The Last Lecture

“The Last Lecture” written by Randy Pausch is a touching read about a professor of Computer Science, Human Computer Interaction, and Design at Carnegie Mellon University having previously been a professor at the University of Virginia.  He is diagnosed with cancer and with several tumors in his liver is given only a few months to live.  He is asked if he is interested in giving a “Last Lecture” which is a tradition for outgoing professors but in his case it would truly be his last lecture as he would and did inevitably die.
    He was married, had three children and the book itself is a compilation of short stories about activities, events, impactful moments and leaving a legacy behind for the ones that he loved.  While I truly admire what he stands for, his desire to live and his passion for practicality I was expecting something more out of the book.
    The last lecture itself was an event that gained worldwide notoriety largely due to Jeffrey Zaslow who is a columnist for the Wall Street Journal and initially published writings surrounding Dr. Pausch and the event.  The book was a simplistic telling of family happenings and lacked a real direction or focus on anything concrete.  It jumps from subject to subject from childhood to children from pouring soda on the backseat of his care to his working at Disneyland.  It rambles in so many different directions at once it is easy to put down and pick up again as there is no storyline.
    I missed the connection with Dr. Pausch that I was hoping to find when I first read the reviews of the book and it is due to that missed opportunity that I felt the book was just average.  I want to emphasize that I am referring to the book and the book alone in that summation.  The events that he went through and the way he approached life and death is something to be admired by anyone who has dealt first hand or been involved with somebody who has had a similar experience.  His love of life and family and his tutelage of the young minds that he helped mold will by itself allow him to live far beyond his shortened time amongst the lives where he played a role.
    I guess my expectations were greater than what I was given and I had hoped for a more emotional tie to who Randy Pausch really was.  I think the book attempted this but the stories were just that and with exception of a few they lacked that factor at least for me of allowing me to feel with him and for him instead of just listening to him recant his life.  Even with that I am inspired by somebody who could have forged through his situation with the desires he did and even his admittance to luck and how we can be as smart as we want but we sometimes need a break or need to know somebody in the right place to help us even getting into the college that we desire.
    Don’t pass up the helping hand when it is extended because you never know here it can lead in life.  We might not have ever known Randy Pausch to the extent we did had he not been pushed into Carnegie Mellon University and it seems that he has touched the world as few in this life ever will.  I can’t recommend the book but I can recommend listening to the last lecture.  He is an interesting man down to the surprise b’day cake he ensured he didn’t miss giving to his wife.

Brittle Bones

    You know your are over forty when for the first time in your life you take a spill on your bike and you actually break a bone.  You just don’t go for the normal bruises and scrapes that you might have gotten twenty years ago.  You go for it all when you actually hear the pop as you hit the textured concrete sideways and begin rolling to a stop landing on your butt sitting upright on your backpack.  The good news is I did this on the day where I had some very big deliverables due at work so not only did I go to the hospital, I have missed now two days of functionality and it is at a time when I can least afford to be out.  Sarcasm.
    Ah, the joy of stress that can only be alleviated by morphine tablets that I get to take every six hours.  Pop one of those in your mouth and you suddenly stop caring about what it is you did or didn’t do.  The joy of drugs I guess.  Anyway back to the point.  I had gone forty two years without breaking anything.  I consistently bragged about never having broken a single bone in my body.  Everything was intact as it was when I first entered the world with some slight wear and tear that is.  Then I decided on a bright sunny Wednesday morning to jump on the bike as I do many mornings and head off to work.  I get all of the way there as I am flying through the parking lot listening to my headphones and rocking my head in rhythm to the beat.  I remember thinking as I approached the sidewalk that I was going to fast but with the wind in my face and the music consuming my mind I still held the youthful feeling of invulnerability.
    It didn’t take me long as I made my turn ending up in the flowerbed catching my tire on something that abruptly halted the forward progress of my bike while sending me sailing over the handlebars hurling shoulder first in an arching downward motion.  As I lay there trying to catch my breath a man approached and asked me if I needed some help.  Good Samaritans are still out there in the world I guess.  I politely said no I just needed to take a break, recover form my embarrassment and head to the showers to doctor my scrapes.  After taking about five minutes to gather my thoughts I made my first attempt to get up and failed.  It is an eerie feeling trying to get up and having the frailty wash over you like a wave that you are not capable.  I was unable to stand and or even move without a sharp searing pain in my shoulder.
    Two more men were now approaching heading off to start their day and they as well asked me if I could use a helping hand.  This time I accepted their generosity as one offered his hand bracing me up and the other one grabbed my belongings.  I managed to make it to the lobby cradling my left arm with my right as I held it in place keeping it from moving more than a fraction in any direction.  I now understand that breaking your clavicle is a rather common thing for active individuals but the shooting pain it causes is horrendous.  Interesting enough there is nothing that anyone can do for you as well.  No cast, no brace nothing but a sling to keep your arm as immobile as possible.  And drugs.
    I am not a huge fan of chemical alleviation of pain as when you are in pain your body is trying to tell you something.  It is giving you a message that there is an issue.  If you subdue that message you can at times cause more harm than good.  That was before.  Currently I believe in taking as many pills as I am given.  Having a broken bone that moves around every time you lift a finger is like having somebody holding a knife in your shoulder and twisting it periodically just for spite.
    I now have the pleasure of sitting in front of the TV, writing as much as I can and drifting in and out of the drug induced zombie like state responding to most inquiries with “ya dude” and “what’s up”.  Hopefully I get over this quickly so I can get back out there and keep my brittle body from degrading anymore than it already has.

No Angel

I had no idea what to expect when I opened the cover of “No Angel”.  Not my typical book but I like branching out now and then, reading something different and the topic of undercover work sounded intriguing.  Jay Dobyns is an undercover ATF Special Agent and he transitions from an all American College Football player to a tattooed Harley riding Hells Angel as he attempts to infiltrate the notorious gang turned crime syndicate.  You have to wonder it Byrd (Jay’s nickname) didn’t have the luck of becoming a policeman if he would have ended up as a Harley riding gangster on his own.
    He almost seems to good to be true in the book as he is constantly put in front of drugs and woman and he always seems to know exactly where to draw the line.  It makes you wonder if there were not a few facts left out here and there ensuring that he kept his reputation intact and his marriage sound.  Still, I have to admire a man who places himself into this kind of situational danger in order to keep the rest of us in our cocoons of perceived safety.  The make up of a man who can portray himself as one thing while constantly keeping his head around who he really is in order to catch the bad guys.
    Ironically other than the massive amounts of guns that seem to exchange hands there doesn’t seem to be a lot of violent activity in the book.  There is one episode in Las Vegas where a big tussle happened between the Mogules (a rival bike gang) and the Hell’s Angels that ended badly but other than that there are probably guys living in your neighborhood who are doing things worse than watching these elderly men drink themselves silly acting like they own the world only to fall into bed in their respective trailer parks.
    My guess is that is why in the end it was so difficult to follow through on a legitimate prosecution and so few arrests stuck from the massive investigation that took place.  Even with the lack of results one can never question the heroics it takes to do this type of work.  I get nervous speaking in front of a small crowd.  There is no way that I could ever place myself into some of the mortal situations that Byrd got into.
    In the end the story is told in the form of a book and for me unfortunately it was choppily written and failed to capture my interest.  It wasn’t boring but it lacked any type of magnetic draw.  I have a tattoo but didn’t understand Byrd’s obsession with them as he continually mentions getting sleeved and the process he underwent.  The only touching part was the balance he attempted in keeping his head together with his family as he continually went back and forth from being a dad to being an intimidating Harley riding Angel wannabe.
    If you are interested in the make up of the Hell’s Angels in AZ and the inner workings of undercover work then I would suggest reading through this book.  Go in with average expectations and you will not be disappointed.  If you do not have a keen interest in this specific topic then I would suggest passing.  You will get a little bored trudging through the word choice and lack of fluidity.