Considering a Kindle

Many years ago, on a blog that no longer exists, I wrote a post about "Picard Syndrome." I wish I still had access to that post, but it wouldn't matter because my conclusions would be dated.

Yesterday, after having a conversation with someone via Twitter and then with a friend via email, I remembered Picard Syndrome and I googled the phrase and found this interesting blog post about it.
 
Picard Syndrome got it's name from Gary North who wrote an essay titled as such, maybe seven or eight years ago. The syndrome is named after Picard from Star Trek: The Next Generation (which I've never seen). One character reads digital books, but Picard is still enamored with bound books.

I've felt this way myself for the first 42 years of my life. I'm 43 now.

When I first heard about the Kindle, I was intrigued. But it looked bulky. Would I really sit in my recliner with an electronic gadget and read a book on it? Could I ever get used to that? And what about the smell? I love the way books smell.

Along came the Sony e-Reader and the Nook.

And then yesterday, we had the announcement that the iPad was coming soon. I saw one person on Twitter pronounce the death of the Kindle. You can read many similar pronouncements in this article.

I have no idea if the iPad will kill the Kindle. I can only speak for myself. For the first time since e-readers became available, I'm thinking seriously about getting one. And my first choice would be a Kindle.

As I write this post, I'm look around at the walls of my house -- nearly all of which are filled with bookshevles full of books. In fact, last night I took some to a local bookstore to cash them in. I have between 500-1,000 books. A Kindle2 holds 1,500 books. Much like my iPod made CDs a thing of the past because it allowed me to carry all of my music around in my pocket, the Kindle could do the same thing for me. Although I doubt that I"ll ever really replace every bound book. It would be difficult, logistically speaking, and impractical.

You can see where I'm going with that though. Why tie up so much space in my home when conceivably I could take some of it back by simply using an e-reader in which I could store more books than I currently own?

But what about the feel and smell of books?

I'm starting to believe both are over rated.

A couple of years ago, I edited a novel for a publishing company. They sent it to me in a .pdf file and I printed it -- all 500 or so pages. Five pages into the novel I was completely engrossed in the story. I didn't miss out on the experience. It was a great book even though it wasn't bound and printed.

Whenever I buy a book, I look through the stack of that particular title for the one in the best physical condition -- no blemishes on the book cover, no visible dent marks, no bent pages, no pages with lighter printing than other pages, etc. The truth is, nearly ever book I've ever purchased has a blemish somewhere. I just don't see it right away. Sometimes the binding breaks, sometimes the paper doesn't feel right, sometimes the book doesn't even smell like a book.

We like the notion of feel and smell, but in reality, neither offer a pure experience. In a sense, I've treated bound books like I do with a lot of things in life I over romanticize. Books are about information and/or entertainment. Information and entertainment happen as a result of the words in the book, not the packaging.

#97 Family Videos

Continuing with the 100 life-enriching little nuances series…

On Christmas Day in 1996, my family on my dad’s side opened gifts at my grandmother’s house.

Grandma had one of those huge camcorders that looked like something a news crew might use (pretty much like the one pictured) while covering a breaking story. I used it to record our gift exchange.

The minute the final gift was opened, my dad waded up some gift wrapping paper and fired it at his wife. She returned fire, and it was on. My brother, Mark, didn’t need any more incentive than that and he joined the fight.

"Grandma, I got a Nintendo!" my niece said, not caring that her family was throwing wadded up gift wrapping paper at each other.

Dad fired at one of my sisters. She objected, playfully, but to no avail. Then it became every man for himself. At one point, my brother launched one at me and it hit the camera.

“Hey!” I said, not having a dog in the hunt.

Dad re-focused his attention on his wife, even calling out to my brother for reinforcement.

“Get her Mark!” Dad said. “I’ll get her from this side and you get her from that side.”

My grandma, watched from a chair across the room with a smile on her face. She was the queen of horseplay, so she must have felt like the baton had been passed on to next few generations.

I checked with my family yesterday and they are fine with me sharing a clip from the video:



I watched the video again yesterday several times and it brought a huge smile to my face. I can’t imagine not having access to it, or any other videos I recorded over the years. It is so much better than my memory. The videos captures hair styles, clothing, laughter, mannerisms – the things I may have forgotten.

Obviously, technology has changed since 1996. I have never bought a camcorder myself, but I have had several digital cameras that record video and I’ve recorded dozens if not hundreds of family functions over the years.

Yesterday, I saw a flip digital camcorder for $46.00. I didn’t buy it because I don’t know enough about digital camcorders yet to know if that particular one would have been any better than the video I can shoot with my digital camera, but once I’m convinced, I will buy one.

And years from now, no matter where I am or what I am doing, I’ll be able to click the play button on those videos and they will transport me back to another era.

An Afternoon at Panera Bread

Yesterday afternoon, I went to Panera Bread to work on an editing project. I'm always fascinated by what is going on around me while I'm there. Customers either don't realize how much their voices carry or they don't care.

The first group of people who sat down not far from me consisted of two females and one male. One of the women said to the man, "I thought you said you don't do karaoke." Then she sang YMCA. Eventually the man stood up and did a variation of what looked to be a cross between The Robot and break dancing.

Minutes after they left, two women sat down at the same table. They were quiet talkers. I heard the words "summer," "pacific," "days," "trees" and it made me think they were talking about an upcoming vacation. With all the snow we still have on the ground, it's certainly understandable why they might be dreaming about getting away.

The place was completely quite for a while, except for the chatter of employees.

Finally, a man and woman sat down at the same table the other two groups sat previously. The woman began to talk about sick days. Shortly into their conversation, the man's cell phone rang, quite loudly, and oddly he spoke much louder into the phone than he did when speaking to the woman seated across from him. From the sound of his conversation, his car was in the shop and he was talking to somebody about it. The call got dropped somehow and a couple of minutes later, his phone began ringing again. It took him several rings to pick it up. He finished his conversation and hung up.

"Hot Chai" shouted one of the workers.

Unbelievably, a couple of minutes later, the man's phone began to ring again -- maybe five times before he finally picked it up. I'm guessing he doesn't know he can set his phone to vibrate. I wish he did. They finished their meal and left.

The sounds of soft jazz playing over the PA system replaced the loud ringing telephone.

"Hey Mike, how are ya?" said a worker to a customer.

Then silence.

Ahhh. Silence.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Either bread or coffee or something must have been ready because the beeping wouldn't stop.

Two hours into my attempt to get more work done by escaping my office, I packed up and headed back for the office. As much as I love people watching (I really do) and the ambiance of Panera Bread, I'm thinking I need to start frequenting a library if I really want to get some work done.

When Little Things Become Bigger Things

This blog is named Little Nuances for a reason. I believe that life is in the details -- in the small decisions we make, in the phrases that move us, in the lyrics that speak to us, in the questions people ask us, in the seemingly routine events.

A few years ago, an editor asked me to write a sports inspirational book. We brainstormed ideas for sections I'd cover. He wanted a section about NASCAR. I had never watched a NASCAR race in my life. I didn't know anything about it, but when an editor comes to you with a book idea, you listen. And, when necessary, you do some research.

I watched the final three NASCAR races of the 2005 season. The final race blew me away when two competitors raced each other hard, and clean, to the finish line. Afterward, Mark Martin, the guy who came up short, spoke about racing his opponent clean and I could tell from his voice and mannerisms that there was a certain honor in that. And I could tell from the way he spoke that other people in the industry had a ton of respect for him. I became a NASCAR fan and a Mark Martin fan that night. 

Five years later, I have interviewed and written about drivers such as Bobby Labonte, Sam Hornish Jr., David Reutimann, Brad Coleman, Morgan Shepherd and Eric McClure. I've also interviewed and written about other people in and around the industry. None of that would have happened if I hadn't met an editor years prior who liked my work and offered me a book contract.

The funny thing is, the book was never released. The distribution fell through and the publisher pulled the plug. There wasn't any hard feelings though. They paid me for the book and I've written other books for the editor since then.

Yesterday, the UPS man rang my doorbell and dropped off a box. I opened it and inside I found my contributor copies of Chicken Soup for the Soul: NASCAR. In it, on page 162 you can find my contribution titled, "How Mark Martin Turned Me into a NASCAR Fan." The book will be released on February 16.

Dating Book Passages

A couple of weeks ago, I grabbed a book off my bookshelf because I wanted to quote a passage from it in something I was writing. I underline passages so I can find them under such circumstances. I found the passage I was looking for and for some reason I had written a date next to it in the margin. Seeing the date gave me context. It helped me remember what was going on in my life when I read that passage.

It gave me an idea to begin writing the date in the margin of every book I read at the beginning of each reading session. I did that as I read Open by Andre Agassi. I'm doing it now as I read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller. In the years to come, as I flip through these books I'll have context for the passages that spoke to me and I think they'll mean more to me.

The Soundtrack of Life

If somebody were to ask you to put together a 12-song sound track of your life, what songs would go on it?

I'm not talking about songs you love or even like necessarily; instead I'm talking about songs that are just part of who you are. They gave a voice to some emotion you were feeling or they were background music for some period in your life and the second you hear the first note, you remember.

Here's what would go on mine:

Dream On by Aerosmith: The song came out in 1973. I was seven years old. I didn't actually know the song until I was probably 14 or so, but Aerosmith became my favorite group and this song was the main reason. I thought Steven Tyler was so cool and I just loved their music. When I went to work at a fast food restaurant, all of us had our own cup we used and re-used for soda pop throughout our shift. The name I wrote on the masking tape on my cup was "Steven Lee Tyler." Pretty ridiculous, but hey, that's where I was at the time in my life.

Baby Come to Me by Patti Austin and James Ingram. I had a girlfriend in high school who deemed this our song. I never liked it much, but I've heard worse. I can't hear it now though and not think about those days.

Purple Rain by Prince. This was sort of a transition song for me. It came out in 1984. I graduated from high school that year. I saw the movie, that shares the same name, twice in one day -- once in a movie theater with a female friend who adored Prince and then later that night at a drive-in theater with some friends, including a former girlfriend. After I started working at the fast food place, this song became our anthem as we cleaned the place after we closed. We'd pull out the boom box, pop in the tape, and blast it.

Hello by Lionel Richie. I was in college when this came out. Whenever I heard it, I thought of a woman I was into at the time. One day, while playing in the final of a tennis tournament on campus, this song came over the PA. I'm a sappy romantic at heart and I drew inspiration from the song as I thought about the woman I was interested in -- especially since I was there alone and the other guy had a small cheering section. I won the match, and the tournament, and then I told the woman about it. She wasn't impressed or interested, but I'll always have "Hello."

Like a Virgin by Madonna. Another song that came out when I was in college. It was on the radio non-stop as I drove to and from class every day. I can still hear it as I drove down 24th Street toward home one day. I don't know why, but my mind took a snapshot of that moment and stored the photo in my permanent memory banks. I didn't really like the song a whole lot, but when I think about college, I think about this song.

Faithfully by Journey. So, this one involved another woman. Sensing a recurring theme here? Said woman and one of her friends and I went to see Journey perform in Lincoln, Nebraska. This would have been 1986 or so. I was into said woman more than she was into me. But, we were there, sitting together and during this song, as Steve Perry belted out the chorus, I slipped my arm around her. A couple of weeks later, I got the fateful note/letter -- remember those? -- telling me she just wanted to be friends. But for one night, I got swept up in the moment provided by Journey. And things were good.

Alone Again by Dokken. I went to an outdoor music festival with a friend around 1986. Dokken was one of the bands. I didn't really know their music, but they sang a ballad that was dripping with emotion called "Alone Again" and I was hooked. The lyrics and the feel of the song really grasped the way I was thinking and feeling at the time.

That's What Friends are for the cover version by Dionne Warwick and friends. This song became one of those songs that define a relationship that was hard to define. It also became a privately shared knowing between us whenever it came on the radio.

Every Rose Has its Thorn by Poison. I was never a real song writer, but for a while, in the late 80s I played the guitar a little and wrote about a dozen songs. I learned how to play "Every Rose Has its Thorn" although I'm not sure I ever learned it all the way through. But I could play most of it and it sounded pretty good. One night, I had a group of friends over and one of my friends brought a woman who knew the words to this song. So, she sang along as I played. We wouldn't have won any awards, but it was fun.

Easy Street by Zwarte. This song came out the same year I became a Christian. Everything I believed was changing. During this same period, a friend and I went to see Zwarte play at a bowling alley every time they came into town. Zwarte's anthem was (and I suspect still is) "Easy Street" -- a song about the perils of choosing the easy way. The song meant a lot to me because it gave a voice to they way I was feeling.

Your Life is Now by John Mellencamp. This song came out in 1998 on Mellencamp's self-titled CD. After my dad died in 2000, this song became a powerful reminder of who I was and how short life is. Mellencamp sings, "Your father's days are lost to you / This is your time here to do what you will do / Your life is now." I felt that. Something about losing a parent makes you realize that your life is now -- it's not some distant dream.

Ohio by Over the Rhine. Last June, I wrote about this song and the emotions it creates in me. When I listen to the song, I think about it from the "Your Life is Now" perspective. So much is changing and my "father's days are lost" to me in the sense that you can never go back. But sometimes, you have to go back -- mentally speaking -- to remember where you came from, and ultimately, to help you see where you are going.

Your turn. What songs would go on the soundtrack of your life?