Da Da Da Da Life Goes On*

Noncoincidence of the Day

2012-02-24T09:02:00.008-08:00

I am at my Plymouth State University office. I have just opened my University e-mail Inbox, and found the following message from Ms. Diane McDonald, whom I do not know:

I just brought up my website yesterday, www.dcmcd.info (Diane C. McDonald) and thought I ought to check out www.dcmcd.com in case it was something I didn't want friends to accidentally stumble upon.

Imagine my surprise when I saw that your website chronicles your travels in Romania, while mine is fundraising for a Habitat for Humanity trip to Romania.

Just thought the coincidence was too good not to share.

And a good Scottish name to boot!

Diane McDonald

My donation to Diane's Habitat for Humanity project is already sent. Feel free to join me!

Duncan

Near Miss

2012-02-23T08:15:00.013-08:00

Mr. Kenneth Tarr died this week. He was an amazing public servant. A World War Two veteran of Patton's Third Army Tank Corps, he helped to relieve Bastogne during the Battle of the Bulge. Since the War, he had lived in New Hampshire, raising a large family, and among other jobs, serving as commandant of the Veteran's Home in Tilton for twenty years. Yesterday afternoon, we of the NHPGR stood a flag line in his honor at a Concord funeral home, as his friends and family paid respects during calling hours. We came in cages (cars), as February is hardly a motorcycling month in New Hampshire.

NHPGR Photo

Coming home last evening from that PGR mission on I-93, in "cruise" at about 70 MPH, I awoke to see the butt end of a truckload of logs directly in front of my windshield. I swerved left. The Santa Fe pulled a Klaus, and held the road without turning over, even though I had crossed the left lane onto the median shoulder, had heard the rumble strip, and had swerved back into the left lane. Thanks, God! Now, what hast Thou preserved me for?

Angels and Arm Pains

2012-02-21T16:46:00.000-08:00

On the long drive home from West Palm Beach in January, a straight-through marathon of some 1500 miles and 26 hours that Valer and I drove while Shirl rode along sleeping, I heard the singing of Christmas carols in the sound of the tires. I listened in my head to beautiful multi-part harmonies to "Angels We Have Heard on High," over and over for miles on end, much like the linked version, and other Christmas songs, as well. I sometimes sang along. I told Vali and Shirl about it. "I am hearing the music of the spheres," I said. "The voices of angels."

Then, while driving I had a couple of hours of upper arm pain. It was in my left arm, and it was an ache from my shoulder to my elbow, not a sharp pain, but deep, and persistent.

In late January I had a regular appointment with my endocrinologist (diabetes specialist), Dr. John Turco of Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center in Lebanon, New Hampshire. When he asked about any new symptoms, I mentioned that arm pain to Dr. T., who replied, "You can expect a call from your primary physician. You are a 68 year-old diabetic with left arm pain, so you have heart disease, until proven otherwise."

I gave the good doctor a wry grin. "I see," I said. "Fair enough."

So, that same day at noontime, the local clinic where Dr. Alan Rosen, my primary care doctor works, called and told me to come in by 2:00 PM. Dr. Rosen had a resting EKG done in the office, which he said showed no change from my last one of two years ago, then scheduled me for a "stress echo" test at Speare Memorial Hospital in Plymouth.

Hence, last week I ran on the hospital's treadmill until my heart rate had doubled, then flopped onto my side to be scanned. (Have to admit, lying on my side having my chest stroked by a buxom nurse was not all bad. And when I made a remark to that effect, she said, "Yes, I tell my husband that I spend every workday in bed with strange men." I loved her style!)

The results of the test came recently by mail, following their reading at Catholic Medical Center in Manchester, NH's premier cardiac hospital. Contrary to some reports, I do have a heart, and thankfully, it shows no signs of coronary artery disease. The arm pain is still unexplained, but neither has it returned.

Maybe it just didn't like my singing.

I Love Cluj and ProTV

2012-02-17T13:49:00.000-08:00

Andre MUTU, Founder of Facebook's "I Love Cluj"

I went to the office today expecting to spend the morning productively. There is always plenty of work to do, and this morning it was to be ACBSP work, reading the voluminous self-study of a university business school seeking accreditation, and preparing to lead a visiting team to the school's campus in March to assess their readiness for accredited status. But then my Facebook messenger lit up, and Andrei MUTU (above) of UBB-Cluj came online.

Dl. MUTU Andrei is the creator/owner of the beautiful FB site, "I Love Cluj." The photos on his site have been contributed by hundreds (if not thousands) of us who share his feelings for the amazing city of Cluj-Napoca, Heart of Transilvania, Romania.

Andrei said to me in FB-chat, "ProTV is wanting to interview someone from outside the county [sic]. Can you do a one-minute Skype interview today?" As it happened, I could, though I had neither Skype nor a camcorder in my office. To do so I had to leave my office, drive to the Inn where Visiting Prof. Alexandra Muţiu is living, borrow her PC, and log into Skype from her Inn's parlor. I had 20 minutes to do all this. Then, when I did make Skype contact with Domnisoara Loredana Danciu of ProTV, she could see and hear me, but I could not see or hear her. And, she told me, via Skype's SMS Chat, that she would be on the air in 5 minutes.

Though Loredana never did solve her microphone problem, I looked into the camera, told the truth about my feelings for Cluj, for Romania, and for the I Love Cluj page in Facebook. Loredana seemed satisfied, and thanked me in the Skype Chat box. I replied, "Cu placere!"

So, dear reader, if you are in Romania and saw me on TV today, now you know how I got there!

Son of a ------ ------?

2012-02-11T18:37:00.003-08:00

Dugald Stewart McDougall, 1916-2007

Before you read further today, please Google Dugald S. McDougall and check out the Barnes & Noble page that appears. Dugald (Mac) was my Dad.

Done it?

That's right, Mac was a patent lawyer. I owe my education and at least half my brain to a man who argued intellectual property law cases before the U.S. Supreme Court. So, to honor Mac's life and memory, I now must state that I understand the need to curb the counterfeiting and theft of American artists' works, of American companies' trademarks, and of intellectual property protected by patents, trademarks and copyrights, globally. I do not know if all of the provisions of ACTA are wise and fair, but clearly, something must be done.

And, dear Romanian friends, you know damned well that you are in that piracy game up to your eyeballs. So, while I loved the RObotzi diatribe against ACTA, I do not on principle oppose the treaty's intent.

The answer to the dilemma of Internet freedom and legitimate monopoly rights of authors, artists, publishers and producers may lie in an I-Tunes approach. Make the cost of legal access so trivial to the individuals wishing to access a movie or song that they are ashamed to pirate it in order to save so little money. In our six-to-seven billion-person globe, the revenues to the producers of a film would be handsome, indeed, if people paid even a dollar each to view it. But clearly, their ability to steal it and disseminate it to untold numbers of their Internet acquaintences without paying anything to those who spent millions producing it is unfair, and has the potential to dampen the enthusiasm of the artists and producers, and thus to stifle creative progress.

Should governments have a right to search secretly the contents of all computers that pass through airports, and to destroy or to confiscate those found to contain pirated files? No. That is an invasion of privacy. Should those who sell for profit pirated or counterfeit trademarked or patented goods and/or pirated art or computer files be prosecuted, and their businesses fined heavily? Absolutely.

I will take my steer on this from Mac, himself. Back in DOS days, he and I used to share 3-1/2 inch floppy disks of such programs as Winchester Basic, or PCTools. Mac's view was that while doing so was technically a violation of the copyrights, "Don't lose sleep over it, son. Since we are not using these to make money, no one will come after us for it."

Somewhere there is a rule of reason in these matters. I hope that it can be found and applied, without destroying the free (and freeing) power of the Internet.

Dear Daddy Mac, our Pater familias, you who made us all take Latin, Requiescat in Pace!

RObotzi Tell Us Internet Freedom is About to End! Prepare to Mourn.

2012-02-10T07:39:00.000-08:00

I was sent this link in Facebook. Romanians roll on the floor when they watch the RObotzi. This special is a diversion from the cartoon series.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yn7-umK6wUs&feature=share

Translation provided by PR professional Raluca TARCEA din Cluj-Napoca. (Thanks, Ralu!):

"We are sorry but we interrupt this program because big corporations cannot adapt their business to the Internet and so they do everything they can to control it. We will now talk about ACTA – what it is and why it is so important to be against it. ACTA – or Anti Counterfeiting Trade Agreement - is a legislative initiative whose purpose is to create standards unanimously accepted at international level , regarding protecting intellectual properties. It was first signed on October 1^st 2011 by Australia, Canada, Japan, Morocco, New Zealand, Singapore, South Korea and USA.

Long story short, through ACTA, the signing countries wish to stop the production of counterfeit goods, generic meds and the distribution of pirated materials on the Internet. Sounds relatively innocent, they are just producers of different content, who want to protect their…content. Well, the situation is not so…bright (they say ‘pink’). Behind positive intentions there is a desperate need to control the flow of free information on the Internet, who will soon be restricted and punished through different sanctions. There are already other laws who protect the copyright but for them it is not enough as long as they cannot benefit enough from those laws. If this treaty passes in the summer of this year, the Internet as we know it today will disappear forever. Let’s see how this affects you.

First, all the Internet providers, yes the little people from whom you have the Internet connection, are forced to play bad cop when it comes to their clients – that is, to watch and report everything you do on the Internet. To save all the websites you follow and all the files you share, in order to find out any trace of pirating. If you get caught, you either lose access to Internet, or you get sued for amounts of hundreds of thousand of dollars and up to 5 years of jail time. Yes, 5 years of jail for a bloody mp3 file. Apart from that, if you film yourself at a party, and in the background there is a song playing, and you drink, say…3 beers in 2 minutes and then show off by uploading the video on Youtube, you risk the same punishments – huge fines and years of jail for using that background music for which you do not have copyright rights.

Funny…Yes? But sanctions go even further than that. If you have pirated materials on your laptop, phone, tablets or any other device, when you are at an airport or a border, according to ACTA, the authorities have the right to check the content of that device and if they find anything wrong, they can destroy or seize that device and you end up paying a nice and shiny fine. And one more thing. As we all know, the Internet is a place where you can express your opinion about a political party or policy, right? Well, NO. If ACTA gets approved, we can say goodbye to anti-governmental protests and videos in which citizens all over the world blow the whistle against political fraud or corrupt politicians. And that is because ACTA puts the power in the hands of political organizations – a power that allows them to silence this kinds of initiatives. With ACTA, we can say goodbye to websites like YouTube, Vimeo, Twitter or Facebook and all the rights we enjoyed so far on the Internet, out of which, the most important: the right to freedom. In January 2012, member states of EU have signed this treaty, making the number of signing countries reach 31. Representatives of Romania signed the treaty without bringing it to public attention. Romanians were not informed about this decision. It all happened in silence, far from the public and press.

Actually, before it leaked out, all talks regarding ACTA, starting with 2008, were done behind closed doors. Nobody asked the opinion of Internet users – our opinion, who ARE the Internet. The final decision regarding the implementation of ACTA belongs to the European Parliament, the ratification of this treaty will be happening in the month of June of this year. In Poland, over 10,000 young people went out on the streets protesting about their government signing the treaty. All over the world protests are happening against this treaty: signing petitions, publishing articles, blogs, images, anti-ACTA videos posted on social networks. Each of us can and must do something. Inform your friends, let’s fight together for our Internet."

First Movie: "Check Your Oil"

2012-02-06T02:18:00.000-08:00

Jesse and Cally are back in New England, at Cally's parents' home in Gloucester, Massachusetts. But. their trip took a bit longer than planned, and they arrived in a U-Haul truck, towing their car.

As they were going to be staying in Colorado for a bit over a full month, they'd driven the 2000+ miles out west from Vermont in their Suburu Impresa. Bought used a couple of years ago, it has been a reliable car for them. But, it lost power and they had to pull off the road as they were passing north of Fort Wayne, Indiana, on I-80/90, on their way home. (See Jesse's video, above.) The first suspicion was a broken timing belt. But Jesse said he had replaced that belt less than a year ago. They found a shop in Fort Wayne that would diagnose the problem on the weekend. Ouch. No oil in the crankcase, and hence a dead engine, for sure.

When I heard Jesse's sad lament, "Terminal stupidity, Dad. I failed to check the oil," I had to smile. Jesse (and all our kids) have made numerous road trips with their motorhead father, in cars and on bikes. If they've learned anything by example, it is that checking the oil at every gasoline stop is a religious ritual. That is one of the ways I have kept my motley collection of old iron running so well.

Jesse & Cally Ski Aspen

2012-01-30T18:28:00.000-08:00

Our son Jesse is presently concluding a month at Aspen, Colorado, where he and fiancee Cally Wheeler have been house-sitting for a friend of Piper, our daughter who works in Human Resources for the City of Aspen. Jesse has had the look of a mountain man for some time now, and in this photo, he honors that appearance. These "kids" have (at last) set a date to be married, so we know where we shall be on June 9th ... in Shaftsbury, Vermont, at the Pullman Farm, where Cally's mother grew up.

Best wishes, Cally and Jesse. Carry on!

The Happy Couple, and The Rocky Mountains

Alexandra Arrives Tonight!

2012-01-28T10:45:00.000-08:00

Our good friend and respected teaching partner (managerial accounting in the Englishline at UBB-FSEGA, 2009) Prof. Dr. Alexandra Ileana Muţiu, has accepted a visiting appointment for the spring term here at Plymouth State University in New Hampshire.

Dr. Muţiu with students at the Botanical Garden in Cluj, October, 2010

Shirl and I will drive to Logan Airport in Boston this afternoon to meet Alexandra's flight from Munich. Valer Şuteu, a PSU MBA candidate, will come along to help drive home, as his youthful eyes see better at night than do Shirl's and mine, and as Alexandra will probably not want to drive following her long trip from Cluj.

Alexandra, we very much look forward to having you with us here in New Hampshire. Let's write another article together while you are here!

And to Tibi, Ida and Ingrid, the wonderful family that Alexandra leaves in Cluj for this springtime, we say, "Thank you, very much!"

Toothy tale: a 55-year history.

2012-01-24T11:22:00.000-08:00

Drinking my breakfast. Yesterday I spent four hours in oral surgery at Boston University's Goldman School of Dental Medicine, having three titanium implants screwed into my skull (for teeth 8, 9, & 10). (Carnation Instant Breakfast is now called "Carnation Breakfast Essentials.") New front teeth are still several months away, but the worst part is over.

I decided to go the implant route when my 8-year-old bridge broke out last year. The implants will be worth the investment, since my wife and I plan to see our 70th wedding anniversary, which will be in 2043, at age 100 for me (but far less for her, of course).

My front tooth problems began when my hockey stick fell into my front spokes on the way to play hockey in a Wilmette, Illinois, park in the early winter of 1956. I hit the curbstone at 13th and Ashland, next to Ann Rheinstrom's back yard. The root canals done then in my two front teeth kept them in my head for some 47 years. Finally, one tooth broke on a lollipop given me by a bank, and I had to have a bridge made. That was in 2002. I never got used to the bridge, which never felt like my real teeth.

I am told that implants are as close to one's natural teeth as one can get, and that most who have them love them. I hope that proves true in my case.

Small world department

The Goldman School at BU is a multicultural place. My implants were installed by my periodontist Dr. Konstantina (Tina) Thomadaki from Greece, where I taught in 2001, and my prosthetic teeth are to be made and installed by Dr. Alex Vojdanoski from F.Y.R.O.M. (Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia), which Shirl and I visited in 2010. My overseeing faculty doctors are Dr. Morin from Puerto Rico, where my older brother has lived for 40 years, and Dr. Price, an American whose son has recently invested in a home in Panama, from which I returned four days before the surgery.

Contadora Island Inn

2012-01-21T17:38:00.000-08:00

If you happen to get to Contadora, I highly recommend this inn. Not only is it owned by Melinda and Silvio, it is REALLY NICE! The people who work there are all dedicated to making the guests comfortable, and the atmosphere could not be more positive and friendly.

Here is a typical Contadora view.

And I know it is not a very pretty picture, but this is the entrance to the villa where the Shah of Iran, Shah Reza Pahlavi, lived while in exile, when he happened to be the richest man in the world. Rather bespeaks the attractiveness of this location, does it not?

Isla Contadora!!!!

2012-01-18T04:29:00.000-08:00

The object of our trip to Panama was Contadora Island Inn, Silvio's and Melinda's tropical joint venture into commercial real estate and tourism in paradise. I have to admit, this is beautiful place, as the pictures will attest. The album begins with our flight from Panama City, in a Cessna 208 Caravan belonging to Aero Perlas. First, a couple of aerial shots of the new high-rise buildings of Panama City.

Trump Tower, with a sail-like superstructure.

I love the variety of the architecture, and the striking use of white.

After a smooth 25 minute flight, we saw the Pearl Islands emerging from the tropical morning haze..

Final Approach to Isla Contadora... a short field landing, please!

We are met at the "airport," really just a paved landing strip, by the island's famous "monkey girl."

Who metamorphoses into a consummate professional hotel manager. Our fellow guest shown here is from Switzerland. Others were from The Netherlands and from Birmingham, Alabama. We also met visiting folks from Israel and Ohio, and two owners of other hotels were German and American.

Both bicycles and golf carts are offered by Contadora Island Inn for their guests' use.

The Inn's tiny Chinese van was temporarily(?) out of commission with an electrical malfunction.

'Twas a Mafei Zhongyi. Mean anything to you?

Contadora has many homes of great beauty.

This large home has four or five levels,

and a baby Suzuki van, which has no headlamps.

Pretty nice, eh?

A closer view.

Two-stroke bikes are still allowed here. There aren't many, but the young islanders who ride them do so much as I did at 19... with great gusto!

The main beach near the airport. There are seven available, all open to the public.


This is another Trump project, but it sits empty and unfinished. We heard that The Donald's plans included a ten-story tower, but the property is adjacent to the airstrip. The tower was not allowed so close to the flight paths, so Herr Trump has walked away from the island.

This is the largest beach. The flat-bottom boat at the far end is permanently beached. Just off this beach is the ruin of a once-luxurious hotel, frequented, so they say, by the likes of John Wayne, back in the 1970s.

Romanian+Panamanian+New Hampshirian Noncoincidence of the Day

2012-01-14T01:13:00.000-08:00

Marion and Melinda

As I was about to take a dip in the rooftop pool at Melinda's building in Casco Viejo, Melinda and another woman came onto the terrace looking for me. Standing in my swimsuit, I met Marion MacGillivray. I soon learned that Marion is the woman who sold Contadora Island Inn to Silvio and Melinda, after operating it herself for about eight years. Then, Meli told me that Marion used to live in New Hampshire. "Where in New Hampshire?" I asked. She replied, "On Stinson Lake. I used to drive often over Ellsworth Hill and into Campton." We had lunch. Marion, it turns out, is an American citizen of Scottish birth and South African upbringing, and has had a fascinating life. Much of it has been devoted to education, especially of troubled former foster children, which is what her school did on Stinson Lake. She is a friend of my PSU colleague Prof. Scott Meyer of the sociology department, who is also a friend of Shirl. So, my Romanian former teaching assistant has bought a Panamanian hotel from my former New Hampshire neighbor. Hmmm.

A man, a plan, a canal, Panama *

2012-01-14T00:14:00.000-08:00

For my International Business students, these photos will add some color to their "nuts & bolts" paperback reader, Niebert's A Tour of International Trade.


Miraflores Locks: the final (or first) 27 feet of elevation lost (or gained) on the trip from (to) the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean (or vice versa).

Bahia Negra: A German ship (of Liberian Registry) coming through the locks toward sea level and Panama Bay.

Fifteen minutes later, here comes Charlotte! There are two locks here, one on each side of the house.

Charlotte C. Rickmers is a Panama Max: Capacity of 4500 loaded containers.
Note that more of her is visible because the water level in the lock has
begun to drop her to sea lavel.

____________________________________________________________

*Thanks to my brother Sky McDougall for reminding me of this old palindrome.

Panama Taxi

2012-01-12T09:44:00.000-08:00

Casco Antiguo, Panama City, Panama

View from Melinda & Silvio's balcony

Shirl and I spent yesterday getting to Melinda's apartment in Panama City. The airplane was almost an hour late from Newark, but Melinda's chosen “English-speaking taxi driver” David Torres was waiting with a sign that read “Dunca McDougall.” His new, white, Hyundai Tucson was prominently adorned with strategically placed stickers bearing the BMW logo. At first, I asked if it were an X3. He said, “No, a Tuck-son,” using the same pronunciation of “Tucson” that is used in Romania. I laughed, and told him of my white Santa Fe, and of Fritz, my “new” 1990 BMW 525i. He told me that those stickers had saved him $43,000. (I laughed. We share in our tastes for cars.)

On the twenty minute drive from the ultramodern Panama Airport to Casco Antiguo, a part of the Old City, where Melinda and Silvio have an apartment next to Plaza Simon Bolivar, we learned that David has been around the world. He has lived at times in Bulgaria and Moldova, and to get from one to the other, has also visited the Romanian Southeast. David worked two years in the U.S. as a truck driver. He asked where we were from, and when Shirl told him she was from a small town near Boston, he asked, “Worcester, or Marlboro?” Shirl is from a town just between those two cities, and David knows Shirley's hometown of Westborough, Massachusetts, which he said reminded him of a European village. So, he has also spent time in Western Europe. As it turns out, David speaks many languages at a “get by” level. Here this morning, over coffee and orange juice, Melinda tells me that he also has spent considerable time in the Far East, though I do not remember the countries there that she mentioned.

So, a Panamanian taxi driver is not to be underestimated. But, an international traveler soon learns not to be quick to underestimate those he meets in his travels. ¿No es verdad?

Plaza Simon Bolivar, also as seen from Meli's balcony.

Our evening ended late, as at almost 1:00 AM, Meli, jet-lagged as she was from her 10 January flight from Europe, went to bed, while Shirl and I, thirsty after our travel, went to Casablanca, the restaurant downstairs in Meli's building, and had a beer and a glass of Chardonnay. While enjoying our nightcaps, we were serenaded by Rojillo, a 70 year-old guitarist, who offered us two songs before he himself called it a night. I gave him a generous tip for his stylish renditions of “Somewhere in the Night,” and “Guantanamera.”

First-in-the-Nation Primary

2012-01-08T08:44:00.000-08:00

The New Hampshire Republican Primary election will be held on Tuesday, January 10, 2012. It is almost all one hears about on the television news.

Last night, I drove to Manchester with two purposes.

First, I visited my good friend Col. William R. (Bill) Benoit in the Catholic Medical Center, where he is recovering from Catheter Ablation for Atrial Fibrillation (an arthroscopic heart surgery). Bill is an Army fixed-wing and helicopter pilot who retired from the U.S. Army in 1981 after serving for 28 years, then taught operations management at Plymouth State University for another 22 years. He is an amazing guy, and I am happy to report that I found him last night in remarkably good spirits, and looking forward to a complete recovery.

Then, I went over to the political "sign-waving" rally outside of the auditorium at St. Anselm College in Manchester, where the Saturday evening candidates' debate would be held. It was my first such event since 1960, when I heard a speech in Skokie, Illinois by Richard Nixon. I found it interesting, and met some good folks, but it was not my favorite kind of a gathering, and I doubt I shall attend another (at least not for another 52 years).

La Mulți Ani, Earth!

2011-12-31T15:09:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

Shirl and I are celebrating quietly in warm and sunny West Palm Beach, Florida. Valer Şuteu has been with us on this trip, but tonight he is the guest of the Romanian family in Boynton Beach who are also hosting my Clujian friend Cristina. We all had dinner last night in the "happening town of Del Ray." Atlantic Boulevard was lit brightly for Christmas and the holidays, and The Office restaurant turned out to be both Romanian-owned and a source of excellent cuisine.

So, for Shirl and me it will be another quiet New Year's Eve, probably a good thing, as tomorrow we must begin our return drive to the North.

So, in the interest of philosophical consistency, I shall close with my Facebook Status post of the day:

Wishing the whole world a peaceful 2012! (It may take a miracle, but they do happen.)

With love and respect for my fellow inhabitants of Earth,
Duncan

At Sf. Ioan de Suceava In Manchester

2011-12-28T12:40:00.000-08:00

On the 18th of December I joined Mihaela (Miki) Fera and her parents from Sibiu (now living in Arad), Romania, at the Christmas pageant at the only Romanian Orthodox church in New Hampshire.

The Fera family includes my "niece" Roxy, who is teaching now in China. I had met Roxy in Sibiu during my Fulbright year, Miki had come to our home for Alexandru Mican's birthday party last September with her two beautiful children, but this was my first chance to meet their parents. It was a joyful evening.

Christmas Joy, 2011!

2011-12-24T07:05:00.000-08:00

Here's wishing a wonderful Christmas and Holiday Season to my readers everywhere!

Here are two of my favorite passages from Handel's Messiah:

(I apologize for ads if YouTube includes them. Feel free to skip them.)

First, The Annunciation (Buna vestire),

and then, Hallelujah!

With love, gratitude, and respect,

Duncan

The Pax Americana: Is it ending with the withdrawal from Iraq?

2011-12-21T12:24:00.000-08:00

Three hours ago, my beloved Romanian niece, "Roxana Fera de Sibiu," posted the following sad link on her Facebook wall, along with her comment, "OH MY GOD!! WHAT A WORLD WE LIVE IN!!!"

Iraq Marine Throws Medals.

War is Hell.

I am not anti-military. Quite to the contrary, I credit our men and women in uniform for our freedom.

I was born into a WWII U.S. Navy officer's family. Two of my three brothers are Vietnam veterans. I was rejected (due to respiratory allergies) when I volunteered in 1964 for pilot training in U.S. Naval Aviation. Ever since, though I married young, started my family, and never myself served in the military, I have respected those who serve, and those who have served in the past.

In Budapest, on the evening of 4 October, 2011, I met a Norwegian man, 64 years old. When he learned I was American, he said, "All the citizens of Europe should get down on their knees and say a prayer of thanks to America." This man and I had met by chance on a Danube dinner cruise. He had nothing to gain from me. He was merely expressing his heartfelt belief.

So, Roxy, I respect you and your right of free speech so much that I will leave your post where it has appeared on my FB home page, and have posted your link again, here. I am sorry for this young man, and I understand his anguish. It is, indeed, a cruel world. But let us not disparage all that America has given to support the security of the Free World since 1945.

Whoever it was that coined the term "Pax Americana" was exactly right. Caesar Augustus, credited with having overseen the 50 years known as the Pax Romana (during which time the Prince of Peace was born) had his legions fight many skirmishes on the fringes of the Roman Empire. Still, that half-century under Augustus was spared a major war, as have been the past 66 years, the Pax Americana. The difference has been that the American Presidents are not emperors. In defending The Free World, Americans have given freely of their blood and treasure, demanding no land, and extorting no tribute from those whose freedom they have defended, of which our exit from Iraq is present-day proof.

My Norwegian acquaintance in Budapest understood that fact. I hope that those who view this anguished young man's video will, also. While War is Hell, sometimes its opposite is not peace, but slavery. If you do not believe that, you would do well to visit Memorialul Victimelor Comunismului şi al Rezistenţei, "The Memorial to the Victims of Communism and to the Resistance," in Sighetu Marmatiei, Romania. It is a museum built inside the prison once reserved for the intellectual and artistic elite of that country, imprisoned (and in many cases killed outright, or allowed to die in prison of disease, starvation, or neglect) under the Communist dictators who ruled Romania from 1948 until the Revolution of December 21, 1989.*

The major military/geopolitical news of this week was the end of the war in Iraq. The American soldiers are now out. I am glad for them, and for their families. But, given the state of the Middle East, and of the World, this change in the status quo begs the question, is the Pax Americana ending with the withdrawal from Iraq?
_________________________________________________
*How curious that these thoughts should have come to me on December 21, 2011, exactly 22 years after the Romanian Revolution, stimulated in me by a Romanian friend. Perhaps, it was not coincidence?

The Christmas Sprit

2011-12-16T16:50:00.000-08:00

With an Internet message has come a blessing. Yesterday, I received from Mihai Moroşan and his wife Waltraudi this beautiful Christmas greeting:

As you faithful readers know, Mihai Moroşan is the fresco painter from Suceava, pictures of whom and of whose work I have posted both elsewhere, and earlier in this blog. I do not think it a stretch to say that Moroşan is a Great Master among living painters. I am deeply touched by this gift.

Dear Traudi and Mihai, I shall be thinking of you on Christmas Day, and of the wonderful day I spent with you last December. May God bless you, your lovely home, and all of your family this Christmas Season, and through many years to come.

The Spirit being upon me tonight, I offer links to two of my most-loved English carols, Good Christian Men Rejoice! and The Holly and the Ivy.

For search purposes: Morosan.

Motorhead Report:1975 R90S, and Fritz.

2011-12-14T18:50:00.000-08:00

Okay, it is old, but I still would love to have one like it.

But right now, my project is Fritz, my 1990 BMW 525i, for which I paid $1,000 . He is Klaus' emigrant older brother, who was found, friendless, on the street here in Campton, and is responding nicely to some TLC from this old motorhead. He has 269,000 miles (438.000 Km) on his odometer, but he runs just fine, handles like a 5-series Bimmer, and looks sharp in his new pinstriped suit.

Fritz's new clothes.

Reminiscence: A Week with Our Alex

2011-12-09T14:02:00.000-08:00

It was the third week of May back in 2010. Shirl, Alexander, and I had flown from Boston to Stuttgart via Zurich. We planned on a six-week adventure in Klaus, so we'd come first to see Dietmar and Sabine in Fellbach, where Klaus stays when we are home in the U.S.A. After a couple of pleasant days seeing our friends, their sons Max and Ferdi, and after meeting Chico, the canine addition to the family, we took Klaus south. First we drove to Friedrichshafen, then rode by ferry across Lake Constance to Switzerland, where we shun-piked up through pastoral alpine valleys to Chur. There, we spent our first night "on the road." I have just come across pictures from the early part of that six-week trip, so while hardly news, these images will serve as visual memories.

Shirl and Alex, a bit jet-lagged.

Our view from Hotel Alte Kelter, Fellbach

For this old aviator and model-builder, The Dornier Museum in Friedrichshafen proved a thrilling find.

In the early days of commercial aviation, the 1920s and 1930s,
Lufthansa was in the forefront. (And today, Alex2 (Mican) works
at the Silver Fox Inn in New Hampshire.)

Twelve-engined flying boat of 1929, the DoX.

The Dornier 217. Thousands served the Luftwaffe in WWII.

Dornier's designs have long been innovative.
This Do31 V-STOL military transport is no exception.

Another example. Why do it the same way as the other guys?

Swiss meadow, as we climb by GPS (shortest route) toward Chur.

Alex and Shirl in the Alps

Ain't Klaus and Shirl a stylish pair?

And from here, down the southern slopes into Italy.

Ralu Goes to Cluj

2011-12-06T18:17:00.000-08:00

Last night I drove Ralu and her masses of luggage to Logan Airport, and saw her off on her journey home. It was a drizzly night, so when we learned that her British Airways ticket was on a flight operated by American Airlines, we were grateful for the enclosed walkways from Terminal E to Terminal B. We walked nearly a mile, each of us pushing a full luggage cart. Ralu got "soaked" not by rain but by AA for a bundle of cash for her extra bags, but the agent was kind enough to ignore the fact that one was 24 pounds (10+ Kg) overweight. If he hadn't, she'd have returned home $200 poorer.

Shirl was upset last night by the absence of her (fellow night-owl) friend, Raluca. Our place was too damned quiet. This must be what an empty nest feels like to an old stork, left behind to winter in Romania. (Sad image. I saw one last year.)

This afternoon Ralu reported her safe arrival, bags and all, at home in Cluj. Farewell, lovely niece. We love you and we miss you and we wish you great success and happiness. Keep that gorgeous smile on your face, and in your heart, and you'll do just fine!

National Day Noncoincidences

2011-12-03T07:05:00.000-08:00

December 1, 2011

Valer came with me to Boston today, both to back me up as a driver lest the oral surgery I was scheduled to have left me uncomfortable or impaired, and to meet with Dr. Davis of Bentley University regarding their Ph.D. program. As I shall explain below, the surgery was postponed. Our appointment with Prof. Davis was not until 2:00 PM, so the two of us had a late morning and early afternoon free to wander through Boston on a beautiful autumn day. We left the car at the Dental School, and took a bus into South Station, from which we walked through Downtown Crossing to the Boston Common, across the Common to the State House, and headed down Beacon Street.

Site of the John Hancock House, Boston

Adjacent to the State House is an historical marker at the former site of the home of John Hancock, famous as the first man to sign the Declaration of Independence, and thus the first to put his neck in a noose, had the subsequent American War for Independence been lost.

The next building on Beacon Street had a bronze sign on it that read, "Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations." It turned out to be the national headquarters of that religious group. The door had a sign saying, "Walk In," so we did.

Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations Building

Why?

Well, back in Cluj-Napoca, Romania, I had heard that the very first Unitarian congregation was founded in Cluj during the Reformation. I told Valer, "This is my chance to see if that was a rumor, or an historical fact."

Inside, we inquired of the receptionist, who called upstairs to the Office of Information and Public Witness, from which a young woman named Rachel appeared, and invited us to sit and ask whatever we had on our minds. I explained my curiosity, and my history in Cluj. She then told us of two major strains of theological thought, the Unitarians and the Universalists, and how they had merged into the present-day Association.

Then Rachel said, "The Unitarian movement traces its origins to Transylvania in the 1600s, and to the congregation in Cluj." So, dear Romanian readers, I think you may consider it to be historical fact that Cluj is the wellspring of Unitarianism.

Now, to be fair to Rachel, I should also report that she briefed us on the theological reason for the schism that caused that Transylvanian congregation to break with established Christianity of the time. The Unitarians in Cluj believed in One God, and they believed the Bible to be a Holy Book, but nowhere in The Bible did they see belief in The Holy Trinity to be a necessary element of faith in God. Hence, voicing the Nicene Creed made them feel hypocritical, an intolerable state for them. And thus, they chose to worship God, a Creator big enough to relate to us all without need of the trappings and formal rituals of the established and emerging churches, be they Roman Catholic, Greek Catholic, Romanian Orthodox, Lutheran, or other Protestant churches. 'Twas Reformist thinking of a fundamental kind.

Gate to Harvard Yard (Normally, open to the public.)

Vali and I then re-boarded the Red Line, and rode the subway to Harvard Square, where we were blocked from entering Harvard Yard, temporarily closed to the public because the Occupy Wall Street enthusiasts had a protest demonstration going on there, and the University had decided to keep it orderly by admitting only people with a Harvard University ID. I was told by the officer at the gate that as an alumnus, I could secure a temporary ID at Holyoke Center, but we decided time was too short, and we were hungry. So, we ate a good lunch at a pub on JFK Ave., then rode the "T" back into Kendall Square, where we enjoyed a good meeting with Dr. Davis over coffee at the Royal Sonesta Hotel.

Dental Disappointment

Back home that evening, I wrote the following e-mail to inform three of my doctors of the morning's events at Boston University's Dental School. It was addressed to my ophthalmologist, a retinal specialist at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center, to whom I had written a few days earlier regarding my left eye problems. I sent copies to my primary physician and my B.U. periodontist, whose work had been postponed that morning.

Dear Dr. C:

In my philosophy, there are no coincidences, so I have a hunch that my dental disappointment of today may prove to be a blessing in disguise for my eyes.

Today I was refused a scheduled oral surgery (three implants) at the Boston University Goldman School of Dental Medicine. I'd already been fully draped and given Novocaine when the overseeing professor, one Dr. M, asked me, "Have you taken any aspirin in the past 24 hours?" When I told her, "Yes, my nightly dose of 975 mg," she looked startled, asked me to explain that dosage, then canceled the procedure, citing a risk of excessive bleeding. My implant surgery has been rescheduled for January 23, 2012.

As my medical record at your office will show, I have been taking three 325 mg Enteric-coated aspirin tablets nightly. I have done so since about 1984, when my arthritic finger pain (from typing many HBS doctoral program papers) had caused me to ask my family doctor (at the time in Westborough, Massachusetts), what to do about it. He recommended aspirin in that dosage, which he termed "the minimum anti-inflammatory dose," and it worked. Hence, I have been taking 975 mg of enteric-coated aspirin nightly, ever since.

Now, it occurs to me that the thin blood induced by this high dose of aspirin may be contributing to the slow healing of my current cloudy vision in my left eye, especially since I have on many occasions seen a reddish cast in the blur, as well as occasional new dark floaters. It may be that one (or more) of my burst retinal microaneurisms has been bleeding into my eye repeatedly, ever since October 6, when my current vision problem arose.

Action Plan

For the two weeks prior to my December 16 visit to your office at DHMC, I shall reduce my aspirin intake to one 325 mg aspirin tablet per day. I hope that this reduced intake of aspirin will improve my blood's clotting ability, and thus speed the recovery of full vision in my left eye.

I am not at present planning to go off aspirin entirely, as it may have heart-protective effects, and at my age it makes little sense to risk trading one problem for a potentially more serious one.

I am copying this message to Dr. R., my primary physician in Plymouth, NH, and to Dr. "Tina", my periodontist at BU. I shall keep you good doctors all posted if I experience any major effects, for good or ill. Please let me know if any of you has specific advice contrary to my stated plan.

Thank you for your caring, and for your excellent work in treating my diabetic retinopathy over the past several years.

Sincerely yours,

Duncan McDougall

So, dear readers, please wish me, and my eyes, and my teeth, "Noroc și sănătate!"

Thus went Romania's National Day, 2011, just another day in the life of your humble blogger. Da, da, da, da!

La Mulți Ani, România!

2011-11-30T22:51:00.000-08:00

1 December 2011, Campton, New Hampshire (Photo by Tarcea)

"At Alba Iulia on December 1, 1918, the treaty was signed creating the union of Transilvania, Wallachia and Moldavia that forms modern-day Romania."

I hereby wish all Romanians, everywhere, a

Happy National Day!

Last year I spent 1 December in Alba Iulia with friends Valer and Leonina from UBB-Cluj, and with Leonina's good friend Andreea, who lives there in "Alba."

Today Valer is an MBA candidate at Plymouth State University and works as a graduate assistant here in New Hampshire. He and I will "celebrate" tomorrow by driving to Boston University's Goldman School of Dental Medicine, where I shall have three surgical implants installed where three of my front teeth used to be. Afterwards, we shall go to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where Valer has an appointment to meet a Bentley University business professor to discuss Vali's interest in their Ph.D. program. Please wish us both, "Noroc!"

Life goes on!

Christmas Gift / "Romania Primer"

2011-11-28T19:44:00.000-08:00

I am reading a first-edition of the newly-published book, The Little Book of Romanian Wisdom , by Diana Doroftei (din Bârlad) and Matthew Cross (of Connecticut). It is a beautiful work, and I think that if you are a very good boy or girl, and if you spend the holiday at Hotel New Hampshire, you just might find a copy if it under the tree on Christmas.

Before seeing this book, I never would have guessed that Johnny Weismuller and Edward G. Robinson (among many other notables) were Romanian-born! And who cannot love a saying such as, "Ceea ce viaţa te invaţa este mai important decat ceea ce te invaţa şcoala." (Emy, rrom)

All the entries in the book appear in both Romanian and English... but I'll let you translate that gem on your own.

Has Elfster Killed the Economy?

2011-11-25T05:34:00.000-08:00

Source: http://www.elfster.com

For about 30 years, as father of six, I had to buy myriad Christmas presents. Thousands of dollars that we could ill-afford to spend went out each Christmas season in order to ensure a big pile of colorful presents under the tree on Christmas morning. Much went for plastic crap with heavy price tags: Star Wars toys, My Little Ponies, etc. Then came all the electronic toys, Ataris, Nintendos, Playstations, etc., and God knows how much software for them all. Sure, there were some sweaters, shirts and socks included, but the vast majority of the money went for toys that soon were gathering dust in corners of the kids' rooms, or in the "bunk room closet." Moreover, all the kids, as they grew to be teenagers, felt equally compelled to give gifts to each other, and to us parents. So the pile under the tree got to be a small mountain. It was too much. And then, along came Elfster!

Now, thanks to Elfster, we all have one family member to whom to give a Secret Santa gift! It makes all the sense in the world! Christmas is still about giving, and it is far less stressful for us all.

Christmas is no longer the time of year that my credit cards get tapped out, and for which I have to be paying all year long, at 18% interest. Thank you, Elfster!

And the economy is tanking, and unemployment is at 9 to 16 % (depending on how one measures).

I am but one Dad among millions and millions of Dads in this consumerist country called America. So, who's still doing the forced consuming that gave us those boom years? Far fewer of us, thanks to Elfster! Yep, thanks, Elfster. (Thanks a bunch!)

La Mulți Ani, Jamie, and Felicitari, JJ & Amy!

2011-11-21T16:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday our strong, handsome, hardworking son Jamie turned 35, and a year ago today we celebrated the wedding of Jamie to the lovely, smart, kind and caring Amy Larkin in Orlando, Florida. We love you, JJ & Amy! Keep up the good work!

More from that Tuscan Classic Motorcycle Rally of May, 2010

2011-11-10T19:22:00.000-08:00

Triumph Trident 750

It occurs to me tonight that my fellow aficionados of motorcycling may have been shortchanged by my most-read post, so tonight I shall share more of the photos I took at Piazza Michelangelo that morning late in May of 2010. Consider this a gallery. I shall caption all which I can identify. I encourage all who can to comment with the precise identity of any of these classics.

Moto Perugina 175

Honda CB500 Four (Circa 1970)

Pre-unit construction Triumph Twin (500cc or 650c, Circa 1958, I believe)

Honda CBX1000 Six, Circa 1982

Benelli 250

Suzuki 750cc Two-stroke Triple. "The water buffalo."

Moto Guzzi Le Mans

Another view of the Le Mans

Ducati Single (Circa 1965?)

Honda CB350 Four (A jewel)

Ducati Scrambler?

They all felt this way about their mounts.

BMW R69S

Pre-V Moto Guzzi

Moto Guzzi engine detail shot.

Suzuki GSX550ES Circa 1985

MV Agusta 350

MV Sticker

Triumph Engine detail

Triumph gearbox (note right side shifter)

Triumph rear end detail. Hard tail!


And we close with a lovely Laverda 750

New Trier and Wilmette Recollections Shared by an Old Friend

2011-11-08T04:16:00.000-08:00

Message from a classmate:

Duncan,
      I'm still enjoying the reunion. And I'm very grateful you brought Joseph McCloskey with you. Also, I enjoyed learning that you dwell in the environs of my alma mater - a wonderful part of our country.
      We survived Sonnenfeld [our excellent, demanding, fifth grade teacher in Wilmette] together. You likely may not remember me, as I spent a considerable amount of time in the silent "conference" room working independently with serenity - efforts to manage my behavior. My solitude was commonly interrupted when Skip Dunham was sent in; he would educate me on the sexuality of the world.
      Glad you convinced me that nobody was cut from the swimming or diving team. I was self-centered enough back then to interpret not being "chosen" as a premier as being cut. At least now I can begin my recovery.
      Anyway it was great to see you and identify that the spirit of your youth still prevails.

Regards,
George Brannen

Reply:

Dear George,

It was good to see you, my friend. I know what you mean by "still enjoying the reunion." Me, too.

Interesting to read your story about your interpretation of being put on the "C Squad." I had the identical reaction when, as an eight year-old, I was told that I was being put on a "farm team" in the Wilmette Little League. Proud of my ability as a sandlot/Cub Scout League softball player, I was so hurt not to be put in the "majors" that I quit, and never played competitive baseball again.

As for the "C Squad," it had a few remarkable successes. Mike Doscher was a C-Squad member for three years, then made the State Meet Team as a senior. He had skipped a grade, and was a year younger than we were. Once he matured a bit, he got really fast. I do not remember his event in the State Meet, but I think he may have been our second man in the 200 free, as Dave Robertson had moved David Lyons into the 50 and 100 for the state meet, letting Terry "T-bone" Townsend handle the 200 and the 400, events they had shared all season long in the dual meets. This left a second slot open in the distance events. As it happened, Lyons and T-bone brought us four first places in the solo freestyle events. The last time I saw Mike Doscher, he was swimming in the finals of the NCAA meet at N. C. State in 1963, as a member of Stanford's 400-yard Freestyle Relay team. ...

Our meeting and conversation were part of the Plan. There are no coincidences. That realization has come to me only in the last three years.

Warmly,

Duncan

A great teacher, and a good friend.

2011-10-30T12:58:00.000-07:00

Back a few posts I reported attending my 50th high school reunion in the New Trier Township, near Chicago. Classmate Gay Weake and I brought our favorite English teacher, Mr. Jopseph W. "Uncle Joe" McCloskey, a WWII B-24 copilot who flew in the Pacific, out of New Guinea among other places, and is now a mere 89 years old, to the event. He had a wonderful time there, as he was surrounded by admiring former students. Here is a photo from the Friday bash at the Renaissance Hotel in Northbrook, Illinois.

Uncle Joe and Gay at the Reunion, 14 October 2011

My A- for "Gross Illiteracy." (Alternate title: "Playing to a Tough Crowd")

2011-10-19T10:33:00.000-07:00

There follows a Facebook conversation I have had over the past 18 months with my high school classmate author Lois Borkan Morris. [Posted with Lois' permission.]

May 12, 2010

 I hope this note finds you well and still thrilled with life. You can read about mine at the link below.

Your admirer and friend,

Duncan

Da Da Da Da Life Goes On*

dcmcd2.blogspot.com

May 14, 2010

Lois Borkan Morris

Hi. Your present and immediate future life sound exciting, speaking of thrilled with life. After your note last year about your brother (at Penn), I was about to counter with a bit of bragging about my outrageous radical activist criminal attorney sister, Susan Jordan...but then she died. Now, nearly a year later, I'm beginning to research a memoir about her, her career, our relationship. Much about the 60s, 70s, decisions made and life courses taken. Like there we were in Chicago August 1968, where she was in law school and I had returned to be married to my future ex-husband. Comes the day of the Democratic Convention and she's in the riot and I'm at a bridal shower.

And going back just a handful of years from that, to 1963, there I am writing you a letter in code, Jack Kennedy gets killed, life changes. And keeps changing.

Be well and enjoy your journeys. May we all. //L

July 19, 2011

Duncan C. McDougall

Lois wrote: "And more: Duncan, how does the current government of and younger generation in Romania deal with the, uh, unpleasant realities of the past?"

There are clearly visible scars in the demeanor of older Romanians, who are still quite reserved and formal in their modes of behavior and communication. Younger college-age (and just beyond) Romanians seem to me to be enjoying their European-hood, are ultra-modern users of the Internet and social media, and are doing a lot of travel in Western Europe. But still, they are pretty down on their country. They find that Romania, and Romanians are denigrated by their Italian "cousins," and that hurts their self-images. (I heard reports of beaches in Italy that had banned Romanians. The Romanians blame their expatriate "gypsies" for this image, but suffer nevertheless from the discrimination.)

Male Romanians tend to be pessimistic. "Those in power are the former Communists, and until they die, things will never really change," is an oft-heard remark. The young men seem to buy into this thesis. They have not learned to take charge in a representative democracy, which can be done by a small minority that votes as a swing-vote block. (Witness Youth in electing B.O. here, and the Tea Party today in giving him fits.) The bureaucracy is huge and lacks a service attitude. The people exist to serve the government, rather than vice-versa.

Female Romanians in the university town I lived in (Cluj) seem far better-adjusted then do men. They really take care of themselves, and they like to be noticed and appreciated by men. Of course, their beauty and charm are not lost on us auslanders, and many end up marrying foreigners and moving abroad. In general, the women evince self-confidence to a much greater degree than do Romanian men.

Those are my personal observations/opinions. Nothing more.

Thanks for asking!

July 20

Lois Borkan Morris

So interesting, and so different from the Chinese, who make no comments about their government in public or private, as far as I can tell (when I'm drunk in China I understand every word). The younger generation is SO techno and Western-cool. And they're so into money. The older (our) generation that I've met--mostly in the arts--seem wistful. The bad old days were better for the artist than the profit-makes-perfect era.

I've never traveled in eastern Europe, though when I was ed-in-chief for Arthur Frommer publishing, I wrote a guide to Romania in one of our newsletters, info culled from the tourist office in NY. I got more kudos from readers for that than for guides to countries I've been to. Hmm.

Are you returning to Romania? //L

July 21

Duncan C. McDougall

Yes, I will go back to Romania every chance I get. I love many people there, and it is a beautiful country, especially in Transylvania. Have you seen my photos from there, both in FB and in my blog?

Doing Utmost, Never Caving, Always Nimble



July 21

Lois Borkan Morris

Yes, I've seen the great photos. Are you going back to teach next semester? But you are coming to the reunion, right?

Thanks for the book plug, by the way...



July 22

Duncan C. McDougall

Dear LBM:

No thanks needed. Tian/Morris is a great book. A page-turner about opera, of all things! (I have long loved a good biography, and this one I could not put down.)

Yes, I am planning to come to the reunion, where I will attempt to give you a belated hug. Gay Weake and I are to be co-hosting the nearly blind and still beloved Uncle Joe McCloskey, if, as he puts it, he is "still around come October."

I am to be teaching for my New Hampshire university in the fall, but only online MBA courses, so I will be free to accept my daughter's invitation to accompany her to Buenos Aires in September [a trip we decided to postpone for a year], and to fly to Budapest for an accreditation visitation scheduled for the week before our reunion. I hope to go to Europe a week or so early so that I can visit friends in Cluj, which is only a six-hour bus ride from Budapest [a trip recently completed].

Finally, I hope you saw my "then" in "seem better-adjusted then do men" as a typo. I would have circled it in a student's paper. ;-)

-DcMcD



July 25

Lois Borkan Morris

So glad you liked the book, Duncan. What an interesting job to write someone's memoir who didn't remember the context of what was going on around him, because he was a child, and whose childhood I researched, finding details that at first he fought me on, such as the specific actions the Red Guard took against named teachers at the middle schools he went to (oh I do love research).

I remember Mr. McCloskey with great respect and affection. I had him for English senior year, I think it was. Were you in class with me?

Buenos Aires (good opera city, btw), Budapest, Cluj, Chicago--eek, but surely advernturous.

I have given you an A- minus for your then/than mixup--or I would have in junior year English at NT, where Mr. Jensen (who also taught German) had a list of Gross Illiteracies. But since the advent of email and texting and all that, your personal suffering will suffice.

Class of 1961

2011-10-15T15:38:00.000-07:00

Reporting today from Northbrook, Illinois, where I am attending the 50th reunion of the New Trier High School Class of 1961. We graduated 980-strong, and went our separate ways in a time of optimism and prosperity in America, and from today's perspective, in a less complicated world. Some 150 from the class have returned to this Chicago suburb to share memories. Those who are here look remarkably good, and seem to have weathered the years rather well. Many are retired, but some (including Yours, Truly) are still working.

Gay Weake, Your Blogger, and Ann Rheinstrom, all NT '61

Last night we had a "meet & greet" here at the Renaissance Hotel, where the star turned out to be Mr. Joseph McCloskey, 89, a beloved English teacher whom Gay Weake and I invited to attend. Scores of his former students kept him surrounded for almost four hours, and he seemed to enjoy the experience greatly. "Uncle Joe," as he used to ask us to call him, was the sort of teacher who demanded that we read good books, and think about them, that we learn new words, and retain them, that we write good English, and that we express ourselves clearly, but he never told us what to think. He was among my mentors. I was thrilled to find him in good spirits, and so clear of mind. He is now legally blind, and suffering from a "touch" of Parkinson's disease, but last night, you would not have known it.

Today we toured NT, where our class had been the first in the "new" tower building, and the first freshman class to see and use the magnificent auditorium. We visited the balcony of the swimming pool, where a picture of me with "six-pack abs" still graces a wall of champions from the years that I was diving on the NT Swimming team.

Now, I must pull on my formal duds and get downstairs, for the ride to the dinner dance leaves soon.

The Teacher is Eastbound, Yet Again

2011-09-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

Today, I confess to being emotionally and professionally stressed.

Most immediately, I am deeply saddened by the death this week of the 25 year-old son of a beloved colleague. Tom Perkins was a classmate at Plymouth High School of our youngest son, Alex. The body of Tom Perkins was found Thursday after a three-day search, following an apparent rock-climbing accident while climbing solo on some cliffs in nearby Rumney, New Hampshire. His father Dan Perkins is a brilliant professor of music at Plymouth State University, and is my friend. I can only imagine the pain of Dan's loss, and when I do, I weep for him and his family.

My upcoming departure next Tuesday for a week in Eastern Europe also has me emotional, for I will take a few days to visit Cluj, Romania, before seeing to academic duties for the ACBSP at a business school in Budapest, Hungary. These emotions are pleasant ones, thank God. I look forward to renewing many friendships in Cluj, insofar as possible in only three days' time.

Then, there is my teaching. I am happy to report that my two fall online MBA courses are both full, and that my students have proven thus far to be punctual in their posting to case forums, and remarkably willing to dig into the case data, both quantitatively and managerially. It will take some juggling of my time to keep both courses current while I travel for the next week, but then, past classes have complimented my tap-dancing in the classroom, so how hard can it be to juggle?

What I did last Summer 3: Still Downeast in Maine in May

2011-09-18T03:14:00.000-07:00

Little Toot?

Still alone in Maine:
After remounting, with Chip Skinner's help, the pond dock to its concrete base at Wick's pond, I took a few shots at Treetops, then rode to Spruce Head, and on into Rockland, and took a few more.

The Cove from Treetops' Deck. The tide was in.

And six hours later it was out.

Treetops

Treetops' Deck

My wheels, as seen from the kitchen.

Lobster boat in Spruce Head Harbor

Self explanatory.

McLoon's of Spruce Head

Coast Guard Cutter in Rockland Harbor. Semper Paratus.

Victory Chimes: a sailing ship, now used for dinner cruises, etc.


She started life as a coastal freighter, hauling lumber.

What I Did Last Summer At Sunrise

2011-09-14T17:14:00.000-07:00

Also last May, I awoke one morning needing a haircut. Living here in Greater Plymouth, New Hampshire, we are blessed to have locally a semi-retired barber named Peter Minickiello, who works only three days a week, but opens his shop at 5:30 AM. It was one of Pete's workdays, so before dawn I drove out and got my haircut. As I left the shop, the following sunrise greeted me in Peter's West Plymouth driveway.

What I Did Last Summer, Part 1

2011-09-12T17:54:00.000-07:00

I apologize to all who follow this blog for my long absence. Tonight I have just completed my first class of the fall MBA term here at Plymouth State University. I have been sipping black coffee for two hours, and thus have both mind and body well stimulated. I couldn't go to sleep now if I tried, so I've decided to break my silence and spill stream-of-consciousness memories into the blog in hopes that I can later add illustrations to back up my claims of an absurdly busy summer for a man of 68 years.

Maine Trip 1. May, 2011

In May I went to Maine to repair the pond dock at the Tenant's Harbor home of my friend Wickham. We built this dock a few years ago to my design, and while it looked great and served well for awhile, it seems I left a weak spot... screws too small and too short secured the deck boards to the frame, and then the hinges mounting the dock to the concrete base were lagged into the deck boards, and only the deck boards. So, when a rainy season came, the forces acting on the hinges popped the first couple of deck boards loose, and the floating dock was set adrift. Fortunately, it is in a small pond on Wick's property, so it did not go out to sea and become a hazard to navigation. However, a local beaver found it resting in the reeds some 50 yards from its base, and decided that its end, a swimming raft, would make an excellent roof for his lodge. He proceeded to secure it to the bottom with a maze of small birch and poplar logs. So, when I rowed over to it, I found the dock/raft assembly almost impossible to dislodge (note the appropriate wording), and to tow back to its proper location. Wick was in Ireland that week, so I was working alone.


Picture this whole assembly snagged in the reeds on the far right.	.

I thought about the situation awhile, and decided that from the shore I might have sufficient strength to break things loose, so I went into Rockland and visited Spear's Lumber and Hardware. I bought forty feet of line, a pair of rubber fishing boots, and some mighty fine lag bolts and washers. Back at the pond, I put on my new boots, rowed back out, tied one end of the line to the dock, then rowed close enough to shore to hurl the rest of the coiled line up onto the shore. Sure enough, all the rockng and pushing I had earlier done on the raft had loosened things up. and with just a modest effort at the shore end of the rope, I had her broken loose and afloat. I pulled that sucker back to its home base, and faced the next challenge: how to hold her in place as I drove a first lag bolt down through the hinge and into the frame of the dock.

She's well screwed now, if you ask me.

I have to admit that progress was lagging, before Chip appeared on the scene. Chip is Wick's grandson, a strapping lad of about twenty, or so. He was over at Wick's to cut a bit of firewood, and a good thing, too. With Chip's help, running out onto the raft and securing the line to it so he could hold her steady for me, the job of remounting it to its base proved a snap. And, now I have new fishin' boots.

Tricorner Weekend

2011-08-02T07:07:00.000-07:00

Silvio aboard 1990 750 Sport

From Martellago, Italy, came Silvio. From Isla Contadora, Panama, came Melinda. From Campton, New Hampshire, came Duncan, to meet last Friday at Boston's Logan International Airport. (I had the shorter trip.)

It was great to see Melinda once again, and to meet her fiance, Silvio. I am happy to report that Meli, my beloved former teaching assistant from my Fulbright Year in Romania, has chosen a fine young businessman as her beau. We had only two days together, but they were good ones.

We took advantage of perfect weather to ride the Franconia Notch - Bretton Woods - Conway - Sandwich loop around the southern White Mountain Region on Saturday. Silvio, though less than a week post-crash (off of his Husqvarna 510cc Motard), proved up to riding some 150 miles on my Ducati 750 Sport. Meli and I took my Suzuki GS1100E (so that we would ride on a matching red motorcycle). Melinda has posted many pictures in facebook from this day.

Shirl and Piper McD.


Budweiser, Silvio and Melinda

On Sunday we drove with Shirl to Kittery, Maine, for a lobster lunch with our daughter Piper, who was visiting for a few days with friends here in New England from her home in Colorado.

Thank you, Silvio and Melinda, for coming to New Hampshire. We wish you a long and happy life together!

Return to the Great Plains

2011-06-26T04:26:00.000-07:00

I am in Indianapolis, on the 20th floor of the J W Marriott hotel, which is new, and fine. The ACBSP is holding its 2011 Annual Conference here. I was granted Emeritus status by the ACBSP Board of Directors this spring, which is a nice thing, as it means I am invited to the Annual Conference as a guest.

So far, the presentations I have attended have been excellent. And my friends in the ACBSP have been most kind to me. I missed last year's conference for the first time in a dozen years, as Shirl and I spent last June in Romania, which was definitely worth it, though it feels very good to be back in touch with the Accreditation Council for Business Schools and Programs.

On the way here from New Hampshire I stopped in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, for a great evening with Bill and Parlin Meyer, long-time friends from Ohio, and now also from the Florida Keys. At the close of today's ACBSP agenda, I will be heading west to Illinois, in hopes of renewing my friendships with Fulbrighters Nancy Sherman and Charles Harris, and with Nancy's husband Pat Hayes and their son Evan. Then, time permitting, I may head down to Eddyville, Kentucky, to see Woody and Paula (Menard) Chambers, lifelong friends from Wilmette, Illinois, who have retired to western Kentucky.

I must make it back to Boston for dental work on Friday, July 1, at the Boston University School of Dental Medicine. Until then, ROADTRIP!

A Love Story: "I once met a girl named Maria"

2011-06-12T18:09:00.000-07:00

I met Maria Kimball when she was about three years old.

When I first met my wife Shirley, back in 1972, we both lived in Westborough (also spelled "Westboro"), Massachusetts. Shirl was about to enter her senior year at college, so, at 28, I was "robbing the cradle" a bit in asking her for a date.

Perhaps recognizing that age discrepancy, or perhaps simply because I had somehow offended her when first we met, Shirl's mother "invited me not to visit at the house" for over a year, by which time Shirl and I were engaged to be married. (Thankfully, Barbara Kimball and I have since come to love one another. Barbara is as fine a mother-in-law as I can imagine.) Hence, while I had heard about the battered Puerto Rican infant that Shirl's older sister had brought home as a foster child from Boston City Hospital, where she worked as a nurse, I did not actually meet Maria until the summer of 1973, when she was almost three years old.

At three, Maria still did not talk, and often banged her head on the floor in frustration and anger when she could not make her needs known. Maria was sequentially diagnosed as autistic, as developmentally disabled, as brain-damaged, and as many other things by various specialists. But her adoptive mother, Joan (Kimball) Cichowski, refused to accept that she was never going to develop. Joan, always a professional nurse and always a dogged positivist, soldiered on, working with Maria, with the help of her parents, Basil and Barbara Kimball, of Barbara's mother Flora Landon, and of siblings David and Shirley Kimball. So, once she got to Westboro, Maria was never without caring adults.

Maria gradually learned to walk, to talk, and then to play with toys, to do complex puzzles, and to remember the birthdays and names of every one of her relatives, be they aunts, uncles, cousins, or second-cousins. She would even ask by name about everyone's pets. She learned to ice skate, and to dance. (And, she liked my singing, and would often ask me to sing for her!) In the 1980s, before Joan and Dick Cichowski were married, I once took Maria to a "father-daughter" dance put on by the Westboro Girl Scouts.

Maria became a well-loved special education student in the Westboro Schools, and an active competitor and medalist in the figure skating competitions of the Massachusetts Special Olympics. After graduating from high school, Maria went to work at a Papa Gino's Pizzeria in town, and continued to be active in the regional association for disabled adults. There, in 2009, at about age 40, she met Ian DeCew. Ian is a tall man, a few years older than Maria, who is also disabled, but who has a lovely daughter Callie by a previous marriage. Though partially disabled, Ian is able to work and to drive, and he and Maria began dating in 2009, with the blessings of both their families.

A few years ago, Maria was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. It is a progressive disease that slowly erodes the nervous control of one's muscles by removing the insulation from the nerves, causing the brain's signals to dissipate in the body before reaching their intended muscle cells. It is a cruelly weakening disease, but it is treatable, and Maria has begun treatment. Still, MS has taken away her skating.

Ian has reacted to Maria's condition as a supportive friend and with great love and loyalty. He has won the hearts of our family. He has attended several Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving events in the Kimball-Cichowski home. Ian is an avid reader, and reads to Maria often. Maria's maturation in the two years she has known Ian is amazing to observe. She has blossomed into an active, articulate, and interested young woman.

Yesterday, on the 11th of June, 2011, at the Evangelical Congregational Church of Westborough, Ian and Maria were united in Holy Matrimony. There were dozens of young people on hand, for Dick Cichowski brought three sisters and a brother for Maria when he married into the family, all of whom now have children of their own, and six of Maria's first cousins came to Westboro for the wedding, including our four children, Jamie from Orlando, Florida, Jesse from Hartland, Vermont, Piper from Aspen, Colorado, and Alexander, from Plymouth, New Hampshire, and David Kimball's two, Christopher and Kelly, who both brought their spouses. Add in all of us "older folks," and it became a sizable event, featuring a formal church wedding followed by a lively reception at the Knights of Columbus Hall in Westboro.

My mother-in-law Barbara Kimball, 95, came to the reception with her son David and our son Jamie, who brought her from the local nursing home in her wheelchair. Barbara entered the K. of C. Hall, and received a standing ovation, second only to that given to the bride and groom themselves.

Maria was lovely in her wedding gown. She has never smiled so much, never appeared so happy. Ian and Maria went over to see Joan and Dick Cichowski, and told them "Thank you for the wedding." Then Ian said, "I have never in my life had such a happy day."

It was a blessed atmosphere. All of us felt it: Amazing Grace.

D-Day + 24,472

2011-06-06T06:57:00.000-07:00

Sixty-seven years ago today, when I was not yet one year old, the allied armed forces of the U.S., Canada, Great Britain, and the Free French jumped from airplanes and/or stormed the beaches of Normandy, and thus began the liberation of Nazi-dominated Western Europe. Let us not forget those men and their sacrifices.

I raised the flag today at the door of my home in honor of those who fought their way ashore that day, one of whom was my wife Shirley McDougall's late father, the kind-hearted and soft-spoken Mr. Basil Kimball of Westborough, Massachusetts.

Life goes on: A New Boy is Born!

2011-06-01T07:06:00.000-07:00

Brian McDougall called last night from Boulder, Colorado to report the birth of our new grandson, still to be named. Brian says he is very cute, and that both the baby and mother, our lovely and lovable daughter-in-law Nika, are well, and resting comfortably. Welcome to the Clan MacDougall, dear grandson! Thank you, God, and thank you, dear parents Brian and Nika, for this wonderful gift!

Nika and Baby
(Photo by Brian McDougall, all rights reserved.)

Joplin

2011-05-23T17:13:00.000-07:00

I am saddened by the news of the Joplin Tornado of 22 May, 2011. My prayers are with those who have lost their homes and businesses and especially with those who have lost loved ones.

Fulbright-Romania colleague Charles Harris, my good friend who taught for four semesters in Sibiu between 2008 and 2010, reported at about 9:00 A.M. CDT today (on Facebook), as follows:

Charles Harris: I am praying for my family in Joplin, Missouri. My older sister, Sally, is still missing. The rest of the family seems to be okay, but homeless due to the damage from the tornado. Please join me in praying for all of those affected by this tragedy.

And just an hour ago he added:

Charles Harris Dear Friends, 2 independent witness reports say my sister, Sally, is dead. Official confirmation will require DNA tests, fingerprints, photo recognition, etc. The rest of the family is okay, but, as I said before, homeless due to the destruction in Joplin. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers at this time!

May God be with us all, and may He bring solace and peace to Charles and to the Harris family in the days to come. Amen.

Deja Vu All Over Again (as Yogi Berra is said to have said)

2011-05-17T08:24:00.000-07:00

To long-time followers of my blogs, this picture may look familiar. Back in 2009, I was congratulating the same fellow upon his graduation from UBB-FSEGA, in Cluj, Romania. But this time the event is the 2011 Graduate Commencement Exercises at Plymouth State University (PSU) in Plymouth, New Hampshire, U.S.A.

If you know Domnule MICAN Alexandru, BS, MBA, you know that he is intelligent and diligent. Those character traits have earned him high regard among us on the faculty of the PSU College of Business Administration. I hope you will join me in congratulating Alex on a job well done.

Godspeed, Alexandru! Wherever life takes you, I know you will earn the respect of your peers. Well done at Plymouth State!

Parallel musings: Two stories sandwiching a lecturette.

2011-04-29T16:19:00.000-07:00

Today I discovered a blog by a fellow named Andy H. It appears he and I have dealt with similar topics. Here is a link to the post in his blog that caught my interest: Csíkszereda musings: A story.

Here is a link to an old post from "A Fulbright Year in Romania" that seems to me to be somewhat in parallel to Andy's musings.

I especially admire Andy H. for this line in his blog's heading: "I reserve the right to go off topic and talk about anything I damn well like."

Hang tough, Andy! I hope that we can meet one day, perhaps at Praid, for a salty conversation.

An Easter Morning Noncoincidence

2011-04-26T08:20:00.000-07:00

Hristos a înviat! (Adevărat a înviat!)

The Easter midnight Mass at the Romanian Orthodox Saint John of Suceava Mission in Manchester, the only Romanian church in New Hampshire, was a beautiful three-hour event, attended at midnight by over 100 Romanians, Romanian-Americans, and their offspring.

Father Aurel Petrescu is the priest of the Saint John of Suceava Mission, which was founded in Manchester in 1996. He proved a precise and thorough performer of the mass, and has a beautiful voice, which, with God's help, remained strong through all three hours. In certain sections of the service, Father Petrescu was assisted by our "adoptive nephew" Alexandru Mican, the newly-minted MBA from Plymouth State University, who did his high schooling at the Cathedral Seminary School in Cluj, and thus is familiar with the liturgy.

Following the mass, the forty or so of us who had stayed for the entire service (it is common in Romania for folks to come and go during such long church events, and many had small children with them) enjoyed a pot-luck buffet. Alex had brought some of his wonderful vinete, a uniquely Romanian eggplant puree that is spread on bread, and is most delicious. I contributed sliced ham that I had baked on Saturday.

As it got to be 4:00 AM, a man I had exchanged nods with during the service came to our table. He sat next to me, introduced himself as Mr. Aurelian Diaconu, and asked if I knew Romanian. He said he had noticed I was joining in singing some of the responses during the interactive chants. "Puțin," I said. "A little." "But mostly I was listening and repeating what others were singing." His wife Liana joined us (Alex, Aurelian, and I were at the table together), as Aurelian asked about my time in Romania. "Not many Americans know anything about Romania," he said.

"I know," I told him, "I am very lucky. I have taught at UBB in Cluj for three of the past six semesters."

"What do you teach?" he asked.

"Business."

At that point, Liana spoke up: "I have a cousin who is an economist in Cluj."

I asked, "At UBB-FSEGA?" [Facultatea de Știinţe Economice și Gestiunea Afacerilor, the Faculty of Economics and Business Administration]

"I think so."

"Then we have been colleagues. Perhaps we have met."

"Her name is Mihaela Luțaș."

Alexandru Mican laughed out loud. He, too, understood. There are no coincidences.

The Family Diaconu of Manchester with Alexandru Mican at Easter Feast

[Prodeacon Mihaela Luțaș heads the Englishline programs at FSEGA. She has been my immediate "boss" in all my teaching in Romania, since 2008. In addition to being a distinguished and highly respected teacher and economist, Mihaela is one of my best friends in all the world.]

Paşte Fericit!

2011-04-23T18:19:00.000-07:00

Taken in Oradea, Romania, 2009

In about an hour, I will drive my former PSU MBA student (and now PSU colleague) Prof. Dr. Roxana (Dima) Wright, formerly of Brașov, and my former UBB student and good friend MICAN Alexandru to an Easter service at the Romanian church in Manchester, New Hampshire, about an hour's drive south of here. It will be my third Orthodox Easter in as many years. The service will be in Romanian. Last Easter it was in both Greek and English at the cathedral in Worcester, Massachusetts. In 2009 it was in Romanian at Biserica Sfanta Ana in Bistriţa, with Alexandru and his parents.

May God's blessings find us all this Easter, and may we see and appreciate them.

"Insert-sort with Romanian folk dance "

2011-04-21T07:37:00.000-07:00

My fellow Ameri-Clujian Raymond Wright posted this AlgoRhythmic piece of University output from Târgu Mureș, Romania.

Insert-sort with Romanian folk dance

www.youtube.com

Ray wrote: "Created at Sapientia University, Târgu Mures (Marosvásárhely), Romania. Directed by Kátai Zoltán and Tóth László. In cooperation with 'Maros Művészegyüttes',..."

Enjoy!

Duncan

Life goes on (in keeping with The Plan?)

2011-04-12T08:36:00.000-07:00

In Facebook this week, I received a message from Sachie Kelly Hayashi Lin, a late-90's classmate of one of our sons at The Holderness School. Sachie wrote to introduce me to her friend Eileen O'Connell, who sent me the first message below, and started the following train of minor non-coincidences:

***************************************

Eileen O'Connell wrote (in Facebook, 11 April, 2011):
Hello Duncan, Sorry for the late response to our introduction. I hope I'm not too late to tell you about a movie event Romanian Children's Relief www.rcr.org is having this Thursday, April 14th in Cluj and to ask you to please pass it on to your friends and colleagues there. I have been volunteering with RCR for 12 years and have been fortunate enough to spend quite a bit of time caring for abandoned children and developing programs to prevent future displacements of families. We currently have programs in Bucharest and Bistrita and now we are expanding to Cluj. The Romanian web site is www.inocenti.org The movie Hand Held is about the founding of RCR.
I'd love to come to NH to visit you and your Romanian guests to talk about our work and to learn more about your experiences. I'm better with E-mail than Face Book [e-mail address]. I look forward to meeting you. Many thanks.

**************************************

Date: Tue, 12 Apr 2011 07:24:19 -0700
From: duncan mcdougall [e-mail address]
Subject: Romania
To: eileenroconnell@e-mail address

Dear Eileen,

With this message we establish normal e-mail contact, without the aid of Facebook.

You are going to love Cluj, if you will be going there, yourself.

I have copied this message to a few friends in Cluj. If they have interest in your program, I leave it up to them to get in touch with you, and/or to attend the movie event that the Romanian Children's Relief www.rcr.org is having this Thursday, April 14th in Cluj.

Please do let me know if you get a chance to come to New Hampshire. I would be delighted to spend some time reviewing our Romanian experiences, and perhaps taking a scenic drive in The White Mountains.

A link to my current blog (which contains many Romanian memories) is below. Still more are to be found at my earlier blog, "A Fulbright Year in Romania."

Sincerely yours,

Duncan

****************************************

Tue, April 12, 2011 10:38:10 AM

RE: Romania

From:	Eileen O'Connell [e-mail address]
To:	Duncan McDougall

Thank you Duncan. I appreciate hearing from you. I have read your blogs and enjoyed them very much. They brought me back to similar experiences and reminded me of the kindness of Romanians.
I'll keep you posted on our progress in Cluj. The movie has really helped us connect with so many more people. We depend on volunteers in Romania to help our small staff run successful programs and special outings for the children. The good news is every time we show the movie more people step up to help.

****************************************

April 12, 2011

RE: Romania

From	: "Ratliff, Dan" [e-mail address]
To:	Duncan C McDougall [e-mail address]

Thanks for the information about the screening. I am helping publicize it, too, so it is gratifying to see the word go 'round the world. I think I met Eileen when I visited the NGO in Bistrita.

Sad news: our landlord Cornell Blajan passed away last week. Quite unexpectedly. Luci, his wife, found him at the house unconscious, rushed him to the hospital and he never regained consciousness. Graveside service was yesterday. We were out of town for a conference in Italy and were greeted with the funeral notice on the gate when we returned Sunday.

I hope all is well with you and yours. I am expecting that Life after Romania will not be as exciting as the Romanian Adventure, but that will be another chapter. And I will work diligently to find ways to come back---I'm hooked!

Dan

*****************************************

Re: Romania

...

From:	Duncan C McDougall [e-mail address] ...
To:	"Ratliff, Dan"
Cc:	Shirley McDougall [e-mail address]

Dear Dan,

I am most sorry to hear about Cornell's death. Thankfully, it sounds as if he had a natural and a merciful passing. He certainly impressed me as a wonderful man, to the extent that I knew him.

I understand the feelings you are having for Romania. I remember that "Fulbrighter's pre-nostalgia" you are expressing.

I would be honored to share another time with you folks in Romania. Perhaps we can arrange a future visit as two couples.

My very best to you, to Nancy, and to Cami,

Duncan

Local Bankers, Pro and Con

2011-03-31T20:17:00.000-07:00

Today I had two quite different experiences regarding our local banks.

On the bright side:

This morning, in a message on my office phone, the senior vice-president in charge of small business loans at a bank based in a neighboring town told me that he would be able to spend a good part of an upcoming Saturday afternoon speaking to my New Ventures and Entrepreneurship class about the importance of a sound business plan, and about the services that a bank can provide to a new business. That is most generous of him, and I am grateful. He did so also last spring, and the students very much enjoyed his contributions.

In contrast:

Later today, an MBA student here at Plymouth showed me that a different local bank where she has her checking account and debit card had charged her $30.00 for overdrawing her account by about $16.00. The overdraft occurred while on spring break in the South, six days ago, and her University payroll deposit of about two hundred dollars will go into the account tomorrow morning. So, the effect of this "overdraft protection" which is written into her contract is that the bank has loaned her $16.00 for one week, and has charged her $30.00 for the money. Let's do the math. What is the effective interest rate she was charged on that loan? Well, if it is simple interest (close enough to make the point), the interest charged is 30/16 = 187% of the loan, for a period of one week. Annualized, that comes to 52 * 187% = 9750% interest. Some might call that usurious, but what do they know?

I am sure that the bank in question will state that the charge was not interest on a loan, but a contractual and agreed-upon penalty charge for its covering an unsupported debit rather than rejecting it, and that their client signed an agreement to that effect when the account was opened. But their client, in this case, is a foreign student, who opened the account within a week of arriving for the first time in America. I hardly think that she has been fairly treated. I am especially upset because I have had my Plymouth bank accounts with this bank since 1973, and it was I who recommended the bank to my student.

I applaud this MBA student for bringing this situation to my attention.

Tomorrow morning, I will visit "my bank," where I expect that they will make this situation right, and reverse all or most of that penalty. If they do not, then I shall, after having banked for almost forty years there, take my business from them, and to the bank of the gentleman "on the bright side," as described above. I will then be free to name this institution, both here and in a letter to the editors of the local paper, and of the Manchester Union Leader.

Spring Break(!) & Side Trip Explained (then Unexplained)

2011-03-26T06:48:00.000-07:00

I write today from the Red Roof Inn on Two-Notch Road in Columbia, South Carolina. Shirl and I have been to Orlando to see son Jamie and daughter-in-law Amy, to Ft. Myers to see the Boston Red Sox, and to Miami to see son Brian and daughter-in-law Nika. We stayed three nights in a luxury condo in the Orlando area, and since that splurge have been more frugal: one night at a Days Inn in Ft Myers, and one at the Red Roof Inn in West Palm Beach, where we also visited Larry Forand and his wife Norma. Larry was Shirl's music teacher in the Westborough, Massachusetts, schools when she was a girl, and has been a lifelong friend of the family. He is 84 now, and still a warm and humorous guy.

Two lost hours spent in stop-and-go traffic south of Washington on the trip south convinced us to take the I-81 ("Mountain") route home from Florida. So Thursday we came to Columbia, where we pick up I-77 to Charlotte, and shortly thereafter join I-81 for the beautiful trip up the Shenandoah Valley toward the Northeast. But we have spent an extra day and night here in Columbia, thus giving me (the driver) a much-needed rest, and a chance to catch up on my course preparations.

Columbia, the capital of South Carolina, is also home to the University of S. C., where two PSU colleagues and I spent a week in the summer of 1997, taking a training course in the teaching of International Business. It is a lovely old southern city, with a beautiful campus.

Perhaps, one day soon, I will be allowed to reveal the real reason for spending two nights here.

Finally, three cheers for my 2005 Hyundai Santa Fe. Over 96,000 miles, using no oil, and cruising comfortably at high cruising speeds with a heavy load. Motorheads of the World, Unite!

A Happy Day in Westboro

2011-03-13T17:57:00.000-07:00

We had a scare early last week. Shirl's sister Joan called Monday evening, and reported that she and her husband Dick were taking Barbara Kimball, Shirl's 95 year-old mother, to the hospital in Worcester, Massachusetts.

We knew Barbara as a remarkably healthy woman for her age, who had never used alcohol or tobacco, and who still had a sharp mind and ironic wit, not unlike her younger daughter Shirley. But that night Barbara was bleeding. On coumadin for a few years to prevent blood clots, her bleeding was at a frightening rate, and Joan Cichowski, Shirl's older sister, a nurse practicioner who has lived at home with her Mom ever since her father Basil Kimball died some 20 years ago, quickly decided that a trip to the hospital was indicated.

After evaluation at the Emergency Room, Barbara was admitted at Memorial Hospital. There was talk of possible cancer, and a biopsy was ordered. Shirl drove the 140 miles (~210 Km) to Worcester the next morning. Her brother David Kimball, Barbara's only son, came down from Vermont. I told Shirl to call me and I'd be there, if ever she needed or wanted me to come. She promised me she would do so.

Six days later, I drove today to see Barbara and Shirl at the wonderful nursing home in Westboro to which Barbara had been transferred on Thursday. I took this happy picture.


Shirl and Barbara

We spent the afternoon with Barbara, and actually witnessed her taking three walks up and down the hall with a physical therapist. We talked, and talked, not only with each other, but also with Barbara's two roommates and their visitors. As you can see, Barbara looks great. The crisis is now over. The biopses appear negative (though more test results are due tomorrow).

Needless to say, I was very happy to see my mother-in-law looking so chipper. After all, there is only one woman alive who loves me as much as Barbara Kimball does. Here is her picture. ;-)

Shirl and SOL

On Teaching Online

2011-03-03T20:37:00.000-08:00

Online teaching is certainly different from classroom teaching, and like most long-time teachers, before I tried it I was a skeptic. I doubted that a credible, challenging, graduate-level course could be delivered over the Internet. That was back about 2002 or 2003, when Plymouth State was still a college, and the Plymouth State University College of Business Administration was still the PSC Business Department. We have all come a long, long way in the past eight or nine years. For me, one of the most surprising and happy developments of the period has been the realization that effective online teaching at the MBA level is not only possible, it is in some ways better than classroom teaching. I have no doubt that my online courses are as rigorous, and are more demanding (on me and on my students) than my face-to-face classes ever were.

I use the same textbook in both venues. I cover the same material. I use just as many Harvard Business School case studies. With the help of the steadily evolving online teaching software (WebCT, then Blackboard, and now Moodle), I am in communication with my class all week long, and the interpersonal rapport that develops as students struggle with case analyses, and we exchange e-mails and forum posts, can be intense. When I end up actually meeting one of my online course alumni, as at the Graduate Commencement each May, it is as if I am seeing a long-lost friend. Often, I receive spontaneous hugs!

You see, in the typical face-to-face class, a small percentage of the class, the well-prepared few, can lead during a case discussion, and the smart but ill-prepared class members can tag along, and contribute a cogent question or comment, thus appearing to be "with it." It is difficult to know who is really working and learning until written assignments are due... often only twice during a course, as was the pattern even at Harvard Business School back in the Sixties. (Those case-based "Bluebook" exams were the shortest four hour periods of my life.)

In contrast, my online students must post written work each week, and also take a quiz on each assigned chapter in the text. The latter are a small percentage of the graded work but are a way of making sure that the textbook's boilerplate is actually read. In some MBA programs I would not use a textbook in an operations or management accounting course, but our MBAs run the gamut from CPAs and engineers to artists, poets, and MDs, and need the theory and vocabulary lessons that a well-written textbook can provide. Still, the meat of my graduate courses is in the cases. So, learning to teach cases effectively online was my biggest concern as I started my online teaching career some nine years back.

I posed that problem to Royce Robertson, then a young IT staff member at Plymouth State who was charged with supporting us teachers in our early forays into online education. Royce and I discussed ways to make case analysis meaningful for the students, ensuring that all would get a chance to attack unfamiliar business situations on their own, and thus avoid having a few eager beavers dominating the discussions and hogging the learning process.

Case analysis is a matter of studying the situation described in a case, sifting the relevant from the irrelevant data, identifying the problems, opportunities, and areas requiring management attention in the case, then setting objectives, identifying alternative courses of action, weighing their costs, practicality, and probabilities of success against a chosen set of criteria, making a decision, and then boiling it all down to an action plan. That is real work. It is also the heart of the "vicarious experience" that makes for quality in an MBA program. Graduates of case-based courses can think. They do not fear the unfamiliar, they enjoy its challenges. How could I see to it that my online MBA students got that kind of a learning opportunity?

The answer that Royce and I came up with was what I call "paired discussions." Each week, students are assigned to a group of two, one as Analyst, and the other as Respondent, and placed in a private online discussion forum. Analysts must post their case analysis, insofar as they can take it in the time available, not later than midnight on Saturday night. Respondents must post by midnight, Sunday. Then, on a weeknight, the whole class gathers in a synchronous chat session. The chats can be amazing. There might be as many opinions as there were groups (we cap our online course sections at 20, so ten groups would be the limit). The discussion is lively. Sometimes, I reveal in the chat session (with permission from the student) a good spreadsheet or other interesting item posted by a student in the forum. The objective of the chat is constructive, not competitive. The goal is to leave this two-hour chat with a better understanding of the case for all concerned.

Following the chat, I grade each student's work in the private forums. The average of these post grades is the single most heavily weighted grade item, usually 50 to 60 % of the final grade.

Each paired team is encouraged to discuss the case all week long. The Analysts must post first, but they are not condemned to work in a vacuum. In the following week, I shuffle the groups, and swap roles. So normally no one is Analyst two weeks in a row, and everyone gets to work with a wide set classmates.

The amount and quality of the work I see in these case discussion forums is generally gratifying. It seems that the MBA students are a proud and self-respecting bunch of people. None of them wants to let a teammate down, or be seen as a slacker. So, they really get into the cases. (The similarity to the mentor system of warrior training in ancient Greece has often occurred to me.) And rather than seeing two papers, or two exams, from each student in a term, I see eight quizzes and nine or ten written case analyses, all of which are graded.

By the way, my students have been most kind to me in their online course evaluations, which are done confidentially after each iteration of every course taught in our College of Business Administration. The courses have worked.

This week, for our spring quarter, for the first time I have launched two different online courses in parallel, Operations Management and International Business. Please, wish me luck!

Shades of COANDA Henri

2011-02-22T06:07:00.000-08:00

Raluca Tarcea is one of the two Plymouth State University MBAs from Romania presently here with us in New Hampshire. As our mutual Facebook friends will remember from our August trip to the Portsmouth Air Show, Ralu is decidedly air-minded, as opposed to air-headed. (Ralu arrived in Plymouth a brunette and is now quite blonde, but the change has not yet turned her into an air-head.)

John and Ralu at the preflight briefing.

Sunday, 20 February, was a gorgeous day. Bright blue skies, cold, and breezy. I called Emerson Aviation at the Laconia Municipal Airport to see if I could book an hour of dual instruction, as I had not logged any hours of piloting since 1994(!). Then I asked Ralu, who happened to be sitting at her laptop across the table from me enjoying our new Jotul Black Bear wood stove while playing around the Internet, whether she would be interested in coming along. Her instantaneous adrenaline rush led to a change of my plans. Raluca logged the hour of dual (0.8 of actual airtime), not I. Here are the pictures I took from the back seat, during Ralu's first flying lesson, with instructor pilot John Anderson.

Meredith Bay on Lake Winnepesaukee

See why they call it The Lakes Region?

Ralu flew a 360 over our home in Campton. (Shirl and Alex McD. look on from the driveway.)

We turned final to Runway 26 just before sunset.

Shades of Henri Coanda: a Romanian pilot blooms.

That is the good news. The bad news: I still have not logged any flight time since 1994 ;-).

Missing also the Fulbrighters, and my other Friends in Romania

2011-02-13T13:39:00.000-08:00

I have today perceived that some of my friends in Romania might feel slighted by my not listing them in yesterday's post. The fact is that I miss a rather large number of people there. Today, I shall acknowledge a few more. (If I have not included you today or yesterday, please forgive me.)

Dan and Nancy Ratliff, how goes the semester break at UBB? Are you getting around the country, or will that have to wait for spring? Cami, I hope your work is proving as rewarding as you'd hoped, and that your applications to medical school will be successful (though I have little doubt that they will be). Please let me know if I can write you a letter of recommendation. I think I know you well enough to write honestly, and quite glowingly, about your talent and sense of purpose.

Aline C., I missed seeing you before I left. I am sorry. How are you, and how have your creative and art teaching projects progressed?

Connie H., it was fun having my final ciorba de burta of this last stay in Romania with you in Alesd. See you next fall in Winnetka, God willing! Meanwhile, let's keep in touch. I have chatted (in my broken Romanian) with Aurelia B. from Baia Mare a couple of times on Yahoo. What a fine family she is part of! Please shoot me an e-mail, as I have forgotten her nickname.

Hanna U., it was a fine dinner meeting we shared last month. I wish you well in all your ambitions and personal desires. You are a fine young woman. I hope we will continue to be in touch.

Simona B., thank you for maintaining our friendship this fall, started back in my Fulbright Year, thanks to our mutual friend, Kathy O.

Similar sentiments of respect and affection are due to Andrei M. in Cluj, to Irinuca T. in Vatra Dornei, to Alexandru, Dan, and Florin at Ecomonica II, to Oana-Maria, Florina P., Sorin, Leonina S., and Vasile T., all of Cluj, to POP Vasile in Ocna Sugatag, to Augustin and Claudia M. and Teodor, Voica, and Mihaela F. in Bistriţa, and to Nastasia and Nicolae T. in Cluj. Finally, of course to Raluca F.at UBB/Economica II/Office Depot.

Roxana de Sibiu, over there in China, I will never forget our chats this fall. What an adventure you lived through! Please let me hear from you soon. Has the situation improved over there, as you had hoped it would?

I also want to acknowledge (and record for my aging memory) new friends Lucia S., and Dana and Dane B. of Cluj.

Needless to say, all who work at the Fulbright Commission in Bucharest are included in my thoughts this day.

No doubt I have still left out many in Romania who are important to me. Such listings are inherently risky, and I apologize if your name is not in this one. There are a great many in Romania to whom I owe my fine impression of that country, and whom I have come to like, to respect, and to care for. Be well, Romanian friends!

As some Americans put it, "Y'all come and see us now! Y'hear?" We will welcome your visits in New Hampshire.

Post-Romanian Cultural Adjustment

2011-02-12T17:48:00.000-08:00

It has been difficult these past 15 days. At first, after arriving early in a snowstorm that closed Logan Airport shortly after our landing, waiting an hour for Shirl and Alex to get to the airport (because driving conditions in New Hampshire were abysmal), and then driving three hours home through the snow, I was merely exhausted. But soon, the time change proved problematic. I was awakening at 4:00 AM, (11 AM in Cluj), and bedding down by 8:00 PM (3 AM in Cluj). In between, my ambition was limited, and I needed a nap each afternoon. I managed to accomplish the necessities, but little else. I kept wishing I could call Alexandra and meet for coffee, or drive back to Oaşa and continue my conversation with Father Sava, or to Suceava to see the Moroşans, or have dinner with Moni and Horaţiu, or Melinda, or Valer and Simo, or see Lucian again over pizza, or have lunch with my colleagues Mihaela, Mircea, and/or Marius. In short, I had left Cluj and Transylvania and Romania behind, without any set plans to return, and the effect was traumatic.

I have had to get my act together professionally, of course. And this week I made good progress in planning the two online MBA courses that I will be teaching in our spring quarter, which begins on 28 February. And I have finally begun to sleep on local time. So, I guess, I have adjusted.

The news of late has been dominated by Egypt's revolution. I wish that ancient and prestigious nation a positive outcome.

Home

2011-01-28T01:47:00.001-08:00

The title says it all.

Departure Day

2011-01-26T03:27:00.000-08:00

Bleeding money, but coming home. Taxi to airport: 50 Euro. Bag fee (no carryons can weigh over 8 Kg, Mine was almost twice that), 150 Euros. (The good deal was that the first two were free, and they accepted my huge bag, even though it was 27 Kg, 5 over the limit!) Internet hookup, $14.71 for two hours. But I am here at the Stuttgart Flughafen, and am online, and have a good looking salad and sandwich next to me, and have three hours till flight time. So, I will bleed the money happily! After all, it is only money. Soon, I will be seeing Shirley, and Alex, and Alex2, and maybe even Ralu for dinner in Boston.

Thank you, Dietmar, and Sabine, and Max, and Ferdi of Fellbach. It is always a pleasure to see you all. Max, I hope you will enjoy Klaus for the coming year. He is a great old car, and I know he will keep you safe. Ferdi, please remember to check the brake pads. I heard a bit of scraping at low speeds in the Alte Kelter lot. It was probably just a sticky caliper in the cold, but best to have them checked! The key is in Max's mailbox, and Klaus is stowed at the Alte Kelter.

Goodbye, Europe. I do not know when I will be back, but the smart money will be betting it will happen before two years are out.

Spaetzle and Venison

2011-01-23T13:57:00.000-08:00

Made it safely to Alte Kelter in Fellbach. Great little hotel. Had the subject dinner with our old friends, the Familie Schmid, cooked by Sabine's mother, Annamarie. She is a delightful octogenarian. I will be based here for three nights. Tomorrow, I will run Dietmar to the Flughafen, then plan a day trip to revisit old haunts from my 1972 trip to Heidelberg. As the old college song says, "Alt Heidelberg du feine. Du Stadt an Ehren reich."

Departure Day -1

2011-01-21T09:19:00.000-08:00

Sweaty day.

When I awoke today, seven shirts on hangers, a rack full of clean underwear and socks, and assorted toiletries stared across the room at me. Around the corner in the foyer were two full bags, a large cooler, and an empty microwave box, the latter awaiting my finishing breakfast, and all awaiting carriage down to Klaus for their trip into Clujian storage. My office was still littered with the case files and books I had brought from Plymouth to use in my teaching. But also there in the office was the beat-up but still sound box they had arrived in (thanks to Fulbright and to Aline Cautis). I had a packed my sportcoat and slacks, brown sweater, blue corduroy jack-shirt, and many other items in my black duffel on Thursday night, and it, too, awaited being hauled down to Klaus.

Daunting, to say the least.

Then, as my bleary eyes cleared, so did my foggy brain. I remembered that Good Friend Gig in Fellbach would probably be willing once again to have nico-Schmid ship my book box to Rochester Shoe Tree Company in Ashland, as he had in 2009. That took one problem off my to do list: finding a reasonably priced shipping company (Postal Romana asks $200 to ship a box filled with books, and only God knows if and when they might arrive). As is so often the case, my spirit responded to the epiphany, and I got to work.

My only scheduled meeting today was at 11:00 with Mihaela Lutas, my vice dean at FSEGA. Before that meeting, I had:

eaten breakfast,
packed up the microwave,
carried two heavy bags down to the lot and loaded them into Klaus' back and front seats, along with the tires that were already taking up much space,
recovered from his trunk my wheeled luggage carrier, as it would make transporting the Microwave and cooler far easier,
gone back upstairs, loaded the last two items for storage on the wheeled carrier,
gone back down and completed loading Klaus for a later trip to Horaţiu's shop, where our "stays-in-Cluj-stuff" would be stored (Thank you, Horaţiu),
showered, and dressed half-decently to appear civilized at The Faculty.

My meeting with Mihaela was to say "goodbye," but also to collect a business document from UBB that needed to be taken home to Plymouth State, but as it had not yet arrived from the headquarters of the University, we agreed to have a bite and a coffee in about fifteen minutes at the Panorama, a snack bar on the 6th floor. It turned out to be more like thirty minutes, which allowed me to clean my office, and pack my book box. amazingly, I had remembered to take my carrier with me to the fourth-floor office, so I loaded it, and wheeled it with me to the Panorama. Mihaela and I had a delightful chat over toasted sandwiches and apple-carrot smoothies, called a "fresh" in Romania, which were fantastically good. I had not tried that mix before, but I surely will again. From there, we went down to Mihaela's assistant's office to see if Aniko had packing tape for the book box. She did, and was most kind in bidding me farewell and a safe trip home. Then, Mihaela invited me in to see Dean Dumitru Matiş, FSEGA's distinguished leader. The dean and I shook hands and bid one another goodbye, and then he handed me a book on the history of the University, and a medal commemorating the 90th Anniversary celebration of a Romanian Language University in Cluj. (Prior to 1920, all university studies in Cluj had been in either Latin or Hungarian.) These gifts came as a complete surprise, and are deeply appreciated.

So, still without the VIP (very important paper), but assured that there would be a call from Mihaela when it arrived, I drove a awkwardly-loaded Klaus out to Piata Unu de Mai, and found Starmax in its new offices. It is a much-improved location, and features an elegant aquarium, as well as fresh paint, good lighting, and working heat. Horaţiu helped me haul the items into his store room, and we tucked them into an out-of-the-way corner, stacked so as to minimize the floor space occupied.

For the record, Shirl, on our next stay in a Cluj apartment, we need not buy much kitchen stuff, nor pillows, only one towel (I kept one here for tonight), sleeping bags to use as comforters, desk lamps, a keyboard, a microwave, etc., etc. I have not yet figured out what to do about the water pitcher, because I want it in my travels for the next five days. So it will likely stay in Fellbach.

After we stowed the stuff, Horaţiu and I went to his local lunch-spot, where I had ciorba de burta and a couple slices of bread to round out my lunch. Then the efficiency of the morning started to fade. I said goofd bye to Horaţiu and beat my way back through Friday afternoon traffic to Economica II, only to discover at the gate to the lot that I was using Klaus' spare key, that I had put in my pocket to ensure its getting to Germany with us. It had no clicker attached. I couldn't get into the lot. I called Horaţiu, "Did I leave my leather jacket there, or in the restaurant?" Horaţiu searched. "It isn't here, give me a minute, I'll run to the restaurant." Youth is beautiful, and Horaţiu is still young. Shortly, he called back to say he'd found it at the restaurant, and my PSU hat, too. "I'll be bacj in ten or fifteen minutes," I told him.

It took half an hour. I tried a new route, and lost my way. When I got there, my keys and jacket were intact, but only one glove was in the pocket. I had expected to find both. We walked back to the restautant. No glove. "No big deal," I told Horaţiu,"they are only $10.00 gloves from a catalog." But they are new, and soft, and warm, and I was a bit bummed.

On my way home again, Mihaela called to report that the document had arrived. I accepted her offer to have it brought across the street to the dorm. I was wearing out. Back at the dorm, I paid four months' rent ($267.00, total), and went up to my room. There was the missing glove, lying on top of my sandals, where it had fallen when I put on the jacket.

I have finished packing, but for refrigerated meds. I have downed a bottle of vin rosu sec in the company of a floormate, and together we have eaten my last foodstuffs. I have chatted with Shirl, watched an episode of Foyle's War, chatted with Shirl on the Internet, and now, I am well and truly ready for bed.

Goodbye, Cluj. Goodbye, Romania. Goodbye, all you wonderful people that I have come to know, and have come to know better this fall than ever before. I hope to return to see you all, yet again.

(D -4) Elena's Birthday

2011-01-17T13:35:00.000-08:00

A knock on the door at ten P.M. "Unde este?" I call, inaccurately. I'd asked "Where is it?" Oh, crap! I'd meant "Cine este?", "Who is it?"

It turned out to be my Englishline Labor Management student and floormate, Elena, from Room 214. "You caught me in my pajamas," I said. "Oops. Sorry," she said, "but it is my birthday, and we wondered if you would like to come for some sangria and cake. We are in 214." It was too nice an offer to refuse. "Okay, I'll get dressed."

Birthday girl Elena Dumitraşcu with the fortunate Andrei Manea, her boyfriend.

All but one of the party goers. (Someone snapped the photo.)

I surely enjoyed meeting this jolly throng, and I thank them all for the invitation. Elena, "La mulţi ani!"

Gorgeous Gorge

2011-01-16T12:32:00.000-08:00

Cheile Turzii (pronounced "Kayleh Turtzy") has appeared in my blogs several times before, but on this perfect January Sunday, I went there one last time. The sun shone, and my recent travel companions Valer and Simo were joined by my cheerful and energetic colleague Kinga Kerekes for a fun day in the gorge.

Cheile Turzii

Small streams mighty gorges gouge.

Ice still rims the brook.

Massive walls of the canyon.

Valer, Kinga and Simo on one of several suspension bridges on the trail.


No mici being sold today. (Great smile, Kinga!)

But soon we found our favorite lunch spot in the valley west of Turda, Conacul Secuiesc.

So we pressed on to Colţeşti and Conacul Secuiesc

Friend, fellow auslander, and Etaj Doi floormate, Simo Imakor at the Conacul Secuiesc

Minus Six Days

2011-01-15T13:33:00.000-08:00

Today I had breakfast with Lucian Bogdan, the brilliant Ph.D. student of American Studies who helped me with my course in that discipline back in 2009. Lucian is 250-pages into his thesis on the history of American/Romanian diplomacy in the immediate aftermath of WWII, as the country was being taken into totalitarianism by the Communists. Lucian has spent weeks pouring through the archives in Bucharest. He is likely the most knowledgable living scholar on this topic. He is a fascinating thinker. His viewpoints on the modern world are highly interesting to me. He reads and thinks about the political news periodicals. He follows world economics. He is quite a guy.

My 3:00 PM lunch/dinner was with my new friend Vlad Ciurca, to whom I was introduced by Ray Wright during his apartment renovation project this past November. We ate at Indigo, an Indian restaurant that I now consider a "good find." It was delicious. Thank you for the suggestion, Vlad.

One other act commited today was to post the following on the Facebook Cause "Let's Improve Romania's Image." I have not previously ventured this far into political observation, but events of the past weeks have led me to offer these thoughts:

For Romanians it seems fashionable to make disparaging remarks to foreigners about Romania. I find that sad. For Americans it is considered unseemly to disparage America. Many of us Americans criticize our government and elected officials, but we generally profess sincere love for our country.

Romania has educated you Romanians. It has given you much of value in terms of a sense of right and wrong, and in terms af a loving culture. Romania is your beautiful homeland. You know in your hearts that if you leave it, you will miss it.

Romania deserves your love, even if its government and elected officials do not. I want to hear fewer sick jokes about Romania, and more positive proposals for transparency, for honesty in government, and for a service attitude on the part of the bureaucracy. If you do not like the officials, elect new ones. And do not tell me they are all the same. After two election cycles in which the party in power is thrown out, all parties will get the message.

I am now completing my second stint as a university professor in Cluj. I will be going home next week to New Hampshire, USA. I love it there. But I also love being here. I sincerely hope to come back, yet again. God bless Romania!

GO minus seven days.

2011-01-14T13:24:00.000-08:00

Friday evening in Cluj. Watched Foyle's War episode 2 "The White Feather" with Simo Imakor, my Morrocan floormate, did a wash, and continued the packing of:

my check-bag, that gets only through-stuff not needed between Cluj and Campton, and
my "stays in Cluj" bags and boxes, which will again be stored at my friend Horaţiu's warehouse.

The rest of my clothing and meds I will cram into my marvelous L.L.Bean midsized duffel, big enough for five-days' clothing and a small cooler for insulin, yet designed to fit perfectly into the overhead bins of a B737 or A320. Thus, hopefully, I can thus make it home with only one checked bag.

These semester-and-longer stays in Romania have led to an increasing collection of Euro-possessions, our Freudian guarantors of future trips to Gernamy and Romania. Of course, Klaus is the biggest of these, but next time, for example, we won't have to rebuy a microwave oven, filtering water pitcher, dishes and silverware, a ladle for ciorba and a knife for cutting veggies for soups and carnaţ for cooking. Olive oil, salt, pepper, cinnamon, thyme, and even an unopened jar of Jif peanut butter will remain here, encased in our 240V/12V refrigerating cooler, awaiting our return.

Monica, if you hear that I have kicked the bucket, please keep what you like of this collection of household goods, and give the rest to a deserving student or charity. And Horaţiu, thank you kindly for stashing it all for us while we are away.

Christmas week in Romania

2011-01-09T10:30:00.000-08:00

Ever since I arrived in Cluj back in 2008, I have been aware that Christmas in Romania is special. Else, why would so many Romanians have expressed disappointment when they learned I had made plans to return to New Hampshire for Christmas break?

A night at Piaţa Mihai Viteazul in Cluj, Christmas Season, 2008

This year, I stayed.

Shirl and I had been together at Christmas every year since 1972. I love our New England Christmases together, and I had some misgivings about breaking our 38-year series. But, with Jamie and Amy having tied the knot in Florida late in November, I had already made a special flight to America only a month earlier. Shirl and I talked it over. All our kids are grown. Only Alex (25) is still living in the house, and four of our six would be far away, Christal and Piper in Colorado, where Piper was going to have to work Christmas Day at Aspen Mountain, Brian and Jamie in Florida, where Jamie was also scheduled to work Christmas Day at Sea World, and I would be returning to Campton for the spring term only one month after Christmas. It made sense to stay in Romania.

Thus, I had an opportunity between December 24 and 30, 2010 to keep a few promises, and to accept a few long-standing invitations. It proved a wonderful, yummy, busy, somewhat overly liquid, but extremely cordial and happy week.

In the main, Christmas in Romania is a time of hospitality and caroling. It is truly a time of good will toward men, women, and children. Families gather, eat Christmas Soup (my name for the chicken noodle soup with carrots that I was served at three successive visits), sarmale (delcious stuffed cabbage rolls, served to me at four homes), assorted sausages and meats (everywhere), and fancy cookies and cakes. Oh, yes, and they also drink ţuica, polinca, homemade wines, as well as tea, coffee, various juices, and whatever other nectars the guests might have brought (in my case, good scotch whisky). So, Christmas in Romania challenges one's self-control. In fact, in Suceava, at the end of my six-day marathon of Christmas, I received a cogent lecture from my hostess on which foods and drinks to avoid, or not to mix, so as to prevent a painful acidic build-up in the digestive tract. (I'd wished that lecture had come a few days earlier.)

Here is a chronology of my Christmas in Romania, which I record for posterity, so as not to forget. I thank all of you wonderful people for showing me so much love and caring.

Friday, 24 December, Cluj:
Christmas Eve was enjoyed at the home of Alexandra Muţiu's mother-in-law, Tibi's mom Katalin Kajcsa. Ida (almost 9) and Ingrid (5) were a bit hyper, of course, but absolutely charming in their appreciation of the gift bags that this old Santa brought, filled with chocolate bars, Barbie dolls and stuffed bears. (Both girls got the same toys; Alexandra's explicit request.) It was a warm and joyous evening, featuring Christmas Soup and sarmale. Carolers came to the door of the flat, and I had the pleasure of joining in one of their songs (probably "Jingle Bells," the one English song that all Romanian children know).

Saturday, 25 December, Cluj:
Both Raluca Tarcea of Cluj and Alexandru Mican of Bistriţa are presently enrolled in the Plymouth State University MBA Program in New Hampshire, and both came home to Romania for Christmas this year. They are both dear friends of Shirl's and mine, and have spent many days and evenings at our home in Campton. So, I found myself with two competing invitations for Christmas Day. I accepted Ralu's, partly because I had not yet met her parents, and wanted to do so, and partly because it would make logistical sense to visit Bistriţa on my way to Suceava, a few days later, and I could then stay with the Micans for two nights, which Alex had encouraged.

Domnule (Mr.) Nicolae Tarcea and Ralu came to pick me up at 2:30, and took me home to a Mănăştur bloc, to their graceful apartment, and to a party that lasted until almost 11:00 PM. Supposedly, there was a lunch and a dinner served. In fact, there was an all-day feast. I think Doamna Nastasia Tarcea had cooked four or five different meats, along with sarmale, Christmas Soup, and a marvelous collection of side dishes and desserts. And, Mr. Tarcea opened the Johnny Walker Black Label that I had given him, so we ended the day with "sipping whisky." We sang. We found beloved carols on YouTube and listened. We talked of all manner of things. And then, Nastasia showed me the newspaper story about Father Sava, that led to the next weekend's mission to Oaşa Monastery (as described below). All in all, it was a grand Christmas Day.

Sunday, 26 December, Satu Mare & Ocna Şugatag
Way back on 29 September, 2008, my first work day in the UBB Faculty of Economics, I met at about 8:00 A.M. a new first-year student from Satu Mare named Valer Olimpiu Şuteu, who was there with his father (also Valer) to launch his university studies. (That encounter was described in the latter part of my post of that date entitled "Faculty Day." In my quoted letter in that post, you will read of my invitation then to spend Christmas, 2008, with the Family Şuteu.) As the chance meeting ended, Mr. Şuteu invited me to stop in to see them in Satu Mare, if ever I made it there.

Later that fall, on a visit to the northern counties with fellow Fulbrighters, we met with Mr. and Mrs. (Mariana) Şuteu for a coffee on the drive home to Cluj via Satu Mare and Oradea, from my first visit to Maramureş. Over coffee, we learned that Mr. Şuteu was battling cancer. This fall, he died. Valer had called me to give me the sad news. Now, in December, Valer called again to invite me to come spend some time at Christmas with him and his mother in Satu Mare. It was a small gathering on Sunday at about noon, just the three of us, and the first social event at their home since the loss of Mr. Şuteu. But Christmas love was in the air, and we had another fine meal, although a less liquid one than previously, as Klaus and I were scheduled to drive east to Ocna Şugatag for the night, over the mountains, and in the snow.

I made it safely to Popasul din Deal in O.S., and had a small supper in the company of my friend, Vasile Pop. Bedding down early, I slept for eleven hours straight. It was wonderful. In the morning, I tried out the brand new indoor swimming pool, now completed, in a spa featuring also a salt bath and a sauna.

Country of Contrasts: The Spa at Popasul din Deal

Monday and Tuesday, 27 & 28 December, Bistriţa:

Country of Contrasts: Winter Haystacks in Maramureş

The mission was to drive south from Maramureş to the city of Bistriţa. It is only, perhaps, 160 Km. But again, it was over the Carpathians in a snow storm. It went well for Klaus on his new winter tires, but far less well for the three cars seen off the road in snowfields or, in one case, hanging from a bridge with the rear end in a brook. One was being pulled from the ditch by a team of horses with a caruţa (horse-drawn wagon).

At the top of the road there is an inn where I had previously stopped for coffee with Connie Goddard. This time, as I walked across the road to the entrance, I was joined by a fellow motorist, also in need of a break. As she was in the lead, I asked, "Deschis?" (Is it open?) I guess I asked in an American accent, for she replied, "I don't know, I'll check." The door was not locked, so we spent a pleasant half-hour over coffee and ciorba, and I made a new friend from Cluj, Lucia S. Lucia is a businesswoman, and proved an erudite conversationalist, and good-hearted sort, typical of those who grew up, as she had, in Maramureş.

The proprietor had a television playing on one of the several channels that broadcast mainly traditional folk singing and dancing. Lo and behold, the man singing and playing an instrument on the TV was the proprietor. I tried to get a picture of the TV, and took one of the man himself. Here are the pictures of Dle. Pătru Bârlea, of Sighetu Marmaţiei, Judeţ Maramureş, Romania:

As for my new acquaintance, Lucia, I hope she will read this blog and e-mail me, for I cannot today find her e-mail address, and would like to be in touch. We agreed to drive in convoy down the southern side of the mountains, lest one or the other of us encounter misfortune. The downhill ride went well, and Lucia beeped her "Goodbye" as she turned right and I left, where the road to Nasaud and Bistriţa diverges from that to Beclean and Cluj.

Following a new friend in low-traction snow

Arriving at the house of Mican I was warmly greeted by Claudia and Augustin, Alex's parents, and immediately made to feel at home. A Christmas feast was almost ready, and soon the fun began. It lasted for that day and the next. I cannot tell you how many friends and family I met, but among them were Alexandru's aunts and uncles, grandmother and great aunt, family friends from Braşov, and the assorted children large and small of all.

Augustin (in the white shirt), and Alexandru with three of his uncles

Claudia (in a red baseball sweatshirt!) with the family Mican

With my delightful contemporary, Alex's grandmother

It was a noisy, friendly, joyous occasion. The last evening Alex and I walked the 300 meters over to the Faur house to pay our respects to Dora's family.

Wednesday, 29 December, Vatra Dornei & Suceava:
On the morning of the 29th, I left for the East, myself loaded with good Christmas cheer, and Klaus with a lot more homemade hootch.

Ski Lodge in Vatra Dornei

The road east to Bucovina is now upgraded to European Highway standards, and while far from an autostrada, it is smooth and well marked. Snow was again in the air, but the trip was uneventful, and I arrived in Vatra Dornei on time for my lunch appointment with my former American Studies student, Irina Tarniceru, and her boyfriend Mihai.

We ate at the ski lodge at the base of Vatra's ski run, and the similarity to New Hampshire's smaller ski areas was unmistakable. I was pleased to see Irina looking beautiful, and sounding both well and happy. Finally, I would be amiss if I did not report our having seen Vatra Dornei's Goat Dancer and his entourage. Crăciun in Bucovina!
After lunch Klaus and I continued to Suceava, where, after a couple of false starts, we found our way to the home of Mihai and Traudi Moroşan.

Bay windows at the end of the dining room at Moroşan residence

In my room at the Moroşan residence

Mihai is, as already established in this blog, a great guy. And Traudi is nothing if not a dynamic (some 20-year younger) partner to him. It was established early that the fears for her health, the tests referred to in an earlier post, had come back revealing local nerve damage in her wrists, rather than a systemic disease such as MS or worse. So, she has had one operation for carpal tunnel symdrome, and will undergo a second one in March. Thanks be to God, it was not worse. (Our prayers were answered, one might say.)

The Moroşans live in a large and solid home in a lovely part of downtown Suceava, with their youngest son Mihail, a computer science student at Essex University in the U.K. One floor above is the home of one of Mihai's brothers, who paid us a visit Wednesday, and joined in the sumptuous feast that seemed to be on the table from the moment of my arrival until my departure the next day.

During our conversations, I had a chance to tell Mihai and Traudi of Anthony Antolini's Rachmaninoff Choir, and their planned tour of Romania in 2012. They kindly expressed their willingness to help Anthony make the necessary contacts in the Romanian Orthodox Church. (But, I have since learned from Tony that the economic downturn has led to the indefinite postponement of the tour.)

Thursday, 30 December, Suceava to Cluj:
On Thursday, I had contemplated heading south to pay visits to acquaintences old and new in Brasov, Bucharest, and Piteşti before heading home to Cluj, but by departure was delayed by a morning visit from Father Nicolae of Sf. Nicolae's Biserica in Câmpulung (Mihai's younger brother), his daughter, and her fiance.

With Traudi, Nicolae's daughter and her fiance

We ended up in an intense conversation/caroling session, during which I learned that Father Nicolae can really sing!


Father Nicolae and Mihai Moroşan

It was noon before I finally hit the road, and given the weather and the many hundreds of Km already traveled, I chose to take the familiar road back west to Cluj, and not to stretch my luck by making a long southern loop. After passing at least twenty horse-drawn hay wagons coming down the highway east of Bistriţa, we came upon one that had had a mishap and blocked the road in a village.

I gasped in horror when I came upon this scene, fearing the horse was a goner.

But as we passed, the horse was able to get up, and continue with his work.

Klaus and I got home safely to Cluj just after dark, where I fell happily into my bed at Economica II.

It was a wonderful Christmas Week trip of about 1000 snowy kilometers, and a fine holiday, albeit far away from my own home and family.

Thank you, my dear Romanian friends, for making me welcome in your homes, and for allowing me to enjoy the holiday with your families. I now understand what was meant by all those who had told me, "Christmas is a special time in Romania."

[For Search Purposes: Morosan]

Father Sava's Story

2011-01-07T04:10:00.000-08:00

We walked perhaps two kilometers up the snowy road above the lake and between the evergreens, and then turned back. On the way up the road, I asked Father Sava to tell me his tale. I shall relate it from memory, and ask that the good Father amplify it, and excuse and correct any inaccuracies when he gets a chance to read this account, which I shall mail to him at my first opportunity.

Father Sava was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, to Roman Catholic parents who sent him to parochial schools that he says were the best schools in the city. He went on to become a graduate of Loyola University in New Orleans, with a major in accounting. I assure you, he has an excellent education, and speaks English with nary a trace of a southern accent.

After college, at some point Father Sava's interests became focused on his Christianity, and his story jumps to when he was in his thirties, and finds him living as a newcomer in the Greek Orthodox Monastery of Saint Gregory Palamas in north central Ohio. He had left the Roman Catholic Church and converted to Orthodox Christianity. Why? Well, exactly when and why he converted to Orthodoxy I do not know. Suffice it to say, he had decided (Found? Come to believe? Been inspired to know?) that Orthodox Christianity was "The True Christianity," having adhered to traditions that stem from Christ's own teachings, and from which "all Western Christianity has strayed."

While at the Ohio monastery, Stephen found a book on the Spiritual History of Romania. He says it was so powerful a story that while still in Ohio, he started to study the Romanian language. From Ohio he went to Mt. Athos in Greece (The Holy Mountain, located on a peninsula that juts into the Aegean Sea southeast of Thessaloniki, and on which there are some twenty monasteries), where he spent time in two monasteries, seeking his Place. He was committed personally to a monk's life, but had not yet found his Place. He asked at one monastery to be admitted as a novice, but was told no, because they were a monastery for Greek monks, could not accept foreigners beyond 20% of the population, and had filled that quota already. At a second, very famous and respected monastery, he stayed as a guest for weeks, loved it and its brethern, and asked for an opportunity to meet its abbot, and ask permission to join the flock.

As Stephen tells of the encounter, "The abbot and I had never met. In fact, I doubt he even knew my name before this meeting. I was nervous, but I was able to tell him how many days I had lived there, and how right it felt. Then, before I could specifically request admission, the Abbot said 'Oaşa.' I said, 'Excuse me, Father. What did you say?' He then proceded to tell me that God wanted me in a monastery called 'Oaşa' in Romania. He asked me to go there and see for myself. So, I did. That was ten years ago. I have just celebrated my tenth anniversary here."

Stephen clearly was comfortable in his mountain retreat. He now speaks Transilvanian Romanian fluently, of course, and he never for a second evinced doubt that the Greek abbot that sent him here was simply transmitting God's Will to him.

The rest of the talk got pretty personal, as we shared certain of our experiences as American newcomers to Romania that had convinced us both that there are no coincidences, and that we both are here because we belong here. It was as if we were brothers, which, of course, we are, in many senses of the word.

When I got back to Cluj I wrote to Father Sava, and enclosed printouts of several past stories from this blog. I hope that he enjoys them, and that he will write me back.

Oaşa Monastery and Father Sava

2011-01-05T03:49:00.000-08:00

(Photos by Elena Adriana)

Mânăstirea Oaşa

I will later report on Christmas Week in Romania. It was worth a detailed post, for it was everything that I had been led to expect. But first, I must report last Sunday's events, while they are fresh in my mind.

On Christmas Day, while I was the guest of TARCEA Nicolae and Nastasia of Cluj, parents of Raluca, our Plymouth State MBA student (and a frequent house-guest in Campton), I was shown a newspaper article about an American monk named Father Sava who was living at a monastery called Oaşa (pronounced "Wah'-sha"), in Judeţ Alba (Alba County).

On Sunday, 2 January, 2011, I paid him a visit.

I had no way of knowing whether Father Sava would be there that day, but since it was a reasonable distance (under 200 KM) from Cluj, I decided to drive down there into the Southern Carpathians to see if I could find him. Surely he would have a story to tell, and I wanted to hear it. And, Oaşa is in a part of Romania I had yet to visit, high in the mountains some 70 Km south of the city of Sebeş, which is on the road between Alba Iulia and Sibiu. Two third-year FSEGA students, SUTEU Valer Olimpiu of Satu Mare and IMAKOR Simo of Casablanca, expressed their wishes to join me on this Sunday drive. Hence, at 9:00 Sunday morning, we three jumped into Klaus, and headed south.

There was no traffic on the road south. We were in Alba Iulia by 10:15, and Sebeş by 10:30. This drive could have taken well over two hours under normal conditions. Then, the final 70 Km into the mountains took another hour-and-a-half. Oaşa is in the wild, 1450 meters above sea level, and in territory reachable only by a broken-up road built to allow maintenance of the three Ceaşescu-era hydroelectric dams to which it led.

The region is heavenly. Tall trees and steep canyon walls border much of the road, and each dam has a lake behind it, making for many idyllic views. Probably these beauties explain the choice of this location for the Oaşa monastery, which was founded only about 1982.

Oaşa is not a village on the map, so the GPS could not get us past Şugag, 30 Km south from Sebeş, and still 40 Km from the monastery. There were a number of alternate roads, so we had to stop and ask directions a few times. Fortunately, Valer is Romanian, so we never doubted that we understood the directions, and were on the right path. Still, it was remarkable when the GPS took it upon itself to find the road to Oaşa, and start indicating upcoming turns to us, even though it was still programmed for Şugag. Valer told me, "Be sure to tell about that (minor miracle?) in your blog!"

At noon, we parked in front of the monastery's wall. A monk and another man were in the road, so I rolled down the window and asked in English, "Do you have a monk here named Father Sava?" The monk departed down the road, and the other gentleman guided us into the grounds, up a flight of stairs leading to the biserica. There, he introduced me to Father Sava, and when I said, "I had hoped to meet you today," he did a "take," and said, "You are American?" "Yes." "Wow! We don't see many Americans here!"

As the Sunday morning service was just ending, Father Sava had duty in the dining hall, where all the church's attendees, thirty or forty local people all dressed up in their traditional Sunday best, were invited for lunch. The Father apologized for not being able to invite us to eat, but said he would be available to talk in about half-an-hour. So, we waited. There were no stores or restaurants within many miles, so lunch would have to wait. Being diabetic and feeling the need, I ate a Snickers from Klaus's glove box, but my companions declined my offer to share.

The Abbot

While we waited, Valer and I received blessings from the abbot, then gathered for group photos.

Gathered around the Abbot, after the lunch

When Father Sava returned, he explained that they had no place at the monastery to sit and have tea, and again excused himself to go change from his church robes into hiking clothes, so we could take a walk, and talk.

We walked and talked for two hours. The man kept me spellbound. He had, indeed, a story to tell. I will post it soon.

Joy to the World!

2010-12-25T03:20:00.000-08:00

Crăciun Ferecit! and Merry Christmas to All!

Here are links to favorite carols of mine that are not heard every day:

"Mary's Boy Child," as sung by Harry Belafonte

"The Holly and the Ivy," sung by the Winchester Cathedral Choir

"I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," as sung by Johnny Cash

Bogártelke, Judeţ Cluj, Romania

2010-12-22T06:44:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I was privileged to visit the village of Băgara, (in Hungarian, Bogártelke), the boyhood home of my UBB colleague Szilveszter Fekete. You know how I love to meet new people and see new places, so you will not be surprised to learn that it was a good experience. The weekend began at the Hungarian high school in Cluj, where we attended FEKETE Balázs's folk dance recital, followed by pizza at the Havana Restaurant, atop P-ta. Mihai Viteazul's parking garage. The views of downtown Cluj from this perch are quite beautiful this season, with Christmas lights aglow in the Squares. Unfortunately, I had left my camera at home.

On Saturday we drove west some 30 Km to Bogártelke, where I met Szil's parents, and we both walked around town a bit, and visited another village, Inaktelke (in Hungarian), or in Romanian, Inucu. This region in Cluj County is strongly loyal to its beautiful Hungarian traditions. Hungarian is the first language of the villages, and the red, green and white colors of Hungary are everywhere, save in the flags flying from the telephone poles.

The Fekete Clan, displaying the magnificent dress saved for formal occasions.

Tamás (Tomi)

Erika and sons, Balázs and Tomi

Bogártelke, Romania

In the Reformed Church, the blossoms ignore winter.

Szil moonlights as an organist in his church.

The Reformed Church in Bogártelke

Former Mayor Mr. FEKETE PALI-PISTA János, and his handsome town.

Traditional architeture here emphasized woodworking skills.

Beyşehir, Akşehir, Konya, Selcuk University, Mevlana, and Nasreddin Hoca

2010-12-20T00:15:00.000-08:00

Anatolian cities and towns, teachers historical and modern, along with snow and new friendships made last week both strange and beautiful.

Istanbul is to Turkey as New York City is to America. Foreigners visiting Istanbul or New York see well-known sights and many famous buildings, but they have not fully been in Turkey or America, if they've seen only those cities.

I cannot in a few words describe all that I learned during my five days based at Selcuk University in Konya, but I will say that Professor Fehmi Karasioglu of that institution, and his family and colleagues, made my stay fascinating and thoroughly enjoyable. I also want to thank Cluj Fulbrighter Dan Ratliff for lending me the new (2010) book by Elie Shafak, The Forty Rules of Love, for that work introduced me beforehand to the Muslim teacher, scholar, poet and holy man Rumi, or Mevlana, and to the 13th-Century interactions between him and the wandering dervish Shams of Tabriz that led to the lasting fame and spiritual importance of Konya.

But rather than run on endlessly, I will choose a few pictures to illustrate my journeys from Konya.

Beyşehir

In the town of Beyşehir on Saturday, some 80 kilometers due west of Konya, we visited an antique store of impressive size, owned by a hospitable gentleman named Yusuf, then went to an historical "Wooden Mosque," with roof and interior of cedar, dating from the Selcuk empire, over 700 years ago, and prior to the reign of the Ottomans.

Fehmi in his beautiful new Seat Exeo

Some rugged outcroppings on the road to Beyşehir

Mill wheels and cisterns at Yusuf's warehouse

Yusuf, in his shop in town.

Oil pitchers, or Aladdin's Lamp?

Exterior of the Wooden Mosque of Beyşehir

With the kind Imam, who briefed us on the history of the Mosque

Konya

The next day was Sunday, and was spent largely in preparation for my talk to some Selcuk University doctoral students on Monday. But that night, we went into downtown Konya, and attended the annual Ceremony of the Dervishes, honoring the great poet Rumi, or Mevlana, who spent most of his adult life living, teaching, and writing in Konya. We visited later his tomb and monastery, the latter now a museum.

The Family Karasioglu of Konya

At the Tomb of Mevlana

Painting on sale at the Mevlana Ceremony

Whirling Dervishes Celebrate Mevlana's Life, and Poems, and Love

The Finale

Akşehir

Akşehir lies 120 kilometers northwest of Konya, and is the site of a branch campus of Selcuk University, a campus of which my friend Fehmi is now the dean. It is the City of Nasreddin Hoca ("Ho-ja," meaning teacher), a Muslim philosopher famous for the humor in his many parables and children's stories. Here is one example heard in Akşehir from Fehmi:

Nasreddin Hoca was high up on his slippery roof to do some repairs when a man called him from below. "Come down here, I need to talk with you." With considerable difficulty and risk, the good Hoca made his way to the ladder and climbed down. He went to the man, and asked what it was he needed to talk about. "Give me Alms," said the man. "Come with me up onto the roof," said Hoca, climbing back to his slippery perch. The man followed. When he, too, was atop the roof, Nasreddin Hoca told him, "I do not have any."

Artifacts dating from the Bronze Age in Akşehir Museum

The tomb of Nasreddin Hoca has a locked gate on one side, and is otherwise open all around. (His final wink at our world?)

"It is here, the center of the world. If you do not believe it, you can measure." -Nasreddin Hoca

A Touristic Day in Istanbul

2010-12-11T23:28:00.000-08:00

It was Friday the 10th of December, 2010.

On my way from Cluj to visit Selcuk ("Cell-chuck") University in Konya, Turkey, I scheduled a 12-hour layover in Istanbul. This gave me time to tour the Old City. At the airport's Hertz counter, I arranged for a private guided tour. We stopped first at a fish market that we passed on the shores of the Sea of Marmara (Marble Sea), on the way into town from the airport

.

Entrance to Hagia Sophia

Thereafter, I walked for four or five hours in the rain through the Topkapi Palace, seat of the Sultans of the Ottoman Empire, Hagia Sophia, the Greek Orthodox Basilica of Byzantine origin, later a mosue, and today strictly a museum, and the magnificent Blue Mosque.

Half dome in The Blue Mosque

Textures and architectures vary greatly at Topkapi

Hollow, if not hallowed, tree, still living in Topkapi courtyard

The Blue Mosque from the city plaza.

Istanbul is a colorful, historic, proud and beautiful place. They speak of the north side of the Bosporus as the European Side, and of the south side as The Asian Side. The Bosporus Bridge rivals The Golden Gate in beauty, though it was but a vague shape in the mist to the east when seen from the Topkapi Palace on this rainy Friday.

A New Adventure Begins

2010-12-09T06:22:00.000-08:00

At O-dark-thirty tomorrow morning I must scare up a taxi and go to CLJ, Cluj-Napoca International Airport. At 06:15 my plane leaves for Bucharest. From there I fly on to Istanbul, scheduled to arrive by 10:00 AM. I will have a good eight hours to wander that legendary city. Then, as the day comes to an end, I shall fly on to Konya in south-central Turkey. Konya is home to dervishes, and by legend, the first city to appear following The Great Flood.

God willing (Insh'Allah), I shall post pictures.

Old-Timer Touching Base at New Trier High School

2010-12-05T03:49:00.000-08:00

See below. It got me teared-up this morning. (If you want to understand that, see the attachment, too.)

Olympic Diver Bruce Kimball [Google Images]

FYI, Bruce Kimball is Dick Kimball's son. In 1961, Dick was the diving coach at the University of Michigan. Bruce placed second to Greg Louganis (likely the best diver in history) at the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles.

----- Forwarded Message ----

From: Duncan C McDougall
To: Bruce Kimball
Cc: Duncan C. McDougall
Sent: Sun, December 5, 2010 9:06:20 AM
Subject: Old-timer Touching Base

Dear Mr. Kimball,

While perusing the NT alumni web pages today, I was thrilled to see your name as the NT diving coach. I knew Dick Kimball once, and I watched you dive in the Olympics. Congratulations on your medal! In fact, Dick Kimball and I met at New Trier in about 1960, when he and Hobie Billingsley came to give an exhibition at the pool during a public swimming show which was replete with synchronized swimmers from the NT Guard, trained by Mrs.Toni Essick, wife of our assistant coach, Ray Essick [who went on to coach swimming at Southern Illinois University and at Harvard, and then to head up U.S. Swimming]. Toni had been in on the demonstrations of that sport for the Olympic Committee, if my memory serves. I saw Dick again a few times after that, but unfortunately, I missed my opportunity to know him well.

Some NT Diving Lore

In fact, I am the guy who introduced the Duraflex board to NT. Prior to the summer of 1959 we had two Buckboards and two Lifetime boards at one meter. (I do not remember the brands at three meters, because we rarely used them.) The red “Lifetime” aluminum boards were stiff as a railroad tie, and the Buckboards, made of a series of parallel I-beams of aluminum, would twist viciously if you were not centered in your footing. They were a decent spring, but ugly, noisy, twisty, and their rough surface was hard on the feet.

I had won the 1959 Sophomore Suburban League meet, and as both Don Merz, ‘59 (2^nd in the State Meet) and Jeff Lewy, ‘59 (6^th) had graduated, and as there was no junior on the diving team that year, I knew I would be carrying the ball in my junior year. So, I practiced during the summer, every chance I got. Among other things, I dived at Portage Park in Chicago (where I met Sam Hall, Ohio State great, while he was practicing for the 1959 Pan American Games), and at some other suburban public pools. At one, in a west suburb, there was a brand new Duraflex. In my one afternoon there, I learned my inward one-and-a-half. I went back to NT, found Dave Robertson, and told him, “There is a new diving board. It is great. It is called Duraflex, and it is made by Arcadia Air Products Co. of Sparks, Nevada. ” (I had copied that information off of its nameplate.) Then I asked, “Can we get one for New Trier?” That fall, there were Duraflex boards on the two inner one-meter mounts.

I broke my right hand on a breast stroker’s leg one week before State Meet in 1960, and though I dived in the meet with a taped hand, I only placed ninth. We lost the meet by one point that year to Evanston. The rest of the story is in the attached letter that I wrote some years back to Verne Condon’s son.

Anyway, I have two favors to ask of you, if you have time now, in the middle of your competitive season. If not, I will understand.

First and easiest, my name is misspelled in the listing of NT All Americans. It should read McDougall. If you could ask that that be changed, I would be grateful.

Second, after my mother died in 1968, our Wilmette home was sold, and I, a Chevrolet foreman in Flint at the time and a father of two small kids, never got home to recover my personal treasures from the house. Hence, my two Illinois first place medals (Regionals and State meet, 1961) and my 1961 Suburban League championship medal were lost. Do you know if these might be replaced? Of course, I would expect to pay for the replacements.

Finally, if Dick Kimball is still living, would you please give him my regards, and tell him that I have often regretted my not having accepted his offer, made at the Yale Pool during the AAU Nationals in the winter of 1961, of a diving scholarship at Michigan. I had a successful diving career at Amherst College, three times the New England Intercollegiate champion, but I know that my horizons as a diver would have been far broader had I gone to the U. of M.

Sincerely yours,

Duncan McDougall, NT ‘61

Professor Duncan C. McDougall

Plymouth State University,
College of Business Administration
17 High Street, MSC #27
Plymouth, New Hampshire, USA 03264

In Europe: Babes-Bolyai University,
Faculty of Economics and Business Administration,
Cluj-Napoca, Romania

Attachment:

Friday, March 17, 2000

Mr. Vernon H. Condon, Jr.

[Address]

Dear Vern:

Last Wednesday evening I was privileged to accept on behalf of your late father the plaque awarded by the Illinois Swimming Association at their All State Dinner in honor of his induction into the Illinois Diving Hall of Fame. I am enclosing the plaque and its accompanying certificate for you and your family, as well as a program from the event.

The award was the first one presented following the dinner, held at the Diplomat West in Elmhurst. John Carle, president of the association, first read the impressive record of Mr. Condon's divers over his 32-year coaching career, citing six state champions, eight runners-up, six third placers, six fourth placers, etc., in addition to 11 Suburban League champions and 17 runners-up. Carle then introduced me, as Mr. Condon's final (1961) state champion diver, to tell the group a bit about what it was like diving for Mr. C. I thought you might like to know what I told them:

I met Mr. Condon (we never called him Vern) in 1957. It is hard to believe that was 43 years ago.

I was a 14 year-old freshman. After trying out for the freestyle and breaststroke, our swimming coach Dave Robertson asked me if I liked to dive. I walked to the deep end.

Standing there was a slender man who looked very old (he was in his sixties, not so old to me, now that I'm 57). He welcomed me to the diving end with a warm smile, and encouraged me and a few other freshman boys to show him the jackknives, back dives and flips we had learned at Camp Echo, or at the Evanston YMCA.

We all made the team, and began our practices. Swim practice in those days ran from 3:30 till 7:00, varsity for 90 minutes, freshmen for 60, then the "C squad" for another hour. We divers were expected to work out from 3:30 till 6:00 every day, and Mr. Condon was always right there with us. He was already suffering from Parkinson's disease, but he never missed a practice or a meet, that I can remember.

Mr. Condon was always a gentleman, never loud, never negative, never pushy.

As a matter of fact, it surprised me as I thought of those days that I can't remember Mr. Condon's ever asking me or one of my teammates to try a new dive. Yet, our state meet divers always had plenty of D. D. (degree of difficulty). (Not much, in today's terms, but a back one-and-one-half, gainer-and-a-half, and so on were all anyone was doing off the one-meter board in those days.)

Mr. Condon always stressed form: height, body position, and a good stretch to the entry. So, how did New Trier divers learn those difficult dives?

Mr. Condon had a saying: "Good divers make good divers." He held the seniors up to us as icons. And these God-like veterans did the hard dives, beautifully. Gracefully. Splashlessly.

Joe Huyler was the first icon. Joe, who had graduated the year before [and was present at the banquet] was a legendary hero, twice runner-up in the state meet. Then Don Merz and Jeff Lewy led New Trier's divers, placing second and sixth in 1959. But, there were no juniors on the diving team that year.

After the 1959 Suburban League Meet, I went home the sophomore champion. My season was over. I could have relaxed and basked in newfound glory. But I went to Mr. Condon and asked permission to keep practicing. "Next year, I'll be a varsity diver, and I'll need a back one-and-a-half and a reverse one-and-a-half," I said. "If you'll let me keep practicing I'll learn those dives." "Okay," said Mr. Condon, "You can keep practicing."

I started the next season with those two dives, plus a new inward 1-1/2 on my list.

Mr. Condon taught me to improve my dives. But they were always my dives. That was how he built champions. He built our confidence in our dives. He coached our minds.

In the spring of 1960, after my junior year, during which I'd placed ninth in the state meet, I took my yearbook to Mr. Condon to sign. In it he wrote, "To the Illinois State Champion, 1961."

Vern Condon, I believe you are listening tonight, so I want to tell you of my love and respect for you as my coach, as my teacher, and as my friend. I am honored to take part in your induction into the Illinois Diving Hall of Fame.

Finally, I want to say that as soon as I arrived here, among all these swimmers, divers, coaches and parents, I felt completely at home. For allowing me to share this evening with you, I thank you all."

So, Vern, that gives you a sense of how I felt about your Dad. I think that the induction ceremony went well.

I am also sending a copy of this letter to Dave Robertson. Dave deserves thanks for keeping the memory of Mr. Condon's coaching alive in Illinois, and thereby making this recognition possible. I also owe him thanks for thinking of me to accept the award. It was a great honor.

Sincerely yours,

Duncan McDougall