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“The Main Thing is to keep the Main Thing the Main Thing.” - Robert Hruzek (along with about a bazillion others)

How true is that, eh? Find out what you do the best, and by gosh, do it to the best of your ability. Make sure that, whatever you do, you always keep the focus on whatever it is that got you there. No matter what, find your passion and focus on that - (sound of needle being scratched across a vinyl record).

Er, sorry ‘bout the platitude parade, but you get the point, right? (chorus of “right”s from the audience)

On the other hand… After writing those words in last Tuesday’s post (insert gratuitous self-link here), I began to think about them a bit more (in case you were wondering what that grinding noise was). I began to wonder - is it possible for “what you do best” to become a liability?

On Monday I shared a story about when I was a waiter at the Corps of Cadets cafeteria at Texas A&M University. It sparked yet another memory I just had to share. See, for pretty much the entire school year, it happened without fail.

Every. Single. Meal.

The Guy with the Tarzan Yell

You remember those old Tarzan movies, don’t you, particularly the ones with Jonnie Weissmuller as the infamous Tarzan? Man, those were the best! When I was a kid I never missed Tarzan Theater on Saturday mornings. (I also remember the show’s sponsor, Art Grindle, who had a thing for jumping up and down on top of old used cars while simultaneously expounding upon the virtues of said car. But I digress.)

As you may no doubt remember, Tarzan had this trademark yell he always did when he wanted to a) stampede the elephants, b) defend (pick one: Jane, Boy, or Cheetah) from a (pick another one: lion, python, giant alligator) that happened to be threatening them, or c) go to the can. It was an amazing thing, that yell. Every kid tried to imitate it - with varying degrees of, er, failure. I’m tellin’ ya, nobody, but nobody, could ever get close.

[Ed. - If you’ve never heard it, you absolutely MUST follow this link (Johnny Weissmuller’s Tarzan Yell) for an 11-second clip from Tarzan, the Ape Man, in which Johnny Weissmuller does his trademark, um, thing.]

OK, now segue back with me to TAMU (sound of segue). A couple of weeks after the semester started, one day in the cafeteria we suddenly heard it: clear, sweet, and melodious - it was the Tarzan yell, done to perfection! It literally stopped everybody in their tracks (which probably explains why it worked so well for Tarzan). For at least ten seconds, time stood still; it was so quiet you could’ve heard your hair grow.

I’m telling ya, it just about brought the house down! Shouts of appreciation rose up from every corner of the room, along with cries of “Do it again! Do it again!”

It turned out that a certain Freshman, who had perfected the yell as a child, (un)fortunately let the fact be known. In the aforementioned post (the one about waiting on tables), do you remember that privilege continuum I showed you? Well, since he was a lowly Freshman, that’s all she wrote, folks; it became a daily routine. In fact, at every single meal for the rest of the year, that hapless Freshman had to interrupt his meal, stand on his chair, and do the Tarzan yell, not once, but four times (once facing North, once facing East, etc.).

Now don’t get me wrong; it was an amazing talent, and he deserved to be proud of himself for accomplishing it. After all, here was something that practically nobody could do, and he could do it to perfection. And I imagine he was - the first few times he did it. What a kick, to be able to showcase a talent like that!

What if Your Main Thing is Your Only Thing?

I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but to this day I remember nothing else about the guy. Not his name, his hometown, his major, or to tell you the truth, even what he looked like. But I can tell you this with absolute certainty: I do remember that yell…

But ya know, after about the 50^th, 100th or 500^th time, do you think maybe he might have, um, regretted ever letting anyone know about that hidden talent of his? And, by the zillionth time (I figure he must have yodeled at least 1,500 times in the cafeteria alone, plus any other times he may have had to showcase his, er, gift), could it have perhaps transmogrified into a, you know, curse?

I gotta wonder… how many times after graduation, do ya think, did he perform the ol’ Tarzan yell? I’d be willing to bet the answer is - none!

So I guess the issue is this: Are you the modern-day equivalent of the buggy whip? How many talents do you have? In my opinion this question applies to everyone, self-employed or not, and I think your answer may have profound implications.

• If you’re, say, a “one person shop”, then what do people hire you to do for them? Can you do more than one thing? Do your clients (or your customers) know what those other things are? Have you told them? Why not?
• If you’re an employee, the question becomes just as important. Whatever your particular job description is, are there other things you’re good at, or have experience with? Does your boss know about those things? Have you told him or her? Why not?

Like I said, it’s an important question, particularly in these days when the job market is tightening up a bit (or in some markets, constricting like a noose). If you have any other talents besides the Main Thing, then I think we can all agree it’s in your best interest that everyone else know all about it.

I’ll give you an example. I’m a consultant, but that’s not all; I’m a writer, too. I also have experience teaching, both business subjects and other things as well. In addition, I’m very good at… well, you get the picture, right?.

Does my boss know all this about me? You bet! The more talents he can apply to a client engagement, the more likely I’ll continue to remain gainfully employed for some time to come. PLUS, it never hurts to pick up extra skills whenever possible…

I mean, you never know.

(Note from the Proprietor: I gotta be careful with this story, so let’s keep this one just between us. After all, since I don’t know who this guy is, there’s a chance I may run across him one day. For all I know, he might even be my boss - after all, he went to Texas A&M, and he’s the right age…)

Homework Assignment: What, exactly, are your other talents, abilities, etc. Are any of them the kind of thing you can tie to what you already do? What about other possibilities, like “extracurricular” stuff? How would you relate those things to what you do? How would you explain the connection to someone who asked?

You know, it would just be absolutely finer than a frogs hair if you would subscribe to my RSS feed!

Expectations, n. things looked forward to; things regarded as likely to happen

All right; I’ll admit it right up front. The main reason we chose Hawaii as the destination of choice for our honeymoon was because I wanted to go someplace exotic and out-of-the-ordinary. Having been born and raised in Houston, Texas, it was a place so far out of my experience that I knew it would make our first few weeks together all that more memorable. Thus, I had rather high expectations (and not just because it was our, you know, honeymoon).

Now, before I go on, let me just say this: the entire experience was far beyond anything I ever imagined. Although we spent all our time on Kauai (except for the airport on the big island), we still managed to pack in quite a bit of excitement, adventure, and wonderful experiences. Truthfully, it was enough to last us a lifetime.

I have to say, though; at the very beginning, my expectations took a bit of a beating.

Expectation #1: Nice Digs

For instance, we reserved a suite at this resort, complete with lanai (which is essentially a large balcony) and a king-sized bed. Naturally, we expected a nice place - I mean, this is Hawaii, right?

Well, the room was pretty nice, I’ll give it that. Although it was pretty much the usual tropical resort-type place, it did have a fantastic view of Hanalei Bay (the room in this particular photo is pretty much exactly like our room and our view), and the lanai had a nice table and chairs on which we ate breakfast every day. But (and this was a BIG ‘but’, baby!) it had a double bed, not a king!

Now, I can tell you from experience, someone my height won’t fit on a double bed. So we called the owner of the suite and complained (not that there was much that could be done about it at this point, but still). She didn’t seem bothered at all that she had lied to us about the size of the bed (we specifically asked for a king). I mean, she had our money, so there wasn’t much we could do.

But the kicker was when Mrs. MZM told her I was too tall for the bed. You know what the owner’s brilliant solution was? And I quote: “Oh, no problem; just pull the couch over to the end of the bed and he’ll have plenty of legroom.” Unquote.

Well, as I said, we had certain expectations as far as accommodations. Alas, the reality was somewhat, er, less.

Expectation #2: Sunshine

I’ve already written (earlier this week) about the fact that our stay was somewhat, er, “solar-radiantly-challenged”. (This photo is exactly what Hanalei Bay looked like. Except for the gray, rainy skies. And, er, brown water. Click on it for a spectacularly larger view.)

Hey, when you go to Hawaii (or any vacation island destination, for that matter) one generally assumes there’s going to be plenty of sunshine and blue skies. I mean, it’s in all the pictures, right? (Yes, I know it rains a lot in Hawaii; how else would that lush foliage survive? But they still generally have plenty of sunshine, too.)

Again, the reality was less that expected.

Expectation #3: Great Island Experiences

I think I also mentioned the fact that our visit happened to be during the “off” season. What that meant was that many of the quaint little shops were closed, and in fact a lot of the more “mainstream” tourist attractions were, too.

See, in Hawaii, there’s at least one experience you simply must enjoy; it’s the epitome of the Hawaiian experience: you must, at all costs, attend a luau. Usually, the biggest challenge is picking one; they’re literally everywhere (at least during the tourist season, that is).

An authentic luau can be quite elaborate, with wonderful entertainment, native costumes and the inevitable hula lessons (something you can’t avoid if you’re going to visit Hawaii). Naturally, the best ones are at night (flaming torches makes the best lighting), and held outdoors (that photo is the sort of thing we’d, um, hoped for).

Alas, because this was the, you know, off season, the choices were somewhat limited. In fact, there was only one available on the entire island! But, we shrugged and went anyway, hoping for the best.

Well, this one was held in a sortof large barn-like structure with open sides; not out in the open like we’d hoped. (Probably a good thing since it pretty much rained most of the time anyway.) And, it had electric lighting, no torches. To make matters worse, the food was really not all that great, and the man across from us was totally drunk and rather obnoxious; we could tell his wife was pretty embarrassed.

Ah, well; yet again, it was less than expected *sigh*.

The Key to Managing Your Expectations

By now you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Man, this guy has nothing good to say about anything! Who is he, anyway - that new superhero, BummerMan?” But hold on there, Buckaroos; we’re headin’ for a point if I can just figure out what it is (sound of crowd grumbling and getting restless).

OK; so here’s my point.

Expectations are good things to have; in fact, I’d even go so far as to say we need ‘em. They give a point of reference, and - dare I say it? - even something to hope for. They serve as indicators that let us know what we’d planned or expected would happen, actually has.

The problem, though, is that expectations can sometimes get, for want of a better term, too big for their britches. You know what I mean, right? Let’s say you’re planning something (it doesn’t matter what), and you’ve got every last detail worked out. I mean, there is absolutely nothing left to chance. Everything is going to go your way, and that way is… perfect.

Um… yeah.

You know it’s true: hardly ever does anything go perfectly. In fact, the more planning that’s required, the more likely whatever-it-is will go awry, if you know what I mean. You might as well just face the fact that life is never perfect. It follows, then, that if when you have expectations, then sometime, somewhere, you’re going to experience disappointment.

So what’s a person to do? Never ever plan, hope or even dream, again? No, of course not, ya big galoot (sound of fist pounding on desk)!

The key to managing any expectation can be summed up in one single word: flexibility. Yep; that’s the secret. And that one word is the thing that saved us from disappointment on our trip. Oh, don’t get me wrong; we were still disappointed when some of our expectations weren’t met; at least temporarily.

But by allowing ourselves to be flexible enough to creatively respond to each disappointment, we turned what could have been a not-so-great moment into one that, even now, still brings back fond and wonderful memories.

For instance, to this day we hardly remember that ridiculously short bed. What we do remember, though, are the breakfasts we enjoyed every morning on our lanai, surrounded by lush tropical vegetation and entertained by a couple of cardinals that seemed to think we had invaded their own personal space. They were so unafraid of us, they practically hopped in our laps as we ate!

And the lack of sun wasn’t really that much of a problem, either. It certainly didn’t stop us from checking out all the incredible sights: picturesque waterfalls, beautiful beaches, incredible mountain vistas and spectacular ocean views. (Although because of the constant rain, all our pictures came out sorta dark and gloomy.) But because we were willing to stay flexible in all things, why, everywhere we went, we’d stumble across yet another surprise (like, f’rinstance, that time we accidentally stumbled - literally! - upon a couple of nude sunbathers!)

Expectations can be good; they give you something to look forward to. But managing your expectations with a liberal dose of flexibility will allow you to enjoy life so much better. That way, even when things don’t - quite - go like you expect, well, you can still have an experience just as good (or even better).

___________________________

Yes, today marks the 26^th Anniversary of the day Mrs. MZM and I gazed into each other’s eyes and proclaimed to all who happened to be present those two powerful, life-changing little words: “I do.”

I find it rather appropriate, then, that we just sorta happened to end this series of posts with that particular word, flexibility. Honestly; it wasn’t planned.

But if there were one single word that characterized how Mrs. MZM and I have coped with the ups and downs of our years together, it would be that one. Of all the blessings God could have given us, that one quality is what continues to turn every day into an amazing adventure that never ends.

You know, I am still completely overwhelmed with the amazing and wonderful fact that, of all the people God put on this planet, this wonderful woman agreed (finally!) that I was the one - and said “YES!”

That is something for which I will be forever grateful.

Happy Anniversary to the Love of My Life!

__________________________

For the rest of our Hawaiian Honeymoon adventures, see:

Hawaiian Honeymoon, Part 1: Dignity; Always Dignity

Hawaiian Honeymoon, Part 2: When Skies Are Grey

Hawaiian Honeymoon, Part 3: Underwhelmed

You know, it would just be absolutely finer than a frogs hair if you would subscribe to my RSS feed!

NOTE: To further celebrate our upcoming Anniversary this week (May 1), I’m sharing some of our honeymoon adventures.

Despite the fact that Kauai is absolutely chock-full of remarkably beautiful sights, we still managed to find a few that left us somewhat, er, underwhelmed at best. (Question: I know it’s possible to be overwhelmed, but can one simply be “whelmed”? But I digress.)

Old Russian Fort

For instance; remember that main road I mentioned earlier? Our trusty guidebook (yes, the same one that led us to the infamous Barking Sands) mentioned that somewhere on the southwest part of Kauai was an old Russian fort; the only one in Hawaii. Well, this seemed worth visiting, so we headed on over.

Off the main road, we discovered a sign confirming our arrival. There was nothing else in sight except a small parking area, in which ours was the only car. Hmmm… obviously not exactly a tourist hotspot, but what the hey.

Although there were no directions, a rough path lead us toward a clump of low trees and overgrown vegetation. After walking for about 5 minutes or so, we found ourselves surrounded by low, heavily weed-covered mounds. Within another few minutes, we came across a sign detailing the history of the fort, and it was then we realized we had been walking right through the middle of it!

I mean, c’mon! Granted, it’s a genuine chapter in Hawaii’s history, but in the condition it’s in, it’s not exactly exciting, you know? In fact, the only reason we remember it at all is the actuality was so much less than promised!

Spaulding Monument

One of the things we discovered on Kauai, and was later confirmed during our stay on Aruba, is that when you’re on a small island, there are only so many things worth looking at. Although Kauai is seven times larger than Aruba (552 square miles vs. 75), only a small part of it is easily accessible by car (the island is basically one big, and luckily extinct, volcano). So we ended up with little more than the same area to explore. (Besides, since we were on our honeymoon, I had no desire to try more physical means of exploration, such as hiking, etc.; I mean, you understand, don’t you?)

Anyhoo, it got to the point where we were almost desperately searching for something new to see. Therefore, every time we found a road we hadn’t explored yet, we just pointed the car and went.

Well, this one time, the road we picked at random (the ocean was the other direction, so at least we knew there wouldn’t be a big wet surprise at the end of it!) seemed to just go on and on. For several miles at least, we drove down this dirt road seeing nothing but cane fields on either side. And, just to make things more interesting, the cane was so tall and dense (at least 8-9 feet) there were no landmarks, either. It was like an endless, roofless green tunnel.

Every so often, we looked at each other and asked ourselves, “Keep going, or turn around?” However, the spirit of adventure still being present, we kept going. Finally, we came upon a small sign that read: “Spalding Monument” with an arrow that pointed ahead. This struck us both as kinda funny, since there was clearly nowhere to go but straight ahead.

After a few more minutes (which seemed to take forever), we finally came upon a split in the road. There was a small cleared space in the “Y” that had a low, stone and concrete “thing” on it. “Aha!” we thought; “at last, the famous Spalding Monument!”

Well, once again, the promise, such as it was, was somewhat, er, less than expected. It turned out this particular monument had been erected by a former cane plantation owner to himself! Ah well, at least there was a great view, the cane having receded enough at this point.

Oh, well. All I can say is, if you ever visit Kauai, don’t bother with either of these two spots. I’m just sayin’.

Promises, Promises

So what can one learn from this, anyway? Well (and you no doubt knew this was coming), allow me to point out something.

Here’s the thing. When you make a promise, you need to make sure the promise is what it seems to be. By that, I mean make sure the recipient gets what he or she thinks they’re going to get. Notice, now; this is a little different from the statement, make sure the recipient gets what you promised.

Why the distinction? Well, you have to remember; perception is critical, especially when it comes to promises. That first statement is from the recipient’s point of view, while the second one is from yours. Here’s the question: Which one is more important?

I’ll leave you to make whatever application you want here, but suffice it to say, it’s important to make sure what they hear is what you meant to say.

See, when we saw something mentioned in the guidebook, we naturally assumed it would be actually something worth seeing. I mean, who wouldn’t? Thus, an implied promise was made. But, when we arrived, the result was disappointing at best. Although neither the book nor the signs made explicit promises (come see the stupendous Old Russian Fort! Thrill to the sight of the Spalding Monument!), in our minds there was at least a promise of value, so to speak.

The result is, of course, disappointment. Interesting, don’t you think, that those disappointments are still well-remembered, even 26 years later?

_____________________

For our other Hawaiian Honeymoon adventures, see:

Hawaiian Honeymoon, Part 1: Dignity; Always Dignity

Hawaiian Honeymoon, Part 2: When Skies Are Grey

You know, it would just be absolutely finer than a frogs hair if you would subscribe to my RSS feed!

[NOTE: To help celebrate our upcoming Anniversary (May 1), this week I’m sharing some of our honeymoon adventures on the Hawaiian island of Kauai.]

Now, before I go on, let me just say to those of you who actually, you know, live in Hawaii, that I’d really appreciate it if you’d help me out here. After all, if anyone should know…]

Ever since I was a kid (um, that’s human, not goat), I’ve always wanted to visit exotic places. Like, er, Mars. Alas, despite the amazing advances in space exploration over the ensuing years, that opportunity has yet to present itself. The bottom line is, when it came time for our honeymoon, Mrs. MZM and I had to settle for something, well, a bit less exotic. So we went to Hawaii.

One thing I’ll say about Hawaii: that’s one place where, I’m telling ya, everything is exotic! The plants, the birds, the scenery - I mean, everything is such a far cry from the sort of things we usually see down in here in Texas (and pretty much the rest of the U.S.).

The Barking Sands

Y’know; when you’re on a relatively small island, at least you can never get lost. (‘Course, you can only go so far before you have to do your fish imitation, but I think you get my meanin’.) After all, on Kauai there’s really only one main road; it starts near Princeville (about the middle of the northern side) and goes clockwise about three-quarters of the way around the island to its westernmost point at Barking Sands. (The rest of the coastline is too rugged for wheeled vehicles.)

There were (and still are, of course!) plenty of great things to see on Kauai. Amazing waterfalls, lush tropical forests, beautiful beaches; we wanted to see it all. Naturally we had our own handy guidebook to show us what to see and do. Therefore, when the guidebook said we should visit Barking Sands, we did.

Now bear in mind, this was 26 years ago. I understand the public may not now be able to actually get to Barking Sands anymore since it’s a military base. (Was it a base back then? I don’t know.) But I do remember standing on the beach at Barking Sands and looking across the water at the island of Ni’ihau. It was late afternoon and very windy, and quite sobering to think the next landfall due west was Taiwan, about 5,000 miles away.

Anyway, I honestly don’t have that clear a recollection of the beach itself, other than it was, you know, picturesque. I mean, after you’ve seen so many beautiful beaches with incredibly white sand, they all sortof run together, if you know what I mean. But there was one thing the guidebook told us that, to this day is still a mystery. I sure wish we still had that book, because it’s something I’d really like to know. 26 years later, it still makes us wonder.

I don’t mind telling you, I’m fascinated by unusual place names. And by now you’re probably wondering, as we were, just how the heck did Barking Sands get its name? Was it in honor of an ancient chief’s dog? Perhaps it was the local equivalent to a dog park? Wait, I know - it was the annual migration point for barking seals, right?

Well, according to the guidebook, it was none of these oh-so-logical-sounding things. Nope; not even close. Now bear with me (like I said, it’s been 26 years), but to the best of our recollection, according to the book the name Barking Sands derived from “the distinctive sound the sand makes when thrown into the air”.

Yep; that’s what it said.

Now undoubtedly your brain is racing along, as ours did that day, quickly reviewing your high-school physics classes and attempting to find some measure of logic behind such a bizarre-sounding explanation. I mean, c’mon; we didn’t just fall of the turnip truck, you know. How could such a ridiculous thing possibly be true? Sound of a dog barking, indeed.

Mrs. MZM and I stood there for a few minutes, pondering the imponderable and contemplating the inevitable. Presently, she looked at me with all seriousness and said, “Well don’t look at me; I’m not doin’ it!”

So What Would YOU Do?

Yes, that indeed begs the question, doesn’t it?

On the one hand, we could have simply laughed and gone our way, never knowing if the act of tossing said sand upon the gentle breezes of the Hawaiian Main somehow magically caused a distinctive sound to whisper upon our amazed ears.

On the other hand, we could also be unwitting guests on the island version of Candid Camera, with a sneaky hidden camera nearby, ready to capture the spectacle of two idiotic tourists who believed anything they read in a book.

What to do, what to do?

Well, not being one to shy from a challenge (although I must admit to checking the area first to see if anyone was watching), I gathered as much dignity as I could muster, bent over and scooped up a double handful of sand, and flung it into the air. We both mightily cocked our ears in order to capture the slightest possible resulting and distinctive sound.

The result was pretty much as you would expect: nothin’.

We looked at each other for a moment with an I-told-you-so look, and I tried it again. Still nothin’. Ah, well. We moved on, back to see the rest of the wonders Kauai had to offer. To this day, I still have no idea if it was a prank or what, inserted into the guidebook just to see if anybody would fall for it. But I can tell you this; it certainly made for a memorable moment.

Still… maybe there’s a lesson here after all.

Dignity; Always Dignity

You know, most of us hate to look ridiculous, especially in front of other people (I mean, it’s bad enough when you’re alone!) But when you get right down to it, what’s the real harm? So what if someone else discovers the truth - that you’re just not all that? (One of the great humbling things about marriage is you can no longer hide it from your spouse.)

Take the upcoming SOBCon for instance. Last year, I remember it as a wonderful, exciting time; meeting new people and hearing some great speakers. In fact, it’s one of the things that helped clarify my purpose as a writer, and not “just” a blogger.

But in some ways, last year’s SOBCon was, well, a lot like a first date. I mean, there I was meeting these folks for the very first time, and naturally I wanted to present my best foot forward, so to speak. I made sure my shoes were shined (there was a handy machine for that in the men’s room), periodically checked my teeth for wayward bits of breakfast or lunch, and generally did my best to keep that watchword, dignity, in mind. Like I said; a first date.

As far as I know, nothing untoward happened (well, no unwitting faux pas that I can think of, anyway). Thus, mission accomplished. (‘Course, the downside is, being that stiff can make one come across with all the warmth of a piece of wood. Just ask Al Gore.)

But you know what I’ve discovered since then? It’s this: playing the fool isn’t so bad! After all, it’s one reason I can relax and have so much fun with my writing now. If you were to compare my earlier writing style with today’s, you’ll see that I certainly have a lot more fun - and consequently have made lots more friends over the last year - simply because I don’t mind acting silly.

Yep; there’s a lot to be said for being upright and dignified. And yes, as hard to believe as it may sound, I can manage it, if necessary. But, if you want to see the real me, well, just give me minute!

So how about it, folks? Are you sometimes afraid of letting go? Are you afraid of making a fool of yourself? Does clinging to your dignity occasionally cause you to miss out on having a good time?

Don’t you wish, for once, you could hear the sand go arf, arf, arf?

________________________

OK; I know it’s a bit late, but if you’d like to come to SOBCon08, there’s still time to register (it’s May 2-4 in Chicago); just click the link for more details. If you do make it this year, come tap me on the shoulder and introduce yourself. Just look for the hat.

You know, it would just be absolutely finer than a frogs hair if you would subscribe to my RSS feed!

[NOTE: After the last two day’s exhaustive post (I don’t know about you, but I’m bushed!), I thought we might just have a quickie today.]

Have you ever gone to the trouble to thoroughly research something, expending tremendous effort to resolve an issue? Then, when you’ve gone as far as you can go, you just can’t help the feeling there’s something missing? Something, well, obvious staring you right in the face?

Don’t you just hate it when that happens?

Take the case of the Bedouins. In 1969, four scientists (all non-Bedouins) wondered why a group of Bedouins they knew all wore black robes and herded black sheep through the deserts of the Negev, one of the hottest places on Earth.

To the uninitiated, this would seem to be counterproductive, since even junior-high science students know that dark-colored objects absorb more sunlight that light-colored ones, causing them to get hotter. On the other hand, you’d think Bedouins would know the best ways to manage heat, right? After all, they lived there.

So, since they were, you know, scientists, they conducted an experiment, measuring the amount of heat that passed inwards towards the body of a nameless, but heroic, volunteer. While standing in the hot sun of the Negev, his body temperature was measured while he wore 1) a black robe, 2) a similar, but white, robe, 3) an army uniform, and 4) shorts.

As expected, the black robe absorbed more heat than the white one, reaching a much higher temperature (see the diagram). What was surprising, though, is the body underneath did not get any hotter! Our intrepid researchers discovered a black robe dissipated heat more quickly than a white robe, thus equalizing the heat to the wearer.

But if they’re equal, you ask, then why black and not white? Well that, as it turned out, is an animal of a different color.

We now turn to one of my favorite websites, Improbable Research (tagline: Research that makes people LAUGH and then THINK). There’s a note from investigator Mike Adams, who writes about that report, and he says, “Many years ago I heard Knut Schmidt-Nielsen, famous for his work on adaptations to desert conditions, talk about this. He said that he finally asked the Bedouins why they used black wool.

Their answer? ‘All of our goats are black’.”

Moral of the story: If your research subject can talk, well, it probably wouldn’t hurt to just ask ‘em!

You know, it would just be absolutely finer than a frogs hair if you would subscribe to my RSS feed!

So, I was at the George Bush Intercontinental Airport earlier this week, preparing to board that big silver bird once again. (It’s company business; a week-long convention out West.)

When it comes to airports, I tend to be something of an early bird. (I would hate to miss a flight because I didn’t allow enough time to get through security.) It was a good thing, too - the lines were rather long this time. Once inside, though, I headed for one of the many food courts to get something to drink.

While standing in line at Wendy’s, I noticed this young woman a couple of places ahead of me. She wore jeans, tan leather sandals, and a maroon T-shirt. No big deal, of course, but her T-shirt gave me a bit of a pause: it read, “No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem.”

Actually, I suppose one could take that in multiple ways. Was she, for instance, expressing a desire to chuck the shirt and shoes and parade through life (or at least the airport) topless and barefoot? Was she perhaps unaware of the inherent contradiction between the message and reality? (Think about it.) Or was it something even more ridiculous - she gave it no thought at all?

Now, I don’t know about you, but it astonishes me sometimes what some folks are willing to hang on their bodies!

Not long ago, while standing in line to renew my driver’s license, a young man ahead of me had on a T-shirt that proudly proclaimed, “Angry young pregnant woman” on it. And to think he was about to immortalize that on his license for at least two years! Hey, I’m sure you’ve seen worse.

But it’s like that guy I read about once, who applied for some job (whatever it was). After he filled out and turned in his application, naturally the company Googled him. (Er; you did realize that happens, didn’t you?) Guess what? They found his blog, where he cheerfully proclaimed to the world that he loved, among other things, “death”! They, um, weren’t amused.

Anyway, it’s just a thought, since I’m a bit out of pocket this week. But don’t panic! Like my buddy Ahnold used to say - “I’ll be back!”

You know, it would just be absolutely finer than a frogs hair if you would subscribe to my RSS feed!

The other day, as I was sitting in a plane and waiting to back away from the terminal, my eyes began to wander around the nearby tarmac. I noticed a couple of the ground crew walking around, doing whatever the heck ground crews do as a plane prepares to move: wave their arms a lot, walk around authoritatively, maybe even drive some weird-looking piece of equipment around. (”Hey, lookit me; I get to drive this portable conveyor belt around and you don’t!”)

But one of the guys stepped right on it - and that’s when I noticed what appeared to be small metal manhole covers embedded flush with the concrete surface; three of ‘em in a row (something like the one pictured here). Nothing special about ‘em; I suppose they were just some of the gizmos associated with the care and feeding of your average jet airliner.

Anyway, as I was idly staring at them, I finally noticed there was something embossed in their metal rims. I looked closer, and finally made out the words. “Culligan & McMillan” was stamped around the rim’s arc on one side, and “Garden Grove, CA, USA” was on the opposite side. Hmph.

And then - it suddenly struck me (sound of dull thud); here was something really interesting! See if you can follow me on this one.

Y’know, I bet those airport guys have walked across these metal covers about a bazillion times since this airport was built. I bet other folks on other planes just like this one have seen ‘em too. I wonder, though: how many have ever given any thought as to who made these things?

Let’s go a bit further, even. I bet back when the airport was first built, very few, if any, contractors paid much attention to the name on these things either. In fact, were I a betting man (and I’m not!), I’d be willing to bet that, except for the person or persons who bought them in the first place, absolutely nobody has given the maker a second thought since.

So, what does it all mean, you ask?

Well, lemme ask ya this: Why would the manufacturer bother to put their name on something probably very few people will ever see? I mean, it’s not quite the same thing as putting up a billboard on a freeway somewhere and having a million eyes a month pass it by. Chances are, very few eyes have ever even noticed them, much less made the effort to read the inscriptions.

And another thing - it costs money to make the molds that put those letters on the metal rims, too. Why bother, if no one will ever read them?

While you’re working on your answer, I’ll give you mine: They didn’t care who knew about it - they were still proud of what they did!

It makes for an interesting parable, don’t you think?

You know, it would just be absolutely finer than a frogs hair if you would subscribe to my RSS feed!