2015: Leave It All On The Table

by Duane Burghard
©2014

2014 was a pretty awful year for me in a lot of ways, so it might sound strange to hear me say that I'm really grateful to have gone through it. The events of this past year have changed me as a person. It's always been important to me to share my knowledge and experiences with others, but the events of this year have elevated this desire to a near obsession.

I've lost count of how many stages my ongoing mid-life crisis has been through (though I'm certain that we're in double digits by now), but this one is different.  When I was a young Navy Officer, I remember an instructor quantifying how much money it took to train us (the buildings, the manuals, the teachers, the electricity for the lights, it was quite a laundry list). I never forgot the point, and for the many years since I have often thought about the frankly *tremendous* amount of human and other natural resources that go into making each of us. The building of our minds and bodies both physically and mentally requires an incredible amount of food, water, energy and raw materials. As I've gotten to mid-life, however, I find myself regularly wrestling with the concern that I am not enough of a "net positive" on the Earth, and I've basically come to the conclusion that if all of the knowledge and experience that I've been allowed to gain is only for my benefit, then it's at least somewhat wasted in that the costs can't possibly equal the benefits (I'm not capable of producing enough positive output all by myself to justify all the resources that went in to making me). As a result, I am now convinced that the only way I can justify my existence is for me to do more to share the benefits of my knowledge and experiences with others. So with that in mind, as we shut the door on 2014, I've been thinking a lot about what I can do to help make 2015 better, not just for me, but for everybody.

When people reach my age and they've made a bunch of mistakes but they're fortunate enough that none of those mistakes have killed them (yet), we are often (somewhat amusingly) called wiser as a result. In reality, of course, it's probably more accurate to say that we were simply luckier, but either way, our perspective gives us the opportunity to share some observations and, as a result, hopefully allow those who come after us to make better decisions (which, in theory, then produce better outcomes and results). That's what I want to do here. In thinking about *how* to do that, however, I've made one of the most ironic discoveries of my life; I think the best way for us to make better decisions is to throw out the very methodology that we, or at least I and many people I know, have been using for making decisions.

The problem, as I now see it, is that our entire decision making paradigm and/or process is screwed up. Most of us do what we do for ourselves and our children based on what we think will produce the greatest amount of opportunity and success, and we predominantly associate opportunity and success with economic freedom, which we then equate to happiness and personal fulfillment. We make this association for the most logical reason I can think of; it's what we've been trained to do. There's only one problem;

... it's totally wrong.

Sooner or later, most people realize that our lives are pretty much a one time deal, and if you're not doing what you know in your heart is right and/or what you should be doing, well, you're quite literally missing your *only* chance to do it. This is a big deal because, the older I get, the more I'm learning that happiness and personal fulfillment usually come from the process of doing as opposed to having. So as we enter 2015, I would like to encourage everyone to do three things.

First, STOP making the "smart" or "safe" decisions about what we do in life. The vast majority of the time, these decisions block us from doing what we SHOULD be doing. Do NOT give in to the "practical" at the expense of the right. I'm at the age where the recognition of our mortality really starts to kick in. I'm starting to lose friends on a too regular basis, and the lesson they are teaching me in passing is that we should pursue our dreams NOW, because there are no "do overs" and no guarantees in life. We should do the things that will make us so happy that the economic consequences of the decision are irrelevant (because if we do that, we will be ready and willing to sacrifice what we "have" for what we know is right ... and incidentally, regarding that sacrifice of the the things we "have," don't sweat letting them go, we don't really have them anyway ... learned that this year too).

Next, we need to change our definition of success. If you're like me you've spent a good deal of your life chasing after some level of economic success. The good news is that, if we live our lives in that pursuit, the vast majority of us will get at least some of that success. Sadly, it's also true that almost none of us will get the level of success that we've been programmed to want, but the vast majority of us *will* accomplish something. The problem, again, is that it's the wrong something. We have become a nation dominated by an obsession for things, and I have been a willing participant too often. This summer I had a chance to visit with family and friends in Europe, and one of the most interesting things I discovered was that nearly every European I met had a lower average income than I had, fewer "things" ... and yet they all had more experiences (including people far younger than me) and they were generally happier. I have now concluded that success should be defined by the accomplishment of good for ourselves and others, regardless of the economic result, and it should be measured by how much joy we and others get out of what we're doing. If you're not enjoying it, stop doing it.

Our success should also be based on what *we* think of our work and not what others think. This change takes a LOT of courage. Not only do we have to be willing to risk what others may define as "failure," but we have to know that the value and success in what we're doing comes from doing it, regardless of how the outcome may be perceived. Great artists don't worry about whether or not their painting is appreciated in its time, or at all ... your life is your painting, it's most important that *you* find it to be a great work of art.

Finally, leave it all on the table. We should live lives such that, whenever the end comes, whether it is tomorrow or another 50 years from now, we have lived lives of honesty to ourselves and of value to humanity. Don't leave important things unsaid or undone, especially when it comes to the people who matter most to you. As I get older, the people I know who have more experiences and less money are generally richer in spirit and happier in life for having made the trade. I have always greatly admired people who have lived their lives according to this principle. The President of my high school class had a very successful business career. In 1993, shortly before our 10 year reunion, he gave it all up, literally, and went to teach math to poor children in the mountains of rural Venezuela for several years. He came back, and is now again a successful businessman. He demonstrated that you *can* in fact just walk away, and, if you want, you can come back again, the world will still be there. Another friend left college to go teach reading to inmates in prison. He did that for a while, then went back to school and today he's a nursery school teacher. I have a family member who has done a lot of traveling in the last decade. She is fearless, going places I would have been afraid to, even at her age. I have prayed for her safety often, but I have also known that, even if something awful would have happened, she would have lived her life doing what she loved and seen more of the world than most of us ever will. I often said that I wished I could be like these people. I'm going to stop wishing.

Now I want to be clear that I am NOT suggesting that everyone stop everything, quit their jobs, sell everything they own and go "walk the Earth." I'm not heading to Venezuela, prison or Thailand tomorrow and I'm not saying you should either (that said, I'm also not saying you shouldn't). Most of us are not ready to do that. There are, especially for those of us with children, practical realities of needing to make sure there is a roof over our heads, food on the table and clothing on our bodies. But perhaps our children don't need so many *things* and perhaps they don't need 15 activities to be constantly driven to as much as they need happy, loving and fulfilled parents as an example of how to *live*. We each have different things we should be doing to live our lives in honest obedience to our spirit. For me, right now that means writing, so simply creating this blog was an act of honesty to my deep inner desire to write (I think of it as getting an early start on 2015). It's success for me has to be in the fact that it *exists*, not in how it achieves the traditional definition of success. Obviously I *hope* people like it and that it brings other people something positive too, but its purpose is to express ideas, regardless of who hears. Each of us has that different thing that we are being called to do; whatever it is for you, don't wait. 2015 is your year. It's your time. Put it out there. If we do that, then we've already won. We're already successful.

Have a great 2015; leave it all on the table.

A Christmas Walk On The Beach With Jesus

by Duane N. Burghard
©2014

It’s hard to say how I got there, which is to say I don’t remember getting there at all. All I can say is that, without any sense of how or when, I was just … there.

It was surreal to say the least, but even stranger was the fact that I didn’t really question where I was or how I got there. I was just there. 

“Nice!” he said.

I was a little startled because I hadn’t seen or heard him until just that second.

“What?” I said.

“This,” he said, looking around, “nice place.”

“Yeah, it is,” I replied, still more confused than anything else.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Uhh,” I was still really confused, but I did know the answer, “it’s ... Hapuna Beach, on the northwest coast of the Big Island, in Hawaii.”

“Oh, beautiful,” he was still nodding his head slightly in approval and looking around, clearly impressed. “You must have come here quite a bit, the amount of detail is impressive.”

“Except this isn't real, is it?” I said.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Well, just look,” I said. “It’s empty. We’re the only ones here. And it’s totally calm and quiet and peaceful ... and this light, this weird not daytime not nighttime, kind of like an eclipse or really bright moonlight light. This isn’t real is it?” I said.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, “it’s real to you.” He looked at me like a long lost friend who hadn’t seen me in ages and smiled, “It’s good to see you again.”

I looked at him. He was a couple inches shorter than me. He was dressed in robes that were tan and brown and made of really coarse materials with rough and uneven edges. He had thick black hair, with curls in it. His skin was darker than mine, kind of Mediterranean. He had a very small beard, just enough to cover his skin, but it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Deep, penetrating, sincere, caring, knowing. I knew who he was.

“You’re Jesus,” I said.

“Yes,” he smiled.

"Why?" I asked.

“You rang,” he said, still smiling.

“I did?” I asked.

“Sort of,” he said, still looking around. “Wow, you must have really liked this place. It is beautiful.”

“You’ve never been here before?” I asked, that seemed odd.

“Well I’ve never seen it the way you see it,” he said, and then he smiled, “but no, I didn’t exactly get out this way when I was on Earth.”

“Oh right, yeah, I guess not,” I said.

“Anyway, impressive job,” he said approvingly.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you built it,” he replied.

“What?” I asked.

“This,” he waved his arms around at our surroundings, “this place, you built it. Where we are now, this was entirely constructed out of your mind.”

“You mean it’s not real,” I said again.

He half smiled and made a tiny chuckle, then he looked at me and then down the beach and he said, “reality …” He shook his head very slightly and started to walk down the beach.

I started after him. “Why are we here?” I asked.

“What in like a galactic sense?” he replied.

“No, I mean here, now, why are we *here*?” I asked pointing to the sand.

“I dunno, that was all you,” he replied. His voice was kind, quiet and soft, and yet it seemed powerful somehow. “Oh, thanks,” he said, “but that’s only because that’s how you made it sound.”

“Made what sound?” I said.

“My voice,” he said.

“You can read my thoughts?” I asked. THAT was disconcerting.

“Yes,” he laughed, “sorry, I’ll try to … give you some space there if it makes you more comfortable.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, “look, I don’t really understand what’s going on. What’s real here? Are YOU real here?”

“That’s a hard question to answer,” he said as we walked together. “In a way everything is real here, and in a way, nothing is. The important things, the moments we share, the things we ‘say’ to each other, that’s real, how we do it, where we are, what we look like, what we sound like, all of that is, just a construct.”

“What we look like?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “As you might imagine, I don’t look like this for most people.” And in an instant he was suddenly several inches taller, his skin became white like mine, his hair became much lighter (not quite blonde) straighter and much longer. His eyes turned blue and his robes went from a bunch of Earthy colors to much brighter gold and red and blue. “Most people these days kind of go for this look,” he said.

“Nice,” I said.

He looked down at himself and shrugged, “it’s OK. It’s not the look I care about, it’s the ideas. Plus, I kind of like your version,” he said, and instantly he returned to the appearance he had been, “you see me with the same eyes that James did, you seek honesty and truth, I like that.”

“Can I see what you really looked like?” I asked.

“You mean how other people perceived me when I was alive here?” he asked, then he shrugged a little and said “sure.” In his voice I could kind of hear him saying, “not really sure why on Earth you’d want to, but whatever.”

He shrank several more inches. His nose bent to the left and flattened a little near his eyes (like it had been broken at some point). His right eyebrow dropped slightly and his hair got more curly. His skin got a little darker and a lot more weathered and wrinkles appeared on his face, but his eyes, his eyes stayed the same.

“Wow,” I said.

“Ehh,” he said and smiled, “it worked.” And then he reverted back to the way I had first seen him on the beach and we started walking down the beach again. After a moment he said, “To answer your question, we’re here because you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, but I want to talk to you all the time, why now?” I said.

“Well, I always hear you, you should always know that,” he said, “and I try to respond most of the time, but it’s harder for you to hear me. You can only hear me when you’re heart and your mind and your soul are all at peace, when you let go of the world and yourself and feel the special connection of all things. THAT, is when you hear me.”

“And now?” I asked.

“And now,” he smiled, “this is one of those rare and special moments when you are at such peace that you can actually rise above that level of consciousness and come here, where you can do things like, well like this, which is actually great fun for me. I love seeing what you see.”

“How long do we have?” I asked.

“I can’t answer that,” he said. He must have seen the disappointment in my eyes, because he added, “oh it’s not that, the problem is that your question involves time, which doesn’t really exist here. We’re literally outside of time right now. The is ‘the only,’" he said. He smiled and made a spooky gesture with his hands and voice when he said the words “the only” … clearly he was trying to be funny. I smiled. “So!” he said, “you have questions.”

“Uhh, yeah, like a million of them,” I said.

“Well let’s go,” he said.

“OK,” I said, “umm, oh! Uh, happy birthday!”

He laughed a light laugh, and looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, “thanks, but you know it’s not really my birthday.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, “you were born in the spring right?”

“Right,” he said.

“What day?” I asked.

“Umm, it was … what is now …” he paused like he was actually figuring it out, “March 19th.” he said confidently.

“Really?!” I said, “that’s my wife’s …”

“Yeah I know,” he said quickly, and he smiled and looked down and away from me.

“You’re totally putting me on aren’t you,” I said.

He laughed, “yes, I am,” he said. “I’m sorry, I sensed that you would find that funny. The truth is I don’t actually have any idea. I was a baby and no one thought to bring a calendar. But you’re right, it was spring time, I know that.” We paused and he shook his head a little.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh,” he said, “it’s just kind of funny the things people think are interesting or important. Dates for example. Seasons.”

“Well this is your season,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s nice,” he said, but I felt a little like he didn’t mean it.

“Does it bother you?” I asked.

“What the whole Christmas season thing?” he said. “No, not at all,” he said, suddenly anxious to speak. "The whole marriage with the pagan festival of lights thing, the Santa stuff, that’s all fine. And winter’s a good time to do it, especially for people who live where it’s dark and cold. You want to party and be nice to each other and say it’s all about doing that stuff in my name, that’s all great.”

“But ..?” I said.

“Well, to be honest it would be nicer if more people used it to remember the stuff I was trying to say and get people to DO, and maybe took it to heart a bit more,” he almost seemed sad, but just as quickly he perked right back up and said, “but there’s a lot of joy and love, and that’s nice. Really.”

“What about Easter?” I asked.

“Yeah, that one is a little odd,” he said.

“The eggs and rabbits thing?” I asked.

“No no no, again, all that stuff is fine, season of fertility and all that. Again, I just get concerned that the message gets lost,” he said. And then he seemed to get reflective for a moment, like he’d just stumbled on something, “in fact, you know, that’s about the only thing that ever really worries me.”

“The message getting lost?” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. Suddenly he seemed in deep thought. 

“Can I ask you about that whole experience?” I asked.

“Which experience?” he asked.

“Easter, the … crucifixion,” I said somewhat hesitantly.

“Uhh, sure,” he said.

“Well, it seems pretty graphic and gross and, well, was that the only way to make your point?” I asked.

“No,” he said quickly, “but it was the best way. And frankly, it needed to be something big.” He looked at me and then feigned being apologetic, “didn’t mean to be a ham about it.”

“Oh I didn’t …” I started to say, but then I looked at him and could see he was playing with me again. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s alright,” he said, “although it is confusing isn’t it?”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Well,” and he paused, as if he was reticent to say, “the whole … cross … thing.”

“What about it?” I asked.

“Well…” he seemed amiably confused, “it’s just that, to choose that as a symbol for a movement in my name.”

“Yeah?” I said.

“Well it’s not exactly a happy moment, you know?” He was laughing a little as he said it. I could tell it didn’t bother him as much as he seemed to feel a kind of amused confusion about the choice.

“What would you have chosen?”

“I don’t know!” he said loudly. His voice seemed to contain both amusement and exasperation, “how about a sun symbol or something, you know, representing the light of the world thing, I liked that. Or even a sheep or a shepherd kind of thing.” He paused, and then said, “it’s no big deal, it’s just weird that’s all.”

We walked in silence for a while, then I asked, “do you ever get mad?”

He looked thoughtful and said, “I don’t know about mad," then he looked up and raised an eyebrow, "I mean there was the whole thing in the temple that one day, but generally no. I do get pretty frustrated sometimes.”

“Like when?” I asked.

“Well the one thing that absolutely drives me nuts is when people do stuff in my name that’s got absolutely nothing to do with me or my message or what I was trying to get people to do.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said.

He smiled lovingly at me and said, “yeah, I know you do.” He paused and then continued, “you know I just … I just don’t get it. I said, you’ve got to do two things; love God and love each other. Don’t worry about what other people are doing, focus on what YOU are doing. YOU do those two things right in everything you do, and everything else will take care of itself.”

“It will?” I asked.

“Well, yeah,” he said.

“What about … bad stuff,” I said.

“What about it?” he replied.

“Why does it happen?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking up and around as if it genuinely perplexed him. “For what it’s worth I think it’s really weird. And I can tell you that it’s not real.”

“What do you mean not real?” I asked.

“I mean not real,” he said. “Look, the only things that are real are life and love. That’s it. Literally. That’s ALL the universe is. WE, are all just momentary collections of tiny pieces of life and love. We flash into existence, we shine and reflect that which we truly are; life and love, and yes, some shine better and brighter than others, but, like the stars, they’re all adding to the light. And then we’re gone, back into the mix of the universe, to reorganize in some new and different and interesting way where we do it again. And that’s IT. Over and over. Forever. And the only thing that matters, every moment we live, is how much we love, because that’s all that we are and all that goes on.”

We walked on again in silence for a long time as I thought about that. I felt like we'd been together a long time. “I’m afraid,” I said.

He looked at me as he always did, with a look of love and amazement and wonder and amused confusion and confidence all rolled up together, then he laughed a little and said, “of what?”

“I’m afraid that when I leave this place I’ll forget all of this,” I said, “that I won’t remember. Worse, that I won’t be able to live that, what you said.”

Tears came to his eyes and he said, “I am ALWAYS with you. In fact I’m never farther than I am right now. You simply need to LISTEN in order to find me. You are such a thinker. You know I’ve always loved that about you. You’re intense, focus and determined. You work hard to get at what you think is closest to me and when you have it you never back down.”

“But I can’t … I'm not good enough,” and I started to cry.

“Yeah you are,” he said, “and I know it bothers you that your drive and intensity flash into temper too often.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said as tears flowed from my eyes.

“No!” he said strongly. “No, don’t be sorry. It’s part of you, and getting better is part of your journey. It’s what you have chosen to learn. You are a seeker and defender of truth, and that's a GOOD thing. A lot of people aren’t ready to hear that.” He paused, and looked at the tears on my face. “Hey,” he said, “it can be frustrating. I know. And I know a little something about annoying people too.”

I laughed, but I seemed unable to stop crying just the same. “What should I do?”

“Keep seeking the truth. And love everyone. ALL the time,” he said.

“But I keep making mistakes,” I said.

“Yes you do,” he said unapologetically, “but you are moving in the right direction and your heart is in the right place. If it weren’t, you would never have made it here.”

“But I have to go back,” I said.

“Oh yeah, about that,” he said, “there is no ‘back’ in space or time. Each moment is forever, which is why it's so important to love all the time. In reality, everything is part of ‘the only’," (and he did that thing with his voice and hands again, clearly trying to make me laugh). 

And at that moment, the beach, and that entire world faded away, and I found myself sitting in my office in front of my computer screen staring at this document.

And then way off, in what felt like a great distance, I heard his voice one last time. He said, “keep focused on love.”

And then it was gone. At least I thought it was, but then a moment later I heard “happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me-ee, happy birthday to me! ……. Made you laugh.” Yes, he did. Merry Christmas.

The Code Warrior Project: A Free Idea for Christmas

by Duane N. Burghard
© 2014

This week's essay was going to be about two political reforms I believe in, and I actually wrote the whole thing and I may eventually even publish it here on my blog. But with barely 24 hours to go before my self imposed deadline of posting one essay per week, I finally faced something I have at least strongly suspected about myself for a while but have had trouble acknowledging; I hate writing about politics.

This is a real bummer for me because, well, I was a Political Science major. I've studied politics pretty extensively for a VERY long time. And I know a good deal about it. Heck I ran for the United States House of Representatives ... TWICE. I have many very well thought out and rational opinions on a large variety of social and political topics, and I truly don't mind sharing them or engaging in intelligent discussions about issues of substance (they're important conversations to have, and sharing the knowledge I have and gaining knowledge I don't have is one of the most important things to me in life).

But the truth is that I kind of hate even talking about politics now. The hyper-partisan divides and insanely angry, vitriolic bullshit that seem to be a required add on to virtually *every* discussion or debate have left me sad and tired, and I'm frankly REALLY tired of being sad and tired.

But with that said, I've always loved writing. I don't think I realized how much I loved it until I started writing a group of short stories and books I'm currently working on over the last year or so (and then of course this blog in just the last few weeks). But as I wrote this other blog entry, I realized that it was depressing the crap out of me to write it.

So, at the last minute, I'm going to do something else.

This is likely my last essay before Christmas this year, so I'm going to give all of you a present, do with it what you will.


I'm what's called a serial entrepreneur. I can't help it. I'm the guy who can't even walk by a window washer on the street without working out the business model for his business before I get to the next corner. It's simply what my brain *does*. I've started a ridiculous *seventeen* businesses in my life, and the truth is that, at any given moment I'm dreaming up and planning out 2-3 more in my head. Dozens more businesses than I have started simply never made it beyond a couple of pieces of paper, and hundreds more just never made it out of my head, but they're all there and constantly flowing.

So as I was complaining to my wife (after having finished my essay that I wasn't happy with on political reforms) I suddenly had these rapid fire thoughts in succession (welcome to my consciousness, please watch your step): Look, if you're not happy writing about politics, then don't. Write about something that makes you happy. What makes you happy? Cool ideas. Political ideas can be cool. Yes, but they're usually too controversial and the solutions are so hard and it's largely just depressing to think about. OK, fine, so what do you like? I like business ideas. Great, you've got a crapload of those, write about one of those. Hey, even better, it's Christmas, how about you literally give one away! Just tell everybody about one of the business ideas you've got churning around in your head. Maybe someone will turn it into something amazing.

So Merry Christmas! Your gift this year is an idea. I call it The Code Warrior Project (or Code Warriors for short).

Like many of my ideas, it came as the result of a bunch of different inputs. One of those inputs was an "Hour Of Code" event last fall (if you go to hourofcode.com you'll see that nearly 80 *million* people have now participated in one of these events). My daughters Taylor and Jordan participated at one of the events at an Apple Store late last year (one of 10 million girls to participate in 2013 ... to put that in perspective, that's more girls than have done any programming in computer science in the previous 70 years!).

Anyway, also in my neighborhood when we moved in (August 2013) was the remnants of a business called "Mathnasium," (a math tutoring business) and while they obviously didn't make it, I sure liked their idea, I just felt it was a little too narrow. My idea is to create a business with a broader focus and multiple functions. In the afternoons, evenings and on weekends, the business would exist to serve primarily grade 6-12 students (with tutoring, classes, and a study center focused on all of STEM and computer science). In the daytime hours, the cubicles along with their equipment and bandwidth could be rented out as workstations. Locations could be in strip malls near large high schools. I made some basic assumptions (about $80K in buildout and equipment expenses, $2,800/month in rent $500/utilities, and $3,500/month for everything from advertising to toilet paper) and I threw in a blanket of $8K/month for payroll (and this assumes you can find some lower cost high end high school or college kids as some of your tutor staff), and for roughly $15K/month in expenses, you're in business.

At that rate, you'd need 150 "members" (who would obviously get special benefits) at $100/month or 750 paid hours at $20/hour (which would be an average of just short of four people for every hour of a 50 hour week). Obviously, hitting your revenue target would involve a combination of two sources. You could also manage a math tutor help line for something like $1.50/minute (the tutors would be contractees (use RingCentral or some other similar system to coordinate routing ... the option tree would route the call based on subject not the grade)). In theory, you could partner with area schools so that the work of the tutoring and class staff effectively complimented the school's work when appropriate (some classes would exist for tutoring kids who needed extra assistance with those classes, some classes would be focused on teaching them something outside of their school work entirely (e.g. coding) and some would be for doing more advanced work for kids who were insufficiently challenged).

You could also attempt to leverage relationships with some of the corporate sponsors of the Hour Of Code. That's a "long shot" because you're talking about penetrating the bureaucracies of large corporations, getting to the right person and then being able to convince them to partner with you in a meaningful and profitable way, but as in football, it's a good thing to throw a deep pass every now and then.

All of this requires a lot of work and a non-trivial amount of startup capital, but if it succeeded, you'd be doing something cool and you'd make a living.

Of course, there's another way that a version of this business model might appear in a town near you someday. A few months ago when my wife was out of town, I went to dinner with Taylor, Jordan and one of Jordan's friends. We intentionally chose Macaroni Grill that evening for two reasons; it was one of Jordan's favorites, and it is across the street from a really nice Barnes & Noble Store on the north side of Tucson, which was our scheduled Friday evening entertainment that night (yes, we are that boring and that *is* entertainment for us).

I like books, I like bookstores, and I always have. On our occasional trips to this particularly nice Barnes & Noble, I tend to check up on a few science magazines, and then browse through the business, computer and science book areas ... every now and then I drift over to science fiction (although what passes for sci-fi today is usually pretty depressing in that it's clearly not aimed at me and isn't the kind of science fiction that really turns my brain on), and then I settle down in the cafe and get some work done while the kids peruse and otherwise have fun in the store (passing 60-90 minutes in this store in this way is very easy and goes very quickly). But on this night in particular, I was struck by something I noticed in the store (which is really just further proof that the business part of my brain is literally ALWAYS on). Barnes & Noble has a business problem, and I'm not talking about Amazon, eBooks or anything like that. The company does a very good job catering to young children. There's a special area of the store carved out just for them, with rows of special shelves, even a different branding and look. It has special furniture and a stage area for book readings and chairs for children to gather around in. Barnes & Noble does kids well. And then I looked at the rest of the store, and I thought, Barnes & Noble does adults pretty well too. You've got the coffee shop, you've got all those books and other products in all those relevant topics intelligently organized and all set to cater to a variety of interests. But Barnes & Noble doesn't do teenagers very well. Sure there's a young adult and youth section, and there are study books for school ... but it's thrown in with the adults, it's nowhere special, and that's the message I see it sending to teens; you're nowhere special.

Now let's go back to my business model idea. Suppose you were to dedicate some of that retail space (and there's a cost to that for sure which they would need to model out) and you made that an area dedicated to that grade 6-12 demographic ... but you paid special attention to the grade 9-12 kids. It occurs to me that an ever increasing number of children are now taking AP courses, and virtually ALL of them are taking standardized tests like the PSAT, SAT, and ACT. Suppose you offered study sessions that were relevant to those classes and/or those exams. They could even be free because the store could use it as a means of marketing the myriad preparation materials or course materials that the store sells. Many parents today are falling all over themselves to spend money to give their children a competitive advantage in this increasingly competitive (and let's be honest about what that really means, it means wage stratified) world. This would not only be an excellent marketing tool, there's even a bit of legitimate altruism to it, AND, perhaps most importantly, their *brand* would stay relevant to those kids as they move between childhood and adulthood (they would lose fewer of them as customers over time).

Now, you'd need a pretty visionary leader at Barnes & Noble (or whoever, wouldn't have to be them, I just thought of them because that's where I got the idea) to buy off on this idea, and, as with all things worth doing, there would be a LOT of work between approval and implementation, but I think that the rewards might very well be worth it.

So there's your idea. If you want another one, or five or ten more, you can always email me (they pop out of my head like popcorn out of a machine at the movie theater ... and just like the popcorn, some of it's good, some of it's not). I like this one in particular because the older I get the more I like the ideas that will do something I think is cool (which is usually defined as making the world a better place in some way). I hope you like it to, and I hope to see it somewhere beyond my head someday. If you're the person to do it, good luck and thanks. And even if you're not, Merry Christmas!

Umbrellas, Spaghetti and SpaceTime

by Duane N. Burghard

©2014

(Note to readers! I am currently (Summer 2015) working on a fairly major expansion and rewrite on this essay, which is by far the most popular one I've ever written. Look for it this fall right here on my blog).

How do space and time really work? How do they interact with our conscious minds? Why do we perceive the universe the way we do? Questions like these have fascinated me over my entire lifetime, but I am especially fascinated by this one; why do some people seem to have as yet unexplainable oddities in their human experience as they relate to space and time? I don't know the answers to these questions, but I have spent no small amount of time looking for them and today I'm going to share some thoughts on what I've found.

In my first blog post, I wrote about discovering Facebook back in 2009 and how one of the best things about it was the opportunity to reunite with old friends. What I didn't mention in that essay was that, as I reassembled my friends from elementary school in particular, I noticed a really interesting pattern. In our early notes to one another, my friends and I often shared bits of things that we remembered about each other as children. What was interesting was that almost everyone remembered the same thing about me; my imagination. What I wonder now, in light of what I plainly concede might be nothing more than the modern products of that very same imagination and nothing more, is whether I actually just had and have a great imagination, or if there was and is something more.

To explain how I have come to see and understand space and time the way I do it is necessary to synthesize some pretty deep ideas, so arrogant as this may be, let's start by seeing if we can tackle the nature of space and time in one paragraph.

When it comes to the nature of space and time, my primary influence is a British astrophysicist from Cambridge named Julian Barbour. In 1999 Barbour wrote a book called The End of Time. Knowing my fascination with the subject, my wife and Mother-In-Law bought it for me for Christmas that year and were, as a result, subsequently subjected to a lot of "yes!" and "that's it!" comments from me as I sat and read. Barbour argues that time doesn’t really exist at all. Time is essentially an illusion, a fictional construct. Fortunately, there is a relatively easy way to grasp this concept. Barbour argues that every single moment is a specific, single, contained reality, very much like a picture. We perceive “motion” (time) in the universe for the same reason we think we see motion when we watch television. When we watch TV or a movie, as most people know, what we’re really watching is a series of still photographs being flashed before our eyes at a very rapid pace (approximately 24-30 frames, or pictures, per second). Our brains take in all of those pictures and “stitch them together” creating the illusion that images move on the screen. Barbour argues that the universe is much the same way, and that our consciousness is traveling through these instantaneous moments and simply stitching the changes between them together and creating the illusion of motion and time.

So to understand how I perceive the universe, think of yourself as a drop of water falling down towards the very top of an opened umbrella. Each moment event is represented by the tip on the top of that umbrella and each spine on my metaphorical umbrella represents a potential path from that moment (and the number of paths or choices is obviously variable based on the specifics of the moment in question). The pathways from the tip and along the spines are like hollow strands of spaghetti (like a tube), and once your drop of water (your consciousness) hits the top of the umbrella, you follow one of the many strands along one of the spines of the umbrella (again, each spine representing a possible outcome for that moment event). At the end of each spine of the umbrella, the spaghetti tube falls to the top of another umbrella (the next moment that proceeds from the path of the spine of the previous moment), and what we define as our lives is merely a hyper specific trip down a very particular path of spaghetti tubes from one umbrella (moment) to the next. So basically what I'm saying is that our lives are akin to going down the tubes ... which should be easy for many of us to relate to.

Now here's where it gets a little weird (I know, only now?!). I believe that each potential result of a moment happens (which is to say that each potential path does get followed). I have chosen not to get too distracted in this essay by branching off and having a detailed discussion of multiverse theory (though, hopefully obviously, in a nearby universe, I have made the opposite decision and as a result this essay is a much longer one over there ... you're welcome), however, if you want to get a grip on where I stand on the multiverse, I strongly recommend the article "Parallel Universes" by Max Tegmark in the May, 2003 issue of Scientific American. Obviously different choices in one moment can lead to a partially or entirely different set of choices in the next moment (or some later following moment) in the next universe over. Sometimes events may cause a re-collision of tubes (the same ultimate result with no other changes), other times they may get progressively farther apart. Additionally, different choices in one moment can lead to a different number of potential choices in parallel universes (so umbrellas in the next level down won't necessarily all have the same number of spines).

If you're not confused yet, I'll help by adding another piece. My theory is that, for reasons I don't understand but accept based solely on perceived observation, the umbrellas can twist. As a result, the strands of spaghetti can get all intertwined.

Which brings us to the really weird part. My theory is that the outside edges of the spaghetti tubes represent the borders of our conscious perception of the universe, but the thing is, like many things in the universe, the strands just aren't built very well, which is to say that, for some of us, they're full of stretched out holes (it is also possible that they're full of holes for everyone, but some of us just have a better ability to see them than others). The vast majority of the time, the holes don't really allow your mind to perceive anything else because a given hole in your strand of spaghetti doesn't line up with anything other than the outer skin of one or several other strands of spaghetti (you don't see anything beyond your wall because there's nothing to see but another wall). But every now and then, the holes line up, and every once in a great while they line up long enough for us to gain some perception of an alternate universe. Given the multiverse theory that I accept (which states that the very nearest parallel universe is no closer than 1 times 10 to the 10th to the 28th power meters away ... again, see Tegmark's article for the science behind this) the only possible way that there can be any information transfer would require that these holes are actually wormholes that fold the vast distance in space between them. I don't have an explanation as to why this would be, but frankly cosmology is a science that doesn't answer the "why" question nearly as often or as well as many of us would like and the idea seems at least as plausible to me as a variety of others in the field.

If my explanation is correct (or correct enough), the holes in a given person's strand could occasionally line up with a variety of parallel worlds, some very similar and some pretty dis-similar. But the thing about spaghetti is that once two strands are entangled, they often kind of stay that way, so in theory a person able to perceive the holes would eventually get the chance to have multiple looks at the same parallel world. Imagine a parallel world, for example, where Archduke Franz Ferdinand is not assassinated and the July crisis of 1914 never happens (Princip either doesn't kill Ferdinand or is stopped). As a result, the war doesn't happen or plays out very differently. Without World War 1, Germany might not be punished and Adolph Hitler never becomes more than an agitated Austrian artist, meaning that World War 2 also doesn't happen (or doesn't happen at all the same way). This doesn't mean that there aren't other conflicts and other results at all, but it does mean that such a parallel Earth would historically evolve quite differently (there is an entire genre of fiction literature that surrounds this concept called alternative history ... I often wonder if these authors are making their stories up or if they've simply gained a small amount of access to the world they write about ... perhaps they think it's just they're imagination and they're not even aware that this is how the idea came to them). Are my highly detailed dreams just the random compilations of inputs I don't recall that get written off as simply having a great imagination, or am I "cheating", am I really simply reporting the results of occasional glimpses of other Earths?

But while that idea is interesting, it's just plain crazy to a lot of people and there's not a lot of science to back it up, so let's ignore the holes in the strand thing for now (fair enough since most people obviously can't consciously see beyond the borders of their strand anyway) and let's look at some of the truly bizarre oddities of life within our strands.

We've talked about time to this point as a flow between moments, and we've done that because that's the way it seems to work for the vast bulk of us the vast bulk of the time. But if time isn't real, if all events are equally real and simply happening in different spaces (and indeed physics seems to make an argument for that ... by the way, if you want a better explanation than I can give you, I recommend an episode from Season Two of Through The Wormhole with Morgan Freeman called "Does Time Really Exist?" ... the episode also includes an interview with Julian Barbour), then why does everything happen in order? I don't think it does. I agree that most of us perceive it that way most of the time, but clearly it's a rule that can be violated, maybe not at the Slaughterhouse Five level, but at least a little bit.

Dean Radin, an engineer and faculty member at Sonoma State, did a somewhat controversial study a few years ago at the Institute for Noetic Science in which he attached skin conductors to individuals to measure their stress levels while showing them images, some emotionally charged, some not. The data from these experiments consistently showed that people began to biologically react to the emotionally charged images several seconds before they appeared. The implication of Radin's work is that at least some information is somehow "leaking" backwards in time. Many of us are familiar with that sense of intuition, and it seems rational to believe that sometimes that may be nothing more than random, but if time isn't real, it makes perfect sense to me that some information about another event might find its way backward up a strand; we might perceive it the way we might hear the noise of something we're moving towards as we travel down a tube, and our inability to perceive it clearly also makes sense since it is at a "distance" down the strand ... as a result our conscious minds process the information as little more than a vague sensation that's rarely useful). Somewhat similarly, Professor Darrell Bem at Cornell University did a study in which individuals showed a slightly higher ability to chose between two curtains (one blank, one with an image) when the image in question was erotic. I should note that Bem's findings have been criticized by, among others, my former neighbor and good friend Jeff Rouder (who I've known for many years as our youngest daughters are best friends). Jeff is a nationally renowned Professor of Neuropsychology at the University of Missouri who applied something called a Bayes Filter to Bem's data which he said eliminates the statistical variance. To me though, whether Radin and Bem are entirely correct or not is less relevant than the fact that clearly our minds are processing more information than we are fully consciously aware of, and the degree to which we are aware of the information we are receiving does seem to vary significantly from person to person. As a result, it does seem reasonable to me that what people might consider to be paranormal (with respect to the perception of space and time at any rate) is more likely to be merely a minute genetic mutation of some kind (probably a subatomic glitch in our brain, basically a defect).

For those whose minds are not yet reeling, I will leave you this week with one more possibility. It is also possible that nothing I've written above is relevant to our universe, and that's because it, and our perception of it, is entirely the result of a computer program. For those who didn't see the movie "The Thirteenth Floor" several years ago, the idea is that our universe is a super massive computer simulation and we are simply programs in it. And the laws of physics? Programmed. I have often wondered about this idea. As I have now publicly admitted to friends, I remember vividly waking up on the morning of October 17th, 2000, and hearing about the death of Missouri Governor Mel Carnahan. I had two unshakeable sensations that entire day; first, that there was something very wrong with the universe, that something (Carnahan's death) had happened that didn't actually ("really") happen; and second, that even though I could remember the previous day and every day prior to it for almost the whole of the 35 plus years I had been alive, somehow that day seemed like it was the very first day of the entire universe. Perhaps I was right. Perhaps our universe is nothing more than a computer simulation that was written to play out a "what if" scenario by historians FAR into the future. It's possible, but if so, the good news is that we may not have to wait long to find out. I'm referring to an experiment called the Holometer Experiment that's just started at the Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory. The Experiment will attempt to determine whether our perception of a three-dimensional universe is just an illusion. The possibility that our universe may be basically a computer program (or hologram) is a pretty well accepted theory, but to me, the real question is this; if our universe is merely a simulation and we do figure it out, will our knowledge of that fact "ruin" the game and end our universe?

Who knows ... after all, it could just be my imagination.

Holiday (James) Bonding

by Duane Burghard
©2014

The truth is that, while I’m not ever shy about sharing my opinion (particularly if I’m asked), I don’t particularly like debates or arguments, and this fact is primarily due to a flaw in my character that comes up frequently; I believe that, in most cases, there is an empirical right and wrong. As a result,  in most debates someone is just, well, wrong, and they should either wise up or shut up (or both). 

There is, however, an important exception to this rule of mine, I don’t mind (and even enjoy) debates when the subject being debated is either completely or significantly subjective and there is very clearly no empirically right or wrong answer. For example, what’s the best part of neopolitan ice cream, the strawberry part or the chocolate part (vanilla part fans should stay out of this, you’re just wrong). What I’m saying is that I don’t mind arguing at all if what we’re arguing about is completely silly, and this point brings me to one of my favorite holiday season debate topics; who is the best James Bond (or for real fans, which is the best Bond film).

The question of “Best Bond” has been around since about 1973 (when Roger Moore took over the role … there wasn’t any serious discussion before that arguing that George Lazenby was better than Sean Connery, but Moore definitely has his own set of fans), but the debate didn’t really have a season. Then, about 30 years ago (1985), media mogul Ted Turner made another one of the truly brilliant moves of his career; he got hold of MGM/UA, giving him the rights to broadcast all of the Bond films. Very shortly thereafter, the holiday season became synonymous with the “7 days of 007” (and like promotions) on his TBS and TNT cable TV stations (today the tradition continues in places like the MGMHD movie channel). And because the holidays are often about gathering with your family to argue about ridiulous crap at the dinner table, the debate about who is the best James Bond has become at least somewhat linked with two times of the year; the holidays, and any time a new Bond film is released (it is also true that debating who is the best James Bond is, well usually anyway, significantly less explosive than national politics or the results of trying to deep fry a frozen turkey).

While it is shocking to no one, I have an opinion on this subject, and it is one that is sure irritate many of you (which is something of an unintentional hobby of mine). Despite how strongly I hold some positions, the fact is that I can’t decide who my favorite Bond is. My answer to the question is that they are each my favorite in different ways for different reasons and, since this is my blog, I’ll explain why AND I’ll get to engage in one of my other favorite things in life; sprinkling in lots of “Did you know?” stuff that I find interesting and/or relevant (for those who don’t know, my mind has one of the world’s largest “DVD commentary” tracks of occasionally relevant trivia). If nothing else, what you will gain is amunition for supporting whoever you like best.

Sean Connery, the man Bond creator Ian Fleming originally didn’t like and then later was so enamored with that he altered the character (changing his heritage and giving him more of a sense of humor), literally defined the role. Connery had and has a number of advantages as Bond, but three in particular leap out at me. First, he had access to Fleming (who died in 1964); second, no one else had played the role so he had carte blanche to define it; and of course third, he was very VERY good. Connery’s Bond reflected the extreme misogyny of the times (even moreso than subsequent iterations of the character), but he did so in a way that was strangely less offensive than it should have been to most viewers (including women). He was cool, smart, confident, sexy and exuded an entire range of characterisitics that fit him perfectly into the phrase “women wanted him and men wanted to be like him.” He’s a common choice for Best Bond, but I say not so fast.

Connery tired of the role after five films (at one point saying he was fed up and even that he wanted to kill James Bond) and left in 1967 after You Only Live Twice (which is probably my favorite Bond film of all). He was talked in to returning in 1971 for Diamonds Are Forever and then, of course, for Never Say Never in 1983 (a film that was decidedly not a part of the main franchise). But Connery’s departure opens the door to one of my favorite side stories about the Bond films; casting.

It is generally accepted that Connery got the role of James Bond because of Albert Broccoli’s wife, Dana, but what is less known is that one of the other actors which the producers originally wanted and sought to play the *first* James Bond was … Roger Moore, and you’ll see something of a theme emerge here as we go on. Moore was unavailabe because of his television commitments (specifically Maverick and then The Saint), so Connery was eventually chosen. But this is where it gets funny/ironic/interesting. When Connery quit after You Only Live Twice, the producers originally wanted and even offered the role of James Bond to … wait for it, Timothy Dalton, who turned down the role because he felt he was too young and that he didn’t have what it took to succeed Connery. After Diamonds Are Forever, Moore (an original finalist for Bond) was available, and so he became Bond. When Moore quit/was fired (probably a couple of films later than he should have left or been retired), the studio (and just about everyone in the world) wanted Pierce Brosnan to take over as James Bond, but Brosnan couldn’t get out of his TV contract to do another season of Remington Steele (and here is that pattern) so the producers went back to Dalton. After Dalton’s two films, they moved on to Brosnan. There are tons of “what if” games that Bond fans can play in their heads regarding these facts (and I certainly find it fascinating), but let’s go back to Connery’s original departure.

After Timothy Dalton turned down the role (and Roger Moore was still unavailable), the producers chose unknown Australian car salesman/model George Lazenby. There are a number of stories online about what happened next, but according to the DVD “The James Bond Story” which includes interviews with the main people involved, the short version is this; while stories that Lazenby and (On Her Majesty’s Secret Service) director Hunt did not get along, the fact is that it was Lazenby’s agent who essentially spoke out of turn and soured the relationship between Lazenby and Broccoli et al. The result of this row was Lazenby’s ouster and one of the most significant film changes in the history of the franchise. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service was supposed to have a very happy ending (the wedding scene with them driving off, roll credits etc.). The producers knew they wanted to start Diamonds Are Forever off with the murder of Mrs. Bond and, rather than worry about the ability to get actress Diana Rigg back, they decided to film the murder scene at the time. When Lazenby’s future as 007 abruptly ended, the end of the film was re-edited to include the murder scene (the ending we all know), giving it a “downer” ending which many people feel affected audiences impression of the film. My take on Lazenby is that he didn’t really get a fair shot at playing Bond and we’ll never know how good he could have been, but as it is, he doesn’t really figure in my calculations about what he brought to the role because he and the film are such an outlier.

In any case, after On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, the studio ran back to Connery for Diamonds Are Forever before settling in for more than a decade with Roger Moore. Moore was “my” James Bond in that, given when I was born (1965), he was the first Bond I was old enough to go see at the movies. Moore’s great claim to fame as James Bond was his humor. His Bond was a good deal funnier than Connery’s and people like me who appreciate humor naturally gravitated towards his portrayal of the role. The movies quickly reflected that change in a number of ways, including incorporating funny recurring characters (e.g. Clifton James as the completely hilarious Sherrif J.W. Pepper). Moore’s Bond also saw the “Bond gadgets” element of the franchise go into high gear, and that may have led to a kind of fan blowback (after Moonraker in particular); the general perception of many fans was that James Bond was moving too deeply into science fiction (which for me, as a science fiction fan, wasn’t a problem at all). Ultimately, the only real knock on Roger Moore’s Bond that I agree with is that he stayed at least 1 and arguably 2 films too long before bowing out (although the last film had as much to do with casting issues as anything else).

Timothy Dalton took over the role of James Bond in an era where the Cold War was ending and the AIDS crisis was exploding, and his films reflected an unusual cultural awareness to the times. But while Dalton’s Bond is rarely singled out as anyone’s #1 favorite, I feel strongly that Dalton’s Bond was the best and most pure representation of what Fleming intended, which is to say that Dalton emphasized the fact that Bond was more obsessive and crazy (psychotic in fact) than glib or sauve. But Dalton’s hairline and his age by the time he got the chance to play the role were both working against him from day one, and after two films, he was gone.

With Dalton out of the way, audiences who had been clamoring for years at that point for Brosnan to play the role, finally got their wish. In my opinion, Brosnan is *impossible* not to at least like in the role, and one of the reasons I like him so much is that I consider him to be the “amalgamated” Bond, incorporating the best of all of his predecessors. He exuded the cool and sauve of Connery, the humor of Moore, the edge that Dalton brought, and then he added a tension and emotional power that was uniquely his own. In a way, Brosnan wasn’t *a* James Bond, he was *all* the James Bonds. I’ve heard a lot of stories about Brosnan’s departure from the role, and none of them are very pleasant, so suffice it to say that he and the producers had a falling out, and he was gone. 

After a  hiatus, the “re-imagining” craze of the early 21st Century came to the Bond world, and the series was rebooted as a FAR more serious and dark story with Daniel Craig in the role. Craig does an excellent job of taking the most emotionally serious and tense parts of Brosnan’s character and building on them in a way that was appropriate for the personality of the re-boot. His Bond is a lot colder and tougher, but his films (until Skyfall) are also, in my opinion, a lot less fun and not nearly as fun to watch as those of the Bonds before him (again, Skyfall being an exception and definitely my favorite of his Bond films).

So I'm pretty useless in the Best Bond debate because I like them all. In fact, if you were to ask me what makes a really good Bond film,  pretty much the last thing I would list as a criteria would be the actor in the title role, but at least when it comes to best Bond movie, I have a lot more specific opinions. I’ve spent no small amount of spare time trying to answer the “favorite Bond film” question for myself (I can’t argue that this has been an effective use of my spare time, but we all have silly things we think about), and the big thing that’s come out of that search for me is learning WHY I think a given Bond film is good (i.e. what my criteria is). Earlier I noted that, if I had to choose a single James Bond film as my favorite, I would probably choose You Only Live Twice. The film captures its time well and has a fun and interesting story along with interesting characters etc., but the real reason I like it, and the thing it has in common for me with my runners up like The Man With The Golden Gun and Die Another Day is sweeping, grand scale cinematography and very effective use of music and sound.

Debates about things that are as subjective as James Bond are, of course, largely silly, but that’s one of the reasons I don’t find them as distressing as other more serious arguments that can erupt at the holiday dinner table. They also allow us to learn something about the people we’re debating with (specifically why they think what they think) which more often than not gives us insight into their characters and tends to bring us closer together. You could even say that it’s a way of … Bonding with your friends and relatives this holiday season. Good luck.