The First Month

It's been a month since the family and I moved into our new home and, like so many time-related milestones as of late, it feels both longer and shorter than the actual time that's passed. Short, because 30 days can pass in the blink of an eye as a person with all the responsibilities and expectations that come with adulthood. Long because a year of house design, construction, and planning can mess up a person's perception of being at a place. Everything is far from perfect but, all in all, this has been a very positive move for the family.

The Park

One of the biggest perks of the new home is proximity to a very well-maintained public park. The places that Nozomi and I used to frequent these past seven years would see a landscaping crew come by three to four times per year, meaning that the grass would often be tall for most of the year with collections of garbage under many of the bushes thanks to litterers and weather patterns. Here, though, it seems there are neighbourhood groups that take turns cleaning the public space every Sunday. More than this, the vast majority of dog-walkers here actually pick up after their pets! Nozomi is certainly enjoying this new place to explore.

Nozomi's Smile

The boy also likes going out to the park, walking along the paths, and touching anything he can get his hands on. With my new role at the day job — if it can be called such anymore — I'll be working with people in different time zones a lot more often. This means that I'll have the opportunity to work from home a great deal more than in the past, making it possible to bring my son out to this park to learn more about the world around him. It's interesting to watch him explore everything for the first time, as I've come to take things like leaves, sand, and discarded stones as they are. For him, though, all of these things are unfamiliar and interesting.

Which raises a couple of questions. While the boy is exploring the park, I'm often watching his reactions as he tries to piece language and objects together. He's just 15 months old and already walking up and down stairs, hills, picking up sticks that are long and awkward, and all the other things that kids will do while learning about their own boundaries and quickly surpassing them. I will not over-protect him while he's discovering some of what this world has, as I fully expect he'll fall or injure himself from time to time. These are important lessons to learn. But I do wonder whether I'm too relaxed about him doing stuff from time to time. I see other parents worry and fret over just about everything … but that can't be good for either party.

I will watch to make sure the boy does not do anything that'll break bones or leave a mark, but I want him to understand that the world is here to explore, enjoy, and share with others, be they human or something else entirely.

Hopefully the next 300 months are as enjoyable as this first one has been, though I know there will be trials ahead.

A Decade

Ten years ago today Reiko and I were officially married. I say "officially" because we were actually married on paper the year before. As is custom, the wedding ceremony attended by friends and family made it "official". A lot has happened in the intervening time. Some of it great. Some of it scary. Some of it amazing. Some of it better left offline. Yet here we are, in a newly-built house with an incredibly energetic boy and a lovely puppy.

Taking It Easy with a Picnic

Maybe good things do come to those who wait. Maybe karma is more than people awarding arbitrary points to each other online. Looking back at all the highs and lows in life, where the family and I are today is lightyears ahead of any other time since my move to Japan.

Thirty Nine

In Japan there's a silly joke people sometimes play with the number 39, pronouncing each number individually like "さん きゅう"1. This sounds very similar to the Katakana English way of saying "thank you", which is where people will try to use the number in a light-hearted fashion. We often see this in marketing advertisements or items targeted at young people. I mention this because today marks the completion of my 39th orbit around the sun and the beginning of the next. While most of my thirties have been marked with a great deal of stress, strife, and struggle, the last few years have actually been pretty darn nice.

All in all, I have a lot to be thankful for.

With this in mind, one of the big goals I have for the coming year is to get back into meditation with the goal of being able to relax every so often. As with many things, when we take a step back from the issues that stress or anger us, it's possible to disconnect ourselves from our natural responses. From here it — generally — becomes easier to either find a better solution or otherwise approach the situation with a calmer head. This isn't always possible, but just a little more perspective in my life would go a long way to resolving the things I dislike about myself.

After nearly four decades of being me, there is still a lot of room for improvement.

  1. Which would be pronounced: san kyuu

What Makes a Good Parent?

While this may come as a surprise to some, I've not been one to have a particularly high self esteem. I rarely feel I am worthy of any sort of praise, nor do I feel particularly intelligent or skilled at anything. I can do enough to get by, and in the few areas that I excel at, I tend to do a little better than people who are starting out. Despite working in education for a decade, I never felt I was a particularly good teacher, and despite writing software for over 20 years, I do not feel I am particularly amazing at it. These are just things I have done and tried to do well, failing hard and often along the way. This is to be expected, though, as I am a human fraught with failings.

Over the last few weeks my son has continued on his quest to learn about himself and the world. He's been able to "say" things like "mama" and "ba-buuu-pfffhhhh". He's learned how to sit up. He's learned that bananas are sweeter than carrots. He's learning how to crawl. Did he learn any of these things from me? I don't think so. Has he learned anything specifically from me? I don't know. It's hard to tell, really, as he's unable to comprehend my questions or construct cromulent answers that consider what was before to what is now. Asking such a question would be unfair, too, as he's just a kid unaware of the underlying question that I am really seeking to find an answer.

Ultimately, I want to know if I'm being the best parent I can be. I want to be part of my child's life, but I don't want to be an ever-present entity that stifles his independence. I want to show him the incredible richness and depth to the plethora of questions people can ask without boring him senseless by delving way deeper into a topic than he wanted to go. Is my attempts to play with him before he understands the concept of play a good thing? Is my insistence that he not play when eating food a bad thing? The boy is almost 9 months old and I've yet to discipline him for anything. Is that a good thing?

When I think about my parents and how they raised me, I ask this question of them. Did I have good parents? I think so. They did the best they could with the resources at hand. They sacrificed their own goals to raise my sisters and I. They struggled in silence when trying to pay all the bills on time while also providing all the necessities that kids take for granted. There is always food in the cupboard, clean clothes in the dresser, and electricity for the TV … right?

Even today when I think about my parents, I think they are considering what's best for me while I live on the other side of the planet from them. There are occasional calls and emails, but nothing too excessive. There is no forced expectation that I circumnavigate the globe to attend an event, nor is there even a strongly worded message saying that I should do more to keep in touch with my scores of cousins, dozens of nephews and nieces, or handful of siblings. The distance I feel from the family I grew up with is just right.

Will I be able to provide this same level of comfort to my son and any potential siblings? Will I be able to give him what he needs without becoming a nuisance or appearing disconnected?

A lot of these questions are born from the Demons of Self-Doubt who whisper endlessly in my ear about how useless and stupid I am when compared to the whole of humanity, as if one person could be "better" than 7-billion others and still appear well-rounded and normal. Yet they're hard to ignore. I would like to be a "good" parent. One who gives their kids freedom to make safe mistakes to learn from, while also being a source of encouragement and knowledge. I'd like to teach my kids the crucial skill of critical thinking in the hopes that they use it to navigate the minefield of bullshit that is adult life. I'd like to give my kids the confidence I have not had since I was 19 an innocent of the evils that drive men to do what they do.

But can I do these things? It took me decades to learn who I really am. How long will it take to learn about any new people who share parts of my DNA?

These are undoubtedly questions that many parents ask themselves.


A number of people have told me that I'll get to relive my youth through my son, seeing the world from his perspective and empathizing with his perspectives. This may happen with some "timeless items" such as learning to ride a bike1, playing catch2, or rushing to the emergency ward of a hospital3, but the world has changed quite a bit in the 40-odd years since I was his age. That said, one old memory that came back to me with incredible clarity this past weekend was evoked when the boy went down for a nap while we visited his grandparents in Gifu.

This is likely a common memory for most people. My parents would visit family, and I'd have to take a nap or otherwise go to sleep in an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar smells and hearing unfamiliar voices. Even for places I'd been to dozens or hundreds of times, the place would feel "weird" to sleep at. Most of the time I'd have to make due with a sofa in an unused room. Occasionally I'd be asked to sleep in someone else's bed, which I never did because it felt very wrong. Even now I would choose to sleep on a hardwood floor rather than rest in a bed that belongs to someone else. In the distance I'd hear my parents loudly talking and laughing, all the while insisting everyone under the age of 10 "go to sleep".

The boy is still too young to make strong memories4, but I do wonder if he felt it odd to sleep in a different room surrounded by different smells and different voices.

  1. which I recall learning alone on a gravel driveway in the rain

  2. the strongest memory of which involves my father and I walking over to the elementary school near our apartment, where we'd throw the ball for what seemed like hours on end

  3. Hope this doesn't happen …

  4. I think …

Fifteen Years

Back on August 1, 2002 I made the 4,880km trek from Hamilton, Ontario to the west coast city of Richmond, British Columbia, just a stone's throw from Vancouver. The move came at a time when I was under an extreme amount of stress in both my personal life and professional. The move from one side of Canada to the other was my way to run from all the problems, lay low for a while, and make a new me. A lot of mistakes were made, many of which resulted in regrets that persist to this day. But a lot of good came from the move as well. I learned who I was and, more importantly, who I wasn't.

The first few weeks were rough. Very rough. I thought I might end up homeless due to my arrogance and over-confidence.

You see, I decided to move across the country on Friday July 26th. On Saturday, I went to work, did what I needed to do, and then drove off to see my step-father and let him know of my plans. He didn't completely approve, but he understood and wished me luck. That night I began clearing out my apartment by tossing things from the fire-escape into the dumpster below. Sunday I bought a plane ticket for an August 1 flight, and afterwards continued clearing out the apartment with the help of some friends. Anything they didn't want, we tossed. One difficult item to lose was my computer at the time. I had invested over $8,000 into it at that point, and it was simply too large and fragile for me to carry it across the country. As I didn't have an address in Richmond, yet, there was nowhere to send it to. I had to let it go. Monday through Wednesday went by in a blur. I went to work, did what needed to be done, but kept my departure secret as the boss had one heck of a temper. I couldn't tell him becuase I was a coward.

The whole move was cowardly, really.

During the evenings I would go online and look for work in the Vancouver area. There was a lot of opportunity from the looks of the help wanted ads, and I got in touch with a company that was in the same line of work I was doing in Ontario; appliance repair. The role they needed to fill required a person with several years of experience who could tell the difference between a Maytag, Whirlpool, Frigidaire, and Bosch component at a glance. I could do that. We had a telephone interview and asked if I could start on August 1st. My response? "I'd love to, but I'm flying to Vancouver that day. Could I start on the 2nd?"

They were surprised that I was moving across the country and applying for a job that paid $10 an hour. I don't blame them. In retrospect, I'd be surprised, too. They asked me to call them when I landed and I hung up the phone confident I had gainful employment lined up. Finding an apartment was more complicated, as I didn't know the area, but I knew I needed to be in Richmond. Every place I called wanted me to come in beforehand, so I decided to wait until I was in the province to look for a place to stay, confident there would be a home waiting for me.

Wednesday night I went to visit my step-father one last time to thank him for everything he'd done, give him the keys to the office1, and chatted about what the future might have in store. The next morning a friend of mine came to pick me up in the early hours of the morning and we drove up to Toronto where I'd catch my flight. My heart was beating hard the whole time as visions of consequences played out again and again.

The move had to go on, though. I could not turn back.

After checking in and confirming everything was good, my friend and I shook hands. I walked towards the security gates, and he went back to his car. Though we'd see each other again, our relationship would not be the same. My relationship with everyone in Ontario would never again be the same. I was leaving everyone and everything, both the good and the bad, to forge ahead on a fool's errand.

Welcome to Vancouver

The flight across the country was rather uneventful. No turbulence. No weather to avoid. The passengers — to the best of my recollection — were all well-mannered individuals. After landing, everyone clapped and we eventually got to leave and collect our bags. One of the first things I did after picking up the two pieces of luggage that contained the last of my belongings was buy a newspaper. While I was confident I had work, I needed to find a place to sleep. I had enough money on me to stay a week at a motel if needs be, but cash was not something I had a great deal of nor access to.

The first few places I called all had the same story. A tenant was found a day or two before, and I'd have to look elsewhere. Eventually I did find a place that was renting a room for $400 a month, and that seemed decent. While shared accommodation is not always ideal, it is relatively cheap. The woman who answered the phone invited me to see the small apartment and gave me the address. Soon after, I was on my way to catch a taxi.

Interestingly enough, when I gave the taxi driver the address I wanted to go to, he started asking me detailed questions. "Where is that? Over by number three? Number four?" I had no idea what he was talking about and said as much, which is not what he wanted to hear. In a huff he grabbed his mapbook and looked it up. "Four and Francis" he scowled, and I repeated it to myself a dozen times so that I'd not make the same mistake again.

After a short 10-minute ride, we arrived at the house and I knocked on the door. A short woman came out and started apologizing profusely in a language I didn't understand. Her son soon followed her out and said that the room had been taken the day before. However, if I didn't mind staying in their part of the house, they'd rent me a room they weren't using anymore for $425 a month, a little more than the room offered in the paper. Not wanting to start the house search over again, I accepted the offer and moved in. The son and I quickly became good friends.

Later that afternoon I called the appliance repair shop I'd spoken to earlier that week to let them know I was in the province, had found a place, and was ready for an interview or to start work as soon as the next day. Unfortunately, they hired someone in the few days since my call. I was now back to square one on employment.

For the next seven weeks I looked for work as though my life depended on it … because it did. I stopped spending money. I walked everywhere to keep the $2 fare for food. I grabbed old newspapers out of the garbage to look at the Help Wanted section. My prepaid phone was fast running out of minutes, but I needed to make calls. In desperation, I called my step-father and asked for some money. He came through the very next day and I was able to eat for the first time in 3 days. As the job search went on, I started eating once every four days. Then five …

I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. The body does some strange things when you go from 232 pounds down to 173 in the space of five weeks. Strange … awful things.

My clothes were all a hundred sizes too big for me. My belt needed new holes to keep my huge pants up. I didn't want to call Ontario for help again. My ego wouldn't allow it. I knew my bank had given me a $1000 buffer with ATM deposits, and I was seriously considering depositing a napkin with an IOU and risking the wrath of the bank for a few measley dollars … but decided against it. That wasn't who I wanted to be.

On a sunny day in mid-September I received a phone call. A printing company in town needed warehouse staff for their busy season, and they were paying $8.75 to start. I jumped at the opportunity, had an interview I found confusing and repetitive, and was awarded a 4-month contract. My shift would be 6am to 2pm Monday to Friday, with occasional weekends if I agreed. I was so incredibly happy …

The work was not easy. I'd lost a lot of weight. Working in the warehouse meant moving pallets of paper that could weigh anywhere between 300 and 4,500 kilograms. I wasn't certified to use the forklift, so that meant using a pallet jack and physical labour. When a person eats every day, this isn't too hard to accomplish. When a person eats the equivalent of a peanut butter sandwich every 5 days, and walks the 4 kilometers to work then again back home every day … even a medium-sized load is a bit too much to bare.

But I persevered. One week later on a Friday, I was called over to recieve my first paycheque only to discover that there was a mix-up. It hadn't been printed. "If you could wait until Monday …" the manager started, but I'd gone too long without food at that point. I didn't want to go three more days. Rather than ask me to wait, we went to the office and had someone write a cheque. $173.74 it came out to, and to this day it's the biggest paycheque I've ever received. Not in terms of dollars and cents, but value. I valued every last penny. I bought some food. I bought $10 in phone minutes to call my family. I bought a pair of pants that fit.

Over time, that temporary job would become permanent as I started writing software to help me do my job better. That caught people's attention and, eventually, I was put in charge of the warehouse and a small team. A year later I was moved to logistics, and six months later to IT. My entire five year stay on the west coast of Canada was paid for by working at that company, and I'm still thankful for every opportunity they offered … and the ones they forgave me for manufacturing.

Fifteen years ago I left Ontario a scared, scarred boy who didn't know anything about the world or himself. The five years in British Columbia, while not always easy, prepared me for what came next ….

  1. we worked at the same place, and I had a set of keys.

Not Evidence of Absence

Over the last few days there have been a flurry of articles across blogs and news sites on the results of the Breakthrough Listen Project's first year. Long story short, they haven't found any definitive evidence of radio signals within the 1~2GHz band from an extraterrestrial intelligence reaching our world after 12 months of listening. As someone who has actively participated in the [email protected] project, where radio signals from beyond our atmosphere have been collected and analyzed by computers volunteered to the effort for over 15 years, this comes as no surprise to me. That said, a bunch of people seem to feel this effort is little more than a waste of money at a time when it seems that science is under siege by wealthy interest groups and willfully ignorant leaders. To these people, I'd like to remind them of the old axiom that an absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

The Green Bank Observatory in West Virginia

A decade of research in the 60s and 70s identified that the most promising radio frequencies for extraterrestrial signals was somewhere within 1,000Hz and 2,000Hz as it was relatively absent of interference from naturally occurring interference throughout the known universe. As this 1GHz band has proven itself to be empty of data transmissions as we understand them, scientists are now collecting data from frequencies above 2Ghz. Considering how many radio frequencies there are to scan, we could be looking for a really, really long time.

One of the things I try to remind people of when this topic comes up is that the universe is really quite old, and our technology is really quite young. There's no reason why we should assume that an intelligent alien community would limit itself to radio frequencies that are limited by the speed of light and capable of being easily monitored by "adolescent" worlds such as ours. Our own form of communication has evolved so dramatically over the last 500 years that people during the Renaissance would have no concept of how you and I are able to communicate. Add another 500 years to our development, and the technology that people use in 2517 will appear as magical and inexplicable to us as a cell phone might to Leonardo DaVinci. If we do find evidence of extraterrestrial intelligence via radio signals, then chances are they are making themselves known to technologically inferior species, or they are at roughly the same technological level as we are. Given the sheer size of the universe, it's certainly possible that there are worlds besides ours with something akin to our 21st century tools, but within a few a few hundred light years? Perhaps not.

To illustrate the point, humans have been sending radio transmissions into space mostly accidentally since Reginald Fessenden made a weak transmission of voice over the airwaves in 1900. Marconi's famous Transatlantic transmission happened in 1901. At the speed of light, that means our very first transmissions would have travelled no farther than 117 light years. The image below shows a two-hundred light year radius around the Earth in relation to the size of the Milky Way Galaxy, which is just one of billions of galaxies in the universe.

Two Centuries of Radio Broadcasts

We've barely scratched the surface of what's in our interstellar neighbourhood, let alone what's in the Milky Way, or the Local Group, or the visible universe, which is just a tiny portion of our concept of reality. People can certainly complain that the search for intelligence beyond our own atmosphere is a waste of our artificially limited resources, but to complain that we haven't found something even after decades of search is silly. The universe is a big place, and we're just starting to learn how we fit into it. As our technologies continue to evolve, so too will our investigative methodologies. We all just need to be a little patient.

S Town from the Rear View Mirror

Note: This post does not contain any spoilers for the S Town podcast.

Earlier today I finished the seventh and final instalment of S Town, season three of the This American Life's Serial project. Having been disappointed with the second season, I wasn't sure if this was a show that I'd find interesting. The first season of Serial revolved around the story of Hae Min Lee's murder and how the man convicted of the crime, Adnan Syed, may not have been the one to end the young woman's life. The story was incredibly well told, with me impatiently waiting a week for the next episode. I'd sometimes listen to the shows twice in an attempt to glean extra information that may have slipped past. I'd make notes and consider options and alternatives. Did Adnan really kill the girl in a fit of rage? Did Jay do it and pin the blame on his friend? Was it someone else who took advantage of the situation? The story was masterfully told, and the show received justified rave reviews from a lot of people. The second season was nothing like this. I was confused and bored during the first episode. I skipped through the last 15 minutes of the second episode. I unsubscribed halfway through the third. The story was no doubt interesting for a lot of people, but not me. This third season with it's family-friendly rendition of a place called Shit Town by the primary protagonist could have gone either way.

TL;DR: It's an incredibly well-told story. Go and listen if you're into serial radio programs.

John despises his Alabama town and decides to do something about it. He asks a reporter to investigate the son of a wealthy family who’s allegedly been bragging that he got away with murder. But then someone else ends up dead, sparking a nasty feud, a hunt for hidden treasure, and an unearthing of the mysteries of one man’s life.

— Brian Reed on S Town

Listening to this program, I was often reminded of my childhood and the people around me at various times. There were a number of similar members of the community. Similar habits. Similar traits. The familiarity of it all sometimes shocking me as one wouldn't expect the rural corners of Southern Ontario to resemble Alabama. In many ways they are very different. In some ways they are the same. The last few episodes really drove home just how similar the two places are, and how perspective can play a very important role in how we perceive ourselves and others.

I knew a man similar to John who had the same name. He taught me a lot about what it means to slow down and think decisions through, and how to examine a situation from multiple angles before making a judgement call. He also encouraged me to do the things I loved which, at the time, consisted of sketching, architecture, and programming. He provided temporary access to the tools for me to explore these creative pursuits and, in exchange, I'd help him on his farm on weekends. This man, like John, also encouraged people to become better with each passing day. Not just better skilled, but better people. He strongly encouraged me to leave the rural corners of the country and head to Toronto, Montreal, or San Francisco where I could put my unbridled passion and creativity to use. He also had one heck of a temper and a growing disgust with the state of the world.

This is what I saw in John, the centre figure in the podcast. Despite his strong language. Despite his distaste with society. Despite his acerbic opinions. He was a man who wanted to help others however he could. Calling either John "smart" would be selling these people short. The John in S Town was a horologist with a unique insight into anything mechanical. The John I grew up knowing was a master in a woodshop, able to make just about anything without ever once reaching for a ruler or a pencil. He could build an entire kitchen set with six fashionable, matching chairs by sight alone. I watched him do it one weekend.

The world is full of incredibly gifted, uniquely special people. Just like the rest of us they carry their secrets and inner demons. Friendships with these people can be incredibly intimate. Not in a sexual way, but in a manner where — regardless of what secrets or bad deeds you share — they will never judge you. They will never turn away from you. They'll be answer the phone the next time you call and ask you how you're doing. How the family is doing. How the dogs are doing. And all they ask in return is the same … and a little patience when they go off on a rant about the state of the world.

I haven't thought about John very often in the last two decades. He's got to be in his 80s by now. I should give him a call … so long as there's still time.

The "Dumb Alien" Problem

What is it about loud proclamations of extraterrestrial visits that makes me roll my eyes and stop listening? There are a lot of bits and pieces about the universe that I take as fact because they come from people way smarter than me with job titles way cooler than mine. Climate change, in my mind, is a real threat to the long-term survival of our species1. Black holes are incredibly powerful gravity wells that can rip sections of space and time to shreds. In Japan, traffic lights permitting cars to move are said to be "blue" despite being green. The idea that an intelligent species with technologies far superior to ours would travel all this way — faster-than-light speed or no — just to hover in the sky or otherwise observe us while we observe them is a bit too ridiculous for me to take at face value.

Crop Circles

Earlier this morning I was watching some "soft news" on various strange phenomenon around the planet that couldn't be immediately explained, and the morning show tried to make it appear as though these rare oddities were a sign from life elsewhere. The immediate question that popped into my head was along the lines of: "They can't speak our language? You know … there are schools that specialize in that kind of thing."

Any species that can cross interstellar space will have the concept of communication. They would need to in order to work together. They may do so differently than we do, but there would be nothing preventing a species to learn how we communicate and create a rudimentary translation tool that could operate in one of the many languages used across this planet long before they arrived. Leaving strange circles in a field or coloured rocks in a pond just wouldn't cut it as any form of first contact.

The other problem that arises from aliens being completely visible while observing us is the underlying premise behind scientific study. If you're going to study a species, you want to be as invisible as possible. Hovering in plain view above the subjects will change the result of the test2 and lead to highly suspect behaviour results. This is true whenever we study humans in captivity already, so it wouldn't be any different when studying humans who are "captive" on their planet. Besides, why enter the atmosphere at all? Human hackers have shown us just how poor system encryption really is in the early 21st century. Why not hide out in orbit near a telecommunications satellite, hack the scientific centres that are conducting the research you're most interested in, and read the data out? Are the visitors from another world completely unaware of how binary code works?

Somehow I doubt it.

I strongly believe that there are many intelligent species throughout the universe. I strongly believe that, if any travel from place to place as humans are wont to do, they would find us a very interesting subject of study. I'm sure that there have even been attempts at communication throughout human history, as it would be very worthwhile to study a people from the very beginning of their civilization right up to the point of open dialogue and communication. What a fascinating area of research that would be. But to do any of the visible things that people on TV or the Internet claim would be tantamount to career suicide. Cultures would change. Political goals would change. The ultimate results of the study would change. An intelligent species wouldn't let that happen. Even if there was a loose cannon somewhere on the Earth trying to mess with the experiment, covert actions would be crucial.

Aliens from other planets who travel all this way — again, faster-than-light travel or otherwise — would not do so to hover in our sky and leave. If anything, making themselves known would likely be a precursor to their open communication with us; peaceful or otherwise. I simply cannot believe that "smart" creatures would be so dumb3.

  1. The planet will be fine. We won't.

  2. Yeah, yeah. "Unless that's the test". Whatever.

  3. Yes, I realize that humans are also very smart creatures that can act very dumb.

Welcome to Earth

Today at 4:52pm local time our long wait was finally over: Reiko and I are now the happy parents to a very healthy boy.

Hungry Baby

It's hard to believe just how much the world has changed in the 37 years I've been on this planet. This little human will see even more change take place in the first 37 of his. My job now, is to make sure he's well-equipped to handle it.