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The Useless Microphone
I‘m sitting in an audience, straining to hear the speaker. “Why?” you ask. I’ll tell you. The microphone is too far away from the dude’s mouth. All he needed to do was move closer to the microphone, and, BAM, his little voice would be amplified, and we’d hear him. But he doesn’t. Why do rational people refuse to use microphones? Why do they believe that the conversation level of their voices will carry through a large room? I once sat in a large meeting room in San Antonio, Texas, that could hold 500 people. An Army JAG Colonel was talking about career progression in the JAG Corps. I was interested,…
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Another Southern Thing
Taylorsville, Mississippi: It’s a tiny place in South Mississippi. A guy in a blue Chevrolet pick-up truck drives past me, raises his hand on the steering wheel, and waves as if he knows me. I don’t know him, but I wave back. I’m pretty sure that if I tried that in New York City I’d be assaulted and or arrested. My dad had a habit of always waving at approaching vehicles, one hand on the wheel and the other hand holding a Pall Mall cigarette (ashes on the seat and floorboard). If a hand was empty, it’d be holding a cup of sugar and milk, with a touch of coffee.…
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Portland in October
As a Trial Defense Attorney for the Army Reserve, I attended my share of conferences. This one was in Portland. Oregon. Now, I had wanted to take along my good camera, but the battery was dead and I couldn’t find the battery charger. So, I said to my wife, “Wife, I’m not going to bother taking the other smaller digital camera (the one that takes really great pictures). After all, I’m only going to Portland. My first morning, ever, in Portland greeted me with sunshine. They told me this was rare in the Northwest. However, from the eighth floor, I was nearly blinded by the brightness emanating from a row…
