Mother of chaff

It’s Ada Lovelace Day again; time to honor a woman in science who inspires admiration & achievement. Lovelace, you’ll recall, was a progenitor of computer programming—way long before Steve Wozniak & Bill Gates.

In past years I’ve written about computer science pioneer Grace Hopper and Rosalyn Sussman Yalow, a Nobel Laureate in physiology and medicine.

This time round I present to you Joan Strothers Curran, a Welsh optician’s daughter whose sheer brilliance opened academic doors that would have otherwise been locked and barred to a young woman in 1930s Britain. As it is, although she won an open scholarship to Newnham College, Cambridge, the University didn’t award degrees to the women who had earned them.

Curran, a scientist and physicist, didn’t get a degree until 1987, when Strathclyde University gave her an honorary Doctor of Laws degree.

From Newnham Curran went to the Cavendish Laboratory, a hotbed of physics research, where she met Sam Curran, a fellow researcher, who would become her husband of more than 50 years.

But World War II came along and Curran and her fellow researchers turned their minds to supporting the war effort. While her husband focused on radar, Curran joined the Counter Measures Group. She is credited with developing “window”, also known as “chaff”, for the Allies. Window consists of bits of reflective material that is dropped into the air to confuse radar.

Specifically, Curran’s window was deployed in the Pas de Calais during the early hours of D-Day to support the idea that the Allied landing would take place there instead of in Normandy. This contributed greatly to the success of D-Day.

At the time of the landings, the Currans were at the University of California at Berkeley, working on the Manhattan Project. Following the war, the family settled in Glasgow, Scotland, and Curran devoted much of her time to advocacy for the physically and mentally disabled.

I first heard of Curran when I read Anthony Cave-Brown’s Bodyguard of Lies, about the multi-layer deceptions surrounding D-Day. A single-line mention of her contribution in all those 900+ pages of text was enough to spark my interest. There does not seem to be anything by way of a biography of her, which is a loss. Joan Strothers Curran’s brilliant scientific mind helped shorten the worst war the world has known (so far), and turned it to improving the quality of all people’s lives. I want to know more.

Wondrous love

While I was driving home yesterday I heard the news that guitarist Bert Jansch has died of cancer. He was 67.

Jansch was a founding member of Pentangle, a folk group whose distinctive style informed my youth. Jansch, John Renbourn and Jacqui McShee formed the heart of the sound to my mind—a distinctive mix of McShee’s extraordinarily pure voice, Jansch’s gravelly continuo and then the guitar and percussion work.

My favorite album was Sweet Child. The songs cover a terrific range from Turn Your Money Green, which has a bluesy, Claptonesque style to it (I love the "If the river were whiskey, baby, & I were a duck" verse), to Let No Man Steal Your Thyme. Jansch himself is featured on A Woman Like You, which he wrote.

The instrumental pieces aren’t bad, either.

Listen to The Trees They Do Grow High, possibly my absolute fave. Or, No More, My Lord. I have driven across the country singing those two. More than once.

They tell me Jansch was a powerful influence on other guitarists, including Neil Young, Jimmy Paige and Paul Simon. And that’s great. But what I loved was the direct connection to his music, his playing and his singing.

Bert—what a gift you’ve given us over the years. Truly Wondrous Love.

Dave & busted

In the end, the big morale booster last night was a bit of a damp squib. A grand total of 14 people showed up & the conversations I drifted into were pretty much exclusively about our technology, the solution & how we’re going to take over the world in our market space.

So no change there.

Oh—I lie; I sat next to the head of biz dev; he spent a good part of the time talking about his trip to Bangalore, his trip to Milan, his trip to Australia & his trip to I-dropped-out-thinking-the-weight-lifting-competition-on-ESPN-was-less-full-of-self-puffery. There’s something comfortably constant about BD guys—no matter what business they’re in, every conversation is always & inevitably about their own wonderfulness.

(One exception—a couple of employers ago our VP of BD was actually capable of carrying on a conversation that didn’t exclusively revolve around specific deals being currently worked or past successes. I can’t think of anyone but John who could do that, though.)

At any rate, conversations were difficult because of the volume of the music in the restaurant; all I had to do was look fascinated, nod occasionally & every once in a while murmur, “Interesting…” The food wasn’t actually dreadful, but managed to consist of salads, pastas, vegetables & baked chicken that all tasted pretty much the same.

The worst part for me was that the Big Kahuna was over from India & was there apparently displaying both leadership & solidarity with the plebs. He stayed throughout the evening. I introduced myself & you could see through his eyes how he was trying to connect my name with a useful function. It was only when someone else with a similar name caused some confusion that he learned who I am. I’m not sure it made any difference in his mind.

But I did my duty—no one else from product management was there. I didn’t spill either food or drink on anyone (that I recall). I stayed a decent amount of time & wasn’t the first to leave.

But I’d so rather have had the night to myself reading Miranda Carter’s multi-bio of Wilhelm II, George V & Nicholas II.

Mandatory fun

The group I'm working for is having an "all-hands" meeting this evening. At Dave & Buster's.

I am completely stultified with dismay. I've never been to a Chuck-E-Cheese & I don't see why I should go to a DnB.

I feel as though I have to go--first, there are lots of people on this project who actually work in my building whom I've never met, because they do everything via conference calls. Then I'm curious about how this outfit operates outside of the tech.

A colleague came over from Bangalore a month or so ago & several people took him out to lunch. To an Indian buffet. Plus, the conversation never once got off the solution & selling it. I didn't learn one thing about any of them. Except that one of them likes okra a lot.

Already I find it interesting that the invitation to this do only went out on Friday, two work days before the event. What's up with that, I wonder?

I just hope to God they're not planning on getting me to play arcade games. I'd rather swallow fresh compost.

Bookkeeping

I didn’t know that Borders had my email address, but apparently they did because I got a solicitation from Barnes & Noble inviting me to consider them my bookstore going forward.

Frankly, at first I thought it was some new kind of spam-scam. But no.

CEO William Lynch said, “Barnes & Noble uniquely appreciates the importance bookstores play within local communities, and we're very sorry your Borders store closed.” But their sorrow didn’t prevent them from picking up a few bits & bobs, including Borders’ customer list.

He closes with, “At Barnes & Noble we share your love of books — whatever shape they take. We also take our responsibility to service communities by providing a local bookstore very seriously. In the coming weeks, assuming you don't opt-out, you'll be hearing from us with some offers to encourage you to shop our stores and try our NOOK products. We hope you'll give us a chance to be your bookstore.”

I participate in a non-fiction discussion group that meets at the B&N in Campbell. I have to say that it gives me the impression that it’s not long for this world—some tatty stuff, empty shelves & sometimes surly staff. Moreover, the kinds of books I read don't tend to be on the bestseller list, which is mostly what they sell.

I don’t see them being “my bookstore” in the future. I opted out.

Mal de medicine

I had occasion to see an orthopedic surgeon yesterday: new doctor/new medical group for me.

I have both a personal and a professional interest in the culture of medical practices—I do, after all, work in the healthcare-technology field.

Also, the day they were handing out patience the line was way too long for me to stand in. So I have a short tether when it comes to medical office personnel, overbooking and doctors too rushed to find out what my medical situation is. And I pay close attention to how an office is managed and how they treat their patients.

For example, a couple of weeks ago I went to a dermatologist. The instant I walked into the waiting room I knew I wasn’t going to like it, because nearly every seat was taken. Sure enough, it was more than 20 minutes after my appointment time that I was called to the exam room. And when I pointed out to the nurse that fact—along with the information that, as a contractor, I don’t get paid for the time I spend in their office—she apologized and told me, “we were locked out this morning, so we got a little behind.” But no one coordinated lies-we-tell-patients with the physician, because when she apologized her story was, “a couple of patients ran longer than we expected.”

She made up time on me, though—I wasn’t in her presence for five minutes.

(The big laugh was that they wanted me to schedule a six-month check-up. I told them to send me a reminder; but I already have an appointment with another specialist for next week. It’s not like there’s only one dermatology practice in the South Bay.)

Anyhow, the orthopod. Twenty minutes behind the actual appointment time, around eight minutes examining me and telling me I’d need an MRI and a follow-up, and he’s out the door.

But the interesting thing was when I spoke with the woman who schedules the radiology appointments and follow-ups with the physicians: None of the more than 20 MDs working in that practice works more than two-thirds of a day. The last appointment of the day you can get with mine is 1300.

And they schedule four patients for that time slot. Assuming that the doctor is actually running to schedule, that means that you have only a 25% chance of seeing him at the time they specified. Arrogant, disrespectful plonkers.

I hope to God that I don’t have to have a long-term engagement with this guy, because my attitude is going nowhere but downhill.

Is she a witch or a wabbit?

Someone needs to write an opera about Amanda Knox, the ex-U of Washington student convicted two years ago in Italy of the brutal murder of her roommate in Perugia in 2007. She started off by accusing someone completely extraneous of the killing; he was arrested, but when he was cleared she became a person of interest.

The trial was a piece of theatre, but they convicted her & two others; one is serving his sentence and Knox and her ex-boyfriend are currently appealing their 25-year and 26-year (respectively) sentences.

And here’s where we hit about Act III of the opera: during the appeal the lawyer for Diya Lumumba, the fellow falsely accused by Knox back in 2007, called her “a spell-casting witch, a virtuoso of deceit.”

Now, seriously, is this not aria-worthy stuff?

But wait—there’s more: Knox’s lawyer has rebutted the demonic thing by likening her to Jessica Rabbit: she’s “not bad, she’s just drawn that way.” After that sort of exchange, any ruling is going to be anti-climactic.

Verdi—eat your heart out.

Clients (& other MBAs) from hell

I don’t think you really have to have worked in the creative or IT/Web services field to find the Clients from Hell vignettes amusing.

It helps, of course.

But what this collection of experiences does (in addition to validating the social media value of the Web) is go a long way to explaining the state of the economy. These clients are a microcosm for executive management & boards of directors & if you picture this sort of utter cluelessness in the DNA of captains of industry, well—it all becomes clear.

I believe these exchanges could also be taking place in the halls of Congress.

Be the hummingbird

It shames me to say that I did not know about Wangari Maathai, the remarkable woman—the force of nature—who died Sunday at age 71.

The obits cite her courage for standing up for women and the environment against corrupt governments and big business interests—and the Nobel Peace prize she was awarded for her Green Belt Movement. She encouraged women to plant trees, and when she heard from the Nobel committee, that’s what she did—she planted a tree.

She was, BTW, the first African woman Nobel Laureate.

Her protests continued in the face of tear-gassing, beatingsand whippings by goons from Daniel arap Moi’s government in her homeland of Kenya. Moi labeled her “subversive”, that all-purpose gov-speak for “unsilenceable and uncomfortable.”

But here’s what I love about her—she wanted to be a hummingbird. (Click on the video clip about 60% down the article. I could have given you the YouTube link, but the NPR story is worth reading, too.) Note that none of the animals rallies to the hummingbird; it just keeps on bringing water to the fire.

Think about it: all the troubles—all the insurmountable obstacles, all the massive forces aligned against the little guy—and it’s possible to do the best you can. It’s possible and worthwhile—whatever your beak will hold, carry it to the fire.

The story is powerful, but it’s Maathai’s telling of it that stops you in your tracks. Listen to her voice and look at the expression on her face.

And be the hummingbird, mes amis. Be the hummingbird.

Employment outlook

Finally some good economic news last week: Toys-R-Us announced it’s planning on hiring 45K people.

For the holiday season.

At minimum wage and no benefits.

I’m sure that’s welcome news for the 30K people who are about to be axed from Bank of America, who are mostly full-time employees with at least some benefits.

Oh--and no doubt Walmart will also be hiring for the season. And those temps can take comfort in knowing that they won't be paid worse or get fewer benefits than the bulk of Walmart's staff.