I suppose it would have been appropriate for me to post about Father’s Day a little earlier than 7PM on Sunday, but frankly I didn’t plan on writing a Father’s Day blog post this year. Then two things happened to change my mind.

First, my Pastor read something from the pulpit this morning. Then, I stumbled on this great Father’s Day picture and just had to share it with y’all.

While the casual observer might think this hilarious photo is out of character with the rest of this post, in a weird and wonderful way the two go together like steaks and charcoal. I’m quite certain that when my daughter Sara sees this she’ll roar, because she and I have such similar senses of humor that we usually can just look at each other, instantly think of the same punch line, and burst into simultaneous laughter while everyone else is wondering what’s so funny.

Sara, who is now 30 years old and just finished her eighth year teaching German to elementary school kids, is fond of saying that she is a fascinating study of nature versus nurture. The interesting thing is that when people who know us learn we are a blended family they always assume she’s my blood and Sharon adopted her, when in fact it was I who adopted Sara on December 18, 1992.

Which brings us to the second part of this post, the part that happened first. This morning, my Pastor read something from the pulpit. I recognized the piece before the first sentence reached the back row—a 500 word essay Sara wrote last year when she nominated me for the Arkansas Baptist News Father of the Year award. Here is what she wrote, without a single jot or tittle edited by me:

Even though I’d read this before—more than once—I will admit to shedding humble tears. I am so very blessed, and so thankful for God’s amazing restoration and grace in my life, that I’ve found it difficult to find words to express myself. If you know me, you know that anything that can shut me up so effectively is a mighty big deal.

I love you, Sara. Thanks for a wonderful Father’s Day–and for the privilege of being your father.

Today is the day!

It’s here!

The big shutdown of Analog Television has arrived!

(Yawn.)

Okay, be honest: Are you ready for the digital television conversion?

Yeah, I thought you were.

Anyone who doesn’t know that by midnight tonight all full-power analog TV transmitters will be shut down has to be Amish—and I have it on good authority that the Amish are sick and tired of the DTV transition, too.

Still, on Wednesday of this week, the Nielsen Company released research showing that 2,8 million American households are “completely unready for the transition.” While 2.8 million might seem like a lot, it’s only 2.5% of TV-equipped households. After all those months of annoying crawls, PSA’s and special programs, can they still say “we didn’t know” with a straight face? Perhaps they’re waiting for President Obama to personally deliver and install their converter box.

One explanation for at least a part of that 2.5% is that Low Power TV (LPTV) stations aren’t required to shut down their analog signals yet, and some of those unconverted households might be in rural areas served only by LPTV. They could also be in larger markets but prefer to watch only their favorite LPTV channel. They could also be waiting for the change so they can claim discrimination. There are also those who believe those converter boxes are “the government trying to spy on us.” Seriously, I’ve heard people say that!

For me, there is a sad aspect of this historic day. People are so sick and tired of hearing about the DTV transition that they just want it to be over. Many have missed the great historical significance of the day, the great and honorable tradition that is being laid to rest. When the first round of analog shutdowns occurred here back in February, I watched some of them and was horribly disappointed. At the appointed time, they just flipped the switch. No ceremonial moment, no salute to the generations that brought television to this historic milestone. Just a quick cut to snow and a licensee who’s delighted to lose that chunk of the electric bill.

I wonder what the true poineers of television would have to say about this day?

Philo Farnsworth, the man who, at 13 years of age, conceived the concept of image scanning and reconstruction upon which analog TV is based, went on to develop the first working electronic television system. Farnsworth didn’t get the credit due him because he was an ethical man, a genius who didn’t have the deep pockets (or lack of integrity) of David Sarnoff’s RCA. When fellow inventors from RCA asked to tour his laboratory and see his device in operation, it never occurred to Farnsworth that they might illicitly copy some of his technological developments. Farnsworth and RCA spent years in court over those infringements, and eventually Farnsworth won.

Philo Farnsworth would be fascinated with the new technology. Ever the inventor, he’d be in it up to his eyeballs and be having a blast seeing it in action. He’d probably improve on it, too.

Another big name in early TV development was Dr. Vladimir Zworykin, a Russian-born scientist who worked for RCA and developed much of their early television technology (including the parts based on designs “acquired” from Farnsworth). I believe that Zworykin’s reaction to today’s television might be found in an interview some time after his retirement in 1954. What follows is not a transcript, but it’s mighty close:

Interviewer: “Of all the many inventions to your credit in the world of television, what invention gives you the most satisfaction?”

Zworykin (heavy Russian accent): “Da Svitch.”

Interviewer: “What?”

Zworykin: “Da Svitch.”

Interviewer: “I don’t understand.”

Zworykin: “You know, Da Svitch, so I can turn the damn think off.”

I hope those engineers who use “da svitch” today will do so with reverence and respect, because without Analog TV, the world would be a very different place today. Whether better or worse is a never-settled debate—but it would definitely be different.

Rest in Peace, Analog.

There are books you read.

There are books you devour.

Then, there are books that devour you. The ones that you can’t put down even when you do, characters and scenes so vivid your mind can’t focus on anything else. You can’t wait to open that cover again. Sneak in a chapter in the bathroom at work. Sneak in a page waiting for a red light, only putting it down when the guy behind you shouts obscenities while honking his horn. Sit up until the small hours of the morning, because you’re not going to sleep anyway—not until you’ve read the last page.

Beware! Exposure by Brandilyn Collins is one of those reader-devouring books. You can’t say you weren’t warned.

I downloaded Exposure to my Kindle for iPhone over the weekend, and started reading it analytically—one writer analyzing another writer’s work, looking for things I could learn and add to my craft toolbox. I’m not sure when it happened, but the last analytical thing I recall was not far into the book, commenting to Sharon that some of the chapters were really short. The next thing I knew, I was at Chapter 20 and I could smell the blood. And as much as I didn’t want to, I had to put it down for the night.

Yesterday, I was handed a golden reading opportunity. I had to babysit some tower climbers at one of my sites, and with that iPhone burning a hole through my side, I just had to read a chapter or two. Well, one more won’t hurt. They’re short, right? Somewhere around chapter 50, the crew interrupted me to deliver the data they had been sent up to gather. I dropped the iPhone in my truck’s charger, finished my business with the crew and spent a few minutes compiling the data while it was still fresh. Necessary tasks complete, quarter to five and an hour away from home. Time to hit the road.

A little voice called to me from my iPhone, charging in its cradle on my dashboard. I was in mid-chapter when reality interrupted. I needed to get to the chapter break so I could start clean when my next reading opportunity came.

Riiiiight.

An hour later, I finished the epilogue.

Brandilyn Collins’ “Seatbelt Suspense” branding is thoroughly appropriate. Exposure is a wild ride, full of surprises and multi-layered subtleties. I recall bursting into laughter at one thoroughly-not-funny point, struck by the hilarity of a particular word choice for that situation and the subtle layering that resulted. Exposure is a true suspense story with some dark and gruesome (but not vile and graphic) moments, but it is so much more. While I’m by no means going to reveal how the story ends, I will admit to you that at more than one point in the last couple of chapters I wept. Sitting in the driver’s seat of my big, honkin’ GMC pickup truck. At the bottom of a big, honkin’ radio tower. In the woods. In Jefferson, Arkansas. I’m really glad I had those paper towels with me.

The underlying theme—that comes through in every character in both overt and subtle ways—is the crippling effect of fear in our lives. If you’ve ever struggled with managing your fears (and who of us hasn’t?) you ought to read Exposure by Brandilyn Collins.

Let’s make this clear right up front: I am not a Mac basher. Whether your computing platform of choice is Windows, Mac OSX, or an ancient Radio Shack TRS-80, what’s important is that it be the platform that best fits you, best serves you, and best protects your interests. I even have close friends who don’t own a computer and don’t use the internet at all. Do what works for you.

What I’m not a fan of is deceptive advertising, particularly the kind that misleads people and could cause them harm. I understand that every ad is biased, but there’s a difference between saying “our car is safer” and saying “Our car is so safe you don’t need to wear a seat belt.” That’s one area where I have a problem with Apple and their advertising strategy. Their ads are biased, as you’d expect—but they are also deceptive. Take this recent example:

Cute, isn’t it? A brilliant piece of advertising propaganda. There’s just one small problem:

This ad is only half true, and Mac users who believe Apple is telling them the whole truth are setting themselves up for a nasty, eye-opening day of reckoning.

The “Macs are Immune” claim isn’t new. I had this debate 4 years ago with an avid Mac evangelist with great creative gifts but no technical background. Apple said it, he believes it, that settles it. Unfortunately, there are a lot of Mac users in that camp, good people without a lot of technical savvy who love their Macs and trust Mac’s maker to tell them the truth.

What urged me to write this entry is an alarming online comment I saw recently, posted by an intelligent and highly competent, tech-savvy CEO whom I hold in high regard. He was installing the recently-released Windows 7 Release Candidate on his Intel-based Mac using Parallels, a Virtual Machine application for Mac OSX. The red-flag phrase that caught my attention was his bemoaning the fact that he also had to install anti-virus software, since he’s installing Windows, “an OS that, unlike Mac, is vulnerable to viruses, spyware, and malware.” It’s the Apple company line, but I was surprised to hear it regurgitated by someone so well-informed. As an IT Professional, I have to tell you with all due respect that it’s simply not true.

Yes, unprotected PC’s are susceptible to viruses and malware, but unprotected Macs are just as susceptible. Any computer operating system is susceptible to such attacks, regardless of the operating system, if attackers have targeted that system.

There are fewer viruses and malware threats targeting MacOSX. That’s not surprising, since the goal of such threats is to infect as many machines as possible as quickly as possible. According to data released by Net Applications, as of May 2009 MacOS has a 9.81% share of the computing market, while Microsoft Windows still leads the pack with 87.75%. If you want to infect the largest number of machines and do the most damage, it only makes sense to target the operating system used by the largest number of people.

Macs by no means have automatic immunity. There are, and have been since 2006, active viruses and malware threats in the wild targeting MacOSX. Apple routinely generates security updates (patches to fix security flaws) for its products, just like Microsoft does. Apple just doesn’t like to talk about it as openly. Apple’s market share is slowly creeping upwards, and as it grows the likelihood of Mac-targeted attacks will grow as well. If you’re relying on that Apple logo to protect you, you’re in for a rude awakening one of these days.

I’m by no means a Microsoft evangelist. My day job includes technical management of around 200 machines in a broadcasting facility, and all but one use Microsoft Windows (a mix of Windows 2000, 2000 Server, XP Pro, and 2003 Server. The one non-Windows box is SCO Unix). I’m quite familiar with Microsoft’s shortfalls. There is no such thing as a perfect computer with perfect software and a perfect operating system. I have great respect for Apple’s OSX. Underneath that well-crafted user interface, OSX is based on BSD Unix, one of the world’s oldest and most revered computer operating systems. If Apple sold it as a stand-alone product to run on non-Apple hardware, I’d buy it—but I’d protect it with good antivirus software.

If you are a committed Mac lover, I’m glad you have something you love that works for you—after all, these things are tools, not life partners. The Apple logo on your computer is not an Immunity Idol. Protect yourself with the two things every computer should include: good anti-virus software, and good sense on the part of the user.

Whatever the operating system, remember that most security threats are basic gullibility tests. Be careful what you click!

We have covered patio behind our office building known as the Smoking Deck, so named because it is frequently inhabited by the tobacco addicts who work in our non-smoking building. It’s a simple structure; metal lap roofing on a framework of steel “C” channels, supported by posts at one end and the building on the other. Not fancy, but functional—and even non-smokers appreciate it as a staging area perfect for gathering one’s nerve before bolting across the parking lot to your car on rainy days.

About five years ago, we  acquired some new tenants on the Smoking Deck. A tribe of Barn Swallows moved in and set up housekeeping, having found the inside of those steel “C” channels to be a perfectly wonderful place to nest. We didn’t mind at first. Most of our folks, both smoking and non-smoking, found the little family a charming addition—until the day someone mentioned the possible health ramifications of all those bird droppings collecting on the concrete deck. After enough people complained to outweigh the bird-lover vote, we decided to encourage our little friends to nest elsewhere the following spring by removing their little mud nests after they had been vacated.

The following spring, the nests reappeared one day, in exactly the same locations, occupied by egg-sitting mama birds and guarded by a team of highly protective attack swallows. Over the protests of the anti-bird-poop coalition, I allowed the nests to remain until their purpose had been fulfilled and they were once again vacant. On that round of bird-bomb prevention, we installed heavy-gauge 1/4″ wire mesh over the open channels to prevent the birds from entering their nesting zone. Problem solved—or so I thought.

A year later, the Barn Swallows returned in force. One of the several resulting nests is pictured on the left. In exactly the same spots where they were born, the returnees built new mud nests using the 1/4″ wire mesh for support the way a plasterer uses wire lath. Birds three, humans zero.

No matter what we do, we can’t get rid of these blasted birds. After years of trying, I’ve officially surrendered. Those threatened by bird by-products are using either denial or a different door during bird season, and after the Barn Swallows complete their task and move on, we break out the pressure washer and thoroughly sanitize the concrete deck. It needs a little tar-and-nicotine scrub once in a while, anyway.

Shake, Rattle and Write.

The Barn Swallows remind me of the story of Elisha and Elijah in the Old Testament book of Second Kings.  The Prophet Elijah is about to be taken up into heaven, and Elisha is determined to be his successor. Elijah tried to shake him off three times, but each time Elisha stubbornly refused to be shaken. Three different groups of prophets tried to tell Elisha to give up, but he paid them no attention.

Moments away from being caught up to heaven in a whirlwind, Elijah asked Elisha if he had any last-minute requests. Elisha upped the stakes by asking for a double portion of Elijah’s prophetic spirit, to which Elijah replied, “Kid, do you have any idea what you’re asking for? You’re going to need a mighty big vision to get that.” (My paraphrase.)

Elisha still wouldn’t be shaken off, in spite of his mentor’s repeated attempts, his peer’s discouragement, and a goal grown larger than his wildest dreams. When his vision test came, he passed—and because he wouldn’t be shaken off, he became what he new God intended him to be all along: Elijah’s successor.

How does this apply to us as novelists? If there’s one thing I’ve learned on the road to publication, it’s that there are plenty of opportunities to be shaken off. Rejections. Critics. Discouragement. The interminable wait for what could be the world’s slowest moving industry at times.  We think we’ve had a breakthrough, take a giant step forward, then stand there for months unable to move a single inch further.  I used to think that selling my first novel would end the shaking. I’ve spoken with enough published novelists—even best-selling authors—to know better now. For most authors, the shaking never ends.

If that’s the case, why do we keep on writing?

We’re Barn Swallows. We’re Elishas. We’re Novelists. We write because we have to, because we need to get these stories out of our heads and onto the page. Try all ytou want, we won’t be shaken off. This isn’t just what we choose to do, it’s what we must do.

Published or unpublished, old pro or neophyte, here is a simple test you can take once and for all to determine if you’re a true novelist: Try to stop. Go ahead, I dare you. Take a month off. Try to live one full month of your life without seeing a situation and thinking, “Hey, I can use that in a story.” See if you can live for one month without hearing a unique name and envisioning a character with that name. See if you can go for a month without waking up at night with a storyline in your head. See if you can watch a movie or TV program without brainstorming story ideas, or commenting on a character’s development, or seeing flaws in the plot that make it implausible. See if you can go a whole month without writing one single word of fiction, whether in your head on on a page.

If you can really quit—if you can be shaken off—then by all means quit. You’re not a Novelist. If you can do something else, then do it with all your might.

If, however, you can’t quit no matter how hard you try, then welcome to the family. You’re a Novelist, a victim of the writing disease called Novelism. There’s only one known treatment: Write, Rewrite, Repeat.

For the record: I tried to quit, and I didn’t last a full day. How about you?

One of the artistic joys in my life is playing cornet in the Natural State Brass Band, an award-winning brass band in the British tradition. I’ve been a member of the band for about five and a half years, and have seen the band grow tremendously in musical quality and depth—and as a result, I’ve grown as well. Without a doubt, joining NSBB is the best thing I’ve ever done for myself as a musician.

Yesterday, NSBB was honored as the “Arkansan of the Week” by Little Rock TV station KATV, in recognition of the band’s recent victory, taking first place honors in the Challenge division at the 2009 North American Brass Band Association Championships.

Check out this video from yesterday’s KATV 5PM newscast. If you watch carefully, you might just spot my smiling face and shiny head in the back row of the cornet section.

Interested in attending an NSBB concert? We’re playing tomorrow afternoon at 4PM at Pulaski Heights United Methodist Church, 4823 Woodlawn Drive in Little Rock. Admission to this concert is free, so come on out and enjoy a great program from a band that’s done Arkansas proud!

I received this “Domain Name Expiration Notice” in the mail the other day, warning that one of the domains I own will expire in September unless I take action.

Take a glance at this actual scan of the letter. Looks remarkably like an invoice, doesn’t it? Downright official. It even has a logo that resembles an American flag, so it must be legit.

Only one small problem. I own a total of nine domain names, all registered through my domain registrar of choice, PairNIC. This letter is from the Domain Renewal Group, a company with which I’ve never done business. This helpful bunch wants to come to my aid and make sure my precious domain name doesn’t expire, but if you look a little deeper what they really want is to switch my domain name registrar and harvest whatever they can from my wallet.

Back in the days when long-distance telephone providers routinely called during dinner and offered to “help” us by switching our long distance service to BillyBobTel, the phone companies called this practice “Slamming.” The tele-scammer tricked people into giving them permission to change their provider—and sometimes, they put the change through even without that permission. This underhanded practice led to legitimate telephone companies providing an option to disable changes in provider without your express permission. As people became more aware of that option the sucker pool dried up and the scam artists moved on to more lucrative schemes.

Domain Name Slamming is a gold mine for those with no moral or ethical anchors. The fine print—and not-so-fine print—of this letter is a marketing masterpiece. There is absolutely nothing illegal about DRG’s letter or the “service” they offer. The necessary disclaimers are there, out in the open, positioned where they are easily overlooked. The fine print you agree to when you sign the dotted line obligates you to pay their legal expenses if they are sued in connection with the services provided to you, and of course there’s the money-pumping “all fees are non-refundable” clause. Many registrars have “locks” on transfers that you must specifically clear before initiating a transfer, and DRG’s attempt to transfer will fail—but if that happens, they get to keep your money.

How to Protect Yourself

• READ CAREFULLY. Don’t let the slick invoice-like look fool you.
• If someone else pays your bills, educate them about this scam.
• Know your domain registrar, and deal only with that registrar.
• Beware benevolent strangers who offer to help you manage your domain for a fee.
• Contact your registrar and put a transfer lock on your domain to prevent unauthorized transfer.