Author: Chris

Attorney & Amateur Golfer

Commentary on Connectedness

This morning I jotted down some thoughts about our state of connectedness, the improvements and advancements in technology (e.g., smartphones) and websites/applications (e.g., Facebook) that enable us to be more connected and in tune with one another and with available information, and the misconception that being more connected means we should be more available.

I posit that there isn’t a positive correlation between increased connectedness and increased availability, but rather a positive correlation between increased connectedness and the option to increase one’s availability.

For example, if I took a trip to Vail Colorado to ski in 1963, the year after the resort opened, and you wanted to call me, you’d have to call the lodge at which I was staying. If I was in the lodge, I might be able to take your call. However, if I was skiing, then I would be unavailable. That situation is, more or less, a binary situation: available or not available.

Today, I have an iPhone on me at most times. As before, you can try to reach me at anytime. However, unlike before, your expectation that I’m available, able, and willing to receive the call is greatly increased because even when I’m not in the lodge, I have the technically ability to receive a phone call (or text, etc.). Therein lies the misconception on the part of the caller (you) that the receiver (me) is more available now than in 1963. Instead, I now has the option to be more available, but also, to your frustration, the option to be less available.

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In light of the above, the recent story that “in an action unprecedented in Internet history, the Egyptian government appears to have ordered service providers to shut down all international connections to the Internet.” There is loss of internet and sms capability, apparently. That’s one way to quell the expectation of availability.

Recollection of Driving Alone

I park my 1996 white Ford Explorer outside each night. The snow piles on. The plow plows it in. The moisture inside from the tracking in of snow on my boots is frozen deep into the synthetic gray carpet fibers and won’t escape until late spring. There is ice on the windshield from the warm defroster air blowing on it during my five minute drive home from work the night before.

My car is exceptionally clean on the inside. Especially for such an old car. There are only a few things inside it: an ice scraper, a pair of snowshoes, and a frisbee leftover from summertime fun.

It’s not the detail of my car that I’m reminded of this morning, but the trips I have taken in it. Specifically, not any one trip in particular, but any of the long cross-half-country trips that began before sunrise on the cold like today.

There was a routine to it all. I’d unlock the driver’s door and pull it open slowly so that the snow along the top edge wouldn’t fall and blow all over the driver’s seat. Then I would set my full travel mug of hot coffee down in the cup holder before starting the car. Once it was cleared of snow, I’d jump in (careful, always, to know my shoes together to rid them of snow).

Like we’re taught in elementary school that stories have a beginning, middle and end, the drives that began before sunrise and lasted through the day had the same progression. The beginning and end were enjoyable – the middle I just had to get through.

Early on in the drive, my leather seats were cold and warming up. I was settling into the seat and the heat in the car was still cold. My coffee kept me warm, but the empty bottom of the mug always showed itself before my first stop for gas. Early morning radio – usually Mike & Mike or another news variety show – was better than the repeat information I would hear the rest of the day. I rarely listened to music.

Eventually, there was a point – maybe an hour into the ride – when I would feel settled. I would enter the zone and just keep the car rolling. This was maintained, despite stops along the way.

Getting out to get gas, snacks, more coffee – that was a challenge. Usually the weather was cold and blowing. There were times when the gas would blow on my pants and I’d have to change to escape the smell.

Year In Rear-View Mirror

Images of my smile and yours
Not smaller than they appear
It must be broken ’cause
Everything we need is close
What I feel when I hug
Is what I see in my head
The prisms in my eyes
Multiply the memories
That I circle when I sleep
A kiss on New Years Eve
Then proposal in the woods
Every moment memory
Where we want to be

My Year in Cities 2010

In 2010, I slept at least one night in each of the following cities. The asterisks denote multiple-visit cities.

After drafting the following list of cities, I now realize how close-reaching my 2010 travel has been. This indicates a big shift in my life from looking far away for what I want, to being happy with that with which I’ve chosen to surround myself. I have nature. I have family. I have love. I have work and play. I have entertainment and downtime. And all of these things are in my backyard (so to speak). They are closer than they’ve ever been in my life, and I intend to cherish that by spreading my roots far and wide and making a mark on the local community. Of course I hope to travel far and wide for many years to come, but now, more than ever, I’ll do it knowing where my true home is.

  • Traverse City, MI* (Hometown)
  • East Lansing, MI (MI bar exam)
  • Ishpeming, MI* (Grandma’s house)
  • Wilderness State Park, MI (Camping)
  • Charlevoix, MI (Wedding)
  • Holland, MI (Wedding)
  • Ann Arbor, MI (UM v. BGSU)
  • Chicago, IL (Wedding dress hunt)
  • Grand Rapids, MI (Law seminar)
  • Olympia, Washington (Wedding)

Our First Christmas Tree!

In search of a tree,
We drove to “The 40”;
Linds’ in high fashion
And me not so sporty.

Like slobber to walls,
Linds’ shot to the tree.
Eighty-seven pictures later,
The saw was set free.

To honor its branches,
A prayer we did say.
Then “Amen” was uttered;
The tree would soon lay.

When my turn was had
The tree last stood;
In a matter of seconds
Did soft snow hit wood.

Above my round head,
I hoisted our tree
And without any thought
I tossed it to Lindsey.

“Here ya go Honey,
You can lug it from here.
I’ll take some pictures
And look out for deer.”

What a woman she is!
That face full of might.
The prickly tree heaved
Right out of sight!

The snow came down softly;
And Yogi had fun.
It beat the heck out of
Some plain old run!

It’s not every couple
That gets perfect weather
When they go hunting
For their first tree together.

But what mattered the most,
(And I’m proud to tell),
Is all I kept thinking was
She’s pretty darn swell!

*****The End*****