Randal L. Schwartz

Holley Thompson - 29 Dec 1962 to 22 Mar 2009

Jun 7, 2009
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I've been meaning to catch up with my friend Holley, whom I first met around 1990 when she started handling my travel arrangements for my frequent business trips. The short "I'm flying to New York" conversations got longer as we chatted and flirted, until I eventually figured out that I should accept her invitation to go skiing with her someday.

In my second year of skiing, she needed a tenth person to round out a GS Racing team. She said it didn't matter that I was still snowplowing down the green-level runs: any tenth warm body would do. She was desperate to get to the finals in Keystone Colorado, and without a team, it wouldn't happen.

Holley Thompson - Racing on Skis

So, I started skiing with her on the race team. Every weekend throughout the season, we'd hit a resort, alternating between local resorts on Mt Hood, and regional resorts in the area. Every weekend, the fastest time for my group would be something like 18 seconds. The second slowest time would be 25 seconds. Mine would be 35. I was the only racer who had not learned to parallel ski.

But I didn't care. It was social, it was fun, it was hot toddies next to the raging fire in the fireplace at the end of the day. And always Holley's warm smile and laughter. That girl could laugh.

While most of the competing teams would hit the Portland weekends, very few of them would make it to the regional races. Thus, because I had stamina (and Holley's travel agent discount for hotels), I was at every race, and accumulated more points than any other male on the team in the low-rung category.

Randal Schwartz - GS Racing Nationals

And thus, ironically, I was chosen to go to nationals, being the best of the worst, purely on points, never having won a single race the entire season. Holley glared at me, because they didn't take her: she won enough races to get into the top division, and was the bottom of the top. I savored that all-expense paid trip to Keystone, and snowplowed my way through the finals, being the only one on the hill who had never parallel-skiied.

Holley and I picked Karaoke as a means of entertainment during the off-season, and began next year with snowboarding. We boarded a couple more years, before I got busy and she went her own way. We hung out with the occasional Karaoke session over the years, but the last time I saw her was probably five years ago.

Her phone number in my iPhone had long been dead... I googled her name occasionally to try to find her. I knew she had a pet boarding/grooming business, and found some old posts with references to that, but nothing current.

On a whim, a couple of hours ago, I googled for her name again, since she had crossed my mind earlier today. I found an obituary, saying she had passed away two months ago. I had to re-read it three times to verify that it was really her. But I'm sure it is. It mentions her then-boyfriend, now apparently husband Mark, and her daughter Shelby.

I guess at age 47, it's time to start thinking that maybe 10% of your friends and loved ones will be gone already. But I really wasn't ready for this one either.

Holley, I will miss you. I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to say goodbye. I hope they have skiing and karaoke where you are, with no waiting.

Goodbye, friend Holley.

No longer metal man -- second surgery successful

Mar 27, 2009
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In case you haven't been following my twitter feed, let me bring you up to date.

I went into surgery eight days ago to remove the metal plate from my left arm, the one that was inserted during my previous surgery five months ago. Ironically, this plate was to reduce the amount of time I would spend healing, but instead intruded itself in such a way that my wrist was unable to fully flex. So the very thing that should've made it possible for me to heal quickly actually prevented me from fully healing.

After spending three days drugged up on OxyContin, I switched to using ibuprofen because I knew that it would reduce the swelling a bit more. I've been taking ibuprofen, typically at three or four doses a day.

This phase of healing is familiar --- I remember the few weeks after the previous surgery where any movement of my fingers would not be immediately felt, but result in an inflammation that was sometimes fairly painful 20 or 30 minutes later. I'm anxious to get started getting the rest of my motion back, but until I get out of this phase where every bit of work results in pain, I'm not directly motivated.

Although I've never been completely away from doing the day-to-day business of my company, obviously being unable to type at full speed and use both of my hands for most of the time has had its toll. And of course, with the economy being what it is, this couldn't have come at a worse time. It's hard enough just finding the good projects, but when it's even harder to respond via e-mail or hack some Smalltalk code because I can't type and hold the control key down and use the mouse all the same time, it's discouraging.

Anyway, I'm hoping this new surgery will do the trick. I get my sutures out next Tuesday, and then I can begin aggressively retraining my muscles and restretching my tendons to give me at first the ability to hold small objects, and then hopefully typing relatively soon thereafter.

I appreciate the kind words that those of you who sent to me during my presurgery jitters and post surgery recovery. It has made going through this difficult time at least a bit easier. Thank you!

As most of you probably know, I produce a podcast with Leo Laporte called FLOSS Weekly. I've been lining up some pretty amazing guests over the past few months in spite of barely being able to type. Using my voice to produce a podcast at least seems like something I can continue to do in spite of my hopefully temporary handicap.

Ray Schwartz - Oct 7 1918 to Dec 25 2008 - goodbye, Dad

Jan 25, 2009
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It's been a month now since my dad passed away, and I think I have enough objectivity to be able to write something up here. This won't be a comprehensive account of his life or what he means to me... just a brief note so that I can refer others when the item comes up in conversation.

Dad made it to the ripe old age of 90. He was suffering in the past few years, but not medically advanced to the point where the VA would let him enter their full-time care facilities. (He dressed himself, and got around slowly with a walker and electric scooter, but he didn't prepare his own food any more.) However, I spent a lot of my time (and some of my money) to make sure he was happy.

He had lived in a house in Lincoln City, a few hours drive from me on the Oregon coast. He'd been there for over 30 years, from shortly after the time of separating from my Mom after they got married to each other for the second time (and that's a story in itself). Even at age 75 and beyond, he was running around town installing UHF antennas on people's roofs, to get "free tv" and get away from paying the ubiquitous cable bill. (It's ironic that those UHF antennas will all be going dark shortly.)

He had taken in the company of other women during those 30 years (mostly young mothers, because he liked the kids), but had spent the last few years lonely and alone, after the last woman left. Tragically, two of his sons (who lived nearby) from the wife before my mother also passed away in these past few years. It's not right that a man buries his own child, but to do it twice in a short period only compounds the pain.

In an effort to bring him closer by to medical aid and constant supervision, I moved him from his home on the coast to a residential care facility near me. I had hoped that he would make friends, and regain the companionship that he had lost by no longer being able to work, but he eventually ended up hating the change, and cried to be returned to his home on the coast, which I did a few months later.

When he moved back to the coast a year ago, I ensured that he was visited (at my expense) twice a week by a nurse, and I also arranged for Andy (a long-time local friend of Dad's) to live in the spare bedroom to keep an eye on Dad when Andy wasn't at work. Andy put up with quite a lot in exchange for his free room and board, but did it with a kind heart and soul. Very moving.

I was able to get down to see Dad only a few times this past year. I noticed on each visit that he was getting more forgetful, more demented, more frail, more ghostly. Just before his 90th birthday, Mom and my brother Russ and I drove down to see him to wish him a happy birthday. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it down on the exact day, so I had to make do with a phone call.

The next visit was Mom, Russ and I again, this time on Thanksgiving Day. As it was quite a production to take Dad anywhere, and his food had to be entirely liquified these days, we didn't take him out, but just visited with him for an hour. He was looking bad enough that I didn't even take any pictures, because I didn't want to remember him looking that way. As always, he was in tears to see us, happy that we kept coming back, and happy for everything that I was continuing to do for him.

He kept asking when he was going to get his driver's license back (which had been taken away two years earlier for failing a mental competency test) so that he could drive around to his favorite places in town. Andy and Mom and I exchanged knowing glances that this could never possibly be the case, so we just replied by smiling and changing the subject.

As we drove away, I was saddened by Dad's current condition, wishing I could do more for him, and feeling helpless in the combination of my broken arm, the broken economy, and a messed-up government system that hadn't recognized that Dad needed more immediate care now. We stopped at the Burger King for lunch... not exactly traditional Thanksgiving food, but expedient and available and reasonably priced.

It was Andy who called me a few weeks later, at 10am on Christmas Day. "Your dad... I found him on his bedroom floor this morning when he didn't come to breakfast." I listened to Andy describe what he could about what he had done since then, and got Andy to give the officer nearby my contact information. I sat and sobbed for a few minutes, then called Mom in Olympia. I gave her the officer's phone number, and she and my other brother Ron handled most of the practical details from there. (Ron had recently dealt with the death of his father-in-law, so I knew he'd have more of the process fresh in his mind.)

This was also particularly rough for Mom because her brother Earl (my closest Uncle) had passed away just a few weeks earlier. We had seen Earl together (at a nursing home nearby) when Mom had come down to visit Dad for Thanksgiving, and Earl too had passed away shortly after. Earl had been like a second father to me when I started my career, although I hadn't had much contact with him in the past few years.

I said I wasn't going to make this long, but I wanted to get the events of the past few months written down while it was fresh in my mind. I'm writing up a longer version in preparation for a spreading of the ashes sometime in the next few months when I can get the extended family together. At Dad's request, we'll spread his ashes somewhere in the Columbia Gorge, the most beautiful area in the world, as soon as I figure out how to do it legally and with respect.

I do want to make it very clear though, to all comers. Everything I am about my insatiable curiosity and work stamina and honesty and integrity started with my father and the lessons he taught me as I was growing up. I owe my life to him, today and always. And in return, I know that I turned out good, because he would remind me each time we met, "Son, I'm damn proud of you".

Dad, I'm damn proud of you too. Thank you for my life. I'm sad that you're gone now, but happy that you're suffering less today than you did a month ago. And you'll always be a part of the stories I tell, of the legend of my father, the great Ray Schwartz. Goodbye, Dad.

Recovering from surgery

Oct 31, 2008
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If you haven't been following my twitter feed, you might not know that I broke my left arm last week while I was having a barbecue party at the house of my friend, Neil Bauman. Neil took me to Stanford Medical Center, where I was diagnosed having broken both of the major bones in my forearm very near the wrist. They put on a cast and told me I had to see a doctor when I got back home to Portland.

When I saw the doctor this past Monday, he told me that I would need surgery to put a plate in my forearm. The surgery happened Wednesday, and I spent most of the past 48 hours in a significant amount of pain during the recovery. Today, I'm feeling better, although I'm groggy from the OxyContin.

I still haven't decided whether I would be up to flying to Rome on Sunday (at least it'll be first-class), as I'm scheduled to be a speaker on Mac mania eight, and all the travel is already paid for. My thinking is that I might as well be on a cruise ship in the Mediterranean with easy access to my friends and room service rather than sitting at home for the same 14 day period --- the biggest issue being whether I can easily navigate the airports with my laptop bag and clothes bag having only one arm. I'm going to test this tomorrow by pre-packing my load and walking around a bit to see if it's too awkward.

Interviewed by Mac Developer Roundtable

Oct 11, 2008
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Last week, I was interviewed by the Mac Developer Roundtable, and apparently the show has been published. I haven't listened to it yet, so if they made me sound foolish, I'm sure it's completely authentic. {grin}

I was quite impressed by the production technology—they use "double ender" recording, which means that each of us recorded our respective ends of the Skype call, and then we all upload it to Scotty. It's a lot more work for him to do it that way, but we all end up sounding "live" instead of "via Skype".

Happy 90th Birthday, Dad!

Oct 7, 2008
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Ray Schwartz, aka "Dad"
Originally uploaded by randal-schwartz.

My dad turns 90 today. Happy birthday!

Rocky Mountain National Park: Pano 3

Aug 25, 2008
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Rocky Mountain National Park: Pano 3
Originally uploaded by randal-schwartz.

I just finished Chris Marquardt's Learning To See workshop in Ft Collins, Colorado. The workshop included a trip up to the Rocky Mountain National Park for some field work, and I got a few great panoramas and a lot of pictures perfectly suited for desktop images and maybe a few prints.

Arches National Monument, Moab, Utah

Aug 18, 2008
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Arches National Monument, Moab, Utah
Originally uploaded by randal-schwartz.

I'm driving from Las Vegas NV to Ft Collins CO, and decided to stop halfway at Moab UT, which was conveniently close to the Arches National Monument. I snapped this great 80-megapixel panorama just as the sun was setting. Be sure to look in the Flickr groups to which it belongs for other pictures taken in the same trip. Special thanks to Chris Marquardt (Tips from the top floor) for giving me a preview of the Landscape Workshop so I could figure out what I was doing.

When old technology and new technology collide

Jul 17, 2008
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In the late 70s, my friend Alex lived in a house in Southeast Portland (Oregon), and like me, spent a lot of time dialing in at 300-baud to a central computer where we could write programs, but mostly play games. Unfortunately, he had a party line (where neighbors share a common talk path and a distinct ringer), and had to wait for his neighbors to get off the line so he could start his electronic connection, and would be interrupted from time to time when they picked up the phone.

One day, I was over at his house, and wanted to get online, so we picked up the phone to dial it (acoustic coupled, dialed by hand), and heard the neighbors chatting. He quickly cupped the mouthpiece, and we started listening to their conversation, having nothing else better to do. After a few seconds, one of the female voices asked "what was that?". The other female voice said "oh, it's just our neighbors: we're on a party line". (Apparently this was a common thing back then.) The first voice then said "but, doesn't that mean they're listening in?". To which the second replied, "Yeah, but it won't make any difference-- they can't hear us... because all we hear when they're online is a bunch of beeps."

Alex immediately threw the phone back on the hook to keep them from hearing us laugh out loud (literally) for nearly two full minutes.

I swear. Absolutely true. Vivid memories of this. Classic story.