Recognizing a bad idea beneath good writing — even in myself — is part of my job. But what would it mean to grow up with that kind of companion? What would it mean to have your every adolescent intuition turned into persuasive prose? What is lost in not having to do the work to build out our intuitions ourselves?

This remark about intuition really struck me. With my engineering teams for innovation and product development, I wanted to cultivate intuition as a form or time travel, in the sense that we could get to a solution faster.  But it came with a caveat, one of my “innovation aphorisms” that “Intuition without Experience and Analysis is Superstition.” And to that end, I felt it was vital to make sure my Engineers gained experience in the field and the factory and by talking to operators, factory and construction labor, procurement teams and suppliers, etc.

But innovation (and my time travel analogy) must be tempered with judgement, especially when our Work can impact the public’s health or safety.  I think one of the fundamental problems with technology (in the IT software sense) is the lack of standards and ethics, and certification and sanctioning bodies that pertain to Professional Engineers. [The same applies to much of corporate governance in my opinion].

When one’s license and ability to work in your chosen field is subject to sanction, it causes the Engineer in Responsible Charge to exercise due care and judgement before Stamping drawings and specifications.

Lacking such a system for software practitioners, we need to have clear tort reforms that break the corporate liability shield to make the developers and owners of AIs personally liable for damages. They and their underwriters will be incentivized to mitigate some of the harms of AI.

No, this isn’t about politics or social policy — it’s something far more important — baseball.

Yesterday was Opening Day and the San Francisco Giants hosted the New York Yankees. I am a day baseball guy, and this game was moved to a 5:05 pm start to accommodate TV. But close enough, and it was the only early game that worked for my friends, so I sprang for four Club Level tickets — much more expensive than I would normally pay, but what the heck — Opening Day is special!

The day before the game, the Giants blasted an email encouraging us to be in our seats by 4:30 for pregame festivities. I was certainly expecting the usual introductions of players, maybe a speech by Buster Posey, introduction of past players and Hall of Famers and remembrance of those who have passed away.

What did we get? Bupkus. What was going on at 4:30? The grounds crew was putting lime down on the foul lines. There was a little bit of unintelligible happy speak by some on-field announcers, but NOTHING for the fans in the ballpark. I was at the ballpark, so I didn’t see the disastrous first baseball broadcast by Netflix, but I did experience its collateral damage.

And to poke a middle finger in my eye, throughout the game, the scoreboard pitched “Opening Day” on Friday. What the F___ did I spend my money on?

The game itself met my low expectations for the Giants this season. I know that hitting is hard, and the Giants proved it, although somehow the Yankees managed to pound our ace Logan Webb. But what really struck me was the low-minor league defense. Heliot Ramos did surprise me with a catch along the third base line — surprised because in the first game I saw last year, he misplayed a fly ball resulting in Logan Webb’s loss. But he did redeem himself later with an off-line throw. In the infield, we had a series of rushed and errant throws, twice hitting runners as they slid into base, and one throw in the dirt to miss a double play and allow the runners to advance and one more run. I’m not sure if second baseman Arraez was mis-positioned but he certainly was both late and slow as balls went through the infield.

And then there’s the fan experience which was definitely minor league.

• Having arrived early, we grabbed a slice of Pizza — luke cold — the temperature you get a couple of hours after the pie has been sitting on the counter.
• Later, we grabbed some brats — these were at best luke warm — kind of in the danger zone.
• And how about in the stands? There was no usher to regulate traffic during the action, so there were always obstructed views. It was a great example of incivility that Jeff Jacoby wrote about in yesterday’s Boston Globe.
• Oh and one of restrooms was not operating.

One other point on the food, which in year’s past, was generally above par. Not as good as Petco Park in San Diego, but quite satisfactory for a ball game. Yesterday, I felt like it was near the bottom of baseball — I’ve had better at minor league parks.

So I have bought tickets to go with a friend in May, but given the quality of the baseball and the ball park experience, I may be done.

Naomi Sha’anan, the dear sister of my close friend Gideon was killed today by an Iranian rocket just as the truce was to take place.  Naomi was an intelligent and kind person who was committed to peace, so it is doubly tragic to lose her and lose her voice for justice.

I met Naomi several times both here in California and in Israel.  I have a few snapshots of her brother and his family: in Jerusalem in 2008 where we toured under the wall and in 2009 at the Bahai Gardens in Haifa. 

Recently, I learned via Gideon that Naomi and I share the lingering effects of shingles, which made me feel a little closer. And that we share a love for a glass of scotch.

Gideon shared this article translated from Ha’aretz about Naomi’s commitment to demonstrate for the return of the October 7 hostages.

May Naomi’s death mark the beginning of the peace and understanding to which she was so committed.

My topic was Criticality Accidents: Administrative Failure” in which I described a few incidents where reliance on administrative controls had resulted in runaway nuclear chain reactions (prompt criticality), with high radiation exposure and death. This was where I first expressed my opinion that “safety by design” is essential, closing with:

if you believe Murphy’s Law, “In the course of human eventsm if anything can go wrong, it will go wrong,” administrative control is not a means of preventing an accident, but a means of guaranteeing one.

But probably more interesting is the flashback to 50 years ago as represented by the articles and advertisements. In addition to my article, topics included:

• An editorial emphasized the importance of communication, a point that was still controversial when I spoke at RPI in April.
• Because of the 1973 oil crisis and oil embargo, there was intense interest in energy, with articles on both solar and nuclear energy.
• There was a debate on labor relations with viewpoints from faculty and administration.
• The independent development of social fraternities at RPI, with little involvement from the Institute was described.
• And most telling of the times was an interview with the first female dean, the late Sandra Gull.

The magazine was supported by advertisements from important employers of RPI grads, such as Sikorsky, General Electric, Bell Telephone, Timken Bearings, and Union Carbide. The nuclear Navy took a two-page spread in the centerfold with a postpaid reader response card. Of course the calculator debate was represented by both Hewlett Packard and Texas Instruments — no Keuffel & Esser slide rules in this issue. And truly reflective of the times was a sexist ad from The Asphalt Institute.

Have a look.

38.662 Theory and operation of a lower power critical assembly; reactor layout, instrumentation, shielding controls, hazards, problems of start-up and shutdown and operating parameters. Approach to criticality, operating procedures, kinetics. Measurements will be made of neutron flux, buckling, radiation, and various reactivity effects.

Fifty years ago, in the spring of my senior year, my classmates and I would drive over to the critical facility in Schenectady each week. Constructed by American Locomotive Company (ALCO) for reactivity studies as part of its U.S. Army contract to develop Packaged Power Reactors, which I wrote about in How Portable Can a Power Reactor Be? After ALCO left the nuclear business in 1963, the critical facility was acquired by RPI.  The low power critical assembly was in a large pool and used highly enriched plate-type fuel. I wish I had some pictures to share.

We followed the course outline below, starting with safety of course. One of Dave’s admonitions has stayed with me throughout my career:  wash your hands before using the toilet to avoid contaminating your privates!  That is true no matter what you’re handling.

Then we calibrated instruments and neutron sources and did sub-critical multiplication experiments.  The third week we completed a critical assembly.  One of the unique aspects at RPI was that students were hands-on and got to load the fuel.  We worked as a team in the lab to plan our work, operate the reactor, and collect our data. The course outline below details the semester’s work.

I took great pride in my lab reports, and generally typed them (I can’t remember what brand of typewriter I used), even though hand written reports were acceptable. Here are my lab reports:

Sadly, Dave passed away in 1978 at age 44, and the critical facility was renamed in his memory.

During the concert, I thought about how movies these days use popular and familiar music rather than have a composer create a custom score, perhaps for economy or to create co-marketing opportunities. The familiarity of a memorable tune may create an association as I still have an ear worm from Grand Tour that I saw two weeks ago at the Palm Springs International Film Festival. Bobby Darin’s Beyond the Sea played over the credits and was a poignant way to close the film.

As the program concluded, I thought of the first orchestral score I could remember — the work of Richard Rodgers and Robert Russell Bennett for Victory At Sea, the award winning TV series first shown in 1952/53. I was squeezed in next to Dad in his big easy chair with the brown upholstery and wide arms as we watched on the RCA Victor console TV. I was about 4 years old and absorbed by the story of naval conflict during World War II and the leitmotifs that carried through. I still cherish that shared experience with my Dad, and the music and imagery has stayed with me for almost seventy years.

Perhaps it’s no surprise that my earliest memory is of that very TV being delivered. It was after dinner and my 3 year old self was leaning on the radiator, peering out the living room window. A panel truck was parked under the street lamp and two men hefted a big box and brought it into the living room, bringing TV into my young life. Mom would let me curl up in Dad’s chair to watch American Bandstand, live from Philadelphia, while she took her afternoon nap. I remember the teenagers dancing, artists performing, and Dick Clark asking the audience to rate and review the songs: “It’s got a beat and you can dance to it.”

That TV was also my introduction to being my Dad’s assistant when the TV went “on the fritz.” He would take off the back panel and use his “cheater cord” to power up the set to see if any tubes looked bad. My job was to hold the flashlight steady without getting too close, since there was exposed high voltage. In my recollection, I was supposed to anticipate where he would look next, and I often felt chastised that I wasn’t helping him the right way. After he identified a few suspect tubes, we would drive over to the ALCO Electronics store at 154 Hicksville Road near Hempstead Turnpike, which had a tube tester. Then it was back home to finish the job.

This reminded me of my friend and classmate Jack Ellinwood who worked on the control system that stabilized the aircraft [Jimmy Chin, Howard Berman and Jack Ellinwood, “X-29 Flight Control System Design Experiences,” AIAA Paper 82-1538, 1982].

I met Jack during our junior year at RPI when we sat next to each other in a Fluid Mechanics class in the Rickets Building. He had just transferred from SUNY Delhi, into the aeronautical engineering program. Two of my aero friends were a year ahead of us, Ron Fleck whom I knew from German classes and our trip to the Goethe Institute in Murnau, and Steve Aoyama who was a housemate at 19 Eighth Street. All three of them had an interest in aero-elasticity and control systems, which I am sure led to his success on the X-29 program.

Jack joined my circle of friends and we went to hockey games and parties together. Jack spoke thoughtfully, but very slowly, and we joked that he picked up that habit on the farm talking to cows.

He met his wife at one of our parties, I think while we were in grad school during 1975-76. She was the sister of my landlady’s Korean daughter in law, Myong-ja, and in summertime there was Korean bar-b-q on the front steps. I think they got married after he started working for Grumman, and he would drive up to court her. I don’t remember his wedding, but I know my sister was up because she had become friends with Myong-ja.

Jack had to be back at work right after the wedding, so he rented a U-Haul that we loaded up all day Sunday. He handed me the keys to the truck while he and his bride led the way in his car (a Dodge Charger if I remember correctly). I had never driven such a big vehicle, but Barbara and I drove all night and then somehow got some heavy furniture up the stairs and into his apartment. Somehow I ended up home in Bethpage and Jack went to work.

My Dad worked at Grumman, and he would stop by their house in Bethpage from time to time. The last time I saw him was at my folks house before moving out to California. My Dad would fill me in on Jack, including the X-29 program.

I forget how I learned of his death from MS in 2002, but I do remember being contacted by his daughter Lisa, who I think had been raised back in Albany after Jack divorced. If she read this someday, I hope she knows that I was his friend. If I find any pictures, I’ll add them here. RIP Jack.

My grandfather, Martin Joseph Conlon, served in the American Expeditionary Force in France during the First World War. As a Private in the U.S. Army, Company F, 306th Infantry, 77th Division, he was wounded during the Meuse-Argonne offensive and evacuated to an Army hospital. On 12 November 1918, the day after the cessation of hostilities, he wrote this letter to my grandmother, Margaret Elena Fogarty of Whitman, Mass.

My grand-uncle, Patrick Thomas Fogarty, who served in Company I, 61st Infantry Regiment of the 5th Division, also saw difficult action during in France. Although not physically wounded, he was deeply affected and could never look at or eat hamburger again.

The photo album below highlights our first three years attempting to build a company and commercialize the IceHaus® countertop drinking water appliance. The inspiration for the company came from a photo by Bryan and Cherry Alexander in the 1987 National Geographic article showing Kigutikak Duneq, a Greenland Inuit. Illustrating the technical principle of water purification by freeze crystallization, he was atop an ice floe in the middle of the ocean, drinking seawater that had been freshened by freezing.

The rest of the album shows our team including parties and team building, investor meetings, sales efforts, and some shots of our lab. Though the company failed and wound itself up in 1997, our difficult journey was filled with laughter, good food and drink, and companionship.

At the time, venture capital preferred B-to-B sales to “rational” customers and felt that consumer facing products were too risky. We were definitely too early to the water market, as it was rare to find a VC who thought anyone would pay for water (only those with international experience got it). And finally, we were an inexperienced team without a track record of reaching IPO — unlike today when naive entrepreneurs are often favored for their ignorance of what hasn’t worked in the past.

Nevertheless, we had some wonderful investors, many of them friends and family, who supported our efforts and covered costs, although there was never enough capital to cover salaries for the founders.

We developed a patent portfolio that covered directional freezing systems, including

• Control of Crystal Growth in Water Purification by Directional Freeze Crystallization; 5,555,747, September 17, 1996.
• Method and Means for Liquid Purification by Batch Crystallization; 5,438,843, August 8, 1995
• Melt System for Liquid Purification by Batch Crystallization; 5,231,852; August 3, 1993.
• Melt System for Liquid Purification by Batch Crystallization; 5,113,664, May 19, 1992.
• Method and Means for Optimizing Batch Crystallization for Purifying Water;  4,954,151; September 4, 1990.
• Dual freezing chamber system and method for water purification; 4,799,945; January 24, 1989.

We developed working prototypes of the IceHaus® that were delivered to Williams-Sonoma and KitchenAid. The unit as Williams-Sonoma was placed in their executive office, ran well, and was well-received.  However, the KitchenAid system didn’t deliver the purification we claimed.  We had believed that freeze crystallization would remove virtually any contaminant, but found that the crystallization process was sensitive to the quantity of dissolved solids — which were much higher in Michigan than in San Francisco.

Ultimately, we pivoted to a commercial product, the CrystalCooler that aimed to replace bottled water coolers, and turned to government contracts to advance the technology and overcome the challenges identified with the KitchenAid prototype.  But by the time we had figured out the technology, we had lost our momentum.

Here are some papers that we presented at the International Appliance Technical Conference in 1992 and 1993, which received best presentation and best paper awards, respectively.