ABSILVER's World

  (All images courtesy of ChatGPT) I sit here at the Silver Grizzly, drinking coffee. The day before Christmas Eve, as Christmas is Monday.  I have been struggling all week for the top ten predictions for IT. It has been hard to get to ten when the top 9 are all AI-related.  However, I will share more this week. The other change in my life was when I turned 59 a month ago.  I don't know how this snuck up on me.   It's not my birthday because it is on or near Thanksgiving.  So, it would be hard to forget or miss. I carefully hide this from the public and am truly grateful that it is around Thanksgiving.  There is a great holiday to share, and my birthday can easily slip unnoticed.  The older I get, the number goes up, the happier I am about this. That said, 59 is an odd age.  I see celebrities celebrating their 70th birthday, and my reaction is much different as I can see 70 a lot clearer than 40.  I can't say I am mid-life when the oldest person is 117.   It is not that I f

It has been twenty-two years since 9/11, and as we look back on one of the moments in my life I can remember exactly where I was, who I worked for, what I did, and how the country and city I worked near responded. This is a blog I wrote about 9/11 22 years ago.  People say where were you? It is not perfect. No Grammarly applied, no ChatGPT analysis to make it perfect, or even format improvements.  Because, as 9/11 should seem like yesterday, twenty-two years is not that long ago. I don't feel healed, and honestly not sure the country has either. I am in Las Vegas for an IBM conference, something I have done numerous times since and before 9/11. As Frank kindly drove me to DFW, we saw a sign on a Whataburger that said we remember 9/11.  I wonder if they remember 9/11 and the immediate aftermath. A country in the horror of attacks that spanned more than the Twin Towers, as well as the Pentagon and Pennsylvania.  A country that forgot who was a Democrat or Republican.  A country that

Behold:  To be or not to be Bald! Sitting here on a Sunday, after a nice brunch near Longview and an extra cup of coffee, I am left with a smirk.  We picked up Frank's stepmom, Norma, and went to Brunch.  On the way, with his sister Leslie to pick Norma up, we saw a man watering his yard standing there naked.  This was not his first time, as there were no tan lines.  It made us all chuckle, and we were concerned on the way home that we may see the other half, but we did not. This also made me think about other entertaining ideas, and one started in my head this morning.  There is much discussion about being bald.  There is much investment in the issue of the lack of hair.    There are a number of different treatments, such as Rogaine, hair transplants, and even the odd toupee.   So, I decided, as a bald man, to share my top reasons I am happy that I am bald and the five reasons I wish I had hair. If you read to the bottom, you will read how I feel. The Top Five Benefits of Being Ba

  We live in a time when we feel we don't have much control over our lives.  We can't change the weather.  Can't change the electors, can't change managers. I spend, possibly too much energy, focusing on things I do control so I can respond to those things I don't and surprises.  Here are a few things I remind myself, and you may also want to consider: 1) I control what pictures I post on Facebook, Instagram, or any site or text.  If I don't like a picture of myself, I don't share it.  If it makes me look old, sad, or mad, or the few hairs I have are a mess, I choose to share or delete. Why? Because these pictures have a long, long life.  How often do I see a suggestion from Facebook or Google about pictures in my past that are memories I wish were forgotten? 2) I control what I eat.  Sometimes this is good for me, and sometimes it is not.  The Kroger here some days puts out individual donuts in the case, and sometimes not, quite unpredictable.  For a while,

  I would like to do an odd top ten. It has been a long time since I have done one, so here it goes.  I didn't start with a theme in mind, but as you read it, you may notice a theme after all. 1) If you think turning on your turn indicator while turning is the point, you are wrong.  Or, more importantly, you have yet to be a pedestrian crossing that intersection.  The point of using your turn indicator is not to show off as you turn but to let us all know what you will do ahead of time to keep us all safe. 2) If you want to complain to me but don't want to solve what you are complaining about, please don't.  I have spent most of my career trying to fix problems and move the ball forward.  Nothing is more frustrating than hearing complaints, giving good advice, and realizing that all the person wanted to do was complain. 3) Generative AI, led by ChatGPT, Google Bard, and Meta's LLAMA2, creates a unique moment in history.  It will change the jobs of white-collar workers i

  Another First Father’s Day. 58 years ago, around this date, I celebrated my first Father’s Day. I don’t remember that one as I was about seven months old. This one is my first Father’s Day since my Dad passed, and there is much to share about my Dad. June is sort of my Dad’s month. It starts with his and my Mom’s anniversary, which would have been their 64th anniversary. There is, of course, Father’s Day, and then his birthday was June 24th. So, June this year has many dates to remember my Dad. That said, I am diverted to memories from yesterday evening. I was going to Savannah to see my Mom, my sister, and my family and to “check” in. I was lucky to find a reasonably priced flight from Longview, Texas. The only airline to choose is American. To say that American Airlines didn’t show their best service yesterday is an understatement, especially in the last leg of my journey out of Charlotte, but that is not the point of this Father’s Day. After a few delays and odd gate changes

I have a secret to share. There are times I have had a few of them to keep quiet.   There was a time at a business meeting outside of Atlanta, near the big chicken, when admitting that I was Jewish didn't seem like a good idea. Or the time driving through Knoxville when the radio in my rental was stuck on a station that was speaking about the subsequent civil war and the white people will rise again. There are numerous times in conversations for work, in particular, where the comments about partners come up, and you wonder if they know I am talking about Frank, and I wonder about others on the call. It doesn't seem necessary to describe my life and family, but I sometimes feel like one toe is in the closet without explaining more about my life.   But today, my confession is a bit sarcastic and a bit serious. You see, Frank and I live in East Texas. No, that is not the confession, although, as a Gay Jew, it might be. We get up and do some very odd things. See, we have a cat and

It is a random Sunday in Longview, Texas.  The weather this April has been odd.  One day it feels closer to summer, and then days like today, you could mistake it for a cool fall day, except for all the green leaves.  We woke up this morning to 53-degree weather, and going down to 45 tonight.  Instead of leaving early for a long walk on a Sunday, it was a bit wet.  I spent the early part of the morning unloading the dishwasher, making coffee, and starting a load of laundry.   Not a bad way to start the morning, as yesterday was a day for cooking as we were entertaining the family yesterday evening.  We are very lucky with Frank's sister Jennifer and brother-in-law Greg around the corner, his Mom a few steps further, and his sister Leslie, maybe 15 minutes away.  Jennifer and Greg have a great back porch, and we have enjoyed a few beers and dinners at their home of late, and it was definitely past our turn to have the family over.  Also, after so many months of back and forth to Sav

  When I was a child. My Grandpa would walk to synagogue on Saturday, Shabbos, morning. Their house was a block or two from ours. If you went to synagogue (Shul), and walked with Grandpa, you also got to have lunch with him and Granny at their house. I loved walking with Grandpa and talking about the world. His advice and stories, like the time he explained to me, he couldn’t understand smoking. Even as a young man, the idea of sucking smoke out of something burning to him didn’t seem wise. He was also a great company for me at Shul. I remember how it was pleasant to be with him. He made me feel special and treated me more like an adult. While the other kids ran around the social hall, I only wanted to sit next to him. At first, he wanted me to be more social and would ask me to go to Junior congregation where the kids prayed. But, eventually, he figured out my secret. I just wanted to be there with him. It was a great treat to walk home with him and usually Mr. Rotkow. We would get to