You're invited, well not really.

I got an email from my bank the other day, inviting me to join an opinion panel. "In an effort to enhance the overall offering to you, we would like to invite you to join the M&T Bank Opinions Panel, an exciting research community of customers like you..........Please take a few minutes to fill out our initial profile questionnaire." Well, OK, I thought: since I have opinions, why not share them. So I filled out the form stating my name, address, and for some reason, what age group I fit in, and pressed submit. But instead of thank you for your interest, the bank emailed back that I would not be a member of the survey panel because UNFORTUNATELY they did not need any more members who were in my category. So they don't need the opinions of any more old people, they might as well have replied. Why was I "invited" and then un-invited, albeit unfortunately. Maybe I should look for another bank.

O Lordy

It was one of the first nice days of spring, and I decided to do a little clearing out of the irises along the fence in front of my house. I was sitting on the ground working away, when a car slowed down as if to pull over near where I was sitting. Since I had no reason to believe I was going to be deliberately run over, I thought the driver was going to ask for directions. Instead he just looked closely at me, then drove away. He must have thought I'd fallen and I couldn't get up.

Who am I?

I am a provost. Who are you?

The Color of Research

Last year a body of research was being touted by the local media, television and newspapers, as a potential breakthrough in medical practice. Actual funding was spent on this breakthrough----a simple matter of having hospital gowns matched to the color of the patients' skin, so the examining physician, in possession of a baseline complexion tone as presented by the color of the afore-matched gown, would be able to detect any variation in skin color, which would be an invaluable aid in diagnosing the patient's ailment. So the patient would probably need a gown for each season, as many complexions vary with the amount of sun exposure. The match-up to skin color is bound to be very tricky and difficult to synchronize, as anyone who has ever tried to match paint colors would testify. Did you ever realize how many different shades of white there are, not to mention beige or tawny or ecru or ivory, or tan or brown? Manufacturing and dyeing of these gowns is bound to be be an involved and painstaking process, and designating and labeling a monumental task. What is your normal complexion color---check your foundation color in the cosmetic department and have that translated into a number; if not your face that is to match the gown, choose a body part you want to display. Tanning booths or spray tans would have to be reported to the examining doctor as well. Oh, don't forget to note that winter trip to Florida. And you women, be sure to remove your makeup in case your doctor color keys your gown to your face. I don't know how many gowns each patient would need for seasonal variations in skin color. And where would the gown be kept, by the patient or stored by the medical facility the patient is treated at. As far as laundering goes, the gowns certainly couldn't be bleached, or washed with a very strong detergent. If you've ever had occasion to don one of the gowns for a medical procedure, you're sure to have seen the various degrees of fading exhibited in the stack of gowns. I don't know about most doctors, but I and many of my acquaintances have visited doctors who barely have the time or the inclinaton to read through patient records. I can't even imagine a doctor's visit where the doctor would scrutinize the patient's skin color and compare the color to that of the gown to see if there has been any change. If indeed there is a notceable change, severe pallor or flushing would most likely be evident anyway. But I can only imagine a doctor's saying: "Your skin color seems to be several shades different from the color of your gown. You should probably undergo a blood test. Either that, or you need to buy a new gown."

What is a URL?

What is a URL?

Too late the phalarope

So when I was a little kid, I wanted to grow up to be a person who uttered famous quotations. I outgrew that lost hope, don't even text or tweet or submit to You Tube, so I guess I'll never be famous. But my later version of the ideal vocation would have ultimately turned out to be even more ill-fated. You see, I read this article in I think it was The Atlantic about a man who was an expert on the works of William Shakespeare. As I recall, he lived in an upscale apartment, probably in NYC, and people from all over the country and indeed the world consulted him whenever they needed an appropriate quotation from the works of Shakespeare. College professors, business tycoons, clergymen, politicians, speakers from all walks of life who wanted a dignified, salient addition to their speeches or articles would ask this man who knew Shakespeare backward and forward, and who could be counted on to provide them with exactly the reference they were looking for. He was immensely respected for his knowledge, and made a good living for providing the sought-after quotation for the proper event. I happened to own The Complete Works of Shakespeare, and told my young self that if that job hadn't already been taken, I could have pretty much memorized a great deal of Shakespeare's works, and was convinced I could have matched an apt quotation to whatever situation was asked for. I thought I would have loved that job. I should have invented google instead.

Good Thing I Didn't Follow Through

When I was a child and people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I always answered that I didn't know. Nobody had much back then, including hope, and our family fit in that mold; it would have seemed presumptuous and immodest to act as if we could control our future. So I said I had no idea but I really did have a secret aspiration. I wanted to be in one of the few books our family owned, and that was Bartlett's Familiar Quotations. My father was a history buff. He was born at the end of the 19th Century, and was pretty much an expert on all of the history as was then recorded in the textbooks of the day. He used to ask us kids who said "Don't give up the ship, I only regret I have but one life to give for my country, War is hell." I figured that if I had been in any one of those situations, I might have come up with that exact quote, or maybe even a better one that would be worth inclusion in Bartlett's book. The only one I wasn't sure of was "Don't fire til you see the whites of their eyes." I didn't think I could have come up with that one.