Tuesday, July 29, 2025

How Tall Is Your Favorite Celebrity?

Every once in a while I get curious about the height of someone I'm writing about. If you ask Google you'll usually find it in a second. While writing about President James Madison a few years ago I learned that he was only 5 ft 4 inches as opposed to George Washington's six feet, which feels strange because I always envisioned the General and first president to be much taller, didn't you?

It's fairly well-known that Michael J. Fox is relatively short for a guy, and when I looked him up it was 5 ft. 4 inches like President Madison. (Trivia: I shook hands with what must have been Fox's stunt double at a trade show in Vegas, 1991.) By way of contrast, Denzel Washington is 6' 1, and when standing ramrod straight Clint Eastwood is 6 ft. 3 inches tall.

These thoughts came to mind because I was looking at a photo of Marlon Brando with Louie Kemp and Bill Graham in Kemp's book Dylan & Me, and I was surprised to see Brando as the shortest of the three. On the silver screen everyone probably appears bigger than life to some extent, but to find Brando to be a hair under 5 ft. 9 surprised me.

Recall to mind his commanding portrayal of Vito Corleone in The Godfather. In every scene he is luminous and imposing, magnetic to the point that audiences can hardly look away. Brando exudes a mix of qualities--authoritative, regal and mesmerizing--while simultaneously intimate. Note how his quiet demeanor and rasplike voice draws you near in the openng scene, which tells the whole story while revealing the many facets of this man. (Trivia: While in high school I stayed up all night reading Mario Puzo's powerful epic because I couldn't put it down.)
 
Who are your favorite celebs? Here's a site that will give you a glimpse of his or her height:   https://www.celebheights.com/
While you're at it, you can also discover their net worth @ https://www.celebritynetworth.com/

Sunday, July 27, 2025

A Sticky High School Story : A Fleeting Sweetness

This is a story I wrote in high school. I wrote it as an English class assignment for Mr. Harris. Afterwards, he came to me and asked privately whether I was fine with him submitting the story to a national short story competition. Even though I didn't win, I felt honored that he considered my story worthy of being submitted. 

The following is not the original story, but it is the best as I can remember it, though with a different ending, which I will share in the afterward.It's been

A Fleeting Sweetness

I lie flat, pressed tight against my kin, all of us wrapped in a silver shroud with a paper sleeve. My edges are defined, my body rigid, a thin rectangle of mint-scented purpose. Beside me, she rests—my love, my mirror, her cool essence brushing mine through the thin divide of our wrappings. We are many, yet I feel only her, the faint pulse of her presence, a promise of sweetness we both carry. The others are silent, their thoughts as stiff as their forms, but I dream in whispers, imagining a world beyond this cramped, dark pack.


The counter beneath us is cold, unyielding, a slab of indifference in a shop that hums with human noise. Feet shuffle, voices barter, and I wait, my heart—if I have one—trembling for her. She is perfect, her surface smooth, her scent a quiet song that hums of glorious open skies. I want to tell her, to break this mute prison, but we are bound, voiceless, until chosen.


A shadow looms. A force, rough and warm, seizes our pack. The world tilts, and I slide against her, my wrappings crackling like a lover’s sigh. Light pierces the silver as the shroud is torn, and I see her fully for the first time—her foil glints, her form pristine. My longing spikes, sharp as the mint we both embody. I am lifted away,, swaying, to a new fate.


We'd been warned about the hands. They will take us to dark places we dare not imagine. Was there a basis for these rumors?


The rip comes sudden, brutal. Air rushes in, cold and vast. Plucked, my wrapping is stripped away in a single, violent pull. I am bare now, exposed, my mint heart naked to the world. The hand hovers, and I am lowered into a warm, wet cavern, a place of heat and motion. The walls pulse, slick and alive, closing around me. Above, white enamel cliffs descend—jagged, unyielding, gleaming with a wet sheen. They crash against me, grinding, relentless, each impact a shudder through my core. A muscled beast, malleable and insistent, coils around me, tossing me against the cliffs, then dragging me across the cavern’s roof, rough and ridged.


Pain is not the word, but it is close. My body softens, my edges blur, as the enamels pound and the beast writhes. I am stretched, torn, my mint essence leaking, mingling with the cavern’s warmth. It is torture, yet I endure, because I am made for this—to give myself, to dissolve into something greater. The white cliffs gnash, the beast twists, and I am reshaped, my form no longer my own. I am a blob-like fragment now, a fleeting pulse of flavor, clinging to existence.


Then, a miracle. The cavern opens, light floods in, and I sense her—my love, torn free from her own paper wrapping and silver skin. She is lifted, as I was, and placed within the same pulsing chamber. The enamels part, and she is here, her essence brushing mine as the beast sweeps her into its dance. I feel her, taste her, our mint hearts blending in the crazy chaos. The grinding continues, and we are pressed together, our boundaries dissolving. Her sweetness floods me, sharp and cool, and I am no longer just me. We are one, our essences entwined, a single burst of flavor that fills the cavern.


The beast rolls us, relentless, and the cliffs crush us closer. I am losing myself, but I am gaining her. Our union is brief, frantic, a fleeting eternity in this wet, churning world. I want to speak, to tell her I have loved her since we lay side by side in the pack, but there are no words here, only sensation. The cavern quakes, the cliffs slam, and we are melded, our mint hearts fused into a single, radiant pulse.


Time blurs. The enamel grinding slows, the beast grows sluggish. I feel myself fading, my form too soft, too small to hold. She is with me, still, but we are both dissolving, our essence seeping into the cavern’s walls. I want to cling to her, to keep this moment, but the world is merciless. A gust of air, sharp and cold, sweeps through the cavern, and we are spat out, a remnant of what we were. We land, discarded, on a rough surface, our sweetness spent, our bodies broken.


We lie there, a shapeless smear, the two of us as onel. The world is quiet now. We are spent. We are nothing, yet we were everything, if only for a moment. I wonder what she knows, if she felt my love as we merged in that final, crushing embrace. The thought lingers, faint as the last trace of mint on my fading self.


The shop hums on, indifferent. New packs lie on the counter, their contents stiff and mute, waiting for their own brief, torturous dance. I am done, but I am content. We experienced union, I found purpose. The world fades as rigor mortis sets in, and I let go, my last thought a whisper of her cool, perfect sweetness.


* * * 

In the original version that I wrote in high school, the ending is different. After the two pieces of gum have been chewed, the human person takes out the piece of gum and sticks it on the bottom of a table in the lunch room. Nine months later, a student finds a pack of gum on the floor beneath the table.


Whatcha think?  And so it goes...


Friday, July 25, 2025

Lifting Minnesota's Nuclear Moratorium: A Progress Report

From article published in Business North, July 2025.


SUMMARY

Ambitious Clean Energy Goals and Nuclear Ban Challenge
: Minnesota’s Clean Energy Acceleration Act, signed in 2023, mandates 100% carbon-free electricity by 2040, with interim targets of 80% by 2030 and 90% by 2035. However, the state’s 1994 moratorium on new nuclear power plants poses a significant barrier, as nuclear energy is critical for reliable, carbon-free baseload power to meet these goals amidst rising energy demand.

Utility Progress and Grid Reliability Risks: Minnesota utilities like Xcel Energy (70% carbon-free, largely from nuclear), Great River Energy, and Minnesota Power are advancing decarbonization. However, the North American Electric Reliability Corp. (NERC) warns of high outage risks due to retiring coal plants, the nuclear ban, intermittent renewables, and slow transmission line development.

Advocacy to Repeal Nuclear Moratorium: Generation Atomic (Gen A) and the Minnesota Nuclear Energy Alliance (MNEA) have built a coalition of more than 20 organizations, including trade groups and unions, to push for repealing the nuclear ban. In 2025, legislative efforts like House File 9 and Senate bills advanced but stalled due to Democratic concerns over nuclear waste and tribal objections, particularly from the Prairie Island Indian Community.

Federal Support for Nuclear Energy: The 2024 ADVANCE Act and 2025 executive orders under President Trump promote nuclear development through streamlined licensing and incentives, aligning with a goal to triple U.S. nuclear capacity by 2050. This federal momentum, coupled with rising electricity demand (projected 16% increase by 2029), underscores the urgency of lifting Minnesota’s moratorium to access funding and ensure grid reliability.

Future Advocacy and Urgency: Gen A plans to expand public outreach, host discussions on nuclear waste, and train advocates for the 2026 legislative session. With nuclear plants requiring 15 years to build, immediate action is critical to meet the 2040 carbon-free goal and avoid delays that could exacerbate grid reliability issues and economic risks.

* * * * * 

Groups align to lift Minnesota's nuclear energy ban

Ed Newman, July 2025

In February 2023, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz signed the Clean Energy Acceleration Act, mandating 100% carbon-free electricity by 2040, with interim targets of 80% by 2030 and 90% by 2035. This ambitious goal, while supported by utilities, faces significant hurdles, including the 1994 moratorium banning new nuclear power plants – a critical source of reliable, carbon-free baseload power. 


With energy demand rising due to data centers, electric vehicles and industrial growth, and with the North American Electric Reliability Corp. (NERC) classifying Minnesota’s region as “high risk” for outages under extreme conditions, experts warn that without nuclear energy, the 2040 target may be unattainable. Despite setbacks in the 2024 legislative session, advocates like Generation Atomic have made substantial progress toward lifting the moratorium, laying the groundwork for a cleaner, more reliable energy future.


Read the full story here at Business North:  
https://www.businessnorth.com/businessnorth_exclusives/groups-align-to-lift-minnesotas-nuclear-energy-ban/article_a3a4761d-afa7-4458-bc7a-43df54eb70a7.html

Thursday, July 24, 2025

Memory Lane: Cub Scout Days

This week, while organizing some containers in my garage, I came across my Cub Scout Scrapbook. I'd entirely forgotten this, but found I had done a few scrapbooks back then. Another one was about the Cleveland Indians, my favorite baseball team. Did you make scrapbooks as a kid?  

In 1960, I became a Cub Scout. The Cub Scouts were part of the Boy Scouts of America, offering boys aged 8–10 a vibrant program fostering personal growth and community values. There were four levels: Webelos (at the top), Bear, Wolf, and Lion ranks. 

Me with brothers Don (L) and Ron (R)
Scouting emphasized character development, citizenship, and outdoor skills through engaging, age-appropriate activities. Weekly den meetings and monthly pack gatherings built camaraderie, with boys earning badges for achievements like knot-tying, camping, and first aid. 

The program’s family-oriented approach encouraged parental involvement, strengthening bonds through events like the Pinewood Derby, where boys crafted and raced wooden cars. Cub Scouts promoted teamwork, leadership, and respect, rooted in the Scout Oath and Law, while outdoor adventures like campouts sparked a love for nature. Uniforms and ceremonies instilled pride and belonging, making Cub Scouts a positive, formative experience aimed at shaping boys into responsible, confident individuals.

My brother Ron (R) and I.

(L to R) Don, myself and Ron.

Probably my first "cover art" illustration.

What were your scouting experiences like? 
What years were you a Scout?
Leave a comment.

Wednesday, July 23, 2025

Remarkable Lessons from the Pixar Story: Creativity Inc.

How to Create and Manage a Creative Culture: Lessons from the Pixar Experience


When I first saw the silhouette on the cover of Creativity, Inc. I was stymied. It bore a resemblance to the familiar conductor who appears in Disney's Fantasia, but was not, yet it had a familiar look. It's like that puzzle with the vase and the face, or a number of similar optical illusions. Once you see it, you generally don't un-see. It was Buzz Lightyear, or rather a hybrid of these two iconic images, standing in as symbol for the phenomenal business hybrid of Disney and Pixar.

It was Brent Schlender's Becoming Steve Jobs that cued me in to the role Steve Jobs played in saving Pixar Animation Studios from the ash heap of stories that might have been, keeping the company on life support till all the pieces could be pulled together for the Hollywood supernova called Toy Story. Upon completion of this Jobs career and character development story, I felt impelled to read Ed Catmull's insider account of Pixar. The big achievement there, and the basic storyline in this book, was not Toy Story, or its various other superhits. Rather, Catmull's aim is to share a lifetime of insights about management in general, and managing creative people specifically.


How does a company create a creative culture where excellence flourishes, where ideas actually come to fruition and become earth-shaking events? Catmull shares everything, including all the lessons learned through their various failures, and the miracles that rose from those ashes.

The amazing thing is that despite the various mis-steps, Pixar never had a single film that bombed.

The book's subtitle tells the real story of what made Pixar such a superstar: Overcoming the Unseen Forces That Stand in The Way of True Inspiration. Unseen forces means forces can refer to forces that are invisible, like the ice below the surface that sunk the Titanic, or it can mean forces that are in plain sight, like Poe's Purloined Letter, but we do not see them. Catmull states that the management team had to be perpetually vigilant. What they were vigilant about was very different from most organizations.

At the end of the book Catmull does a summing up of his "Thoughts For Managing A Creative Culture." If you Google that title, you'll find that numerous writers have begun sharing these. Though Ed Catmull's stories make it such a rewarding read, his distilled thoughts at the end are well worth deeper reflection. Here's a small collection of notes from this five page reiteration of the book's themes.


--Give a good idea to a mediocre team, and they will screw it up. Give a mediocre idea to a great team, and they will either fix it or come up with something better. If you get the team right, chances are that they'll get the ideas right.

--It isn’t enough merely to be open to ideas from others. Engaging the collective brainpower of the people you work with is an active, ongoing process. As a manager, you must coax ideas out of your staff and constantly push them to contribute.

--There are many valid reasons why people aren’t candid with one another in a work environment. Your job is to search for those reasons and then address them.

--Likewise, if someone disagrees with you, there is a reason. Our first job is to understand the reasoning behind their conclusions. Further, if there is fear in an organization, there is a reason for it— our job is (a) to find what’s causing it, (b) to understand it, and (c) to try to root it out.

--There is nothing quite as effective, when it comes to shutting down alternative viewpoints, as being convinced you are right.

--In general, people are hesitant to say things that might rock the boat. Braintrust meetings, dailies, postmortems, and Notes Day are all efforts to reinforce the idea that it is okay to express yourself. All are mechanisms of self-assessment that seek to uncover what’s real.

--If there is more truth in the hallways than in meetings, you have a problem.

You can find more of these here or if you go ahead and purchase the book here.

* * * *
Healthy organisms and healthy organizations will grow naturally if given the right nourishment and environment. In the case of institutions, there have been plenty of books written about how they fail. Ed Catmull's insider perspective on Pixar's achievements has applications for all types of organizations. But it would be especially valuable for companies working in creative fields like ad agencies, theater, Hollywood, arts communities, new product development, communications and more.

More can be said, but we'll end with this: Read the book.

“Achieving enormous success while holding fast to the highest artistic standards is a nice trick—and Pixar, with its creative leadership and persistent commitment to innovation, has pulled it off. This book should be required reading for any manager.”
—Charles Duhigg, author of The Power of Habit

Originally published in 2017

Tuesday, July 22, 2025

Finding Clarity in a Car with a Broken Radio

David, by Donatello
I recently acquired 
(as in bought) a new used car. My Honda Pilot had reached the 200,000 mile zone and has some strange technical issues, no doubt due to sensors and all this new-fangled technology. So I picked up a Kia Soul for the price of a song, and though it has its own set of quirks, I like it. One thing it lacks, however, is a radio.

I still drive the Honda one day a week to keep it healthy (cars need exercise as much as humans do) and yesterday I ran errands in the Pilot. It's strange though. After driving a car without a radio for the last eight or ten weeks, I'm discovering how inane the radio is. I've clearly become accustomed to the silence. Or at least, the absence of radio noise. It's a pleasure to be accompanied by the diversions in my mind.

For more than two decades I listened to audiobooks, which ended when the Honda's CD player went kaput. For the past couple years I've been listening to radio, but after a couple months without it, I've come to relish its absence. 

This newfound appreciation for silence has been a revelation. Driving my Soul, with only the hum of the engine and the rhythms of the road, feels like a mental reset. My thoughts wander freely—often accompanied by an internal soundtrack as backdrop.

It’s as if the absence of radio chatter has unlocked a quieter, more introspective space. The Honda’s radio now feels like an intrusion, or worse. Boring. There's almost nothing new. NPR has its agenda and set of "approved" messaging, AM talk radio stations have theirs, but it's all melted down. I’ve started to wonder if the constant noise was drowning out something more valuable: the chance to just be with my thoughts.

Programs urge, "Listen to me so I can tell you how to think." Others compete for your attention in order to deliver their sponsors' advertising. (Radio is free so someone has to pay, and that's what the advertisers do.)

Disclaimer: I stopped watching television when I turned 16 in 1968. It seemed so artificial and superficial in light of more profound issues we as a nation (and I as an individual) were dealing with.


This shift has me rethinking how I engage with my drives. I've decided to skip the radio repair altogether. It’s funny how a car bought for a steal, quirks and all, has led to this unexpected clarity. Perhaps the Kia’s lack of a radio isn’t a flaw but a gift, nudging me toward a quieter, more mindful way of moving through the world.

Sunday, July 13, 2025

How Dreams and Decisions Shape the Terrain of Our Lives

Thoughts in Response to Robert Frost's Road Less Travelled.


Life is not a straight highway but a series of watersheds. where choices carve rivers that diverge toward distinctly different fates. Each decision—whether small or monumental—reconfigures the terrain of our lives, sending us toward unique destinations. 

Unlike water drawn to its course by gravity, we're not powerless. We make choices, often incrementally, that redirect our flow. Yet, all too often many people allow themselves to simply drift, mistaking passivity for fate.


Choices have consequences, and failure to choose is itself a choice. The weight of that truth can be paralyzing. Ishiguro highlights this in his novel The Remains of the DayStevens, the butler, (played by Anthony Hopkins in the film) fails to choose between his rigid devotion to duty and his suppressed feelings for Miss Kenton. This heartbreaking indecision costs him a chance at personal happiness, leaving him with regret and a sense of a wasted life as he reflects on his past.


So we avoid the work required to accomplish great things and choose the path of least resistance, because choosing boldly demands sacrifice. 


The deepest longings of our hearts—whether to create, to love, or to achieve a significant goal—require effort, risk, and often pain. Most of us shy away from that. Work is daunting; ease is seductive. We convince ourselves we lack control, preferring the comfort of inertia to the labor of pursuit. But in doing so, we diminish our own dreams, letting them fade into whispers of “what if.” 


Oh how powerful the temptation to become subsumed in the lamentations of regret. Here I think of Jason Robards as Charles Halloway, the father who gets lost in the hall of mirrors in the film adaptation of Something Wicked This Way Comes. I've often said the mirror of our acts reveals who we are. But in the hall of mirrors, regret distorts what we see and becomes a merciless accuser.


Great achievements are not gifts; they are forged. The scientist burning midnight oil, the artist pouring his or her soul onto canvas, the dreamer defying all odds and expectations—they all pay a price. 


Sacrifice imbues value. A goal reached without cost feels hollow, like a trophy unearned. The mountain’s summit is sweeter when the climb scars your hands. Yet, too many of us simply ramble about, sidestepping the steep trails for smoother paths, trading aspiration for apathy.


Remember, we're not condemned to drift, blown about like desert tumbleweed. We can choose to dream big, to reach for the stars, knowing the cosmos demands courage. Each step toward a lofty goal is a rebellion against complacency, a declaration that our desires are worth the struggle. 


If you're like me, at some point in your youth you likely asked, "Why am I here?" Today, with seven decades under my belt, I can answer this question by looking back at the decisions I made and where those paths took me. 


* * * 

The meandering thoughts above are an amplified version of my 2008 blog post titled Ramble or Reach?

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