Many friends helped and frankly I couldn’t have packed it all up without them. In particular, my girlfriend, Elise, a Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) sufferer for twenty years, worked like three people injuring her RA deformed hands in her herculean effort to make the house perfect.

The house has gone from one of the worst kept up houses to perhaps the prettiest. The Terminex man drove by the house three times and had to look for the house number – expertly cleaned up by Elise. My sofa, entertainment center and non-HDTV TV were given to a grateful friend. My teenage daughter’s room has no junk anywhere, not even stuffed into the closet. I have no idea where most of my stuff collected over twenty-five years 19 years in California, 25 years since college and 49 years of life is except that it is in a box somewhere in the house. The oldest possession I can think of who’s whereabouts are unknown to me is my chessboard from 5^th grade, circa 1972, bought during the Bobby Fischer craze.

The house was listed today. After 17 years, I am moving back to NY, leaving my friends, my brother, my daughter and taking Elise with me to Syracuse, NY, SUNY Upstate as I go to Med School at 49 years old. Most likely, I am older than a few of the parents.

The whole thing is surrealistic, and likely to only get more so.

In the paraphrased words of Neil Simon from the Odd Couple, can a 49-year-old man go back to Med School without driving himself crazy?

Stay tuned, we’ll see.

Earlier this year I was at a Med School interview and the interviewer asked me that question.

Madame Toastmaster, Fellow Toastmasters and honored guests. What achievement are you most proud of? Please take sixty seconds and discuss with one or two neighbors what achievement you are most proud of…

Please finish up… Please shout out some of your proudest achievements. Great,

For me, this brings up visions of acing the SATs – the college entrance exams and the MCATs – the Medical School Aptitude Tests. I think on the birth of my daughter, my marriage, my successful divorce, getting my masters degree, my seven years at Cisco, running my first marathon. These are all important achievements.

But, three years ago, I was able to ask the famous tennis player from the sixties and seventies, Billie Jean King that question and got a different answer.

When my daughter, Heidi, was ten years old, she used to go to the YWCA for afterschool daycare. Every year, that Y had a women’s luncheon and a renowned speaker would attend. One year it was Sally Ride, the first American Astronaut, who promotes science education for girls, one year it was Gloria Steinem – Feminist, author and founder of Ms. Magazine. Another year it was Mary Lou Retton, the Olympic Gold Medalist. In 2007 it was Billie Jean King, the tennis player, athlete and visionary.

At about the same time Heidi was given an assignment in 5^th grade to write a report on a famous person. So, I said, “Heidi, why not do it on Billie Jean King. She has the most Wimbledon titles ever, she went on strike and started the Virginia Slims Women’s Tournament to protest women’s low prize money compared to men, and she was in the Battle of the Sexes, a tournament with a man, Bobbie Riggs to see if a woman could beat a man in tennis.”

Of course, she said, “Great. I’ll do it.” If only life were so simple. No, she said, “I don’t know, I was thinking of doing it on someone else.”

“Look, you could even have her sign a tennis ball as one of your souvenirs as part of the report.” Saved work, and she was convinced.

Now, Billie Jean was so excited that she decided to set up an opportunity to for Heidi to interview her for her report. I helped Heidi come up with questions and also was the official note taker on the call.

The interview was amazing. Billie Jean was as interested in Heidi as we were in her, and she was even interested in Heidi’s Dad. I was running my first half-marathon at that time and she felt that the most important goal was to finish. Everything else is gravy. It turns out that not only does Billie Jean King’s record for most Wimbledon championships still stand, she started the World Team Tennis league and she was the youngest female champion at Wimbledon for many years. She dominated women’s tennis for a decade.

So, as the interview was winding down I was curious which of all of her achievements she was most proud of. “Billie Jean,” we were on a first name basis, “of all of your achievements which are you most proud of.” I figured she’d have to choose starting the Virginia Slims tournament since it helped change the role of women, or perhaps beating Bobby Riggs, but then, all those Wimbledon championships. I couldn’t wait to hear.

“I don’t know yet. I’m not finished.” And who knows what her next achievement will be.

So, when the interviewer asked me the same question, I told the story about Billie Jean King. I choose the same answer, “I don’t know, yet. I’m not finished.”

That’s how I choose to live my life. I’m not finished. And my wish for you is to lead your life working towards that next achievement which could be the one you are most proud of.

Or so I thought. It looks like we may have found a lost tribe in Africa. The Lemba are a black African tribe that have many semitic traditions.  They claim Jewish ancestry and observe Jewish traditions such as kosher-like dietary restrictions, slaughter practices, male circumcision, rules against intermarriage and have Semitic sounding clan names. Now, research shows that they are related to other Jews genetically and that their priestly class is related to the Kohanim. They even have a replica of the Ark of the Covenant. According to radioactive dating it is 700 years old. Hardly 3000, but apparently the oldest replica known.

I can’t get my mind around this. Here’s a childhood fantasy come to life. One I haven’t thought about in 30 years. But, the evidence looks solid. I wonder if Israel will give them right of return?

Vox Day claims to be rational, but he is anything but. He talks of the unholy trinity of authors, but of course there are four. He creates straw men that are only be based on his imagination and then shoots them down. Proving only that if you create something so that it’s easy to prove them wrong, that it is easy to prove them wrong. This is rational?

Day takes all of Karl Popper’s theories and proves them all wrong in a paragraph, or thinks he does. He defines what science is in another paragraph so that he can show that scientists are easy targets. He makes fun of people and attacks the people and not their theories.

The thing is he has some good points mixed in with the horrible points. He says that Dawkins points out that atheists are disproportionately absent from prisons. Day points out that Dawkins was not counting all the people who marked no religion. Good point. But then Day claims that all those who say no religion are atheists. Huh? I’ll have to reread Dawkins to see if he actually states it as Day claims — dubious at best. But for Day to obviously commit the error he claims Dawkins does is frankly unforgivable.

This book gets an F from me.

Last night I experienced a series of firsts. Some trivial, some interesting, some fascinating and many protected by confidentiality. In this blog entry, I’ll discuss the two I cannot really go too deep into because of confidentiality.

The most interesting to me, was that I helped take care of a Silicon Valley luminary last night. I didn’t even know it. When I arrived at the ED I walked my usual figure eight. Each horizontal of the three horizontal rows are Peds, standard adult and Gyn patients, and trauma patients. In one small room was an older man and his wife. He had a “red” Stanford blanket. The red blanket means Stanford VIP. After getting coffee and water for various other patients, I spoke with them. He was hungry, and after checking with the nurse, I brought him a turkey meal from the night locker.

In my early days volunteering at the ED, I often brought meals. Then, the administration got more frugal and locked the refrigerator. The one key was only available in the basement. This meant a trip down to sign out the key, back upstairs to get the food and deliver it, followed by a trip back downstairs to return the key. Crazy. I think that was around the time when they ran out of plastic spoons, and they were giving patients forks to eat their jello. Frugality gone insane.

I suppose a trivial first was that it was the first time I’ve delivered a meal in a while. After lowering the side of the bed and ensuring he didn’t fall out as he sat up, he ready to eat his meal. We chatted about nothing in particular for a while. Later I returned as he was about to be moved to a bigger private room. He asked what I did when I wasn’t volunteering. I said I was a software engineer. He mentioned that he was in computers at one point, too. Really, what company.

“Ever heard of <blank>?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s me.”

Sure enough, I had noticed their nametags, but hadn’t connected them to being Mr. and Mrs. <blank>. During a break, I checked out the Wikipedia article on and sure enough, there he was standing there. He invented a few famous sayings and laws, but of course, I can’t tell you his name or his inventions or discoveries or I’d have to kill you.

I ran into medical confidentiality, too. There was a family of three men who came into the ER with an obvious physical deformity. They all looked distinctly similar, and it seemed that the younger one had it worst. He was the patient. On the face of it, I assume it was a genetic disorder. Often I’ll let a patient know that as a volunteer they do not have to share any medical information with me, but I am curious and interested in discussing their issues if they are willing. Almost all those I ask are interested and willing to talk. Some are not, and our conversation moves elsewhere. Of course, I only ask those patients that I have already built a rapport with. Although I was curious and had built up enough rapport that I would normally broach the subject of the reason for their visit, since the family seemed to have a similar disorder, it felt intrusive to ask them. After they left later in the evening my curiosity got the best of me, and I asked the nurse what disorder the family had. She refused to answer due to HIPAA, which protects patient privacy. Fair enough. I clearly had no medical need to know. I’ve tried to look up the details by their physical appearance, but so far I haven’t figured it out. Even if I did, I can’t tell you or I’d have to kill you.

I have spent some time recently shadowing a Family Physician who specializes in Sports Medicine. His patients come in with sore backs and other muscle problems. Often he tells his patients to “Exercising more,” and in particular,  “Go for daily walks.”

In the modern world, we spend much of our time sitting at desks staring at a computer screen. Walking is one of the best forms of exercise. It does not strain our muscles, but gets the blood flowing and burns fat. In the Nebraska study after five weeks many of the elderly participants that walked a dog gained the confidence to stop using their canes and walkers, while few of the elderly participants who walked with friends did.

So, walking is good for people, but how about the dog.

This is kind of like the government spending a million dollars to discover that dogs like to go on walks. It’s obvious, right? But, not all the benefits are obvious.

When my dog Jasmine was young, she was often underfoot, and would often chew things she wasn’t supposed to chew. I lost a TV clicker and a phone headset that way. My daughter cried over a chewed up new Bratz doll. I would only occasionally take Jasmine on a walk. I always felt bad about that, but feeling bad didn’t translate into going for a walk more often.

At one point, I had committed to a group of friends that I would take Jasmine on a 40 walks over three months. Three times a week, that doesn’t sound hard. Two months later, I had 30 more walks to go. It looked like to meet my commitment, I had to walk Jasmine everyday.

After two weeks of daily walks, I started to notice a change in Jasmine. She wasn’t so nervous. She wasn’t chewing so much. She wasn’t underfoot. She seemed content. Darn if walks weren’t good for my dog.

Many dogs go on a sniff and mark walk with their owners. They wander around to whatever interests them sniffing and marking at will. The retractable leads encourage this behavior. Although there’s nothing wrong with this kind of walk, it does not help the dog to find his or her proper place in the family. While the dog is in charge, it makes the alpha/beta owner/dog relationship fuzzy. Much better to take the dog on patrol.

Dogs are pack animals. Like many domesticated animals, humans take over the role of the pack or herd leader. In Be the Pack Leader, Cesar Milan explains that we take over the role of pack leader with dogs. Dogs are naturally hierarchical. If there is no alpha or leader dog, then they will take on the role. By being the pack leader, the dog’s owner can fill the role, and a dog will then naturally know it’s place — below it’s owner.

Dogs naturally want to patrol their territory. Dogs in the wold will travel the perimeter of their territory and mark it, sniff for other dogs, read the “newspaper” of scents left by other dogs and animals. This makes them comfortable. They also like get out and present themselves.

A patrol walk is quite different from a sniff and piss walk. First, it starts different. To go on patrol, a properly submissive dog must behave well. I take the lead out, and hold it. I wait for my dog Jasmine to settle down and sit. I don’t prompt her, I don’t even look at her. Most dogs jump and prance around excited about their walk, but by having a dog submit, it reinforces the relationship between the pack leader and the members of the pack.

The first few times I tried this on Milan’s suggestion, it was amusing. Jasmine first pranced around went around me, and eventually started to whine. My patience eventually paid off, as she naturally sat to wait. I clipped the leash on, and we went for a power patrol walk. Jasmine has a dog door, so she is able to take care of her privy needs on her own. No reason to slow down while on patrol. We walk briskly around the block. She may slow down to sniff something interesting, but she knows she doesn’t have much time. We are on patrol.

When I changed the way I walk with Jasmine, it changed her personality. At first, she seemed sad. Anthropomorphizing. She began sitting at her food dish. She started looking to me for permission throughout her day. She became a “good” dog. Rarely does she get into trouble, now.

So, walk your dog. It’s good for you, it’s good for your dog. And, it’s good for the relationship which is good for you both.

Having gone up the incredibly thin and windy road, we reached the point where the GPS said to turn through a gate and traverse a small private road that clearly said no trespassing. We were less than 10 minutes away. But we had no idea if it really went through or if someone with a shotgun would take us out for trespassing.

We went searching for another way. The GPS next said to go through a gated off park. Sigh. Then, it said that it would take us over an hour to go the wrong way on Page Mill Rd. Luckily, with no map, I remembered that Page Mill intersects Skyline not far from the party. Ignoring the GPS, we arrived 35 minutes late.

Another time, having missed a turn in Felton, the GPS said we could take a back road up a hill to get to route 17. Having driven into a thin road that overlooked the highway, I had to carefully back out the car hoping that no one with a shotgun would come out and shoot us.

The other bad experience I had with my GPS was when we were traveling near NYC, and I didn’t double-check the directions. We were in NJ, and wanted to get to Westchester. The GPS sent us the “fastest” way through Manhattan. This added an extra two hours to our trip, but when we realized our mistake, it was already too late. We were slowly seeing the sites and I reminisced about my time living in NY. Not a total waste of time, but certainly not the most productive.

I suppose a GPS is much like a computer. Sometimes we want to say, “Do what I want.” But, life and computers don’t always work out that way.

The National Enquirer is up for a Pulitzer prize for its investigation and coverage of former Presidential candidate John Edwards’ affairs. They reported that he cheated on his wife and fathered a child outside of his marriage.

… and they were right. The Pulitzer committee first attempted to reject the entry on technicalities. The Enquirer calls itself a magazine. Most of the investigation for the story was during 2007 and 2008 and not 2009, the year in contention. However, the committee decided to allow the tabloid’s investigations as an entry.

I suppose, “National Enquirer wins Pulitzer” is just the type of headline I’d expect to see at Safeway’s checkout counter on a copy of the Enquirer. Normally I’d roll my eyes as I do with most of their headlines. Funny thing is, it’s possible I could see it as a headline in the NY Times. Truth can be stranger than fiction.

I remember school phone trees. One mother would get a call and they would know the next mother to call. It was always the mothers, but that’s a different reminiscence. That all got replaced in the late 1990s with e-mail.

Sure, people send out invitations to wedding and bar-mitzvahs through the post office, but that is because it makes it more formal. Most parties I got invited to until recently was via e-mail or an e-mail invitation to an eVite.

Now, many invitations come from Facebook. These are often spammed to all of a person’s friends. I got invited to Comedy Shows for someone I barely knew and had no intention of supporting. I watched her act on YouTube and it wasn’t even funny — couldn’t do that when I was a kid.

But Facebook is not simply the new e-mail. People put all kinds of rather useless updates on Facebook. “I’m going out to walk my dog.” “Washing the dishes.” “Just ate a good meal.” Hidden in these messages might be something like, “In the ER recovering from a heart attack.” … Say what!

Now, there is another change that I’m not sure I like (Luddite?) I ran the Big Sur International Marathon last year and had hoped to run it again. I had signed up at the end of February last year, but this year, when I went to sign up, they were already sold out. I’m on their mailing list. Although I’m not positive, I’m certain that they would have announced that it was filling up on their mailing list last year. I wrote to ask them about it, and they wrote back, “It was on our Facebook.” When did that become their major form of communication?

A person I know runs workshops and he was on the Daily Show. He sent out announcements over e-mail and Facebook and probably even ran a phone tree. However, when they saw the show, it was less flattering than they had feared. They decided to not promote it so strongly. They spoke of the change on Facebook, but didn’t update their e-mail list. So, I didn’t get the update.

The difference between e-mail, mail and phoning versus Facebook is that the former are all push technologies. I e-mail, mail or phone you and I am certain you got the message. The sender is in control they “push” it to the receiver. Writing something on Facebook is a pull technology. The sender puts it up on Facebook, but people won’t see it until they go up on Facebook to look and sometimes depending on the configuration might have to specifically look for it. The receiver is in control of when they “pull” the message to them.

I don’t think people realize the difference, and communication is interrupted. The sender assumes that the receiver got the message, but they may never receive it.