Author: Eric

In this issue:

• How to Alienate Your Readers
• Shoot Ball!
• Public Performances
• Easter at Ethan’s
• Square Pizza

How to Alienate Your Readers

Eric

In an amazing feat of stupidity, I decided to redo the graphic design of the website. It’s kind of fun when you’re just starting, though. Every font is another possibility – and I happen to have a lot of fonts. Then there is color – color for the logo, color for links in various states of activation, background colors and images, and on and on. And what graphics and gizmos can I add? At least I know that I like drop-shadows, so that part was pretty easy, unless you start to worry about drop-shadow opacity, blur and distance from the shadowed object. So it is fun to start, but usually ends up being a lot of tedious work.

Shannon said that it isn’t good to change layout very much, because it alienates your readers. Probably what alienates them more is not publishing anything new for a few months. I guess I’m going for it all.

Anyway, we’re back to life with plenty of new content to hopefully make it all worthwhile. After all, most people don’t care as much about the layout anyway.

I do want to mention a couple of things, though. First, I’ve used a “frameset” to create the menu to the left now. Notice that it doesn’t scroll with the stuff over here in this part of the screen. Frames can be nice, but they can also be annoying when you want to scroll using the keyboard. In short, if you’re trying to scroll and nothing happens, you probably need to click the mouse over on this part of the screen to get things working.

Also, a cool new feature I’ve added is the automatic e-mail notification when the site changes. This is provided by a third-party, so registering your e-mail address actually sends it to another site. The people that run that other site have a program that checks my site for changes, and sends e-mails to everyone registered when it detects any. I don’t have to do anything other than put the little entry field on my page. I thought it was neat, anyway.

So, do you like the new site better than the old? Don’t worry if you don’t, I’ll probably change it again in a couple of months anyway.

Shoot Ball!

Eric

I’m not sure how a seventeen-month-old gains a love of basketball. It certainly didn’t come from the first game he attended, even though it was an exciting over-time contest. He was just a few months old, and it was everything we could do to keep him from screaming in response to the loud noises.

His interest could have come from watching his dad play a couple of times. Probably, though, it really came on a relatively warm winter afternoon after I came home from work. I put on my ball cap, and we went outside to shoot some baskets on the hoop that Shannon had gotten me for Valentine’s Day a few weeks before. Even holding Ethan up as high as I could, he couldn’t come close to dropping the ball through the full-height rim. But fortunately, we had a couple of plastic planting pots that would support a basketball’s circumference, and he was happy to drop the ball into them. Provided, that is, that I took at least a couple of shots on the big rim while holding him under one arm.

The next few evenings, Ethan seemed very determined that I put on my ball cap when I got home from work. It was his way of saying that it was time to go out and shoot some baskets.

Those experiences were cemented by a day when we went across the street to the neighbor’s house. A couple of boys were playing “Around the World” on a lowered rim, and between their shots I would hold Ethan up so he could dunk a mini-basketball. After that, if we were ever in the front yard when someone was shooting over there, he would point at the player with not just the single-handed point of interest, but the double-handed point of idolization and awe. It was very hard to get him back in the house after that.

He also was hard to deter when the weather was bad, and even managed to enjoy “shooting” in spite of being pegged with a full-sized ball on an awkward rebound from a missed shot by dad, and a direct pelting from an air-ball by mom.

Ethan, by this time, had started saying, “shoot” a lot, and occasionally, “shoot ball”. Sometimes his pronunciation wasn’t too good, and a little vowel variation sounded like a stream of profanity coming from the back seat as we would drive down the road.

I finally decided that he needed his own hoop – not only to keep him on our side of the street, but to let him play when his parents didn’t feel like going outside. But I didn’t want one of those plastic toy hoops fit for cartoon character players, I wanted something that looked like a real standard – only smaller.

We found just the thing at a sporting goods store, and Ethan was throwing the ball through the hoop as soon as it was out of the box. That did make it somewhat difficult to assemble with him constantly shooting, but I eventually got the thing set up with a two-foot rim that’s just perfect for Ethan’s favorite dunk shot.

He was in heaven. He kept throwing the ball through the undersized rim, and I was pleased that my chosen set-up rewarded him with a completely authentic net swish on each shot.

It was hard to hold him down when he needed his pants changed, but when we were finished, I thought I would test him. As you might have read before, Ethan loves to throw things in the garbage. Especially the big garbage can out in the garage. So I offered him his dirty diaper and asked him if he wanted to throw it in the garbage.

I have to admit I was a tiny bit disappointed when he immediately came to get the diaper. Maybe he really was a garbage man at heart. But then he ran with the diaper back to the hoop and slam-dunked it.

Public Performances

Eric

I’ve been taking piano lessons for about a year and a half now. My teacher is a guy in our ward, Robert, who teaches in the evenings. A few months ago, Shannon asked him when there was going to be a recital. Shortly thereafter, Robert was assigning all his students a piece to perform, and the recital was scheduled.

We had it just a couple of weeks ago, and I was so tempted to announce to all the other students they could thank my wife for having to play in public.

It really wasn’t too big of a deal, though. There were only about six of us playing, and the audience was almost entirely parents. Shannon was my mom, complete with the video camera. Oh, and she pinned a daisy to my lapel as a boutonniere that everyone thought would squirt water when they saw it – it was April Fool’s Day after all.

I was at least twice the age of all the other performers, but at least I wasn’t old and outclassed. I played Reverie, by Peter Tchaikovsky. I found a MIDI version of it that you can listen to, but I like my interpretation better. If I could arrange to get my piano and computer closer together, I’d do my own recording.

I was nervous that playing the song had become so subconscious that I would get up there and blank out right in the middle, but I managed to play the whole song with only one mistake that I was aware of. There was a frightening time near the end where I couldn’t remember if I had already played a certain part, or if I was supposed to play it then. It is kind of like leading a hymn in church that has a chorus, and getting to the end of a verse, not remembering which verse you just sang. But I think I played it right. I’ll have to look at the video tape someday to be sure.

Easter at Ethan’s

Shannon

It is the day after Easter. We had a very nice holiday. Our bishop postponed all pre-church meetings, which normally begin around 10 a.m., until 12:10. So we had plenty of time to hunt for baskets and even had a family breakfast.

I hid baskets for Ethan and Eric and they seemed to enjoy both the basket and the hunt. Ethan found his basket hidden under the piano and seemed to enjoy the jelly beans. He was a bit surprised that we were actually letting him eat candy along with breakfast.

After Ethan found his basket we said, “Help Daddy find his basket.” Ethan took Eric’s hand, like he knew exactly where he should look, and led him upstairs. We assumed Ethan planned to search upstairs for the Easter basket. Instead, Ethan led Eric directly to the basket ball hoop (already mentioned in this edition) in his room. Ethan gave up the search for Easter baskets and began shooting baskets.

Eventually we got both of the basketball lovers back downstairs and resumed the Easter basket hunt. In years past, Eric has often found his basket amazingly quickly. I sometimes think that when Eric appears to be having some deep philosophical thought, he’s really pondering good hiding places for Easter baskets. After not too much searching, he found his basket hidden in the kitchen.

Square Pizza

Eric

My boss asked me if I wanted to go to a conference about XML last month. I normally don’t get too excited about conferences, but this one was in Seattle, so I said I would go with an ulterior motive.

I took the chance to bring Shannon and Ethan with me so we could visit Kent and Phyllis and the kids. So while I spent the days in fascinating technical lectures, Shannon and Ethan had fun with the Wrathalls.

The last day of our stay was a highlight for me, because I didn’t have any meetings, and we got to go visit Kayla and Jared’s school. We had lunch with Kayla, and the cafeteria brought back memories of earlier years. I don’t remember it being quite so noisy though.

We picked a good day — the menu included pizza. Seeing the kids get their lunch, I noticed that the pizza looked like real pizza — you know, cooked on a round pan and everything, not like the square slabs of pizza-like stuff I was used to in school. But, as it turned out, it really was cooked on a square pan. The cook just had a clever cutting technique that made it look real. It tasted alright, too. It was also popcorn day, so I really did well.

I noticed that not many of the kids got the green beans or other side dishes. Come to think of it, those frivolous extras cut into recess time. So we were the last ones in the cafeteria after everyone else had run out to play.

Kayla took us on a tour of the school after lunch, and Ethan was a bundle of imminent destruction. There were just too many little crafts lying around.

Love,

Copyright � Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.

Mom called last Sunday to say that Grandpa Norman had passed away. It wasn’t much of a surprise since she had told me during the previous week that his health was quickly failing. I was a little sad, but knowing that ninety-seven years was a long life, and that he was reunited with his wife, made his passing far from tragic.

The Trip

A bunch of us from Utah piled into a couple of vans to make the trip to California for Grandpa’s memorial (it was not a funeral, as Mom says). It has been quite a while since I’ve been on a car trip that long – it took about ten hours – but I actually enjoyed it. Anita and Lenore did all the driving on the way down, so it was a time for me to relax, read a novel and munch on Doritos.

We arrived at Uncle David’s house in Chino Friday evening, and I started an oft-repeated process of re-introducing myself to relatives I haven’t seen in a lot of years. We had some pizza, and watched the last half of Escape from LA. The movie was pretty lame, but there was some novelty in the fact that we had just arrived in the area it is set in. Linda was away at a Sweet Adelines retreat, so Cheryl acted as hostess and found us all places to sleep. My cousins have a higher tolerance for lack of sleep, so I was one of the first to snuggle under some blankets on the couch.

Saturday morning, we got spiffed up and headed for Long Beach. I wore my charcoal, banker stripe suit, which seemed appropriate even though I’m beginning to really dislike it. I think the last time I wore it was for the Mount Timpanogos Temple dedication in 1996. I could have sworn that I stopped growing on my mission, but this suit seems to fit a slightly shorter person.

The Service

The memorial service was held at the Long Beach Fourth Ward Chapel, which is where Grandpa served as bishop for several years. There was a viewing in the Relief Society room, and we were there early enough that I could spend a little time alone with Grandpa’s so, so still body. Even so, I expected him to give me some advice at some point.

Mom, Dean, Phyllis and Jeff showed up after a little while, so it was nice to see some immediate family in addition to all the cousins, aunts and uncles.

After a standing room only family prayer, the service started with a rendition of Families Can Be Together Forever by all the grandkids present.

The services had a nice feeling to it – there were some fun stories about grandpa, like a time he and Uncle Dick went to Home Depot a couple of years ago. Grandpa paid with a check, so the clerk wanted to see his driver license. After looking at it, the clerk said, “Hey, they forgot to put your birth date on here. It just says ’00’.” Uncle Dick explained, “No that’s correct – he was born in 1900.” The clerk was shocked and proclaimed to the rest of the people waiting in line, “This man is 96 years old!” Grandpa then turned and waved like a celebrity.

There was also a fair amount said about Grandpa’s role in overseeing much of the construction of the chapel we were in. When it was remodeled a few years back, a demolition crew started working on knocking down the steeple. They thought it would just take a couple of shots with the wrecking ball, but ended up taking a couple of days of pounding before it finally relented.

Toward the end, my cousin Dan sang a nice solo of How Great Thou Art, and I was kind of wishing I could get up there and add some tenor. He did wonderfully, but it would have been fun to join in.

I was one of the pallbearers, so I helped carry the casket to the hearse. There was a heavy rain falling.

The drive to the cemetery was though the side streets of Long Beach with police motorcycles giving escort and blocking traffic. They had a small tent set up graveside, but the rain had pretty much stopped by then. The proceedings there were short and sweet, with cousin Dalan doing the dedication.

We headed back to the church for a luncheon after that, and I was thinking the whole way that it was going to be sandwiches. I was so pleased that it was potluck.

The Nostalgia Tour

After the suits gave way to jeans, we drove over to Grandma and Grandpa’s old house. It looked like it always did when we used to come down in visit in the summers when I was young. I remember loading up in the car for the 1000 mile trip from Portland, finally getting to look at the books and activities that Mom had gotten us to pass the time.

We were supposed to pick up a cedar chest to bring back to Aunt Jean, which we found back in Grandpa’s workshop. Grandpa’s normally neat garden was a tangle of grass, and the path was strewn with branches. The older cousins found that the smell of the workshop brought back a lot of memories. It just smelled musty to me, but I guess the workshop had always been off-limits when I was there.

We drove around the block and saw that there are still some horses around, and took a peek at the catwalk. The catwalk, which goes over a busy road and under the freeway, was always an adventure. As Kerry said, it’s like a whole new world on the other end of the catwalk. I remember a dusty field with “grasshopper” oil wells pumping. I also remember cutting my foot on some glass in the catwalk once. I think our idea of first aid at the time was to catch the blood in a fast food box so it wouldn’t get on the cement.

When we used to visit in the summers, we would frequently spend time at Grandma and Grandpa’s house, but we looked forward to staying with the Taylors as well. They liked it when we came, too, because we were their Disneyland Cousins. They lived just down the road from the Magic Kingdom, but didn’t get to go unless we were there visiting.

We drove to their old house in Garden Grove, and where Grandma and Grandpa’s house was instantly recognizable, the old Taylor house looked totally different. I remember it being green, but it is blue now, and the landmark tree in front was gone. We used to climb the tree a lot, and at night watch the Disneyland fireworks from there. We didn’t go around back to see if the clubhouse is still there. The new owners probably thought it was weird enough to have two van loads of people stopping in front and taking pictures.

The last stop in Garden Grove was In-n-Out Burger, and from there we drove out to Dick and Barbara’s house.

There we had all the cousins assembled, and we all got reacquainted. At the end of the night I could name everyone and their relationships.

After another night on Uncle David’s sofa, I was ready to head home again. The trip home was uneventful, but I had to drive for a while, so I didn’t quite finish my book.

All in all, I was happy that I went. I missed Shannon and Ethan, but it was great to see family again.

One final, fond memory of Grandpa is having him seal Shannon and I in the Jordan River Temple. We were so glad that he could do that for us.

Grandma & Grandpa Norman
August 8, 1986

Love,

Eric James Smith, Ed.

Copyright (c) Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.

In this issue:

• Dear Santa…
• Faith, Intellect & Christmas
• Trash Talk

Dear Santa…

Boss’ Note: Ethan was wandering around with a pen and paper on the day we were going to see Santa, so I thought he must want to write him a letter.

Dear Santa,
I’ve been very good this year.
I would like a new binkie, friends for Bear, fewer naps, more candy, my own TV, access to electrical outlets.
Respectfully Yours,
Ethan J. Smith

Faith, Intellect and Christmas

Editor’s Note: This was my hometeaching message for the month, but hey, if I’m going to spend a lot of time writing something, it’ll probably find its way into the Smithy.

We live daily by faith that our deepest convictions are true. But as we know from the scriptures, “Faith is not to have a perfect knowledge,” and because of that there is always an opening for the wedging penetration of doubt.

For some people, the uncertainty is unacceptable. The lack of tangible evidence in a society that exalts logic and reason makes religion “unreasonable”. To agnostic and atheistic intellectuals, so talented in the world’s wisdom, religion is a crutch for the less analytically gifted. But faith is also a talent.

Do you think there are people in the world without the mental facilities to understand calculus? Such a person might berate himself for being slow. Yet some people lack the spiritual talent to have faith in Jesus Christ, and instead of saying, “I am faithless” they say, “Faith is folly”.

That faith and intelligence can co-exist is clear – we’ve met and listened to many people who have successfully combined them. But there does seem to be a societal pressure to ennoble intellect at the expense of faith. While thinking is heavily exercised, faith is ignored as subordinate at best.

This year, or last year, marks the 2000th anniversary of an event that turned the conflict between believers and unbelievers into a matter of life and death. In Zarahemla, here in the Americas, the prophet Samuel foretold the birth of Christ, along with unmistakable signs to accompany it. He even gave a five-year time frame for the fulfillment of his prophecy. But unbelief was the dominant attitude then, whether because of unbalanced rationalism, or some other regression to the natural man. This unbelief also wasn’t a passive unbelief, but an aggressive intolerance: the believing minority was sentenced to death if the prophecy wasn’t fulfilled.

The spiritual strength to believe under those circumstances is impressive. To surrender your life is the ultimate sign of conviction. Wouldn’t it be easier to say, “I believe that Christ will come, but I’m not willing to risk my life on that belief”?

As the allotted five years came close to expiration, the unbelievers’ confidence grew:

“…There were some who began to say that the time was past for the words to be fulfilled, which were spoken by Samuel, the Lamanite. And they began to rejoice over their brethren, saying: Behold the time is past, and the words of Samuel are not fulfilled; therefore, your joy and your faith concerning this thing hath been vain. And it came to pass that they did make a great uproar throughout the land….”

To the believers, it seemed that all of society was against them, and doubt probed their hearts. But they still had an unmistakable sign to focus on: “…They did watch steadfastly for that day and that night and that day which should be as one day as if there were no night, that they might know that their faith had not been vain.”

When the night of Christ’s birth finally came, the sign was given. “…There was no darkness all that night, but it was as light as though it was mid-day. And … the sun did rise in the morning again, … and they knew that it was the day that the Lord should be born….”

With the coming of the sign, the unbelievers’ plans for the destruction of the believers were frustrated. Christ’s birth was then a type of the salvation he would later bring to all mankind.

Imagine the joy as faith was validated. They were happy to be right, but I don’t think the faithful heralded their victory over the unbelievers – being right meant that the plan of salvation is true. The messiah, so long prophesied had finally entered the world.

I believe that we can build and exercise our faith as the Nephites did. It is a talent and a skill that, after trials will lead us to joy and knowledge.

Trash Talk

Ethan is really growing up. He walks pretty well and says a surprising number of words. Our current favorite is “gar” as in garbage.

Ethan has a real fascination with the garbage can. We can’t go into the garage without a short visit to the garbage can. Even if he has fallen asleep in the car, as I lift him out of his seat, he groggily points and says “gar”, as if it were part of his happy dreams.

After dinner, Ethan cheerfully carries our used napkins to the “gar”, and anything else he happens to pick up. He will even submit to having his diaper changed if we tell him he can take the used one to the garbage — that is actually pretty handy.

I have to really listen to his babbling because he usually announces his intention to throw something (anything — not trash — which will elicit a quick response) in the “gar” long before he reaches his destination.

I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised by Ethan’s fixation on garbage. For months we’ve been spending our Monday mornings waiting for the garbage man to come by in his big truck. We watch as the truck picks up our garbage and dumps it. Sometimes Ethan is even brave enough to wave to our garbage man.

Love,

Eric James Smith, Ed.

Shannon F. Smith, Boss

Copyright � Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.

1997

Child-Resistant Christmas
(Notice the height of the tree base)
December 25, 1997

Gotta brush after all those sweets.
December 25, 1997

New clothes from Grandpa Smith & Evie
December 25, 1997

“One of these up here has got to be for me…”
December 24, 1997

108 cubic feet of new storage space.
Special thanks to Mark Nielsen for hauling the supplies, Sterling Nelson for help with the construction, and Alan Smith for design advice.
December 24, 1997

Family picture
November 12, 1997

“Does this count as wearing the hat?”
Halloween, 1997

“You mean you’re letting me touch this?”
Ethan’s first birthday
October 19, 1997

Copyright � Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.

Another Medium, Another Issue

It’s a good thing that new, technically exciting ways of conveying information come along every so often — they inspire me to communicate when more mundane means are less appealing. The first issue of Sparks from the Smithy came about mostly because Dad gave me a desktop publishing package for Christmas. That kept me going for quite a while, but I honestly can’t imagine how I ground that thing out on a computer without a hard drive. I actually had to swap floppies to do different tasks, and even back in those more patient days, it was agonizingly slow. These days, I can’t stand to wait. Not for computers anyway.

So what would lure me to the World Wide Wait for my next publishing medium? Well, for one thing, it’s kind of cool. The other, slightly more persuasive factor is that I don’t have to consume my own work over the web. Before I leave this subject, an upcoming release of a major operating system (non-disclosure-ly vague) touts during installation, “Navigate your computer faster and easier — just like the Internet!” I… I just can’t quite find the words.

In any case, here’s the new technically hip publication, with even sexier layout than a floppy-based DTP can muster. I also hope to improve things by naming Shannon the Supreme Chief Editor and Master of the Universe. Maybe some flattery will persuade her to contribute to such a lowly, pitiful publication. Oh, and Ethan has been named Chief Keyboard Stomper. It’s not enough to just pound the keys, it’s his duty to climb up on the desk and march around on them. And put his grimy fingers on the monitor. And throw the mousemat on the floor. And the mouse. Maybe we’ll have to promote him to a position where he can have his own office.

Let us know what you think.

Nine Pound Turkey

It’s Thanksgiving, we’ve had our feast and cleaned it up too. It was an intimate holiday this year, with just our little triumvirate. Had any family of four dropped by, we probably could have managed to feed them too. But it was definitely the scaled-back version, and it was delectably refreshing to feast on only a half-day’s labor. Sure, we had “real” mashed potatoes and nearly-from-scratch rolls and lemon meringue pie, but we didn’t bother to dig out the china, or make enough food to feed China.

We all still managed to stay friends, too. Of course, there was a little of the surliness that has made us swear that we’ll be eating at Denny’s next year, but we made it through OK.

And here, just to harrass any 14.4 people out there, are a couple of shots of our forthwith to be eaten feast.

I’ll wrap up here so I can get this thing posted, and beat the competition to press (whoever that might be).

Love,

Eric James Smith, Ed.

Copyright � Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.

In this issue:

• It’s Back!
• Wilberg Wannabe
• High Power Decoder Rings
• Boring School Stuff

It’s Back!

After a rather long break, The Smithy is back in publication. At least while the school load hasn’t hit full force, I thought I would get an issue out. Especially since As the Wrathall World Turns is all the way up to issue XXIV and I’m embarrassed that The Smithy is not anywhere near that. Of course, I can always say that I only have 50% of the staff that they do.

Wilberg Wannabe

I’m in my second semester in the (immensely popular) BYU Men’s Chorus now. We’re getting ready for our concert in February with a slew of new music, including Bread’s If wherein we lucky first tenors get to sing soprano. And I don’t mean the soprano part transposed down an octave. We really sing soprano Sometimes it seems like our director, Mac Wilberg, pushes us too far.

But Dr. Wilberg is fantastic. In addition to being our director, he is also a concert pianist and a nationally recognized composer. Many of the pieces the BYU choirs performed for our Christmas concert were composed or arranged by him–including full orchestral scoring for several pieces. That concert, by the way, was professionally video taped and will be broadcast nationally on PBS for Christmas 1992.

We’re also excited to be performing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir for a live broadcast of Music and the Spoken Word on March 1st this year.

I’m finding that Dr. Wllberg has been an especially practical example for me because I have been called to direct our ward choir. Apparently someone had leaked to the bishopric the fact that I had done this before in another ward, so I’m at it again. I have a recording of Men’s Chorus in concert, so if you would be interested in having a copy of it (and wouldn’t mind contributing a little to the cost of a blank tape and postage) let me know and I’ll send you a copy.

High Power Decoder Rings

In December your tax dollars flew me to Maryland for a couple of days of interviews with the National Security Agency. The NSA is the intelligence department over signals intelligence (including codes and ciphers) and computer security. They explained to me that they have all kinds of wonderful job opportunities for brilliant young computer scientists, all of which, unfortunately, are classified so they couldn’t tell me what they are.

The first thing we did (once we managed to get inside the building) was take some tests. One of these was a psychological evaluation wherein they used clever and subtly worded questions to determine if we were suffering from some psychotic disorder, like “True or False: People are out to get me” and “True or False: I think Nixon was a good president.”

Another test was sort of an intelligence-type test that covered vocabulary, number sequences (“Which number comes next 1, 3, 9, 11, _?”), and word problems obviously created by people who had failed the psychological exam.

We later caught the secret bus that takes you to the actual Fort Meade installation of the NSA. And you know what? Remember the officer in Dances With Wolves that sent Kevin Costner out to a deserted outpost then shot himself? Well I’m happy to inform you that he survived his suicide attempt and now works as a receptionist at the NSA. And he wasn’t the only interesting personality. There was a lady that worked in the cafeteria that had a seemingly natural talent for ventriloquism, because when she spoke her lips almost didn’t move at all. The words were completely unintelligible, but she has a good start. Only from watching the person in line ahead of me did I understand that “duhuhenikwiat” meant “do you want a pickle with that?” And of course, what would a secret agency be without a midget? The one we met took our pictures for our employment files-and she had to stand on an inverted trash can to reach the tripod. The best part was when she was behind the desk, because you’d swear she was sitting down until she came walking out.

For one of my interviews I was taken back into the secret part of one of the buildings. They had flashing red lights on the ceiling and my escort loudly announced my presence wherever we went so no one would say something classified. Talk about getting attention! Of course people had a tendency to break off in the middle of conversations and expeditiously flee the area. It was sort of like walking into a room and saying, “Hey, I’ve got the plague!”

Another highlight of the trip was when I had to get from the back to the front of a building to catch the secret bus back to the employment building. I didn’t have authorization to walk through the building so I had to walk about a half mile through parking lots and around fences to get there.

The polygraph test was perhaps the most interesting event. They asked me if I was really a criminal, a spy, or anybody other than Eric James Smith.

I’m not sure if I’ll get my summer job with the NSA, but I think that the experiences of filling out the applications (writing a life history, basically) and going through the testing / interviewing make the whole thing worthwhile.

Boring School Stuff

This semester I am very computer science intensive. I’m studying about computers and society, computer architecture, operating system design, and software engineering. If you know what those are/entail, then I guess you’ll get a warm Fuzzy feeling (in the back of your throat), but otherwise I won’t go into details. I also have a seminar type class of computer science related subjects, and to round off my technical semester, I have an archery class. You gotta have some fun sometimes, right?

Until next time, Love,

Eric James Smith, Ed.

Copyright � Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.

As most of you know, I spent my summer in London, England this year. I’m writing this to let you all know what I did while I was there, and what I’m doing now that I have returned to the States.

Why Did I Go to England, Anyway?

Earlier this year, there was a job fair at BYU for students looking for work in the computer industry. I attended and gave out as many resumes and got as many addresses to mail more of them out as I could. One of the companies that I approached was EDS, or Electronic Data Systems Corporation. I had to talk to several of the recruiters before I could find out anything about EDS’ interest in hiring me for the summer, and I was told that they really didn’t have any kind of an internship program set up, but there was the possibility of some international internships. My first reaction was that I probably wouldn’t want to leave the country for a summer job, but I sent in my resume anyway since I was sending them to anyone I could.

A few months later, I got a phone call from EDS saying that they wanted to send me to Europe for ten weeks to work for them. They would pay for flight over, my housing, my public transportation pass while there, and provide a modest salary as well. I was surprised that they had selected me entirely by my resume and cover letter, but was excited about the opportunity offered. Especially since I didn’t have any offers from the other companies I had applied at. So EDS flew me to Dallas, Texas for an orientation meeting one Saturday, and on May 27th, I was on my way to London.

Who Is EDS?

EDS is a company that provides information technology services for other companies. That sometimes involves operating that company’s computer equipment, and other times EDS lets that company use the computing resources they have at various information processing centers. EDS also writes software to meet the needs of clients they have.

The company is a subsidiary of General Motors, and provides all of the computing services for them. To give an idea of the size of EDS, they employ around 60,000 people worldwide, and are IBM’s biggest customer apart from the federal government. There are about 2,000 EDS employees in the United Kingdom.

What I Did For Them

I was sort of the victim of bad planning for a while, unfortunately. My first few weeks were very frustrating because I didn’t have any challenging work to do, and sometimes very little work at all to do. Eventually things picked up, and I worked hard to do whatever was given to me.

I was working in the Pan-European Technical Resource Acquisition department. We coordinated the buying, relocating and leasing of computer hardware and software to keep the European information processing centers running smoothly. My responsibilities included maintaining the technical library, building spreadsheets to report on negotiations or business with vendors, some product research, gathering information from the regions we coordinated, and many other little things.

I also did work for other departments, including some Portuguese translation, and some programming. The program-ming was the work that I enjoyed most of all, because it was the most challenging, the most fun, and the most related to my interests and studies. Everyone I did work for seemed pleased with the results, and my manager was occasionally surprised/ impressed. So despite the slow start, it was a good experience for me.

Living In London

Although the office where I worked was actually in the city of Uxbridge, to the west of London, I lived right in central London. I occasionally commented in letters that I was living in luxury, and location was one of the things that contributed to that. I actually lived in two different flats while there, but they were both just off of Baker Street. Baker Street is where Sherlock Holmes ‘lived’, so I bought a copy of the Sherlock Holmes novels from a store on Baker Street to read while there. The Baker Street Underground station is over 100 years old, and was part of the world’s first underground train system. Regent’s Park and Madame Tussaud’s famous wax museum are about a five minute walk away. Hyde Park and Oxford Street (a famous shopping street) are about ten minutes away by foot. I was also about a mile from Buckingham Palace, Picadilly Circus, Leicester Square, etc. In short I was right in the middle of it.

The other things that contributed to my luxury were the “niceness” of the flats (queen size bed, TV, VCR, well decorated, washer/dryer, nice furniture) and the fact that there was a housekeeper to clean it all up. So, with the combination of location and amenities, it cost 50 pounds a night for me to stay there, or about $80. In a way, that’s kind of silly since it is more than I was getting paid, but it really was a great place to live.

The Arts

Some of the things I liked most about London were the art galleries, the architecture, and the theater. I saw paintings by famous painters like Van Gogh, Picasso, Degas, Renoir, Michaelangelo, Monet, etc. There are so many amazing buildings–St. Paul’s Cathedral, Westminister Abbey, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. etc. And I saw six theatrical productions: “Macbeth”, “Henry the Fourth part 2”, “Miss Saigon”, “Me and My Girl”, “The Comedy of Errors”, and “The Phantom of the Opera”. They were all excellent, but “Henry IV” was hard to follow, not having read the script first, and “Miss Saigon” was kind of immoral. But the theater was definitely one of the most powerful experiences for me while there.

The British

I found the British to be very much like myself in many cases: Kind of distant at first, but very friendly once you get to know them. Of course people are people anywhere you go, and there were all kinds. Still, in general, I felt a certain kinship with them.

History

There are so many interesting stories to be told about London, and being on the spot where those event occurred makes them all the more poignant. I was fascinated with the Tower of London, and spent four or five hours there. The Imperial War Museum, dedicated to the World Wars, left a strong mark on me, too. I felt transported in time to the Battle of Britain, and was just amazed at the heroism of the British as they fought for their country. And when I was in the Museum of London, looking at displays from World War II of bomb shelters and pictures of German buzz bombs, I was amazed at how Londoners could live while the city was being constantly bombed. Then a couple came up to the display, and they would say, “I remember that.”

Britannia Ward

I went to church in a singles ward that met at the Hyde Park chapel. Being an American there was nothing novel for them, since the BYU Study Abroad students attended that ward as well. But the BYU students didn’t seem to integrate very well with the natives, so when I did get involved, it was kind of unique. I found the young people in the ward to be friendly, devoted to the gospel (though a little liberal with their interpretations at times), and missionary minded. They also liked to have fun, so there was a party practically every week. The family home evening discussions we had were especially interesting because at various times we had members from England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Germany, Italy, America, Hong Kong, Nigeria, the Phillipines, Russia and Lithuania, and it was interesting to hear their comments and perspectives. I made a lot of friends, and even went on a few dates with girls in the ward.

Outside of London

I did get a chance to do a little traveling. I went to the Cotswold District, where there are a lot of little villages amid the pleasant pastures of rural England. I also went to Oxford, Stratford Upon Avon, and the Salisbury area to see Stonehenge. My only trip to the continent was a weekend In Paris. It was a real budget trip, costing me only around $160 including air fare, but I saw most of the touristy things and had a good time.

Back Home In Korea

On August 28th I flew to Los Angeles to visit with my best friend and roommate Sang Kim. Sang’s parents immigrated to the States when he was twelve, but they haven’t picked up too much english in the time that they have been here so his home was very Korean still. Korean is the language of the house, and the food was also of that nationality, so it was more foreign to me than the foreign country I had been living in all summer. Sang and I went to BYU’s first football game of the season, which was at Anaheim Stadium, and despite our cheers, they lost. Oh, well. We also went to Magic Mountain for a day and rode the coasters until they lost most of their thrill.

Vivant Academia

The summer ends with the return to Provo, and starting classes again at BYU. This past week was the first week of class, and my first week at a new apartment complex in a new ward and a new stake, and with new roommates, so it was quite a time of change. These are the classes that I have: Technical Writing, Beginning Gymnastics, Brazilian History, Programming Environments, Introduction to Computational Theory, Database Systems, and Men’s Chorus. I’m really excited about being in Men’s Chorus, because it is something that I’ve wanted to do for a long time, but have been unable because I had to work while taking a full load of classes. I’m not working this semester, so money could be pretty tight, but I want to get my grades up a little, and enjoy myself a little too.

Thanks for the birthday cards, everyone, and the financial contributions as well. I also enjoyed the chance to talk to many of you yesterday, and look forward to seeing you probably around Christmas.

Love,

Eric James Smith, Ed.

Copyright � Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.

In this issue:

• It’s Not Just a Job…
• Think
• Wanted
• Other Stuff

It’s Not Just a Job…

For the past few whiles, I’ve been working as a security guard. But unless you are a professional at staying awake all night while doing nothing, I don’t recommend the job.

I’ve been guarding an apartment building right in the heart of downtown Portland from 0100 hours to 0900 hours, so anything that happens is some pretty major excitement. Like this one time, the elevator came down to the lobby, and the doors opened and (this was Really Exciting) there was no one inside!! Events of this magnitude happen as often as once every 96 hours.

The true source of mind wrenching terror is the tenants themselves. The building is equal opportunity housing, which means that everyone there has a Problem. The Problems divide neatly into two categories: mental and physical. Paranoid schizophrenics can be very interesting people. And sometimes the medical cards are tantalizingly vague, saying things like “psychotic disorder”. What’s even more fun is to have someone who is mentally disturbed come in drunk. This one guy came in and talked about Brazil, social security, testosterone injections and being forced to have a few beers–all in one sentence. Then he said that I scared the hell out of him. Some of the people are just kind of funny. One guy, who looked like he hadn’t slept since 1979 came down sipping on a Coke. He said he couldn’t sleep, so he thought he’d go out for a coffee.

Some of the folks are downright pleasant. One old lady gets up early every morning to feed the pigeons in the park. She always waves to me with this cute little wave, and goes out the door with a large sack of bread crumbs. But even she poses a sort of mystery. Where does she manage to get such a big bag of crumbs every day?

I could go on and on about the drug dealers and scandals with the other guards, but that’s all pretty boring. But there was a teen romance type of book sitting in the office that was checked out of the county library. It is 970 days over-due.

Think

I’ve been doing some reading on artificial intelligence lately, which I find fascinating. One author and researcher is of the opinion that computers are kind of worthless these days, and until we make them smarter, people will have to know all kinds of trash to be able to use them effectively. So since I’m a computer science major, and I would kind of like to work in artificial intelligence, all this stuff that I’m learning is the trash that will be put to use so that no one needs to know what I know, and if I’m truly successful, I’ll make myself obsolete.

But wouldn’t it be great to have smart computers? You could just talk to it in a regular voice, and say something like, “Gee, I’m kind of hungry.” The computer would then reply, “Well, since you didn’t go shopping you don’t have much to eat here in the house. Tom just got a pay raise today, though, so he wants to celebrate somehow–like taking a friend out to dinner, perhaps. Someone just gave him one last piece of work to do before he goes home, so can be reached at his office until 5:09 PM. Judy is in a cooking mood today so if you stop by at 5:34 PM she will invite you to dinner. By the way, the answer to that third calculus problem that you’ve been working on is the square root of pi, and it is going to begin raining in 53 seconds.”

Wanted

If anyone can find a pair of men’s black canvas shoes that have black rubber around the bottom edge instead of white, please contact me immediately. Oh, it would be best if they were new and for sale. I think that I own the only pair in the entire country, and mine are worn out. I think that I’m getting a little desperate in my search. I even look at people’s shoes in my dreams to see if they are wearing a pair like I want so I can ask them where they got them.

Other Stuff

I’ve been doing all kinds of other things, too. They all seemed very important at the time, and were very fun or productive or something.

But despite all of that, I’ll be headed back to Provo in about three weeks. No comment.

Gosh, I just got terribly depressed or something. Ha ha! Some humor is needed!

Spouse, n.:

Someone who’ll stand by you through all the trouble you wouldn’t have had if you’d stayed single.

Fifth Law of Applied Terror:

If you are given an open-book exam, you will forget your book. Corollary: If you are given a take-home exam, you will forget where you live.

I feel better now.

Love,

Eric James Smith, Ed.

Copyright � Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.

In this issue:

• Silicate Intelligence Discovered
• Were We Worth It?
• Famous Computer Companies
• That’s the End?

Silicate Intelligence Discovered

Until Saturday, the last time I had been to the beach was in November of 1988. and that was Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro. So it had been quite a while since I visited my native coast. You see, I have this avulsion toward sand–I don’t trust it. I think sand grains are tiny intelligent beings who devote their existence to travel, especially by parasitic means. When you spend time on the beach, they jump into your shoes, your pockets, your hair, your gym bag (which you could have sworn you never even took to the beach) and by some undetermined means show up in your car and your house for months to follow.

But this week I decided I had been away too long, despite the risk, and went. My Dad (Milt) had rented a condo for the weekend, so I spent Saturday out there. It was a good beach, with coarse, less intelligent sand, and some good rocks. I like beaches with rocks. Not the kind that you pick up and throw in the water, but the kind that weigh roughly the same as a small shopping mall. There’s something about standing out there as the waves crash against the rocks with the tide coming in. It kind of makes me imagine watching a fireworks display from a distance of three feet. The tide coming in adds that certain extra thrill as you realize that at any time a “sneaker” wave could send hundreds of pounds of water over the place where you’re standing. sweeping you off the ledge to a painful death in the frothy rocks below. By the time I personally came to this realization. I was standing at a more respectable distance.

We drove up to the top of Cape Foulweather to see the view, and my Dad (whose wanderlust has taken him to every part of the world except Australia) said to me. “The Oregon coast is as pretty as any you’ll find in the world.” After a pause and a shiver he added. “It could be a lot warmer, though.”

Were We Worth It?

My sister Phyllis and her two-year-old daughter Kayla have been visiting us at home for the past week, and by some careful observation of my niece. I’ve come to the conclusion that children are a mixed deal. Kayla cries and whines for juice. but when her Mom finally gets some mixed up. she doesn’t want any. There are toys and children’s books all over the place. But the most impressive of Kayla’s feats so far was when she went into the laundry room, scooped up handfuls of detergent and placed little piles on chairs and up the stairs. The amazing thing was that her mess, which took about an half hour to clean up, was created in roughly four microseconds. But on the other side, she so cute!

Mommie: “Twinkle, twinkle little…”
Kayla: STAR!!!
Mommie: “How I wonder what you…”
Kayla: “ARE!!!” etc.

So I guess cuteness is the redeeming characteristic that allowed us all to survive our childhood under the hand of mess cleaning up, diaper changing (popular subcategory of mess cleaning up) parents.

Famous Computer Companies

But unfortunately, the summer hasn’t been all fun and games. I have actually done some work, just sort of to give my mother a shock. Central Point Software, makers of the world famous PC Tools, was in desperate need of my skills. So they immediately took advantage of my vast computer science education and put me to work putting little stickers onto program disks. I honestly don’t know where I would have been without that machine language class as I was checking slipcases for creases, and how could I have possibly survived collating warranty cards without my discrete mathematics? I was even able to share some of my extensive training in one-on-one teaching oppourtunities:

Me: “Well actually, that’s not a hard disk at all. It’s a 3 1/2″ floppy disk. A hard disk, in almost every case, is a fixed storage medium. We wouldn’t likely be shuffling through these like this if these were hard disks.”

Some Dude: “Yeah? Well these ones here are a lot harder than them other ones over there.”

Me: “Well, that’s true. They are hard disks, but they aren’t hard disks. Calling them hard disks is sort of a technological catachresis and is bound to cause some confusion.”

Some Dude: “Oh. Well, everyone here calls them hard disks.”

Me: “Okay. Fine. Hand me another stack of hard disks please.”

And aside from Central Point Software. I’m sure many of you have heard of the famous Intel Corporation. Well. I’ve heard of them too.

And that’s about how my huge cash collecting summer is turning out.

That’s The End?

E assim vai a vida. Oh. I should say somewhere in this issue that I’m sorry. Doggone sorry. This issue should have been out weeks ago. Not that I was overwhelmed by a deluge letters provoked from the last issue, mind you. but I’ve always wanted to be a published writer, so I’m having a heck of a good time. So unteel zee next time. I preezent you wit some eenspeerational toughts:

“I wish there was a knob on the TV to turn up the intelligence. There’s a knob called ‘brightness.’ but it doesn’t work.” — Gallagher.

Some people wouldn’t recognize subtlety if it hit them in the head.

Afternoon.
n.: That part of the day we spend worrying about how we wasted the morning.

And finally, always keep in mind the two constant Laws of Frisbee:

1. The most powerful force in the world is that of a disc straining to land under a car, just out of reach (this force is technically termed “car suck”).
2. Never precede any maneuver by a comment more predictive than “Watch this!”

Love,

Eric James Smith, Ed.

Copyright � Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.

In this issue:

• Touching Home Plate
• Out of Touch With
• Men’s Liberation
• Unemployment Statistics
• Keeping in Touch

Touching Home Plate

It’s quite an amazing idea to me, but The Colony’s own 750 East and Butternut Drive are connected by a continuous strip of pavement And sure enough, starting at one end and driving long enough, you get to the other end.

But my drive home was fairly uneventful. Well, except for the torrential rain. Oh, and the headwind was so strong I could have put in the clutch and it would have pushed me backward down the freeway. My little truck even had to take a breather and absolutely refused to go more than 100 yards before stalling until I would let it rest sufficiently. Did I mention the snow?

It seems like everyone, in an attempt to argue the “beauty” of Utah, says, “But hey, check out them mountains.”‘ Imagine this now: sheer, rocky cliff faces with an occasional waterfall spilling over the edge; high green hills mountains with trees taller than shrubbery and growing so densely that a person couldn’t pass between them. Welcome to the Columbia River Gorge.

Out of Touch With…

But let me tell you, it’s a good thing that I’m home. Why, I’ve done some pretty important things while here. I’ve cleaned up the downtown areas of some rough criminals, sharpened up my karate skills by participating in full contact sparring, and rescued a princess. And aside from the video games, I’ve mowed the lawn.

And also, not being in school, I’ve had time to think. Yes, think about some of the vital issues that face our society today. Like, why do they call it a ‘strike’ when you miss the ball or don’t swing at all. In my dictionary (the abridged one) I find 73 definitions for ‘strike’, and most of those involve some sort of contact. And I’ve also thought about the value of mayonnaise as hair conditioner. They wrote in the Oregonian, “It’s got protein and vinegar and all kinds of wonderful things for your hair.” Monty Python once did a bit advertising a shampoo, saying that “it will get your hair so clean you could eat off of it.” Now someone seems to be spicing things up a bit.

Men’s Liberation

The equal rights movement seems to have have taken great strides at a certain California college (which shall remain nameless, since I forgot the name) in the past week when the trustees decided to allow men to enroll in their undergraduate program. One student demonstrated a most noble anti-sexist attitude when she said something so close to the following that I’ll even use quotation marks “We deal with men at bars and in social situations. We don’t want to have to put up with them in the classroom.” Three cheers for the board of trustees!

Unemployment Statistics

Recent studies have shown that of all BYU students currently living on Butternut Drive, 100% are unemployed. County officials have yet to present a plan to rectify this crisis situation. I must say, being such a great factor in this statistic, I hope something can be done in the not-too-distant future. Intel looks rather bleak, and Mentor Graphics was kind enough to at least put my resume on file. Some glimmer of hope still remains with Sequent, but they still say d.c.u.w.c.y. Which only goes to show, that even if the president of the company gets your resume personally delivered to him, it means little or nothing. You need connections in personnel

Keeping in Touch

As the more perspicacious newcomers may have already noticed, the purpose of this publication is to reveal the thoughts, activities, and dilemmas of the editor. His views are the official opinions of this publication.

If you would ever like to behold another issue of Sparks from the Smithy, I suggest that you write to the editor. Here is the address in case you mutilated the envelope or disposed of it in some other way without realizing the valuable content of the return address area:

Sparks from the Smithy
c/o E. Smith
…

I miss you all, please let me know what exciting or boring things you have been up to.

Love,

Eric James Smith, Ed.

Copyright � Eric Smith, 1989-1998, All rights reserved.