Don't hold your breath

Those little red dots at the top of the world? Those are fires. (Best data on NASA FIRMS.) The big purple, red, and yellow circles? Those are smoke trails. The picture below? The view from my plane of one of the purple areas as I fled Minneapolis earlier this week.

And fossil fuel use continues to grow, with 2025 representing an all time high to date, despite the growth in renewables. There is much worse to come.

ABBOT

Abbatars

A colleague of mine, who, like me, finds herself in London a lot these days, recommended I see there the avatar-first show ABBA Voyage. I am a fan of the band and am intrigued by the concept, which is to record a concert using holograms of the famous four as they appeared, and played, at their peak. There are many great groups I have never seen perform and even the most on-it musicgoer has inevitably missed legendary performances that might, surely, be worth experiencing in a sort of super 3D recording? I truly wanted this to work, and maybe it would have if I hadn't been reminded, the night before, of what a live show is really all about.

I'd decided to see ABBA Voyage on Saturday night, but, before buying my ticket, I texted a local friend to see what they were up to. As it happens, they already had plans to see an ABBA-themed show, the dinner theater, sing-along, unabashedly campy Mamma Mia! The Party. I believe that when invited by a local to a local event the only right answer is Yes. This offer challenged that belief: about the last thing on earth I would volunteer to spend time doing is eating terrible food while drunken idiots, egged on by hack performers, mangle songs I love. Still, when in Rome. So it was I found myself later that day, full of dread, on the Jubilee line to the O2 stadium complex.

Maybe it was my lowest of low expectations, or perhaps the cheery company of my friend and his family, and certainly the actually quite decent prosecco we started the evening with helped...in any case, I enjoyed every moment of this three hour show. It was cleverly staged and orchestrated, performed competently and with seeming enthusiasm, and the food, to my great surprise, was decent. Above all, it was rapturously received by the audience, many of whom, statistics show, were repeat customers. ABBA's music stirs deep emotions in me and even this performance of their songs--sung in fragments by B string talent accompanied by tables full of increasingly drunken bachelorette parties--touched a chord. I was reminded of how much I really do love the band and, carried on a tide of prosecco-fueled enthusiasm, bought a hundred GBP ticket to ABBA Voyage for the next night.

Maybe it was my elevated expectations, or perhaps the fact that I was alone at what is clearly also a destination for bachelorette parties, but ABBA Voyage fell flat for me in almost every respect. The audio quality was mediocre (I get a more lifelike sound from my tube stereo at home), a good chunk of the show was dedicated to what appeared to be a side quest from the Legend of Zelda, and the recorded performances of the avatars communicated nothing of the human pathos behind the songs: without the feeling it simply isn't ABBA. The show is a one trick pony, though that trick, an immersive visual experience that used not only state of the art simulation on the stage but also clever lighting effects throughout the entire theater, is a good one.

But above all what this concert lacked was the literally vital link between the performers and their audience which is, I'd argue, the reason most of us go to see live music. The fact that the audience only came alive a good third of the way into the show, when the actually live accompanying band was given front stage for a song or so, was the clearest possible evidence of this. Indeed, even the recording of ABBA's famous but frankly underwhelming performance of Waterloo at the 1974 Eurovision Song Contest, projected on giant screens at one point during the show and embedded for you below...

...had more life in it than did the brilliantly crafted puppets on stage. The directors' transparent attempts to bridge the gap between the undead and the living by having the avatars speak directly to the audience, as the band might well have done had they been there in person, only made things worse. Indeed, I found the repeated thanks of a prerecorded avatar to be simply repulsive. Expressions of gratitude from a bot cannot achieve even insincerity.

I would still pay good money (though not that much good money) to see large-screen projections of recorded live shows, but I will never again waste any money on a simulated performance. The experience taught me that much, and more, it helped me understand the fears and consternation people express at the thought of human content creation being replaced, as increasingly it is, by AI "slop." It's not that the AI output is lacking in quality, but that, however high the quality, the AI creator cannot ever care about how you received it or whether you truly want more. When I respond emotionally to ABBA's songs, I am forming a bond with a person whom I will never meet and who is at that moment far away in time and place. That bond is real and is why I love ABBA and am, with them, grateful for the music.

The Crash

An ironic casualty

One of our boys was in a car crash recently, eventually arriving not at his intended spring break destination but back here, in the bedroom he grew up in. He returned to us stitched and stapled together, covered in blood and scrapes, dazed and exhausted. Every parent's second-worst nightmare.

How to process this harrowing experience? My immediate feelings are a strange mix of relief, anger, fear, and, periodically throughout the day, an overwhelming desire to blank it all out with sleep. Contemplation resurrects deep memories of a time I terrified a parent and, reflecting on that, I determine not to add psychic damage to my child's wounds by showing my own. Between visitors and our bandaging regime there's plenty of distraction in any case, and, as it happens, life has gone on these past couple of weeks with even more intensity than usual. The victim recovers steadily and after a while we send him away again, hoping he doesn't show too many scars, even while left with our own.

A Future We Choose

Speaking of believing in the future, the United Nations Environment Programme has just released an updated "Global Environment Outlook," subtitled A Future We Choose. These reports are the fruit of a magnificent on-going act of scientific collaboration. Hundreds of scientists from a plethora of disciplines and countries have worked across the decades to produce a single point of view which they summarize as follows:

The report finds that investing in a stable climate, healthy nature and land, and a pollution-free planet can deliver trillions of dollars each year in additional global GDP, avoid millions of deaths, and lift hundreds of millions of people out of hunger and poverty in the coming decades.

Following current development pathways will bring catastrophic climate change, devastation to nature and biodiversity, debilitating land degradation and desertification, and lingering deadly pollution – all at a huge cost to people, planet and economies.

So there you have it: prosperity or catastrophe. The evidence has never been clearer, the costs are increasing by the day, and the solutions are well understood and are known to be economically and technically entirely feasible. Global surveys show that, no duh, people prefer prosperity And yet, as best I can tell, this report, the seventh and best of its kind, has received even less notice than any of its predecessors, a direct result of the dismantling of the US government's sensory organs and of the general stifling of environmental discourse that is being driven by the maimed parts of that government still in operation. Of all its many, many crimes, this is the Administration's worst and the one for which we will all pay the most and the longest. I saw this coming a long way off but watching it happen is horrifying beyond what I ever imagined.

Day 7499

My wedding ring fell apart a few days ago. A portent? No, but certainly a reminder that my marriage, like the artifact that symbolizes it, could use some care and attention. Nor is it the only such: the day counter stopped working some time back and was put in the project pile where, now that I think of it, Talia's engagement ring has been languishing for years and years. Well here's one thing fixed, anyway:

The days go on

I don't propose to fix my wedding ring myself but will instead take it back to the goldsmith who made it when next I visit Amsterdam. In the meanwhile it's still wearable and, in its shaky state, serves as a constant and welcome reminder to show more love to my sweet wife. 

Happy day 7500, Talia. You are better and more true than gold.

Happy Birthday, Nurit (aka "The Long Play")

Aren't you excited to have another birthday?

Talia has a special skill: compliment her on an item in the house or a piece of clothing she is wearing and she will immediately tell you who gifted it or in what shop, online or off, it was purchased, and when. I, lacking memories not written out in this blog, am wowed every time she does this trick. I suspect this skill is inherited because Talia's mother, Nurit, can likewise detail the provenance of her possessions. Further, she builds on this to do something even more impressive: she produces objects--critical artifacts for ceremonies, gifts purchased decades ago, the right tool for the job--exactly when they are most appropriate or needed. This implies that she not only knows where things come from but also where they are and, in some cases, that she first acquired them with this eventual use in mind.

There is a lot to like about my mother-in-law but I particularly admire this ability to produce a carefully stored item at the moment it is most needed. It demands organizational skill, careful planning, and, most special, the ability to imagine yourself at a specific juncture in the far future which, I assert, is a rare act of imagination: yes, we all think about the future and some of us even make plans, but most of us don't really believe in a time that is not now but is then.

Nurit does and so do I, but unlike Nurit there's not a chance I will remember where I buried a time capsule without written instructions, so, note to self: if you are looking for books and toys for eventual grandchildren they are in the eaves of the barn, the pictures of the framing of our rebuilt house before the drywall went up are in the folder labeled--wait for it...--"Behind the drywall at 10 Court," and the ketubah is, hmmm, well somewhere in the archive I'm sure.

Family Xmas letter 2025

Stuck in the snow

Each year in December our postbox fills with annual updates from you, our readers and friends who still remember how to use stamps, pens, and a calendar. Thank you all for the inspiration and reminders: it's time for our own wandering excuse for a Family Xmas Letter in which, as usual, we share some dog photos plus a few more or less cryptic personal updates all of which are technically not untrue. Here's a few such enriched with hyperlinks: Talia closed the construction permit for our rebuild, shut down the AIDS Ride, was appointed Town Treasurer in a party line vote, and started working at Guide Dogs for the Blind where her colleagues (presumably the four-legged ones) might have given her fleas. Felix shot an invasive wild boar and buried its head in our yard, then graduated high school and left for college where he appears to be double majoring in digital pinball and sleeplessness. Gideon spent the summer as a teacher's assistant, totally dominated Spotify's global "Wrapped" on some leaderboard of his own invention, and has only been cited by the police once this year for the not uncommon crime of ignoring a stop sign while biking. Alec invented the "Would You Rather" game ("would you rather have Felix at dinner with us or a side Caesar salad?" now be honest), has learned to floss before brushing, and has a new least favorite bird, the Great Horned Owl (seriously, shut up already, I'm trying to make memories!). And then there's Qubit, for whom nothing changes and who therefore has no news to report...but that's not going to prevent her from participating in this year's experimental probably one time only day-in-the-life format. Enjoy!

QUBIT

me and all love all light all joy monkey

dear dogery today i woke up in a really good mood it was dark and warm in bed and smelled delicious if youre into that kind of smell morning is my favorite time of day scary monkey doesnt seem so scary and random annoying monkey was gone when i got up and i got second sleeps in bed with claims to love me but never walks me monkey his bed is also warm and smells good if youre into that kind of smell dog i love smells but then all love all light all joy monkey left and my world turned into old dog turds the sort that dont even smell interesting and i spent infinite time with negative ideation of the worst sort ever because all separation is forever separation scary monkey took me for a walk but makes me sit down and do other random stuff and i yawn at him chill out monkey but it just makes him mad and reality is a bottomless pit of despair without all love all light all joy monkey what else can you do but sleep so i did and then the greatest miracle ever since yesterday happened all love all light all joy monkey was there somehow and together we were transcendent until after a few seconds i scratched her lightly and she was mad but all love all light all joy and then we were together on the couch and we slept it was the best day ever

TALIA

Talia soup eating Talia's soup

Dear Diary, I'm so happy to have this chance to collect my thou...wait, I have to make pie crusts.... OK, I made seven pie crusts, three for other people to use so they can fake baking. So, Dear Diary, I... have to drive Gideon to school because otherwise his cross country team will run away without him even though he's their most valuable team member, not fast but somehow the oil or something that I guess makes the rest of the team run faster? Anyway, it's hard to find them in the dark, so more later.... I'm back! Dear, dear Diary, actually you're not that dear, not like Qubit, whom I love. Do you know how adorable she is with her little face and also her little body? I wonder if she knows I spend all day with other dogs, sometimes even with puppies, yes, that's right, I work with puppies! They don't understand a word I say, and I'm not sure some of the people I talk to do either, especially the ones I live with, but Qubit understands me, I'm sure she does though somehow she just isn't getting the message about not licking moisturizer off my face which is disgusting for both of us. I'm glad we're getting this time together, Diary, but I have to go because I also am the Town Treasurer which means I have to co-sign checks on certain random days in person between 4:34 and 4:51 and forget it, I'm late, I'll do that tomorrow. Oh, that won't work, tomorrow is Thanksgiving or some similar holiday and I have to cook several turkeys and Town Hall is closed. Good, I'd rather cook turkeys than sign checks, I do enough of that as it is. OMG it's so cold in this house but wait now I'm broiling and my sweater itches, agh life is a torment except I'm asleep and dreaming of making pie crusts because somehow there is never any dessert in this house.

FELIX

Dear Diary, today I woke up in the bright sunshine of San Diego where I wake up every day, delighted to discover that I am at college where nobody can tell me to get out of bed. Actually, I'm going to get out of bed now because there are at least two other people living in this same room and they aren't asleep, they're already up and are noisily playing video games. OK, I kind of miss having my own room. No, wait, diary, I am psyched to be here where I can choose from seventeen different restaurants to eat at though that does mean getting dressed so I guess I'll just cook up something for myself...crap, did you know spices cost money? Oh well, I guess I'd better swerve bike to whatever class the academic planner I vibe coded enrolled me in, not that I actually need to take classes this year because I entered with so many AP credits I'm technically in a master's program. Better not forget my toga, I've got that frat event at noon where I get pied by randos in the interest of public service which makes it totally not hazing. I wonder if a video of me with banana cream filling all over my face will convince mom and dad to pay for my ΣΥΧ dues after all? Uh, no? That's fine, I'm sure I can earn the money gambling at the local casino I went to instead of spending time with the 'rents when they were here visiting for the last time ever. OK, diary, peace out or whatever kids are saying on campus these days probably some indecipherable acronym they send via Yik Yak.

GIDEON

Here's an inspo pic for the fans

Yo diary, 

I'm a B student, I mean I do my homework
Not turned in on time, hand in my own work
I did, did my homework
I did, I didn't hand in my own work

Quingentotorian, plug-in Kia EV (yeah)
My windows not working right its overdue for service
Frunk all up in the dash and the doors (uh-uh)
It's rare that I'm wrong, I think I'm ready for college
What's up? I reflect the tulle fog in the sky
I'm the coldest winter day but it's only NorCal
Chill, play it cool 'till I come and get a little froze on my bike ride to school
Let the P's find the empty tortilla chip bag under the bed after I toss it (woah)

You do improper things, I audit your iPhone
Weak firecrackers I buy in Chinatown burn faster than rubber on spinnin' tires
I'm up early with the birds, I push up in my regimen
Party with the dog, I bet I get to sleep with her tonight

I mean you see the way the scarf around my neck's lookin'
So you already know the way them oil and vinegar checks lookin'
Eh, I put the county on my back
Got it not murder poppin' on these fellow schoolmates
Put the county on the map, yeah

Next tour's a quarter mile run
They hated on the team, but we still won
Uh, I put the county on my back
Got it not pill poppin' on these fellow schoolmates
Put the county on the map, ah

(With apologies to 50 Cent)

ALEC

Learning to use AI

Dear ChatGPT, a few words. Cheapest Pinside machines. Dutch American treaty status. Figs toxicity for horses. Free microwave in La Jolla. Oroblanco grapefruit tree advice. Murphy bed build guide. Find Nike jacket code. Adjust Makita fence tension. Coast redwood in Amsterdam. Flight missed advice. Speakon vs. RCA connectors. Japanese barbers in Bay Area. Dishwasher door seal fix. Selbstbeweihräucherung Erklärung. iPhone app for Discogs. FCA warning troubleshooting guide. Soap impaler explanation. Microwave policy at UCSD. Motherboard inspection observations. Thanks for the inference.

VACATIONS ADVENTURES

We've had a few, most notably the one we're on right now. For this year's winter break we decided to keep things "simple," opting to go to nearby Tahoe for a few days of fun in the snow. Writing, as I was, from a Best Western in Truckee where we were forced to seek shelter after a white-knuckle drive through the season's first serious storm, I'm questioning this approach, but being trapped in a hotel room did give us time for the Letter which, you may have noticed, is going out only a little late. Anyway, here's photos, snowy and not, of the year's ups and further ups:

And there's bonus material! Felix took a with-a-little-help-from-my-mother-self-planned, "yeah, right, sure go to Iceland, oh wow, you're actually there, by yourself, on a bike, traversing a volcanic wonderland, go Felix! Oh wait you missed your return flight did you know it's 2 AM in California well maybe this won't be such a budget experience after all" solo vacation from which this highlight reel supplied by the traveler himself:

 

Clearly Felix should be in charge of making the annual slideshow, hint hint, but that will have to wait for next year. Speaking of which, here's our annual prediction for the year to come: it's going to involve a lot of shoveling. Happy New Year everyone!

The Long Ride

All aboard for Santa Fe!

In the fall of 1986 my parents put me on a train in Springfield, Massachusetts, destination Santa Fe, New Mexico. Three days later I got off in Albuquerque, for in fact there was no train that went to Santa Fe. I don't know if this was understood when I boarded and have no memory of how I completed the 65 miles remaining before arriving, no doubt bedraggled, the very last of the incoming class matriculating to St. John's College, Santa Fe campus.

In the fall of 2025, that is to say earlier this week, I found myself again in Albuquerque with the same 65 miles to go. This time I traveled as a senior member of the research division of a major tech company, an improbable future for the boy who arrived in '86 to study the Great Books, though what the probable future is for a Johnnie I've never known. Happily, in the intervening (*gulp*) 39 years someone has built a train line between the two cities, and so I boarded for the hour-something ride north, completing my journey at last.

As a coda to this story, I saw this advertisement next to my boarding gate for the flight home: 

Time to get another degree?

However I get to Santa Fe, it's always worth the trip.

Rebuilding, part 5

Still a long way to go

When last we reported on our rebuild the house was still particolored on the outside and incompletely finished inside. We had no appliances, no exterior structures (pergola, deck, porch, cleverly roofed chicken shed), and no front door. Today, the job is finished, at least in the technical and not uninimportant sense that our building permit, opened in December 2023 for this project, is now signed off and complete. To celebrate, a final selection of construction photos, below:

We have had this project in mind almost since we first started living here in 2013. We opened consultation with a local architect in 2020, met with Town Planning in the summer of 2023, and demo'd the place in December of that year. In Fairfax, this counts as fast and certainly the outcome is good. Want to see the results? Come visit. 

Sabbatical 2025

My quadrennial sabbatical from work has come and gone, leaving many pretty pictures in my mind and even more on my digital film roll--a selection of the latter, above. A few details for the curious, and for me as I plan my next one:

• I took separate vacations with each boy and with Talia and that was exactly the right thing to do. Dan and I also had our first overland adventure. These trips were mostly mixes of the same key ingredients--camping, seafood, and comraderie--and each featured time on a river (Snoqualmie, Russian, Mattole, and Yuba, in that order). The perfect vacation recipe, I loved every minute. I saw friends who live far away but relatively little of those who are nearby. I apologize to the locals, but I trust this prioritization makes sense to you as it did to me.
• Brekkie readers will not be surprised to learn that I began sabbatical with an aspirational To Do list. The number of items I completed is not large, but I made good progress on many more. As important, I fixed the blockers--cluttered garage space, broken table saw, no personal computer--that were hindering my productivity generally. I face the remaining items with confidence, numerous though they still are. Also a confidence builder, the great if not always real expertise of GPT 5: between that, Youtube, and Amazon I feel prepared to tackle anything.
• I read, of course, though only one book really made me think: Huber's Climate Change as Class War (see here for last sabbatical's reading list). We are, obviously, in the midst of both climate change and class war, and we're losing both, badly. Huber shows that the two are really the same fight against the tiny horrible cadre that runs our current economic system.

I'm back at work now, watching workers finish our new driveway while attempting to reframe my job and trying to get useful results from our enterprise version of ChatGPT. No sawing is required, and I miss it. 

 

20 years

Some ask, "where did all the time go?" I ask, "what happened to all those great shirts?" In memory of some of that clothing, and of a marriage that's just getting going, a photo album: 

Parenting, a history

Let me tell you what I think of you

Felix's high school held its annual "Last Chapter" event the week before last, in which graduating seniors invite those who raised them to celebrate this milestone with a dinner and a bit of ceremony. Talia was in LA on her second AIDS Ride so I went with Felix. After dinner and a few speeches we were all invited to circle up with our Senior for their reading of an obligatory Thank You note, scribbled, in Felix's case, in the library some hours earlier. His note is reliably summarized, and not greatly shortened, by these bullet points:

• I think we can all agree that I mostly raised myself.
• You, my parents, are due some credit for having the wisdom not to interfere in that process too much.
• Peace out.

The note, being brief, left Felix and I time to walk about before the closing class slideshow. As we did, we passed other Seniors who, it seems, needed more time to read the notes they had prepared. Their bullet points, caught in passing, ran along these lines:

• I can't begin to tell you how much I love you
• I can't ever repay you for all you have done
• Everything I have I owe to you

And so forth.

I am not writing this as an offended parent who feels underserved by my child's plaudits. If, in fact, Felix is sui generis (look it up, Felix), then good for us for letting that unfold as it has: the results, as detailed elsewhere, are excellent. However, as a trained historian I cannot let this gross misreading of the historical record go unchallenged. The truth is we taught you a lot, Felix, and here's proof:

We taught you to eat

We taught you to walk

We taught you to read

We taught you to ride

We taught you to slide

We taught you to travel

 

We taught you to dress yourself 

We taught you to sing

We taught you to exercise, or tried to

We taught you to sleep, and believe you me, that took some doing

And on and on and on. The fact that you have elevated and built upon these and the many, many, many other skills we taught you should not lead to a misevaluation of the importance, and difficulty, of establishing a base for them in the first place.

In writing a history that is complete as well as accurate, I must record that Felix did offer additional public feedback on and to his parents during his high school graduation ceremonies the week after. There, with the eyes of the world upon him (photo above and 11m into this video), Felix declared that he loves his mother and father. OK, he said it in Dutch, but trust me, he said it. We houden ook van jou, Felix, maar dat weet je al.

Dear Felix, here is your 18th birthday card

Happy (belated) birthday to you

I don't often write about you, Felix, because you make me intensely proud and I find pride embarrassing. Also, it doesn't make for good copy: you have a 4-and-then-some GPA, you're a captain of the MTB team, you’re handsome and well-spoken and have rizz…but see here we’ve fallen into boasting, and besides, Brekkie readers know these things already, surely? I’ll have to dig deeper. And what’s deeper than pride?

Respect.

I respect your adventurousness. You throw yourself out of bed before dawn to go rampaging across the fog-bound coastlands, spend summer weeks battling deadly thistle, think nothing of a 50 mile bike ride or a 10 foot ski jump. You've gutted wild boar, gavelled unruly Fairfax residents into submission, attended private school socials on boats in the Bay. Your mud-spattered face, your (formerly mine) wrecked outdoor gear, your often (not that I look often) surprising location on Find My: it all speaks so well of you.

I respect your resilience. You face challenges squarely and with great determination. In the face of adversity you turn quickly to solutions or to other matters altogether where something is broken that you can’t fix. You've long since learned not to add to your own troubles with worry or self-incrimination or even, your brother excepted, with blame. You do not dwell: you spring back, move on, find a way around.

I respect your entrepreneurial spirit. You've created your own tutoring and bike instruction businesses, plotted your own path through high school and our local community college. From your early "like this is around?" attempts to dress yourself to yesterday's "off skiing, see you," you scoff at obstacles and for the most part that's because for you they really are not there.

I respect your social presence. You show care for your peers, accept roles of responsibility and mentorship willingly, and have a light-handed ability to influence and lead others. You are appreciated by adults and kids alike and are a social fixture even at high schools you don't attend. You know how to have a good time and are yourself quite fun. I would be happy to have you as a friend.

Finally, and not least, I enormously respect your ability to skip stones. Really, you are amazingly good at it.

Felix, you are a top student, a gifted athlete, friend to many, and as best I can tell a sought-after candidate boyfriend. You are kind to animals and small people and to yourself. You love learning, are deeply curious about the world, and have great intellectual capacity. You are charismatic and, in that overused college application phrase, a born leader. You have direction and ambition and you, and I, have every reason to think you will be able to achieve your lofty goals. Most important, from my selfish point of view, you are a good son and brother. All of which is a great puzzle to me for I was hardly any of these things at your age and am not many of them even now. Respect.