Calculus

The natural world is bereft of straight lines

and sharp corners of geometric shapes

Rather we live in a world rounded, shaded

We live in a world of gravitational acceleration

Holding us in this place, or propelling us in space

We travel, we live in a world of curves, waves, and motion

The language of calculus opens our understanding

Allowing us to derive the rate of change of motion, and

Furthermore the rate of change of the rate of change

We can describe and approximate the waves

We know how to use integration to determine

The area of irregular shapes and the curves we travel

All our real world is alive with the beauty of math

And those that learn calculus, the language of love

They then have laid open the secrets of our world 

And will take us to the future, and future worlds!

 

 

Infinity

It is forever and the set of everything

Equally, it exists as infinitesimal divisions

Of time between one and nothing

 

 

They Died at Belleau

 

Toward the guns they ran

All patriots to the last man

Dying as a million bullets flew

Fighting in the woods of Belleau

A century ago, the great war

They came to fight from afar

Inconvenienced in a great way

1800 died in the woods that day

Yet today’s leader wouldn’t face the rain

So, he sent others to salute without shame

An inconvenient 100-mile motorcade

To lay a wreath for those still there today

 

 

I’ve Known Winter’s Chill

 

I’ve felt a chill as the winds shifted

Wounded as the Sun’s warmth lifted

As if it was something I could’ve done

About fall’s ruling, there’ll be no more fun

Winter’s chill seriousness and so cold

Comes ever so suddenly and unforetold

And North-wind blows, cutting, and stinging

Message of winter’s chill just beginning

 

 

 

Passwords, PINS and Security

It started with a government form

Where were you born, what was mother’s maiden name?

Then it became something of the norm

 

Security questions, passwords, and 4-digit PIN

All to protect us, and surely irritate us

When we cannot remember or find it again

 

The phone now incredibly knows my thumb

Then not always, so it demands 6-digit PIN

Makes blood boil at times and head numb

 

The newest phone now reads my face

But it doesn’t work if I wear glasses

Or it’s night, or simply a dark place

 

So how am I supposed to remember first pet

Or grade school name and spelling

And where born, I wasn’t quite conscious yet

 

Do they mean the hospital of birth?

Or where mom and dad lived?

I wonder if close enough if I say Earth?

 

So, I get a password I can remember

But it needs special characters, number, 8 or more

Of course, it’s only good till November

 

It’s all security, every website needs one

Sometimes it seems all too much

But then there’s more of this memory fun

 

Two level authentication, password, and text

A code to ensure, what? I have my phone with me

Can’t imagine what they’ll come up with next

 

Soon appliances will need a password or voice

Recognition to ensure its me

Turning on the dishwasher as if that’s my choice

 

Thieves and crooks now don’t just guess

They go thru back doors to steal it anyway

Making everything an identity bloody mess

 

Enslaved to passwords, questions and PIN

And voice, and face, and thumbs, and

All the things I’ll forget about once again

 

                                            Artwork By: Mikayla

 

Pink and Blue

 

Just shoes, pink and blue

Side by side, different

But same as me and you

 

Where on the scale are you?

Do we disagree, maybe?

But friends no matter the hue

 

We serve a purpose proud

So, we acclaim ourselves

As tennis shoes out loud!

 

No matter pink or blue

United we’re here

Always supporting you!

There was a time when this is what it looked like making plans for a weekend night.  No cell phones, no group texts, no websites to check out a destination.

If you were young and going out on a weekend evening, you had a network in your mind that you would begin calling.  Someone would have to start the plans, and get the message out.  You wouldn’t get people at home, they’d be out, maybe working, so you leave a message with their mom or brother, or sister, never count on a dad to pass a message about going out!  And sometimes you wouldn’t trust a younger sister, either… You’d call back later to make sure the message was getting out. Then you’d move on.   I remember I had a small little address book, but mostly you relied on memory, and knowing how to extend the network beyond the first few people you call.  You call Dave, he calls John, and maybe Mark.  Then you’d know that John and Mark would call Susie and Cathy, and on and on.  Sometimes you’d get together with as many as fifteen people or more.

Then there was arriving.  You’d get to the location and find that it closed!  Whoever got there first would have to wait for a couple more to arrive to figure out where to go from there. Someone would have to wait in the parking lot for stragglers to pass the message.

Amazing, we figured this out, and made it work.  Don’t know who I was talking to, but quite sure I was reaching out to the network for party planning… somehow it was all worth it!

From NY Times: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/08/us/migrant-children-family-separation-court.html

Migrant Children in Search of Justice: A 2-Year-Old’s Day in Immigration Court

Fernanda Jacqueline Davila, in Tegucigalapa, Honduras, earlier this year, has been in government custody since she was taken from her grandmother at the border in late July.

 

Desperately Alone

 

Forever away, a bus, a truck, I walk

From mi casa to where?

Looking up, grown-ups they talk

 

Mimi, where do we go?

Dolly is with me so I’m content

What better life, how so?

 

What is an America, this building, cold stone?

Big man, badge shiny, carries me, Mimi, Mimi I cry

I shiver, in a room, tears, desperately alone

 

Day becomes, night, and another

They feed me, give me crayons

Grown-ups, a sister, maybe a brother

 

What is this family, no love, no kisses?

Days, weeks, months, my life

Pulling the blanket, mi casa Dolly misses

 

Another bus, another scary place, I see

New York, the noise, another building of stone

Tears, fears, waiting in a chair too big for me

 

The grown-up in a robe, seems nice, right

She speaks, others tell me her words

But questions I don’t know, so I nod polite

 

Tears as I’m carried away again

What have I done to be so far from mi casa

Is it what I’ve heard, did I sin?

 

Is this my life, one more building of stone?

Another grown-up in a robe

I wait in a big chair, face wet, desperately alone

 

Impermanence

 

Maybe art, poetry, beauty is like blowing desert sands

Changing, shifting, impermanent as it sifts through our hands

To be appreciated in the moment captured of our minds eye

Before it shifts, decays or blows away, like a whispered sigh

Can beauty, like the vitality of life, be preserved forever

Or is it a mirage, that eventually disappears into never

Beauty that transcends centuries is captured in a moment

In history, and in legacy of thought that others must foment

We are invited to keep alive the classics in style and art

Yet every day the sands shift as new artists do their part

In being winds of change, shining light on yours and mine

Capturing and imaging thought, feelings, a moment in time

No matter the legacy we seek, no matter the image of today

Impermanence will reign, like the girl with a balloon flying away

At the end of this poem is an explanation… your choice to read it first or the poem and try to understand the poem without explanation…

  

Arthur Ichabod

 

My name’s Arthur,

       Arthur Ichabod my good sir

Polite because I am,

      Never creating the least little stir

Busy navigating

      A land that seems so foreign

Obstacles everywhere

      Fluidity of motion seems to reign

Let me be still

      And think, I can think I’m sure

I never understand

     Sports and exercises’ allure

I don’t need to be

     Entertained by humor or song

I won’t be distracted

     I’ll stay busy and never be wrong

What are the greatest

    Problems of our humankind

I perceive, and think

    Of solutions perfect in my mind

But how can I answer

    Why do people hurt and hate?

But answers must mean

    To feel, to love, find a higher state

Where is the intellect

    Where is the memory and soul?

I’m befuddled by all

    Maybe they are soulless and mean

Is it intelligence

    That can find an answer to this

Or is it compassion

    That tells us that we really exist

I am Arthur Ichabod

     I have much to ponder and learn

Being busy thinking

     I’m here to help all of us discern

What are the answers

     To soul queries to get humankind right

Can I help you my friends?

     Or shall I replace you with proper and polite

 

 

 

---

Arthur Ichabod is a name chosen for its initials are the same as ‘artificial intelligence’… additionally Arthur from King Arthur, legendary glorious leader, and Ichabod a biblical name that more or less means not glorious, an image of clumsiness and failure.   So, AI could be glorious or could be a monumental failure.  I suggest that we should think of artificial intelligence as more of augmented intelligence.  In other words, as a tool that is used for us to perform tasks that are routine and yet requires awareness.  Self-driving cars are an example of this technology we can see and understand today.  We should use AI (Augmented Intelligence) to solve problems for mankind and to help us advance the intelligence of humankind, not replace our intelligence with automation.  AI is being used in medicine to arrive at new drugs and treatments that are geared to the specific genetic makeup of a person.  But machines will never feel, or be compassionate, never create and hopefully never procreate… so we must advance in intelligence, in understanding and in compassion for each other, while also using our creativity to bring solutions through technology.  Augmented Intelligence, not Arthur Ichabod.