Where was Sarah in 1787?

Article 1, Section 10, paragraph 2.

There shouldn’t be an apostrophe. See the misspelling for yourself on page 2 of the copy of the Constitution at the National Archives.

Happy Constitution Day!

Constitution Day resources at the Library of Congress web site

I can’t believe I forgot to get out the Constitution Day decorations.

To celebrate, why not download the Constitution of the United States and the Declaration of Independence, Pocket Edition [PDF, 416kiB] from the U.S. Government Printing Office?

Moon Day 2008

Happy belated Moon Day, everyone! 39 years ago, on July 20, 1969, we landed on the moon. We haven’t been back in over 35 years.

The vault with almost every LEGO set ever made

LEGO’s Memory Lane vault is something to behold. As an aside, I should note that I didn’t realize the LEGO Space Galaxy Explorer was loved by so many.

True-story Tuesday redux: Parental instincts

Back when I was in junior high, I was on a bowling league, and my dad and I would go to the lanes early. My dad had a second job there and would very reluctantly give me money to play video games while I waited for everyone else to show up.

One Saturday morning, before the other kids arrived, a guy arrived with another boy. The guy was handing a Jerry’s Kids bowling event that day, and the boy (I believe his name was Tim) was there because, well, I didn’t know why. He wasn’t bowling, and he wasn’t the guy’s son, but oh well. The guy had a job as a clown; he’d perform at birthday parties and the like. He wasn’t dressed as a clown that day, though.

Later that day I got a call from the guy. He wanted to know if I wanted to come over and help with tallying the results and such. I thought it sounded like fun — yes, I’ve been a nerd for a long time — and I asked my parents. My mother asked for a little more information and I gave it to her.

“Absolutely not.”

I wasn’t happy, but it didn’t bother me too much either. My parents didn’t let me go over to people’s houses unless they knew the people themselves. Adding to this was the fact that my mother, years earlier, had worked at a grocery store called Family Foods, and she said she’d seen him come through her lane and that she’d always gotten a bad vibe from him. She thought he was trouble.

I told the guy I couldn’t do it because my parents said no. He said no problem, maybe another time, and that was that. He sent me a packet of advertising material for his clown business a few weeks later.

Months later, the guy made the local news. Turns out he’d molested over a hundred boys about my age in the area.

That is a true story.

Remember Brad from Michigan

(I’m a little late for True-Story Tuesday.)

In my junior year of high school I became the junior drum major of our band. As a result, I attended a some drum major classes lead by George Parks and leadership classes lead by Dr. Tim Lautzenheiser during a band camp I attended that summer. (All of which were quite good, by the way. Assuming little has changed in the past seventeen years or so, I recommend their classes.)

In the drum major classes we focused on directing things like hand movements and such. Most if not all of us were required to direct the others in a song, and a surprisingly large number of people were being criticized for their technique, especially for not keeping rhythm well.

I was determined to not be criticized for that, so I practiced quite a bit for it. When my turn came up, during one of the final classes, I was ready — I had the technique down pat.

I forget the song, though I believe it was “America the Beautiful”. Anyway, I directed everyone, and I thought I had done an excellent job, though I was aware most everyone thought they did well until they got their feedback.

George Parks noted that I had directed well technically and asked the other students what they thought. There was no hesitation — “He showed no emotion.” Murmurs from everyone confirmed it. George Parks began explaining to us that directing is more than just getting the technical details right.

He asked for my name again and where I was from, which I told him. “Remember Brad from Michigan,” he said. “Right it down — ‘Remember Brad from Michigan.’” (We all kept notebooks to note the important bits of information from the classes.) Not “Don’t be a robot” or anything like that. Oh no. “Remember Brad from Michigan.”

I was immortalized in the notebooks of drum majors from around the country as the guy who showed absolutely no emotion when he directed. That probably explains why I tried so hard not to direct like an automaton.

(Come to think of it, my experiences as drum major could provide a wealth of stories. Like how I directed the song “All Night Long” in Muskegon like it was a 33⅓ RPM record played on 45. Or how I hopped a fence and roll-glided all the way from the end zone to about the middle of the field at Festival because I was late for the awards. Or … well, you get the idea.)

True-story Tuesday

Years ago, around the time I worked at FANUC Robotics, I was driving on M-59 in Utica. Behind me was a car following so closely that I suspected they were following me. Now, it was the middle of the day on a weekday so there was really no reason to worry, but I suspected it nonetheless. (I don’t remember why I was driving around there when I should have been at work, but I seem to remember a plant trip was involved.)

I pulled into a shopping area to see if the car would follow me into the parking lot. It did. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced something like that, but it’s a little freaky. Anyway, I decided to make a couple of quick turns to convince myself they weren’t following me, and sure enough, they weren’t.

Once I was sure the other car had continued on its way, I surveyed my surroundings and saw that I was in the parking lot of a jewelry store called Jared. Well, I thought, I’ve been meaning to get myself to a jewelry store for quite a while. Maybe I should go in now that I’m here. I parked the car and went in.

That is the true story of how I got Helen her engagement ring.

Churches and bowling alleys

When I first moved to Utica, Michigan, back in 1995, I wanted to find a church. I would leave my apartment and drive around for a while to explore the area and to find a church, but instead of a church, I found bowling alleys every time. Each time I thought, I should remember where this place is in case I ever want to go bowling, and I would return home.

One night I decided that I’d go bowling. I left and tried to retrace my steps to one of the bowling alleys I’d stumbled upon previously. Instead of finding the bowling alley, I found a church. I went home.

True story.