posted in history, media | Comments Off on And on this channel, my childhood | 395 words
It will soon be daylight. My ephemersis (actually a nifty javascript that I found on a Russian site some years ago, but the word is cool) tells me that the sun will rise while I’m on the bus, so my ability to judge if i am casting a shadow will be somewhat diminished. The spirit will be there, and that’s all that counts.
posted in history | Comments Off on Waiting with anticipation | 289 words
Today I was back on the road, doing the tech thing in one of our schools. As the “networked” model takes on increased importance due to our new fibreoptic capabilities, it only makes sense that the computers in our classrooms “join our domain”
posted in computing, history | Comments Off on Join our domain | 266 words
Have no doubt, I am a child of the Space Age, in a way that my own children will never be. From the earliest reports of Sputnik, explained by my youngest uncle, through the Mercury years, to Gemini, to Apollo, “To Infinity and beyond”. Buzz Lightyear would be a close personal friend, if I was five again.
posted in history, media | Comments Off on Countdown | 321 words
Imagine how my great-great-grandfather would feel, if he were to suddenly ‘rise up from the dead and start dancing around. In passing, my uncle has told us far too many times how just such a thing had happened, but we all put it down to tall tales and spirits. Anyhow, imagine if John, new in town from Tipperary, were to come into downtown Elmira in the next few days. I suspect he’d have to say that it doesn’t look quite the same.
posted in environment, history | Comments Off on Doesn’t look quite the same | 332 words
Late in the summer of 1972, I swung down from the Ocean Limited in Amherst, and collected my trusty Targa bicycle from the baggage car. With a fair portion of my worldly belongings in a huge green knapsack (still in the basement), I mounted my trusty steed and set off for the Island. With sixty kilometers of road and the wind at my back, it was time to turn on my transistor radio and tune in CFCY.
posted in history | Comments Off on The dance has ended | 344 words
Passe-Montagne aime les papillons
Les souliers neufs et les beaux vestons
Passe-Carreau culbute saute et tourne en rond
Où est Passe-Partout… Le nez dedans son baluchon.
posted in history, media | Comments Off on Passe-Partout; the real master key | 266 words
It was before my time, but my grandfather was the village blacksmith. Funny how my father never showed any interest in following in his footsteps. Then again, my father was a railway man, and I didn’t get into that line of business either. Perhaps it had something to do with evolving economies.
posted in history | Comments Off on Grampy kept a forge | 248 words
So, I wonder how hard it is to replace a gramophone spring? I’m not sure I saw the appropriate aisle over at the Canny Tire store, but surely such things are readily available. After all, obsolescence is unfair.
posted in history, media | Comments Off on His Master’s voice | 230 words
I guess I missed the chapter in my school career where I was supposed to be convinced that it was all for nought. Maybe my avoiding mathematics courses was to blame. The nought thing, I mean. Wasn’t I supposed to have “hit the wall” and declared that the whole academic thing just wasn’t for me?
posted in history | Comments Off on Mid-term dreams | 246 words
