Thoughts on MacWorld 2011

I recently attended the MacWorld 2011 Expo and Conference in San Francisco, and found it quite interesting. There were exhibits, classes, and all kinds of interesting things to see. There were all kinds of things for your iPhones, iPads, iPods...and yes, there were even a few vendors there for Macs.

No, Apple was not here officially. There were some Apple people wandering around; one spotted my hat on day 2 as I spotted his credentials after seeing his hat first. (His was a black ballcap with Apple’s logo; mine is a gray Mao-military style cap with Apple’s logo.) Apple pulled out of MacWorld a year or so back. So did a number of vendors. But that didn’t stop the people from coming, myself included.

Walking into the Expo, my initial reaction was “These are my people.” Most of the attendees were courteous, and while there was a boatload of us crammed into Moscone West, it didn’t feel crowded. (A good thing, as I have alluded to in the past I am not really into being in large crowds for long.) I could tell some funny stories but I’ll keep most of them to myself. One I will share was from a couple walking past me, and provided me with my favorite line of the week: “That’s not true. I’m twice the geek your first husband was.”

As usual, all the sales people were doing whatever it took to get your attention. One booth had a woman in a some strange clothing. I thought at first she was supposed to be an space alien; turns out she was a Lady GaGa impersonator. (Which shows you how much attention I pay to today’s music.) 

I didn’t go to this solely for my own amusement. While I am a user of Apple products, and am learning about how things work inside my MacBook, I really went to this to see what kinds of software would be available for some of my students. We have roughly 300-500 students using Macs at Master’s, as near as I can estimate. In that respect, I admit to being a bit disappointed as really there wasn’t much there for them. (Maybe they should have called it iPadWorld.) I got to talk with some other distance educators doing the same thing I was, and having the same issue. (I rather enjoyed the networking aspect of this.) 

That notwithstanding, I was thinking of bagging it early, until I sat in on a session called “The Mac in Education” and came to the realization that while the Mac is in no danger of being phased out anytime soon in favor of iPads (or your favorite brand of PC in favor of a tablet), I can see a time coming--sooner than later, I suspect--when the how of education and some businesses will change.

With that realization, I went back through the Expo with new, fresh eyes. There’s a lot to be excited about, if you will allow yourself to look past the immediate, to look past the ways we have done things for many years and see some possibilities. 

One of the things that really, really hit me is the outdated concept of the computer lab. When I was learning AppleSoft in my “Intro to the PC” class at LMC, there was a computer lab with a number of Bell+Howell Apple II+ desktops in it. Even moving those up to today, you have to maintain 24-36 computers, power them,  upgrade them every so often, replace parts that break, etc. That gets to be expensive when nobody's using them. At the Energy Lab on Hawai’i, when students come in, they are issued (loaned) iPads. They can then work in any of the classrooms, and not just the computer lab. (In point of fact, the Energy Lab does not have a computer lab.) If the batteries run down, they can either be charged or plugged in. 

I can see that classrooms and schools will have wifi or whatever number G available, and the parents outfit the kids (remember, schools get educator discounts) with an appropriate iPad or tablet. They then get the books downloaded, they’ll have the programs and apps they’ll need to compete assignments, they’ll have access to teacher’s notes (with hotlinks to further reading), pictures, and...

...the new teaching paradigm will be much more interactive. It won’t just be facts and figures (save for math, I suspect), but interacting with those facts. For the example used, it’s not enough to know that Columbus landed in America in 1492. What were the ramifications of the “discovery” of the New World? How did that impact the Native Americans? The Europeans? Columbus himself? This will become the new way of teaching: facts, mixed with a certain amount of logic and analysis/synthesis. In short: Young people will actually learn to think, and not just regurgitate.

As one working in Christian Education, this is exciting stuff. There’s also that part of me that wishes we had this kind of tech when I was at CVHS and LMC; I would have gotten more out of this kind of interaction with the material. (Not to mention my back would have been grateful to not lug large amounts of weight on the bike ride home--or back to the parking lot at days’s end--when school let out. An iPad weighs far less than 5-6 400 page books, several pens and pencils, and other required school paraphernalia.)

As a whole, we--as adults--have to embrace the tech. (We don’t necessarily have to understand it...but we cannot be afraid of it.) And really, that’s the message I want to share. I went in looking for software...and came out with a changed perspective.

I’m looking forward to coming back next year, and taking in a few more sessions.

By the way...if you are interested, my pictures of MacWorld are here. (No, I didn't have one taken with the Lady GaGa impersonator.)

Enough for now.

On Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his legacy

Today as I write this, it’s Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. It is the 25th observance of this particular holiday. This is a semi-official holiday, in that the banks, schools, and the government have shut down for the day.

For the rest of us, it’s business as usual. If you’re blessed to have a job outside the above listed...you’re working. I’m working today, and so is my wife. (She’s still only working part-time--she’s not totally healed from surgery--but she’s working today.) 

Somehow, I think the late Dr. King would not be pleased with this. Today of all days, we should take a look at where we are and how far we’ve come.

Except we won’t. But not for the reasons some might give. I see things a bit differently.

There’s still perception problems, I’ll grant you. There is still inequality. But some of that has come back--boomeranged, if you will--to the white male.

Women’s rights have advanced tremendously over the last 25 years, since the first marking of this holiday. African-Americans (or people of color, according to the NAACP person on the radio this morning) have also come quite a ways in the last 30 years.

Meantime, white men are shown on TV and movies to be drunkards, womanizers, and total clods more interested in beer, sports, and certain portions of the female anatomy than anything else. They are shown to be pathetic in their attempts to be hip and/or cool. They can’t parent well, leaving that task to the incredibly super-competent women in their lives. Many of them don’t seem to work hard, if at all. 

I could speak of some stereotyping among the white community as well, looking at people of color. I won’t, however, because that is not what I read when I read Dr. King’s “I Have A Dream” speech.

Let’s take a good look at part of this: 

“Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

What Dr. King envisioned was a place and a time where all people-regardless of their race, color, or gender-could sit down together as the intelligent people God created us to be at the table of fellowship. Not one stereotyping the other, not one trying to be superior to another, but as equal, intelligent children of God, each doing what God called them to do, each fulfilling their unique, God-created role for their individual lives.

In short--to live as equal brothers and sisters, if not in total harmony, at least with charity and understanding. That is his legacy we should stop and consider this day. Not necessarily the man himself...but what his dream was, what he died trying to see the fruit of. Yes, we have come a long way. 

But...there is still so much to do, all the way around. 

Enough for now.

A Christmas Letter to my Dad

Dear Dad:

It seems strange to write a letter to you like this. I mean, you’ve been gone now for the last two Christmases--this will be the third since you passed--and in many ways, life has moved on...as you told me it would, years ago. It's also strange to write this because you and I wrote each other very little.

And yet, tonight after Deena had gone to bed early, and I was wrapping the Christmas gifts, I found myself thinking of you. 

It still seems strange sometimes to go back home and not see you there. (Though there is a nice comfy chair there you’d love, I’m sure.) It’s really hard this time of year; I remember all the years you took pictures of us kids at the top of the stairs...and the year we all beat you to it. That flash had to be visible for a three mile radius! I remember bit and pieces from both birthdays and Christmases past: The 100 in 1 electronic kit, the Starfleet Academy manual (and Enterprise blueprints), and all the LEGO are still in my possession. (As well as more electronics, Star Trek books, and even LEGO than I ever thought I’d own in a lifetime.) Making stuffing, and having you taste it. Trips to Helen and Louie’s in the motor home. (Or, as Amy put it, “Barbie’s Dream Home.”) 

I’ve tried to hold up my end of the bargain. I promised to be a good son and watch Mom for you. I’ve tried to keep an eye on Mom without being a pest. You’d be proud of her; she gets around pretty good these days. She’s active enough, gets out of the house, and drives. She flies on her own, too. 

When we went to the Big Island, we had a GPS you’d have laughed at. My little unit butchered every Hawai’ian name. We all still laugh about it. (That, and trying to find Diamond Lil’s in Salt Lake City.) 

I’m still helping clean up the house as well...I’m going to want to discuss with you some of the more interesting findings. For example, I know you knew nobody was using serial bus ports on computers; USB connections work so much better. So why were there, what--a half dozen or so?--adaptors for serial busses? Plus the cables? 

I don’t even want to know why there were hundreds of 5 1/4 inch floppies. I do want to know where you hid the slides. Part of my early life is on those, and I’d really like to rediscover part of that. 

So many things. I know all the medals you earned in the Navy. I wish I knew how you earned them all. You never really talked about them, or much else of you Navy time. I understand why as a vet myself. I also never knew you cared much for baseball, much less were a Yankees fan. I know you never totally understood my tastes in music. (That’s okay...I never totally understood yours, either.) But you did instill a love of good music, which means I’ll never like rap. 

I also know you never could quite figure out what I saw in some of the girls I dated. That’s cool; you weren’t dating them...I was. You and Mom taught me to look past certain things, and see the person inside. I learned to see certain qualities I knew you and Mom didn’t see. That’s okay too. (I’m still trying to get the “being a good husband” thing down as well, and I am wondering if I’ll ever get it right. Even approaching 19 years of marriage--after 4 years of dating on top of that--I’m still trying to get things right.)

You’ve missed seeing me with the quartet. We have fun, and we do reasonably well. (We are getting better every week.) You watched me compete with barbershop choruses at all levels, yet due to work/guests from out of town (I don’t remember which) missed the only Command Performance I ever had in both intermediate and high school. That was hard for me to understand at the time. There were other things I never understood: how you could solve algebra in your head, and I couldn’t get the same answer twice. (And then there was the time I got one answer, you had another, the book had a third...and my instructor got a fourth answer and none of them matched.)

I remember when you told us as a family we might have a chance to live in Europe while you would be in the Middle East. As much as the education I would have gotten would have been a benefit, given the way things have turned out in the Middle East, it’s better that deal fell through.

You taught me to honor my commitments, even when not a pleasant thing to do. I guess that’s part of what pulled my butt through Moody and TEDS: I made a commitment, and by gar I wasn’t gonna quit. (No matter how badly I wanted to turn tail and run.) 

You taught me how to change a tire, spark plugs, headlights and taillights, several wiring harnesses, my own oil and oil filter, and the fuel filter. These days, I’m lucky if I can find the latch to open the hood. Changing my own oil is out of the question...no place to dump it. You also taught me to use the right tool for the job. 

In some ways, that’s a lesson I’m still learning; again this year I cut the wrapping paper for the gifts with my Swiss Army Knife. (Some things never change.) You’d have been proud of me. Yes, I still have a knife that weighs a ton. But hey--I’ve carried Swiss steel since 1976-77ish. Why stop now? 

As much as I miss you, though...I wouldn’t dream of asking you to come back here, even for a minute so I could say goodbye properly. Not only have you earned your rest, I couldn’t be that selfish to take you away from the presence of God Himself. 

And that brings me back to Christmas, and wrapping gifts. Yes, we celebrate the birth of Jesus this time of year. Knowing you’re with Him has helped--and continues to help--me deal with the fact you’re not going to be home for Christmas. It’s been hard to not find you something. I miss sending you e-mails and swapping jokes and puns. 

Mostly, though...I just miss you.

I’d better sign off now. It’s late, and I need to get some sleep. Give my love to everyone there. 

Love,

Matthew

Thoughts on Communion

The first Sunday of the month, I took communion. No great surprise that; communion is usually served the first Sunday of the month in many churches. 

But for some reason, this communion reached me deeply. It wasn’t the message (though that was good). It wasn’t the music--though that was quite good as well. It wasn’t even the act of taking communion proper; I’ve taken communion for a good many years now in a number of settings ranging from one done in a serviceman’s ministry I belonged to at Great Lakes to a Catholic church in Concord, CA, and a lot of places in between. (Okay, in all fairness I knew at the time that Catholics practice closed communion. I took it anyway.) 

No, what brought me comfort this day was the ritual of communion. In the United Methodist Church, we often start communion with the Great Thanksgiving (also known as Word and Table 1): 

The Lord be with you. And also with you. 
Lift up your hearts. We lift them up to the Lord. 
Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

It is right to give our thanks and praise.

The liturgy, of course, continues on from there. But for some reason, it was the mechanics--the doing of the liturgy, as many have for years, decades, and centuries before me, and will do long after I’ve been translated to glory, should God tarry--that spoke to me. 

The bread and cup, that representation and reminder of what Christ did on the cross for you, me, and the rest of the world is not like anything else in any other religion. Just a quick look at the Wikipedia page shows only Christian references (in terms of religion, at least). 

“Take, eat, and be comforted; Drink, and remember too
That this is my body and precious blood shed for you, shed for you”

(From the musical “Celebrate Life”)

The thought that others around the church universal were taking communion-- many of whom were using the Great Thanksgiving as well--and of those who had gone before, using the same liturgy spoke volumes to me that day. I can’t really explain why I found it so comforting. 

But take comfort in it I did. 

On further reflection, I contemplated that sometimes it is the actual act of taking communion that speaks. After all, this is the remembrance of the Last Supper. It is the revisiting of the Lord Jesus Christ’s last meal before His crucifixion, and all that means to the Christian. Sometimes it is the bread and cup itself, and partaking of it reminds us of the Wedding Feast to come. 

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of

witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that

clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race

that is set before us.” (Heb 12:1, NRSV)

And yes, sometimes it is the mechanics of why we do what we do. That reminder of the great cloud of witnesses, those saints and loved ones that have gone before, looking down and cheering us on to the finish line, as we try to run the race. I can imagine my grandparents, Dawson Trotman, founder of the Navigators, Billy Sunday, my Dad, D.L. Moody, my “maiden aunts”, John Wesley, and everyone else translated to glory looking down on us...all of us. Wesley’s own thoughts on this verse: “A great multitude, tending upward with a holy swiftness, of the power of faith.”

It is, in the final analysis, that power of faith that carries us. The mechanics of the liturgy reminded me of that power of faith that day. 

Enough for now. 

Your World Champion San Francisco Giants

It had to happen, eventually. The law of averages finally had to catch up; surely it had to this year...didn't it? 

Last night, it finally did. 

After 33 years of waiting, I can finally say it: Ladies and Gentlemen, YOUR WORLD CHAMPION SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS!

Wow. It seems a bit surreal to a Giants fan that still has his program from his first Giants game...in 1977. (Charlie K, I don’t think I can say thank you enough for introducing me to the Orange and Black.)

I didn’t think this year was going to work out. I mean, back in August the Giants were, what? 6 1/2 games back of San Diego?  Then came September and they went 18-8, and took NL west from San Diego on the last day of the regular season. 

Then it was playoff time. They split a pair at home, then swept Atlanta at Turner  Field. Then to Philly--split a set there, won two at home, then had to go back to Philly. They couldn’t possibly win it there. But they did, and suddenly they were in the World Series.

And then it happened. 11-7 and 9-0 in the first two games. On to Texas, where I honestly expected them to lose. (They did, 4-2.) They won game 4 in a masterful game pitched by a man just barely old enough to buy a beer, Madison Bumgarner, 4-0. 

And then came game five. Tim Lincecum did what he does best: served up 8 innings of really good pitching. Brian Wilson took over in the 9th, and that was that.

This year makes up for a few things. You know, like 2002 when they collapsed to the Angels--THE ANGELS, for cryin’ out loud! Like 1994, when the strike did damage beyond the diamond. Like 1989, when more than the team collapsed: the Cypress structure, the Marina District and part of the Bay Bridge collapsed as well. (That was painful for me personally as I was in school in Chicago that year.) Like 1985, when they dropped 100 games--100!!!--and I was in Navy Boot Camp, and had to suffer through a miserable summer being away from home...and having to hear that the Giants had “...blown another game.”  And yes, like 1978 when they had some great players...and lost toward the end of the season to the Dodgers. 

There’s been a long line of Giants greats. Oh, sure--Willie Mac, Willie Mays, Orlando “The Baby Bull” Cepeda, Juan Marichal. Jack “The Ripper” Clark. Will “The Thrill” Clark. David Dravecky. Vida Blue, John “The Count” Montefusco, Robby Thompson, and Gaylord Perry. Steve “Bedrock” Bedrosian. Bob Brenly. Dave “Rags” Righetti. Yes, both Barry and Bobby Bonds. Jose Uribe. The Alou brothers. Duane Kuiper and Mike Krukow. Jeff Kent and JT Snow. So many more.

Now you can add to that list Tim “The Freak” Lincecum, Brian “The Beard” Wilson, Juan Uribe (Jose’s nephew), Edgar Renterria, Pablo Sandoval, Aubrey Huff, Pat Burrell, Brian Posey, and the rest of the crew.

Managers: Roger Craig, Frank Robinson, Dusty Baker, Bruce Bochy. Class acts, all of them. Might as well mention owners and managing partners as well: Bob Lurie, Peter Magowan, and current principal shareholder Bill Nuekom. Congratulations, Bill!

A lot of good memories, too. All those night games at the ‘Stick. I still have my Croix de Candlestick, earned--the hard way--in a late night extra-inning game more years back than I want to admit. It’s the only place I’ve ever been where the American flag blew to the left and the California flag blew to the right...at the same time. You could always tell the tourists at the ‘Stick...they were blue by the middle of the fourth. (Locals brought parkas and sleeping bags.) We won’t talk about the fog. (Or that miserable crab mascot, either.) 

And when I couldn’t go to a game, I often listened on the radio or on TV. Lon Simmons, Hank Greenwald, Ron Fairly, Duane Kuiper and Mike Krukow. KSFO at first, then KNBR. TV was KTVU forever, with a lot of the same names.

I have a lot of Giants gear: The warmup jacket, a jersey, wristbands, several fitted hats (one of which still fits), pennants, buttons, a tie, programs, Giants magazines, some pocket schedules, a stuffed bear in a Giants t-shirt, and a baseball card of me in a Giants jersey and hat. (And even more stuff, including several years worth of Mother’s Cookies baseball cards.) I know I’ve driven people crazy sometimes--I’m okay with that. 

This came so fast that San Francisco fans didn’t quite know how to celebrate: only five known arrests as of this morning. Me? I celebrated quietly, made a few phone calls and called it a night. Too much to do today.

However...I’ve been a Giants fan for a long time, and this has been a long time coming. 

I tip my hat to the G-Men...the World Champions!

Reflections on a Sunday

It’s 10:00 pm on a Sunday night and I’m back in my boyhood home, the house I grew up in. I’m in my old room, and while it’s still my room, Mom made a few changes some years back. The walls are cleaner and a lighter shade of blue then when I lived here daily (though I am grateful the doorframe is the same color blue as my room was originally). The bookshelves that held Star Trek models and books as well as my latest LEGO creation aren’t here either; I have all that with me in my current domicile. (Well, okay. The models are in storage, as is half of the books and a fair amount of the LEGO.) The bed I slept in is over at my in-laws for now in their guest room; I am sitting on essentially a queen sized futon, which in a sense is also a part of my life: things Japanese have formed part of who I am as well.

There are other reminders of my life here: The Norman Rockwell Barbershop quartet picture is hanging up on a wall, as is a beautiful picture of a church (showing my ministry and faith). The napkin holder I made in 7th grade is sitting on a shelf, still in need of Varathane. (But after 32 years, why do it now?) Some Navy stuff is here as well, including a picture from when I was in boot at Great Lakes. A picture from my wedding is on the wall, showing family--far too many of whom have gone to their eternal reward.

I am home for a week, and my bride of nearly 19 years will be joining me at the end of the week. So tonight, it’s me and my thoughts before I turn in. And to be frank, my being here couldn’t have come at a better time for a number of reasons I won’t bore you with here.

It is with all this in reference that God met with me tonight. Oh, nothing major--no burning bush or anything like that--but a chance for me to rest, to be His child by returning to my childhood home. A chance, in the words of Twila Paris, to “..drop my sword, and look up for a smile.” 

You see, sometimes for those of us in ministry--any ministry--we get to the point where we can’t fight the battle any more. We get tired, weary...we get discouraged and sometimes wonder if we ever made, or will ever make, a difference. I go through this in my position with Master’s; I wonder if anything I do ever impacts people, or if I have ever made a difference. 

Today though, I got a glimpse of that. I could see the hand of God all over my day and my trip.

First off, Mom had Joel Osteen on this morning. He was talking about “Staying Open to Do Things God’s Way.” That caught my attention, as I find myself far too often trying to keep things in nice, neat little boxes. That got me to thinking: am I truly being open, or do I insist that God do things my way?

Then we went to church, and I crashed choir. Actually, Mom invited me to try and sing with the choir at the church I grew up in. Being a decent singer, and wanting to attend church with Mom, I went--figuring the worst case scenario would be I would end up sitting in the Sanctuary. 

I was welcomed like lost family, got handed a robe and music by one of my former youth leaders, introduced around, and sang during the service. It wasn’t a difficult set of songs, and the stuff from the hymnal was sight-readable for the one song I didn’t know. Some folks remembered me, and I met some new folk as well. I was reminded that I have made an impact, if for no other reason that those folks remembered who I was.

It was good to be in God’s house this morning. 

Lunch was spent with Mom and some friends of the family at a Mexican place that Dad loved to eat at. It was a leisurely affair, and followed once we got home with a nap and some football.

It was good to be at home this afternoon.

Then I had some time to myself, and spent it in God’s Word. And was reminded that: (A) I was not to worry (Mt. 6:28-34), (B) that God will care for me (Mt 25:34-40), and (C) that my job was--literally--to keep the faith (Mt 11:25-28). 

Let me make no bones about it: we live in uncertain times. No job or ministry is secure. Elections are in another week, and that can have some upheaval to it. (But enough about my lunch.) The economy is a roller coaster ride. News is bad from all parts of the world: Cholera in Haiti, unrest in the Middle East, drug wars in Mexico, chronic unemployment at home. It seems like everywhere one turns, things are falling apart, and you’re not sure if you can trust anything--or anyone. Heck, bedbugs are all over even. What’s up with that?

Tonight I was reminded that God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And while tomorrow is another day and will have trouble enough of its own, God is already there, and will take care of things if I will but let Him.

Praise God, He is trustworthy. You can take Him at His Word. It is good to be reminded of that, in that still, small voice.

Part of the care I need to do this week is to take care of myself. That means getting some rest. Which I am now going to do.

Enough for now. 

A Tale of Two Cities

It was the best of times, it was the wor...wait, I think that line’s already been used.

However, this really is the tale of two cities--Seattle and Las Vegas.  (Mostly Las Vegas, though.) I just returned from a trip to both; and while there are some similarities, there are quite a few differences as well. 

Seattle is where Deena and I spent a fun weekend with 400+ attendees (and over 10,800 guests) at BrickCon, the Northwest’s premier annual LEGO convention. (The premier bi-annual LEGO event-BrickFest-is coming back to Portland next year.) Las Vegas is where we flew to immediately following BrickCon, as she had a conference to attend. I got to go along and spend a few days working from a suite in the Palazzo hotel that was only 130 square feet smaller than our apartment. (The Palazzo is a five-diamond resort, by the way.) Since this was work related for her, they paid for her room, her meals, the conference proper, her travel...and she still drew a paycheck. I got to work from the 38th floor, which had a heck of a view, and managed at least three quarters of work one day, and a half day the next.

So what are the similarities?

Seattle is home to Boeing, grunge, the Mariners, and Starbucks. Las Vegas is home to gambling, large hotels, the 51’s (a minor league team), and has a Starbucks on almost every corner and in many of casino hotels and shopping areas.

Seattle is virtually surrounded by water; Puget Sound is to the west and Lake Washington lies to the east. There is Mount Rainier to look at. Las Vegas is in a desert with the Spring Mountains off to the west. In all fairness, neither city is terribly clean; Seattle has the edge because it is the Northwest and we tend to recycle more here. 

Before I go any further: I need to say that I enjoyed my stay in Las Vegas. I had a good time, and I know that many people come here and have good times. I wouldn’t bring a child with me though, unless that child was at least 21. Las Vegas really is for adults only. That is one thing I do like: the fact it is a place for grown-ups. That upside is also a drawback, however.

Las Vegas is like an amusement park for adults. Sex, slots, and alcohol flow freely here. Rita Rudner--a well known Vegas comedian-commented on the whole women’s body thing not long ago on Mike Huckabee’s program on the Fox News Channel: She went in for a mammogram and found there was a two drink minimum. There are cards on the ground with nude women on them, and phone numbers. That alone should scare any decent person silly. 

When one goes to Disneyland, you know it’s not real. But there is a certain charm, if not a magic, to it. You see Cinderella’s Castle, or Tomorrowland, and you know it’s not real. But you go along with it, and it’s fun. You see the rides, you see the characters, and you understand it’s the ultimate interactive storybook. 

I guess it is that adult amusement park theme is probably why I don’t care much for Las Vegas...everything here isn’t real. (Including, I suspect, the bodies of a number of showgirls. Implants and airbrushing do work wonders.)  Much like Disneyland, you’ll get taken for a ride, all right. Las Vegas is totally designed to remove any inhibitions you have, and separate you from your hard earned cash. If a casino isn’t beckoning to you, the high priced food, booze and expensive jewelry and clothing tempts you. (We won’t discuss the legal “escorts”, however.)

That’s why so many people like to come here. A chance to at least pretend you’re one of the rich and beautiful for a few days, the hope that maybe this slot machine or that poker table will at least pay for the trip, if not make you a millionaire. That’s okay with me too, as long as it stays here. Nothing is sadder than seeing people come back from Las Vegas and trying to maintain the Las Vegas Boulevard lifestyle on Main Street.

I’ll cheerfully admit that during BrickCon, everything we all built was unreal. It was all done with LEGO, after all. But that’s part of the magic of one of these conventions. For a few days, we create a magical little place, with space people and aliens, pirates and cowpokes, knights fighting dragons and saving damsels, trains that run on time past neat clean houses and happy little people. Businesses line little streets that have no potholes. Heroes fight villains, and even mecha-Godzilla is relatively safe. The moonbase has a little Starbucks, even. That’s life in the magic little world we create.

In Las Vegas, though, that magic is on an industrial level. Fantasy is what makes Las Vegas what it is: a unreal, unobtainable world, where every woman is beautiful, every man is good looking, and everyone is lucky and a winner. There’s pirates here too, fighting sirens. New York City is only a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triumph. Venice, Italy is a few blocks from that; and it’s always sunny and pleasant in Venice. (And, I suspect, cooler and less humid as well.) Heck, I can travel several continents on foot and be back in my room in time for lunch. 

That’s another issue: the buildings on the Strip are so huge, there’s no perspective. I walked from the Palazzo to New York New York and back. That’s only 3.6 miles roundtrip. But it seemed like twice that...and yet, didn’t seem that long at all. That’s the problem with the perspective here: you just can’t gage how far is far. 

Finally: the thing that made Las Vegas isn’t called gambling anymore. They now call it gaming, and while it is still what made Las Vegas what it is, it’s getting out of hand. (Not just here, but all over--but I’ll save that for another time.) Now, I enjoy a good game of poker as much as the next guy, and I’ll play 21 every so often, and on occasion have even played a few slot machines. But this is way far beyond that. The slot machines here really are designed to entice you: Monopoly, Wheel of Fortune, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Star Trek (that one made me cringe), several others named after TV shows or well-known movies (The Wizard of Oz is one)...and the eBay slot machine.

eBay the slot? What’s next...the iPod slot machine? Now there’s an interesting concept...maybe it could pay off in iTunes credit.

Enough for now.