About Me

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My early postings were intended to be in sequence, starting with “Why This Blog” posted on December 3, 2011. After reading this profile, you might want to start your reading with those early entries. I am a 93 year old husband, dad, grandpa and great grandpa. I've seen a lot of changes in the world. When I was young, vegetables were still delivered by horse and wagon. As a radio operator during World War II, I communicated via morse code. Now I use my voice-activated cell phone to stay in touch. My career as a university professor of computer science spanned the time when a single computer took up several rooms of in a computer center and was less powerful than today's $2 calculators to the present time where computers are an ever-present part of our daily life. I am now legally blind, but even there technology has come to the rescue. My computer monitor is a big flat screen T.V. with large print magnification. I type by touch with very limited ability to see and edit what I write, so either someone else will have to edit my writing or you will have to endure all the typos. I look forward to sharing my thoughts, perspectives, and memories on life.

Monday, January 30, 2012

BRUSH WITH TERRORISTS

While we were living in Basel, Switzerland when I was a child, there was an international uproar among the growing communist sympathizers because two known communists named Sacco and Vanzetti (about whom a well-known movie was later made) were sentenced to death in New York. Even afterwards, man thought they had been unfairly convicted. The people in Basel had always been friendly to us Americans, however there were enough radical communists that they declared a day of strike. The bus company refused to obey it and their station was blown up. A great rally occurred at the large marketplace which I observed.  They were shouting anti-American slogans. I appeared like a Swiss boy, and so was not bothered, but I went home angrily and decided to show them who was an American. I hung out a large American flag on the front of the mission home. Mobs gathered that night, marching in front of us with torches and shouting at us. After the bombing it was considered so serious that some of the marine guards from the American embassy were dispatched to guard our mission home until things calmed down. My father complemented me on being a patriotic American, but suggested that it might be well to use better judgment in how I advertised it.

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