of The Meaningful Yoose Rap at the HIStalk Reception at HIMSS broke the 1000 view mark on YouTube in the last 24 hours Click here for the video and here for the lyrics.
For perspective, while that may not seem like many when comparing it to something like the 5million+ views of the Old Spice “I’m on a horse” commercial (a work of pure marketing genius in my view), the rap is a bestseller in HIT-land. We HIT aficionados are all so deeply immersed in the details of meaningful use and EHR adoption and HIT news of the day fills our inboxes--it seems surprising when we lift our heads and see that the rest of the world is thinking of a thousand other things.
But in our little world, when looking at all the other HIMSS-related videos, no other 2010 video comes even close. And only two videos from any year surpass it--a Cisco video from 2008 (1100 views) that looks like it had all of its employees watch it (lots of links from Cisco sites) and Eric Schmidt’s 2008 keynote (73k hits), but how can you really compete with Google when they… well, they’re Google…
That’s pretty cool when you think about it… I love that little more than some clever thinking and a grainy video clip can still run circles around the marketing machines of all the behemoths on the HIMSS exhibit hall floor.
For perspective, while that may not seem like many when comparing it to something like the 5million+ views of the Old Spice “I’m on a horse” commercial (a work of pure marketing genius in my view), the rap is a bestseller in HIT-land. We HIT aficionados are all so deeply immersed in the details of meaningful use and EHR adoption and HIT news of the day fills our inboxes--it seems surprising when we lift our heads and see that the rest of the world is thinking of a thousand other things.
But in our little world, when looking at all the other HIMSS-related videos, no other 2010 video comes even close. And only two videos from any year surpass it--a Cisco video from 2008 (1100 views) that looks like it had all of its employees watch it (lots of links from Cisco sites) and Eric Schmidt’s 2008 keynote (73k hits), but how can you really compete with Google when they… well, they’re Google…
That’s pretty cool when you think about it… I love that little more than some clever thinking and a grainy video clip can still run circles around the marketing machines of all the behemoths on the HIMSS exhibit hall floor.
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Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Meaningful Yoose Rap
Maybe I'll finally get around to posting stuff on the Medical Informatimusicology blog. Here's one...
http://informatimusicology.blogspot.com/
http://informatimusicology.blogspot.com/
Sunday, December 13, 2009
World Premier of Spot and Peanut in Lost at Sea!
World Premier of Spot and Peanut in Lost at Sea!
About six weeks ago, Kym is away on a business trip for the weekend. Son, Taylor, now eight, asks if he can fill up the Jacuzzi tub in the master bedroom. In his hands is a "boat" - several pieces of wood from my workshop hot-glued together. Turns out, he wants to make a movie starring his guinea pigs, Spot and Peanut (aka, "the gigs"). He's written a story about them going on an adventure.
Now, you have to understand, Taylor has clearly inherited the wild imagination gene from his dad. He already has more ideas than he'll ever be able to actually execute on. So I end up both working to encourage his creativity and manage his expectations about what we can pull off. (A few weeks before this episode, he told me he wanted his own website so he could create games and post pictures of his inventions. We settled on a blog: http://robotboy2001.blogspot.com/.)
So when I see what he's up to, I didn't want to say, "No, T, you can't put your guinea pigs on a boat in the tub to make a movie." Instead, we talked about how we might make a movie in a way that was safer for the gigs using some movie magic - green screen. We spent the entire weekend in pre-production - working on the story, deciding on a budget, planning, etc. Over breakfast out, we talked about all the different movies we liked and what made Pixar so good at making amazing movies (it's all about the story). Taylor drew up storyboards for each scene. A few days later, I come home and he's typed out most of the script on our Mac.
Throughout the process, I've been very impressed that Taylor has finally come to understand that the idea is just the beginning of the process. He really got into learning how to use the editing tools and saw the value of working hard to make little changes to make things funnier or move along.
Our goal has been to get this project finished by Christmas so we can share it with the family. We got enough done this weekend, though, to post a cliffhanger of a first episode. I hope you enjoy watching it as much as we did making it. We still have a lot to learn about technique, but it's been great fun!
About six weeks ago, Kym is away on a business trip for the weekend. Son, Taylor, now eight, asks if he can fill up the Jacuzzi tub in the master bedroom. In his hands is a "boat" - several pieces of wood from my workshop hot-glued together. Turns out, he wants to make a movie starring his guinea pigs, Spot and Peanut (aka, "the gigs"). He's written a story about them going on an adventure.
Now, you have to understand, Taylor has clearly inherited the wild imagination gene from his dad. He already has more ideas than he'll ever be able to actually execute on. So I end up both working to encourage his creativity and manage his expectations about what we can pull off. (A few weeks before this episode, he told me he wanted his own website so he could create games and post pictures of his inventions. We settled on a blog: http://robotboy2001.blogspot.com/.)
So when I see what he's up to, I didn't want to say, "No, T, you can't put your guinea pigs on a boat in the tub to make a movie." Instead, we talked about how we might make a movie in a way that was safer for the gigs using some movie magic - green screen. We spent the entire weekend in pre-production - working on the story, deciding on a budget, planning, etc. Over breakfast out, we talked about all the different movies we liked and what made Pixar so good at making amazing movies (it's all about the story). Taylor drew up storyboards for each scene. A few days later, I come home and he's typed out most of the script on our Mac.
Throughout the process, I've been very impressed that Taylor has finally come to understand that the idea is just the beginning of the process. He really got into learning how to use the editing tools and saw the value of working hard to make little changes to make things funnier or move along.
Our goal has been to get this project finished by Christmas so we can share it with the family. We got enough done this weekend, though, to post a cliffhanger of a first episode. I hope you enjoy watching it as much as we did making it. We still have a lot to learn about technique, but it's been great fun!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Les Paul
Les Paul and the Night Before the World Changed
Les Paul will be forever linked in my mind with life before the world changed. My friend Peter Frishauf invited me to see Les Paul perform with his trio at one of his weekly gigs at the Iridium. I had to go uptown from 42nd street and got caught in an flash downpour that made every cab in Manhattan vanish, leaving me to walk about 10 blocks. My umbrella was no match. But it gave me an excuse to trade my sopping wet dress shirt for a Les Paul t-shirt.
The show was remarkable in so many ways - Les' obviously arthritic hands couldn't play some of the furious riffs of his former years, but his gift for music was still undeniable. Even more, the field of musical gravity that pulled talent from the furthest reaches into his orbit. More than one famous rocker was in the audience that night, there to pay him homage, which he repaid by handing over his guitar and letting them sit in. Suddenly this big, bearded rock star turns into a little boy who has just been handed Superman's cape by the Man of Steel himself and told to try it on for size. I thought he might cry. Instead, he played it like the little drummer boy - repaying a gift he had been given with every ounce of his being.
It was a magical night. It was September 10th, 2001. One last evening of innocence before nothing would ever be the same.
Thank you, Les. I hold onto that memory like a priceless treasure.
Les Paul will be forever linked in my mind with life before the world changed. My friend Peter Frishauf invited me to see Les Paul perform with his trio at one of his weekly gigs at the Iridium. I had to go uptown from 42nd street and got caught in an flash downpour that made every cab in Manhattan vanish, leaving me to walk about 10 blocks. My umbrella was no match. But it gave me an excuse to trade my sopping wet dress shirt for a Les Paul t-shirt.
The show was remarkable in so many ways - Les' obviously arthritic hands couldn't play some of the furious riffs of his former years, but his gift for music was still undeniable. Even more, the field of musical gravity that pulled talent from the furthest reaches into his orbit. More than one famous rocker was in the audience that night, there to pay him homage, which he repaid by handing over his guitar and letting them sit in. Suddenly this big, bearded rock star turns into a little boy who has just been handed Superman's cape by the Man of Steel himself and told to try it on for size. I thought he might cry. Instead, he played it like the little drummer boy - repaying a gift he had been given with every ounce of his being.
It was a magical night. It was September 10th, 2001. One last evening of innocence before nothing would ever be the same.
Thank you, Les. I hold onto that memory like a priceless treasure.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
HITECH: An Interoperetta in Three Acts
The American College of Medical Informatimusicology is pleased to bring you an original work written and performed by ACMI's founding member, Dr. Ross D. Martin, MD, MHA, FACMI:
The Story Behind the Song
Writing the song turned out to be the easy part. The recording was done on a Zoom H2 (what a great little multi-track recorder!). Since HITECH at Deloitte is keeping me busy more than full time in "real life" work, I did most of the recording, videotaping and editing in the wee hours (just like I'm writing this blog post - after 1am). I did the audio editing using Audacity, the elegant and simple open source multi-track software tool, and the video editing with PowerDirector, the software that came with my JVC Everio, a good-enough camcorder. It was the editing that took forever - getting the timing just right, adding the scrolling captions, editing the audio so everything was balanced and the "sound effects" came out reasonably believable.
In the end, there were a dozen things I would want to do better - especially on the vocals front, but I just didn't want to spend any more time than I absolutely had to to get a decent result. So it is what it is and I hope you enjoy the video. Please let me know what you think - either by posting a comment here or on YouTube or by sending me an email. And if you need some real, serious work done around HITECH, my colleagues and I at Deloitte Consulting would be happy to help. Just send the Deloitte HITECH Response Team an email.
Who links to my website?
HITECH
An Interoperetta in Three Acts
Who knew you could learn so much about the Health Information Technology for Economic and Clinical Health Act in under four minutes?
The Story Behind the Song
I had been thinking about writing a song for HITSP, CCHIT and AHIC for a couple of years, figuring it was time to tie a bow around the four other standards songs I've written - for NCPDP ("The Legend of Bob the DERF" - country & western tune about the standards-setting gunslingers of old), HL7 ("The Patient is Waiting" - a rock ballad), MedBiquitous ("The MedBiq Song" - a la Gilbert and Sullivan) and X12 ("The X12 Song" - R&B pop tune). All these songs are available on my MP3 page.
The inspiration for structure of the song, though, is actually about 20 years old. A classmate from the University of Cincinnati College of Medicine, Dr. John Weigand, did a brilliant skit at our annual student talent show, sung by "The Weigand Trio," about his med school experience. It was three songs in one, just like this one; John used cassette recorders to "perform" the three parts at once. It was hysterical. So when it came time to write a song about three components of harmonizing standards, his idea seemed the perfect vehicle. I hadn't spoken to John since med school, so I looked him up on Google, emailed to make sure this was his original idea (it was) and make sure he was okay with me borrowing it (he was).
I wrote HITECH during a quick family vacation in Florida - mostly on the plane rides - back in March. Kym and Taylor are quite happy it's done so they don't have to listen to me running through the same 35-second song over and over again.This was probably one of the most complex songs I've ever written. Each verse had to layer on top of the other, syllable by syllable. Usually, I write lyrics in a little notebook, scratching out lines and words until it's just right. This one was just too difficult to write a verse at a time, so I had to literally do it on a spreadsheet so I could get it all to line up properly. I snapped a picture of it:
Writing the song turned out to be the easy part. The recording was done on a Zoom H2 (what a great little multi-track recorder!). Since HITECH at Deloitte is keeping me busy more than full time in "real life" work, I did most of the recording, videotaping and editing in the wee hours (just like I'm writing this blog post - after 1am). I did the audio editing using Audacity, the elegant and simple open source multi-track software tool, and the video editing with PowerDirector, the software that came with my JVC Everio, a good-enough camcorder. It was the editing that took forever - getting the timing just right, adding the scrolling captions, editing the audio so everything was balanced and the "sound effects" came out reasonably believable.
In the end, there were a dozen things I would want to do better - especially on the vocals front, but I just didn't want to spend any more time than I absolutely had to to get a decent result. So it is what it is and I hope you enjoy the video. Please let me know what you think - either by posting a comment here or on YouTube or by sending me an email. And if you need some real, serious work done around HITECH, my colleagues and I at Deloitte Consulting would be happy to help. Just send the Deloitte HITECH Response Team an email.
Who links to my website?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Working with YouTube
Working with YouTube
This is a test video so I can learn how to post.
That was the video. How does it look?
That was ridiculously easy!
This is a test video so I can learn how to post.
That was the video. How does it look?
That was ridiculously easy!
Monday, February 16, 2009
Stories of My Father
Stories from My Father
Yesterday, we celebrated the life and mourned the passing of Joseph Gordon Martin - otherwise known as "Joe Gordon" to his kin back in Big Stone Gap, VA, "Captain Martin" to his Air Force colleagues, "Your old uncle Joe" to the people he called up on the phone during his long career in real estate, and just plain "Joe" to most of the people who grew to know and love him throughout his life. For me, he was "Dad."
His memorial service, held in the multi-purpose room of the Fairborn St. Luke United Methodist Church (it wouldn't fit in the sanctuary) was not your typical, somber affair. It did begin with a moving presentation of an American flag to my mother by an Air Force color guard in honor of Dad's service to the country he loved. The standing room only crowd (we're thinking around 300 attended) was perfectly silent as taps played.
Then things got to hopping! We sang "How Great Thou Art" with gusto - one of my dad's favorites. Dr. Stuart McDowell, Chair of the Wright State University Department of Theatre, Dance and Motion Pictures, introduced a group of students to sing selections from their recent production of Smokey Joe's Cafe. Mom and Dad have been long-time supporters of the theatre department and helped fund a student scholarship there. I had asked Stuart if they might come and sing, hoping for two to agree. Instead, eight singers and a pianist entertained us with powerful versions of "Loving You" and "Stand By Me," the latter song bringing claps and cheers as their joyous vocals filled the room.
We then had a time of sharing tributes by friends and family. I started by asking folks to raise their hand if they had ever:
Joseph Gordon Martin
September 1st, 1930 - January 29th, 2009
September 1st, 1930 - January 29th, 2009
Yesterday, we celebrated the life and mourned the passing of Joseph Gordon Martin - otherwise known as "Joe Gordon" to his kin back in Big Stone Gap, VA, "Captain Martin" to his Air Force colleagues, "Your old uncle Joe" to the people he called up on the phone during his long career in real estate, and just plain "Joe" to most of the people who grew to know and love him throughout his life. For me, he was "Dad."
His memorial service, held in the multi-purpose room of the Fairborn St. Luke United Methodist Church (it wouldn't fit in the sanctuary) was not your typical, somber affair. It did begin with a moving presentation of an American flag to my mother by an Air Force color guard in honor of Dad's service to the country he loved. The standing room only crowd (we're thinking around 300 attended) was perfectly silent as taps played.
Then things got to hopping! We sang "How Great Thou Art" with gusto - one of my dad's favorites. Dr. Stuart McDowell, Chair of the Wright State University Department of Theatre, Dance and Motion Pictures, introduced a group of students to sing selections from their recent production of Smokey Joe's Cafe. Mom and Dad have been long-time supporters of the theatre department and helped fund a student scholarship there. I had asked Stuart if they might come and sing, hoping for two to agree. Instead, eight singers and a pianist entertained us with powerful versions of "Loving You" and "Stand By Me," the latter song bringing claps and cheers as their joyous vocals filled the room.
We then had a time of sharing tributes by friends and family. I started by asking folks to raise their hand if they had ever:
- Had a real estate dealing with "your Old Uncle Joe"
- Attended church with Joe
- Seen Joe in the Fairborn 4th of July parade
- Been publicly embarrassed by my father
For each question, hundreds of hands shot up. To me, these questions really summarized the public face of my Dad. Always with a smile and a story or something funny to say.
There was one question I didn't ask - how many of you have ever benefited from my father's generosity? I learned only in the last year or so as he began disclosing some of his financial dealings with me, that he had made so many personal loans to folks when they couldn't get credit or were going through a particularly difficult time. He shared this information with me with some pangs of regret as the current economic hardships have made more than a few of his debtors default. He was watching the nest egg he had put aside for his "first wife" Sonia (as he called her for their entire 52 years of marriage) suffer along with everyone else's and worried that he hadn't been prudent enough. I reassured Dad that Mom would have more than enough to live comfortably for many years and still have some leftover for his kids and for the charities he cared about.
During my sister's beautiful comments, she mentioned his quiet generosity and live-within-your-means style, saying that the world wouldn't be in its current economic state if we all behaved in this way. He gave us a wonderful example to follow - one that I hope I can live up to and that my own son will grow to appreciate.
I wrapped up my own comments with a poem by John Updike, who passed away the same week as Dad:
And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market —
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That's it: no one;
imitators and descendants aren't the same.
That's my dad.
Many others shared stories of his humor, community service and love of life. I'm sure as the service was closing, had my father been standing in the back, he would have been shaking his wristwatch and putting it up to his ear - playfully signaling the preacher that it was time to stop.
Lest anyone imagine him a perfect man, let me assure you I do not. Nor was he a perfect father. I know that there have been at least three reasons I haven't shed tears with his passing. One is that his death was a blessed release from the pain and suffering we were all experiencing as cancer ate away at him. Another is that it is very hard to have a conversation with someone who knew my father without laughing about one of his stories or something he said or did to make a perfect moment - and he would love to know that this is so. We are all so grateful that he took the time to put some of his best stories in a book, The Life and Times of Joe Gordon (to the best of my recollection), more about which is available here.
But there is a third reason I haven't really mourned his passing. My relationship with my father was pretty much the same as everyone else's. He was (mostly) kind and supportive; I never doubted that he loved me or that he was proud of me; if I got into a bind, he would loan me money (with interest); we took family vacations to interesting places. But there was no real connection of the father-son kind. I have a solitary memory of throwing a ball with him when I was about four. No camping trips or father-son outings, though a couple of times he did take my sister, Melissa, and me to Rainbow Lakes - a theoretically stocked mudhole of a lake outside of Fairborn that, in retrospect, seemed more like an abandoned minefield than a place to actually catch fish.
As I've read about Ronald Reagan and the relationships he had with his children, I strongly resonate with those experiences. What you saw was what he was, with no ulterior motives or hidden resentments. But he was not a man with whom his children had much of a personal relationship. Like Reagan, my father was a product of his generation and didn't seem to have much of a capacity to explore his inner self or connect with others at a deeper level.
Helping him write and publish his book was the closest I came to having heart-to-heart conversations as he grew nearer to death and acknowledged some of his fears about what happens next. So in a very real and somewhat sad way, I haven't lost my father at all because the man I knew and the relationship I had with him are pretty much encapsulated in his book. For me, he was his stories. I was rarely, if ever, a character in them, and then played only a bystander role. So if I'm mourning any loss, it is that I know that this is the full extent of my ever knowing and having a father.
If this sounds like a judgment against my dad, it is not. I can think of many, many examples of fathers that make me so very grateful for the one that I have had. Joe Martin was a very good man, one I am exceedingly proud to say was my father, and one who lived a full, no-regrets sort of life that I would be happy to be able to say that I emulated when my own life story comes to a close.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Taylor's 2009 New Year's Card
Taylor's 2009 New Year's Card
Dad's 401(k) is now worth a mere pittance
The stock market's tanking; our future looks dark
Our country's transmission seems locked up in Park
I'm feeling most pensive and now as I ponder
The future, I see all the warnings and wonder
If my generation will be the last one
To have childhoods loaded with laughter and fun
But then I remember -- a New Dawn is near
It heralds the triumph of Hope over Fear
Our nation decided to Change its direction
By checking "Obama" in last year's election
Even before he's been sworn in, it's clear
We're returning to principles we once held dear
We now have the green light to lead many nations
From a place of True Strength that eschews isolation
But enough with political pontificating
The New Year is here and it's worth celebrating!
Forget the bad news -- things will turn out just fine
And I have Big Plans for Two Thousand and Nine
Like making more movies on Daddy's old Mac
And adding new lines to our Christmas train track
I'm building inventions with solder and saw
And working toward earning my black belt -- Hai-YAH!
My folks are both making their own big plans too
Dad's joining Deloitte on their consulting crew
Mom the "Nutritioner" makes meals a treat
And counsels her clients on good foods to eat
They're P90X-ing and getting real buff
And love ballroom dancing and other fun stuff
There's much more to tell you before this poem ends
But it's done -- HAPPY NEW YEAR
Dear Loved Ones and Friends!
Click the links for Taylor's New Year's reflections of yore:
2007
2006
2003
2002
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
An Era of Change
An Era of Change
This week's NYT Sunday Magazine has an article by Ron Suskind entitled "Change: How Eras End and Begin." In it, he describes a seminal scene in David Axelrod's office as Barack and Michelle Obama confer with eight others about whether or not Barack should pursue the presidency. Michelle says, "You need to ask yourself, Why do you want to do this?"
Barack says, "This I know: When I raise my hand and take that oath of office, I think the world will look at us differently. And millions of kids across this country will look at themselves differently."
Here's the amazing thing about that statement: we don't have to wait for the raising of Obama's hand some weeks from now for the world and our children to see these United States in a new light; that transformation happened on election night after We the People raised our hands by voting for him. Everything I've learned about our President Elect since his campaign began tells me that he would agree and would say it differently today.
This week's NYT Sunday Magazine has an article by Ron Suskind entitled "Change: How Eras End and Begin." In it, he describes a seminal scene in David Axelrod's office as Barack and Michelle Obama confer with eight others about whether or not Barack should pursue the presidency. Michelle says, "You need to ask yourself, Why do you want to do this?"
Barack says, "This I know: When I raise my hand and take that oath of office, I think the world will look at us differently. And millions of kids across this country will look at themselves differently."
Here's the amazing thing about that statement: we don't have to wait for the raising of Obama's hand some weeks from now for the world and our children to see these United States in a new light; that transformation happened on election night after We the People raised our hands by voting for him. Everything I've learned about our President Elect since his campaign began tells me that he would agree and would say it differently today.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Yes We Did!
Yes We Did!
This is a time to look forward, to move to a new place for our nation in this world. We have an incredible amount of healing to do - healing our economy, our relationships with other nations and peoples, of the sould of this amazing country.
As tough of a race as it has been, the work is just ahead of us. I am humbled to think that today we did what could not be done - one person at a time.
I made calls for Obama yesterday in Santa Monica, taking a few hours off from my business trip here to play a bit part in this massive effort. I spoke with many first-time voters in Colorado and North Carolina - some who had questions about exactly what to do on election day and many in North Carolina who had taken advantage of early voting to make their voice heard. One woman, was voting for the first time at the age of 49. It was the first election where she felt that her vote really mattered. She was right; as of this writing (12:28am ET), the winner of the state's 15 electoral votes is still undeclared - less than 14,000 votes of the more than 4 million cast separate the two candidates.
Many I spoke with were ready to stand in line for as long as it took to proudly - proudly - cast their ballot for Barack Obama. Some were tired of hearing from strangers interrupting their day with another call; but more were encouraging - thanking me for putting time in to make a difference. This is why I think today's results will turn into significant action: People - we the people - are ready to go to work to support our new president and make change a reality.
I will never forget this night.
Now let's get to work...
This is a time to look forward, to move to a new place for our nation in this world. We have an incredible amount of healing to do - healing our economy, our relationships with other nations and peoples, of the sould of this amazing country.
As tough of a race as it has been, the work is just ahead of us. I am humbled to think that today we did what could not be done - one person at a time.
I made calls for Obama yesterday in Santa Monica, taking a few hours off from my business trip here to play a bit part in this massive effort. I spoke with many first-time voters in Colorado and North Carolina - some who had questions about exactly what to do on election day and many in North Carolina who had taken advantage of early voting to make their voice heard. One woman, was voting for the first time at the age of 49. It was the first election where she felt that her vote really mattered. She was right; as of this writing (12:28am ET), the winner of the state's 15 electoral votes is still undeclared - less than 14,000 votes of the more than 4 million cast separate the two candidates.
Many I spoke with were ready to stand in line for as long as it took to proudly - proudly - cast their ballot for Barack Obama. Some were tired of hearing from strangers interrupting their day with another call; but more were encouraging - thanking me for putting time in to make a difference. This is why I think today's results will turn into significant action: People - we the people - are ready to go to work to support our new president and make change a reality.
I will never forget this night.
Now let's get to work...
Friday, October 24, 2008
Happy Birthday to Me
Happy (Belated) Birthday to Me
Charlene Kingston, an old friend from college days in Ohio reconnected with me via Facebook and Twitter. She sent me a very thoughtful note for my 44th on the 21st that seemed worthy of a post:
Charlene Kingston, an old friend from college days in Ohio reconnected with me via Facebook and Twitter. She sent me a very thoughtful note for my 44th on the 21st that seemed worthy of a post:
The process of living daily life has a changing pace. The rhythms of working life and family provide a baseline of activity that influences our perception of the passing of time. Short-term projects, seasonal activities, and rituals make increasing demands on our schedules temporarily and then fade away. We adjust to the changes, bracing for greater demands, and relaxing when the demands subside. We may have a sense of the fullness of our calendars, but it can be tough to really assess how richly we are living each moment.Thanks, Charlene... It is good to take a breath at the top of the wheel, take stock, and be thankful.
Birthdays are a great milestone to measure life. Like a punctuation mark, they break the routine flow of our days. And like reaching the top of a Ferris wheel, they give us a pause, a chance to catch our breath and to see our lives laid out like the geography below us.
For your birthday, I wish for you the clarity of a mountain top, the joys of being surrounded by the people you love, and the contentment that comes from your heart in knowing you are living your life with integrity and deep personal meaning.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Venus in Repose
Venus in Repose
Earlier this evening, Kym, Taylor and I said a long, tearful goodbye to a member of our family – our 1-1/2-year-old miniature schnauzer named Venus. She didn’t die; we gave her to a wonderful couple who we know will take very good care of her. Venus is, without question, the best dog I’ve ever known – not that I’ve been close to many. But experienced dog people have remarked about what a smart, well-behaved and good natured dog she is. Whether or not she is the best dog ever, I can’t say, but she is the best dog we could have ever hoped to own – if only for a season.
You might be wondering why in the world, if she’s such a wonderful animal, we would ever get rid of Venus. I’m wondering that a bit myself as there’s not exactly a black-and-white reason for our decision. It was ultimately Kym’s decision and one I felt was important to respect and agree with. If I try and pin it down to one unifying reason as to why we gave Venus away, I’d say it is this: we really fell in love with her.
That probably doesn’t sound like much of an answer at all, so I suppose I’ll start from the beginning. Maybe it will make more sense in context.
Kym had owned a rescue Chiquaqua-mix named Bambi when she was 5 years old.
The dog became sick after couple of months and needed to be put to sleep. I owned one briefly when I was about 12 or 13 – a sheltie named Robbie. I begged my parents for a dog, having no idea what it meant to take care of anything, let alone myself. My sister begged too and eventually they relented. Robbie was pretty hyper, nearly full grown, but still very much a puppy. He hadn’t been housetrained yet and we certainly weren’t disciplined enough to train him ourselves. My parents had made it clear that he was to be Melissa’s and my responsibility, not theirs. When it became obvious that we had neither the inclination nor the temperament to care for a high-maintenance dog like Robbie, my folks stayed true to their word and found a new home for him. Within days he was housetrained and, as far as I know, lived a happy life.
So it’s pretty safe to say that we’re not dog people. It’s not that I don’t like dogs. I actually like them a lot – especially the ones I’m not allergic to – but I understand that they have real needs that shouldn’t be neglected. I take that seriously enough to know that I wouldn’t want me for an owner if I were a dog. I’m too busy, travel too much and just don’t place enough of a priority on caring for a domestic animal to be a dog owner.
When Taylor turned five or so, he started asking for a brother or sister. We watched him with other children – babies especially – and saw how loving, gentle and attentive he was. T would make a great big brother but we knew a little sib wasn’t in the works.
So we talked about getting a dog. Actually, Kym talked about it and I demurred. Taylor was in no way ready for a dog. All the care responsibilities would fall on us and I was not going to devote the time required. Both Kym and Taylor were persistent and assured me that I wouldn’t be a primary caretaker. Whether that would turn out to be true or not, I argued that we are not dog people and we have no true appreciation of what it means to care for a dog.
I held out for as long as I could, wanting to wait forever – or at least until Taylor was eight and more capable of caring for a pet. But I knew that resistance was futile and I finally relented.
Kym had done her homework (as she does with most everything) and figured out that the best breed for us would be a miniature schnauzer. A small dog (about 12 pounds fully grown) but not a wimpy dog – one that would be a good and devoted companion and not destroy the house or the yard. She found a wonderful breeder in northern Maryland who bred and showed only miniature schnauzers. We put down a deposit and promised T a puppy for his next birthday.
Venus was born on March 10, 2007, just seven days shy of T’s sixth birthday. A purebred with a fine pedigree, we picked her up when she was 14 weeks old – already housetrained and ready to be loved. Within days, we knew she was a good fit. As advertised, she was smart, playful, and sweet. She barked only rarely – really only once a month or so and always for a reason – usually squirrels. All she ever wanted from us was to be nearby. She was always at our feet – ready to lick our hands or pick up a morsel that fell off the kitchen counter. Her pepper gray and white coat was soft as cashmere – especially in the summer when she lost her coarser winter coat. We kept her groomed short, which showed off her lean but muscular figure. She reminded us of one of those Mighty Dog dogs in the commercials when she leapt up the porch stairs from the yard.
As predicted, while Taylor clearly enjoyed Venus (mostly when it was past his bedtime and he was looking for an excuse to delay the inevitable), he didn’t take on ownership responsibilities. He’d feed her occasionally, but it was really up to Kym (and on occasion, me) to walk her and make sure she got what she needed. Kym was also completely responsible for the major stuff and I, on the contrary to my initial thoughts, had very little to do with caring for Venus. I did, however, pick up the tab while Kym did all the legwork.
Not that picking up the tab was a small deal. Our $1200 investment in her as a dog was only the beginning of the expenses. Dog insurance, wellness care (an excellent investment it turned out as she got pancreatitis when she was about six months old), invisible fence, spaying, food, medicine, kenneling when we went on vacation… it all added up pretty quickly. Vastly cheaper than a second child, mind you, but certainly not pocket change.
Still, we could afford it and Venus gave us no grief whatsoever, only love. She had a short spell of needing to chew and managed to get hold of a couple of power cords, but that phase quickly passed (maybe the power cords had something to do with it). After that, she was a perfect gentlewoman.
Kym and I both agreed Venus would not have run of the house so she was confined to the kitchen, foyer and Kym's office. Over time I successfully lobbied for her to be allowed in the family room – on our leather couch when we watched TV – as long as she stayed on a little bed we got for her. All she wanted was to be near us.
So far, this isn’t sounding anything like a tragic story and it’s really not. Over time, a couple of things happened that gave us pause. First, Venus got a number of tick bites from the woods behind our house. Lyme Disease is endemic here – as it is most everywhere nowadays. The bites would become infected and require a couple of visits to the vet. After a while it became clear that if we stayed where we live now, this would become a routine issue. The first time one of our frequent tick checks on Taylor proved fruitful – the little bugger on his chest was the size of a small freckle – our concern escalated.
Then a couple of months ago, Venus broke through the Invisible Fence. Taylor was outside at the time – we heard his repeated screams. As I ran out of the house, I thought for sure Venus or someone else had been hit by a car. He was in a complete panic as he watched her run down the sidewalk and disappear.
Though she’s a tiny dog, even at a full sprint, I can’t outrun her when we go for our evening tears around the circle. If she ever wanted to get away from us, she could do it without so much as panting. Turns out that Venus’ jailbreak was purely a crime of passion; her boyfriend, Dusty, a golden lab puppy twice her size, was out for a walk in the neighborhood and she simply couldn’t help herself.
I think that was the trigger for what ultimately followed; Kym saw that, between the ticks and Venus’ ability to break the fence at will, we would need to stop relying on the fence and always walk her. And that process led to bigger questions: Were we really prepared to do this for the next 12 years? Could we provide Venus with the best possible life?
We love Venus, but we also saw that we didn’t give her all the attention she needed. Maybe that’s not right; we gave her all that she needed. We just didn’t give her what she really deserved. We didn’t play with her enough or let her have the run of the house or the yard. She simply deserved more than we were able to give her.
Kym, with her usual care and diligence, eventually found a couple, the grandparents of one of T’s classmates, who were ready for a new member of their family with whom they could share their palatial home in Frederick, MD, just 30 miles north of us. They had owned a miniature schnauzer in the past, were in semi-retirement, and had plenty of grandkids, land and love to share with our little girl.
A couple of visits with them gave us more than enough assurance that Venus would have everything a dog could want – not indulgent love, but the right kind of love and attention – and time.
Kym spent nearly the entire day today preparing for the delivery. She typed up checklists, Venus' daily routine, her wellness schedule – it was amazing to see it all in writing as she documented everything that went into caring for Venus beyond food, water and walks. Her new owners were rightfully impressed as Kym went through every detail. As we left, we asked them to call us first whenever they went out of town so we could take Venus for them. I’m already missing her, but am happy to know she is getting what she deserves.
Many tears were shed, mostly by Kym. She knew she was doing the right thing for Venus, even though it was breaking her heart. T didn’t cry until we got into the car and he finally realized what it meant (in his heart anyway – he has known intellectually what it meant for a few weeks). He was sad that he had lost a playmate – or at least a potential playmate since we often had to ask him to play with her as he rarely thought to do so on his own.
Tonight, Kym apologized for not listening to me in the first place – that I was right, we’re not dog people. But I was wrong. We are dog people. We just know that we shouldn’t own a dog. But we have loved one dog as much as any other dog person. I know because of the tears I am shedding now.
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