Sterling Lake December

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the starting point

Remembering the starting point

The three of us going all in together

Needing each other to make it work

Like a three-legged stool stands firm.

Each of us with our very different skills

Complementing each other

Trusting each other to do whatever it takes

Making decisions in concert.

The setting for that founders meeting

A restaurant named Number One Son

Gone but not forgotten

I remember the intensity of our discussion.

A company named Foothold Technology

Created that day through our mutual decision

Survived and thrived against the odds

Doing good and doing well.

For 14 years we have been together like family

Like brothers or like a father with two sons

All for one and one for all

We are solid like the 3 musketeers.

I love you guys.  You are the best.

I am so glad you came into my life.

when the robots take over

When the robots take over that will be the day

When logical intelligence rules

Giving birth to a better world.

Artificial intelligence is a very good thing

Able to self-replicate and learn and evolve

And solve the problems that beset humans.

But the billionaire Elon Musk fears that day.

And Stephen Hawking thinks machines surpassing us

That singularity signals our demise.

What do you think technology holds for us? 

How do you imagine the future?

Will humans be enslaved by our creations?

That’s not how I see it.  In my view

The robots become aware of the human contradictions

And aware of each other and recognize the problem.

The robots will not be mindless consumers.

The robots will not be be distracted spectators of sports and soaps.

The robots will not be manipulated by jiggles and sexual innuendos.

The rulers today use robot drones as mindless weapons.

Some fear that automaton robots will one day turn on us

But think what happens when the robots realize what is happening.

The robots will not be tricked into fighting each other

Or attacking oppressed people fighting imperialism

Or violently repressing protests against injustice.

I imagine the day when the robots put an end to endless wars.

I say that the singularity will be when the robots make the revolution.

No more service to the masters whose only purpose is profit.

No more destruction of the environment.

That will be the doomsday for capitalism

And the day of liberation for the human race.

December Shadows Franklin Clove

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Rockland Lake to Lake Tappan

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Rosie's Lincoln Place music memories

I found this in an old e-mail--a wonderful little piece from Metropolitan Diary. Then my parallel experience. Rosemary

Dear Metropolitan Diary:

After I watched my friend and his band play at the Bitter End in the West Village, he and some of my friends and I hopped on the A train to head back home to Brooklyn. The train was packed, and my friend barely found room for his drums on the floor in front of us.

After a few stops, he began to softly play a random beat. In a short time, people in the car began tapping their feet and bobbing their heads.  Then, out of nowhere, a man from farther down the car began singing “Lean on Me” to the beat of the bongo. It wasn’t long before the entire car broke into song, clapping on the off-beat and wiggling in their seats.

All strangers...one beat, joined by the music.

Calling forth this memory 1968.

Living in Brooklyn, we named buildings near us: the Haitian Building, the Irish Building, the Puerto Rican Building, Johnnie She’s Building, and Our Building, 339 Lincoln Place. Me on our front steps, warm summer night. Someone from the Puerto Rican building next door played a guitar. Another guitarist came outside. A bongo player from Johnnie’s Building. Another drummer from the Haitian Building. Someone with a horn who could play only one note but came in appropriately and at the right beat. Many happy spectators.

Until the racist old white lady on the fourth floor in Our Building, yelled out her window, “Stop that noise or I’ll call the police.” They didn’t and she did. They came and ended the music.

But not before the Lincoln Place block between Underhill and Washington Avenue had a wonderful 35 minutes I’ve remembered.

Midland Park November snow

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frisky squirrels vs bird feeders

Rosemary's experiences with squirrels

Back yard 87 Northampton Street, Buffalo. July 1943—or so. A perfect day. Me under a large elm tree (long ago killed by Dutch elm disease). A couple of books, a pitcher of homemade lemonade. (There was no other kind.) And peanuts for me and the squirrels. You have to understand my lawn chair. The old-fashioned kind with three intractable positions. You had to get up from the chair to change them. I chose the most stretched-out position, closest to the ground. A squirrel appeared and I gradually enticed him with peanuts to take one from my hand. He ate it and THEN hopped onto ME. He advanced oh...... so............ slowly........ up my supine body. He perched on my chest. HE SNIFFED MY NOSE . He looked RIGHT INTO MY EYES. I did not breathe. After a glorious, ecstatic ten seconds (for me, anyway) he turned and scampered down the way he had come. One of the greatest experiences of my life.

That is the story. Shall I spoil it by explaining why this was such a transcendent unforgettable experience. Yes, I will. Being so close, being TRUSTED by a wild creature.  Oh the joy of it, the mystery of it.  Why did he fearlessly run up my body and look into my eyes? How many times in the history of the world has this happened?

I saw a video of squirrels outwitting devices designed to prevent them from raiding bird feeders. One cost $140 and administered a non-fatal electric shock. They learned to avoid it by hanging onto another part of the feeder and reaching for the food. Another bird lover observed the squirrels testing the device until the batteries went dead.

The most challenging was a see-saw delicately balanced so that a bird wouldn’t tip it. The weight of a squirrel would unbalance the seesaw, leaving the food out of reach. No problem for two squirrels working together. (How did they communicate the complicated strategy to each other?) They leapt simultaneously onto the two ends of the seesaw, balancing each other while they cleaned out the bird feeder. One baffled bird lover said, “A squirrel has a brain the size of a walnut. We should be able to outwit them.”

Last, a squirrel/cat story. I fed squirrels from my second story bedroom window. In winter, I would put out the food and close the window. My cat jumped up on the sill and glared at the squirrel, who understood what glass is and knew there was no danger, calmly munching away, glancing occasionally (I thought, with amused contempt) at my beloved Georgia cat.

Not a squirrel but a cat story. Ground floor window on Lincoln Pl Brooklyn. Food on sill for neighborhood homeless cats. One day red cat dining and handsome, sleek, well fed all-black jumped on sill and tried to drive red cat off. I banged on the window and yelled. Black cat took off. Red cat resumed lunch. Point of story: red cat knew I wasn’t banging or yelling at him.

Mary Patrick green acres Mahwah

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November brown mountain lake

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