Video: The Jewish Cemetery of Tarnobrzeg, Poland

One of the random things I do is volunteer as the website administrator for a "ShtetLinks" website. That's is a website--hosted by a Jewish Genealogical Organization (http://www.jewishgen.org) --about a particular European Jewish community. Tarnobrzeg, Poland was the town that the Weil family emigrated from in the early 1890s.  I've been the web admin for the site for 5 years or so.  A couple of hours a year keeps the site informative and interesting.

Some high school students in Tarnobrzeg decided to interview older townspeople about the Jewish community there, about the cemetery that is still in the town, and about the horrific end of a vibrant community during WWII.  Gayle Riley, the brains behind the website, had the vido subtitled into English. You can find it here: http://www.shtetlinks.jewishgen.org/Tarnobrzeg/index.htm

The music is a little mismatched, but the story is powerful, sad, and tragically typical. The nonchalance of the townspeople is particularly fascinating. The video is long - 18 minutes - but worthwhile to watch.

Netflix and the Queue of Remorse

Netflix announced this week that it is doing away with its "multiple profile" feature. You can read about here and here. This feature allowed for multiple lists of movies to be kept under the same account, and enabled account holders to determine how many movies from each separate queue were to be sent each month. This feature keeps Beren and me from killing each other, and we invested significant time in creating our own separate queues.

Needless to say, I think doing away with this feature is a terrible idea. And the way they are doing it—simply deleting the secondary queues and not offering descriptions of the “beneficial features” that are leading to this decision—seems unwise. But all day I've been trying to figure out Netflix's motivation for this decision. They claim that the feature is used by only 2% of their 8.5 million users (170,000 users), that it was confusing and cumbersome to folks, and that they'd rather focus their resources on other features that will be of interest to a larger proportion of users. Most of their answers rang hollow to me. The feature was so useful, why not fix the human factors impediments to wider adoption?

So, what is the business case for making this decision? This is clearly a very small risk for them; 98% of Netflix users won’t notice a change, and only a small minority of the remaining 2% will be so irked by this decision that they will cancel their account. Sure, they’ll have alienated a passionate bunch, but the loss is small – say .25% to be generous. Where else will these folks go? I can imagine the market researcher pointing out that there is a very large number of potential users who are scared by Netflix’s current interface and features, and that a proportion of these users would likely become members if the interface was simplified and pared down. So, a net gain of members.

But the message Beren and I received from Netflix today was “we don’t value your patronage, and we won’t be working to meet your needs.” We will be leaving Netflix come August 30^th, and if I worked for Blockbuster, I’d be trying to figure out how to woo disaffected Netflix members between now and then. 
 

Memorial Day

I played in a Memorial Day parade this morning.  I've been playing an old King 4-valve bell-front small-bore euphonium in the Natick American Legion Band for the past 4 years or so, in parades around eastern Massachusetts. Parades are an occupational hazard if you are a brass musician, but I welcome the infrequent exercise and the time outdoors. Upbeat marches played by 12 amateurs followed by a ceremony in which out of tune bagpipes played Amazing Grace and a pail of 15-year-olds played a tentative rendition of Taps.  

The more do I work with/for the military, the greater the importance Memorial Day has to me. Yesterday I took my sleeping son on a walk to a local cemetery and explained to him the importance of the observance. There among the graves of the Civil War veterans we talked about all of those men and women who died serving in the U.S. armed forces over the past 250 years. I spoke about his family members who died in armed conflict, both while in uniform and as non-combatants. I spoke about his family members and friends of the family who served in the military in WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf War, and in Iraq. He slept through it all, but I hope it sets the stage for a respect for the solemnity of the observance in the future.  When he’s older, he’ll enjoy the parade in front of our house and the fun of the (now) traditional barbeques, but I also want him to realize why we have the long weekend.

Avocados

I missed avocados yesterday.

My darling wife fed my son avocados for the first time yesterday while I was businessing several hundred miles away. She offered to wait, so I could enjoy the experience with her.  I said no—why would I hold my baby from experiencing things just because I can’t be there to ogle and take photos. But it did give me pause (cue “Cats in the Cradle”). I’m going to have to travel for work. That is simply a given. I’m not alone, of course; many other people—moms and dads—have to leave their families for work travel. I even enjoy traveling, but I don’t have to like being away from them. It is just going to take an extra effort when I am home. 

This post seems pretty prosaic.  But it is true, and it is what I’m feeling while sitting on the last row of a tiny plane, adjacent to the bathroom, in a chair that doesn’t recline, about 25,000 feet above the state of Delaware. 

 

Sold!

My mother called us yesterday to tell us they'd sold their house.  This was not unexpected; they've been planning on moving for several years now, and--despite the market--now was the time.  By the fall, they'll be living in Boston, and will be a more visible part of our daily lives. My childhood best friend was the one who made the sale.

I think that the sale is understandably bittersweet. Looking forward, I'm excited they will be a natural part of my son's life, in the same way my grandmother was a natural part of mine. Looking backwards, I'm nostalgic about both the physical space of the house I grew up in and the community of places and people in which it resides. 

My mother's family had a summer cottage in Lake Hopatcong in Sussex County, NJ. It wasn't much, space wise, but it seemed that every other story she told about her youth took place there. I asked her to describe it to me once, and she was able to paint a vivid mental picture of the layout and decoration. It was imprinted in her memory.

In my mind, the house in White Meadow Lake is apart from time. It exists as it did when I was both 5 and 15, including toys on the floor and CD packaging on the walls. I'll miss the physical space, but these images are mine to keep.

Old Photos

My college a cappella group, the Binghamtonics, is having a 20th Anniversary show next month. I'm going, wife and baby in tow, to the reunion. I'm looking forward to seeing friends who still live in the area and to the other folks coming in for the concert.  The current group members asked for photos, and I decided to scan all of the photos I had of the group from 1995 - 1997. 

Binghamtonics 1995 & 1996

Going through these photos (and the non-Tonics photos surrounding them in the three college albums) made me nostalgic and reflective. But they also made me happy. There were people in those photos I haven't seen in 10 years, friends and family who are no longer with us, and a guy who vaguely looks like me, only lankier and a few pounds thinner. It was nice to enjoy those moments again. 

I'm sure the reunion and the remodeled campus will make me feel even more sentimental. I'm looking forward to it.

Genealogical Success Story

I've been tracing my family tree for the better part of the last 10 years. It has been one of the few things that I've felt passion about and that has truly absorbed my attention. I've had some remarkable successes; I've discovered the names of ancestral shtetls lost to the living members of my family, recreated details of my ancestor's siblings' lives a century after their passings, and reconnected with cousins several generations after family rifts. I've put a website together to share my findings with my family--which I promise to update eventually!
One way to find other people who may be distant relations is to post your information to a common database. The JewishGen Family Finder is one such repository that focuses on, well, Jewish Genealogy. It is a family tree "net." Because I have a dozen or so postings there (e.g., Name: Broitman; Place: Savran, Ukraine), I get e-mails about twice a month from people asking if I could be related to them.  Most of the time the answer is "I don't see a definite connection, but I'll keep your family's information in mind as I continue my research."
A few weeks ago I received an e-mail from someone asking if we were related, and the answer was Yes! My great-grandfather, Meyer Golder, immigrated from Bivolari, Romania--near Iasi--around 1912. He was one of five brothers, three of whom emigrated to the US. The person who contacted me was a descendent of one of the two brothers who had remained in Romania! She, my third-cousin, lives in Israel, and seems as excited as I am about the connection. We've traded photos and a few stories, and I expect we will do more in the future.
I don't know much more, but I am excited to have reconnected with this part of the family. I've always been as interested in the "tree" aspect of genealogy as much as the "roots" aspect--this is the best kind of genealogical success.

Honor Societies

During a conversation with a colleague, the topic of the famed primary school "permanent record" came up. I remembered a time in sixth grade when I thought a poor grade on a math test would keep me out of college. I erroneously thought that the poor grade would keep me from enrolling in the honors math class in 7th grade, putting me on the fast track to flipping burgers. But enrollment at that age was determined by aptitude, not achievement. My permanent record was safe.

It did remind me of two other events related to school performance.

National Junior Honor Society

Our 8th grade had a chapter of the National Junior Honor Society.  While all of my friends were members, I wasn't. I had received a "D" in 7th grade Language Arts during one quarter and was deemed ineligible. Endless drilling of grammar and a still-forming pre-frontal cortex led to a refusal to complete my homework assignments. Hence the "D." As a consequence, I didn't get to go to on the big Washington, D.C. trips with my friends. High grades in other courses and a clear love of learning weren't enough. The irony? I now keep copies of multiple grammar guides on my desk and in my house and thumb through them just for fun!

I decided after this rejection to deal with boring courses by doing the useless work if the consequences outweigh the annoyance factor. That strategy has generalized to many other circumstances over the years.

Phi Beta Kappa

In college, I was again rejected by an honors society. I had always wanted to be a member of Phi Beta Kappa, ever since I was in a production of Bye Bye Birdie in summer camp at age 10. "Mr. Phi Beta Kappa Peterson, an English teacher's wife." I thought, since I was doing well in college, that I'd be inducted. Silly me. The first time I was eligible (my junior year), my grades were too low.  I needed to be in the top 2% of my class, when in fact I was in the 3rd percent. In my senior year, when the criteria for induction was top 5%, I was discounted because I had taken too many "ineligible" courses. See, I had taken between 20 and 24 credits a semester my entire college career.  A full load of academic courses plus independent studies, study abroad, music ensembles, and performance lessons. To qualify for induction, at least 75% of my courses had to be classroom instruction in the liberal arts. Phi Beta Kappa disqualified me for doing too much. I still remember asking the Phi Beta Kappa adviser, Alex Feingold, to reconsider. I pointed out that if I had done the bare minimum for my majors, I would have met the criteria and been inducted. Because I had done so much more, I had made myself ineligible. He acknowledged my logic but dismissed my request out of hand, and then said something to the effect of "maybe there is an honors society for you, but this isn't it." I don't know if he is still the Phi Beta Kappa adviser, but I lost a lot of respect for the organization then. Their representative had blindly adhered to an algorithm in the face of clear evidence of its inadequacy. Or perhaps he thought that if he bent the rules for me that he'd have to bend the rules for others on the "fringe" of eligibility. Either way, I was very disappointed. I graduated from Binghamton Summa Cum Laude with honors in two majors.  I was the only Summa graduate that year who was not a member of Phi Beta Kappa. I'm sure nobody else noticed.

I learned from that experience that doing more can have unintended negative consequences, but that this fact should never deter you from doing more. In the end, an honor society is meaningless. It is the work that you do that is meaningful.  Despite this realization, the recognition sure feels good and the rejection stings.

Closing

I'm thinking about these two events today because of an offhanded comment by a colleague. Whenever I do, I wind up working through the (il)logic of my disqualifications in the same way that I think about the my mortgage basis calculation or the mathematics of the democratic presidential nomination process. If I had had a blog then, I would have written about them in two angry, sarcastic, and poorly spelled rants. With a little distance, I am less angry and more reflective. And while I feel a little silly writing about things that happened 10 or 20 years ago, it is cathartic to lay the experiences out.

Social Networking or Stalker Networking?

In 2004 I helped plan my 10 year high school reunion.  It was my job to find physical ane mailing addresses  for the ~200 members of the Morris Hills High School class of 1994. I even subscribed (i.e., paid money) to belong to one of those "classmates" services. (a rip off then as much as a rip off now). Anyway, with my genealogy sleuthing skills, I found about 2/3 of the folks, which was pretty good considering I was two states away. I was disappointed that I couldn't find 100% of the class, but this was before the era of Facebook and MySpace. 

Typing Obsession

Folks who know me really well know how obsessed I am with typing. When I was a kid, my parents purchased a typing magic game for our Atari 800 where you needed to type to keep aliens from landing on the earth (or, at least I think that was the premise). I had mandatory typing classes in grade school and middle school. Still, I was a hunt and pecker. Why would I need to type?

A friend of my brother came to visit our family when he was on leave from college, sometime around 1990. He needed to type something up, and we had a Brother word processor while his father had a broken typewriter. I was amazed at the speed at which he typed - putting together reports was such a chore for me, yet he did it effortlessly.

When I got to college I did not have a computer. But my roommate did. He also had a copy of Mavis Beacon teaches typing. While all of my friends were playing early multi-person shooter games, I was learning how to type. I used Mavis obsessively. That was 1994 or so. Periodically I will pick up the newest version of Mavis and play obsessively for a few weeks. I write a lot for work, so I get natural practice.

spiralshell

 was nice enough to post a link to an online typing test. One minute, random common English words. Of course, you'd type faster if the words were in a sentence, so it may underestimate your typing prowess. My high was 75 words per minute. I'll have to go back to Mavis to increase that...

6234 words

Not Just Incompetence or Apathy

 

A few weeks ago there was an article in the Boston Globe about terrible signage in a complicated—some would say byzantine—intersection near Storrow Drive and Charles St. In part, the confusing signs are a result of distribution of responsibility and jurisdiction among several government agencies who do not get along well. As a devotee of cognitive engineering, the poor signage (in addition to a lack of urban planning) in the Boston area has always hit a raw nerve. Right at the point that I’ve gotten myself turned around, I begin to think of all of the ways that things could be improved for locals and visitors alike. That is, understanding the needs of drivers of various types and modifying signs and  traffic patterns accordingly. Maybe even being more consistent with highway references in signs (128 versus 95, for example). The realization that some of the problems are due to territorialism—rather than simple incompetence or apathy—is doubly maddening.

 

Better signage is needed to overcome several aspects of Boston urban design that pre-dates the widespread use of cars.

1. In most municipalities, streets are not straight.  Instead, they typically resemble mammalian intestines. You can’t just think “I need to head north” and then choose a street that looks like it goes north.  You’ll wind up going to Rhode Island every time.
2. Street names change as you leave one town and enter another.  However, there will be no indication that the street name has changed or that you’ve entered a new town.
3. Adjacent towns use the same street names to refer to non-contiguous streets. So “Oak Street” may be a main street in Town A, and Town B right next door may also have an “Oak Street,” but they will not meet at the boundary.  Instead, Town B’s “Oak Street” will be slightly north of Town A’s and will invariably lead to Rhode Island.
4. Whenever you’ve missed a turn because they’ve placed street signs behind large trees there will be 8 blocks of “No U-Turn” signs. You have to ask, if they placed those “No u-turn” signs because so many people were making u-turns, why didn’t they try to fix the underlying problem (i.e., people were getting lost) rather than the effect of that problem.
5. There are many one-way streets, especially downtown. I once spent 30 minutes trying to go 2 blocks near Devonshire St. It was like a black hole.  The same street was one-way in one direction for a few blocks and then, inexplicably, was one-way in the other direction. Sure, I understand why—to keep traffic down by discouraging through traffic—but they could have put up signs to help people get to major highways.  And to Rhode Island.

 

Effective signage would help all of these things.  It is unlikely to happen, though. So I just have to learn my way around and make the occasional illegal u-turn.

Hmmmm... I suppose I am stressed.

I didn't think I was stressed.  5 week old baby, wife in hospital, I thought I was handling things pretty well.

I took a walk to Brugger's Bagels to get a sandwich for lunch.  Peanut butter on a bagel that I would eat on the way home. As I watched the customers in front of me, I noticed that the Brugger's employees would cut the bagel first in half lengthwise (i.e., on the transverse plane) and then top-to-bottom (i.e., coronal plane). I only like my bagels cut once because it is easier to eat while walking (note: if I ate like a civilized person, the second cut makes sense). So, when it came to my turn, I said "Please don't cut my bagel in quarters." He said "okay" and proceeded to cut it into four equal pieces (as described above).  I then said "I JUST SAID NOT TO CUT IT INTO QUARTERS!," to which he replied "I DIDN'T!  I JUST CUT IT IN HALF." (Note: There were four equal pieces on the counter.  I tried to explain that it was a whole bagel, that he cut it in half and then in half again, making it quarters.  It was at that point that the more experienced employee next to him said "I'm sorry sir. We consider this 'half.' We'll discard it and get you a new bagel." Other than having too much peanut butter on the bagel, there were no more incidents.

Sure, in a mathematical sense I was correct. Linguistically it was ambiguous at best. But socially it was incorrect. My reaction to the employee's mistake betrayed the stress I'm feeling - it certainly wasn't going to help resolve the situation. It is funny how stress manifests itself...