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Great Neighbors, Great Bacon

Homemade BaconWe have some great neighbors– as evidenced by this home-made bacon, which we got in exchange for a pie, which we had given as a thank-you for the many incidences of walk-shoveling executed by our neighbors this winter. Does this make sense? In my mind, we are clearly coming out ahead.

When our former great neighbors, Peter and Julie, put the house up for sale a couple years back, I have to admit that we were worried. What is our new neighbors were scary? (Now that I think about it, that was probably the plot of one of the Bernstein Bears books I read to our children two decades back.) Like family, you don’t get to pick your neighbors, but there they are, in or very near your space. The new people could have been neat-freeks or chemical spray on the lawn types– which were some of my worst case scenarios.

Cold Frame Construction

Cold Frame Construction

Our yard, like our house, is not what many people would consider a showpiece. I do, but I think my standards are different. (My friend Amy once called our house “lived in”, which I took as a compliment on the deepest level.) We fully occupy this space. Our habitat, inside and out, is a unique, busy and in-transition place. It’s more than 100 years old, so there is always something to do, but moreover, there is always a lot going on, and much of that is still in process. Our space is full of projects– some big, some small, and many hard to ignore.

After a young couple made an offer on the house, Peter mentioned that the husband was a brewer, which we took as a good sign. Brewers are often tinkers or makers, so we had reason to be hopeful. At least we’d have something to talk about.

From the bacon alone, you can see we hit the neighbor jackpot with Greg and Emily. The new family is significantly neater than us, but we haven’t faced any condemnation from them; in fact, they seem interested in the various projects we tend to put in our yard. They are friendly and kind. We have been spoiled with the snow-shoveling assistance, to put it mildly.

Neighbors everywhere could learn a few things from them about how to act with generosity. I’m hoping to learn how to make home-made bacon and kimchi, and then I’ll make them some more pies. Having good neighbors is a win-win, win-again situation.

Posted in • Making.


Makerspace as Library

Jim and Mark FrauenfelderThe second coolest thing I took from last Friday’s lecture by maker-extraordinaire Mark Frauenfelder was the metaphor that makerspaces are like libraries– well, at least sort of. Frauenfelder, the editor of MAKE magazine and one of the founders of bOingbOing.net, was in town last weekend to speak on North Campus. Makerspaces (like the local MakerWorks or the more kid-friendly All Hands Active) are places where regular folks can go to use tools and technologies that are rarely used or too expensive to have at home. Once upon a time, when books were copied by hand, they were bits of technology that also were too expensive for home use. Even after Gutenberg, libraries were able to stock resources that were impractical for the average citizen, such as specialized reference materials, historical documents and geneological records. In the early days of the silicon revolution, libraries often provided computers for access to the growing amounts of information available on-line. We often consider libraries just collections of books, i.e. written technologies, but the librarians not only tend the collections but also are themselves experts in research techniques. It’s not too hard to imagine a makerspace as a similar collection of tools and expertise.

Before I pursue that metaphor, let me note it wasn’t the point of Mark Frauenfelder’s presentation. Instead, he charted the roots of the Maker movement from the early enthusiast magazines published by Hugo Gernsback and fix-it-yourself early electronics, on through the hippy Whole Earth Catalog, the punk ethos of do-it-yourself culture, photocopied ‘zines and FactSheetFive, the “search engine” for those self-published wonders. After a couple decades where mainstream interest had focused on cheaply mass produced, non-repairable goods, the internet arrived and facilitated the easy dissemination of niche projects. Frauenfelder noted a couple different eras in the maker movement, an initial one where ordinary folks shared tips on making cool projects (like quadcopters and potato guns) and a second era where folks shared plans for making the tools to produce even cooler projects (like 3-d printers.) Frauenfelder also noted the maker movement is supported by an ecosystem of projects like micro-funding sources (like Indiegogo and Kickstarter), high-tech service bureaus (like Ponoko and Shapeways), low-cost sales channels (like Etsy AND Ponoko and Shapeways), and of course, makerspaces. None of what he said was that new to me, partly because I’ve been quite a fan of Frauenfelder and the maker movement for some time. Truth be told, the number one COOLEST thing about Mark’s lecture was the opportunity I had to have my photo snapped with him.

Makerspaces fill a peculiar societal niche, and the metaphor with a library was productive for me. Lots of folks have a home workshop of one sort or another. In the basement, spare room or garage, cheap mass production has allowed many of us to collect department-store quality tools, the means of production that are accurate enough for many tasks. For instance, I have my dad’s old Sears Craftsman tablesaw, which I swear contains more real metal than the car I drive. I can’t tell you precisely, though, when the last time I used it. It’s a sentimental keepsake every bit as much as my grandmother’s treadle sewing machine. There are times — not too many, to be honest — when I need a table saw, and if this tool didn’t also remind me of my father, I probably wouldn’t let it take up so much space in my shop. There are likely a few times in most folks’ lives when the need arises, say, to rip a sheet of plywood, for instance, and when it’d be handy to have access to a well-maintained table saw for a couple hours–and to someone who can give instruction on how to run the thing safely. That’s the core niche of a makerspace.

But makerspaces can stock tools my dad couldn’t have imagined, like laser-cutters and 3-d printers. MakerWorks has a computer controlled embroidery machine that, nearly as I can grok it, makes color “prints” using thread on fabric. Devices like that, or the plasma cutter in the metal room or the CNC router in the wood room, are more like small scale manufacturing than workshop tools. They’re akin to the rarefied reference materials that the library gives me access to, professional quality resources that I frankly NEVER would have at home.

The analogy between library and makerspaces breaks down, to my mind, when pressed much beyond that level–and that might be okay. For instance, I am enamoured of the idea that libraries are public institutions, paid for with my taxes for the common good because an educated and informed populace is good for democracy. A makerspace, by contrast, seems so well-primed to be a commercial endeavor, I see no immediate claim that they also be publicly funded. I realize that there are private, subscription based libraries — heck, that’s one way of viewing the streaming video provided by Netflix– so I’m not arguing makerspaces shouldn’t be public, or that all libraries must be public. I just don’t see that. Another tenuous extension on the metaphor is to imply that libraries as the institutions they are currently constituted to be somehow *should* develop makerspaces. It’s possible but not a compelling development to my mind. As “reading” and “researching” become less bound by physically printed volumes, libraries as physical building certainly *could* begin to house makerspaces which almost by definition must be physical locations. Heck, I’d be glad if it happened, but I don’t see the logical necessity that my library card also get me access to, say, a laser engraver.

I realize those reservations are probably missing the point. Viewing makerspaces as if they are like libraries is an evocative way to make sense of a relatively new phenomenon. (Yes, I’m old enough to remember the semi-public U of M wood shop.) The analogy probably isn’t intended to suggest actual policy. If comparing libraries and makerspaces does nothing more, it gets folks thinking more about makerspaces, those playgrounds of tools and technical experts and how they might not be all that different from, say, researching one’s neighborhood at the library.

Posted in • Local Happenings, • Making.


Rhubarb and Forcing Spring

rhubarbiscoming
I knew they’d arrive soon and the other day, I saw the first rhubarb sprouting out of the cool soil beside our barn. Most were just thumb sized nubbins of pink but some featured a tiny leaves curled in on themselves like a baby’s fist. The first harvest is still weeks away but rhubarb is my bellwether for spring. The crocus and snowdrops have been up for some time but they all too often poke up too soon and get themselves nipped by the last blasts of winter. There are perils to being an “early adopter.” The daffodils and paperwhites that we’ve naturalized in our front lawn have also started to emerge but for some reason, it’s rhubarb, that sour, old-timey “pie plant” that most truly means spring.

But age has not made me any less impatient. In fact, I feel particularly eager for that first bite of rhubarb pie, that tart tart, and I endeavored to hasten its arrival. We’re all familiar with forcing bulbs by simulating the conditions of spring in advance of its general arrival, in order to coax blossoms. I’ve heard of a similar technique for rhubarb. Jan and I placed one of our home-made cold frames over two clumps of the crowning rhubarb in hopes of creating more balmy conditions for them. The area is already a protected spot, bathed in full southern exposure sunlight and banked on the north by the cement foundation of the barn. The cold frame, we hope, will provide a micro climate just slightly in advance of the rest of the garden by protecting the sprouts from cold air while still providing encouragement from the sun.

It’s an experiment and all good experiments carry the possibility for “failure.” We’ll keep you informed how this test progresses so we all can learn. And maybe I’ll even share a bite of that rhubarb pie!

Posted in • Growing.

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Sitting Still: Rejuvenation and Technology

I don’t expect rejuvenation to come from technology but honestly, I felt like a kid again. Riding home from a lecture by maker-extraordinaire, Mark Frauenfelder, I noticed a car on the road beside us. Janice drove which gave me time to inspect the vehicle that was classier, heck it was even cleaner than our humble Civic. The lines of the body felt intentional, designed, not necessarily showy but refined. I don’t know cars and never have, but I did notice the name on the back, “Model S.” My heart leapt. That was a Tesla, the first I’d ever seen on the road. I felt like a kid again.

Model S

Though that phrase is a cliche, I mean it quite literally. I grew up in Dearborn, MI and was steeped in the mythos of Henry Ford. One of the clearest images in my mind is the brick garage where he built his prototype and only then realized it was too large to fit out the door. According to legend, at least, Ford had to tear the existing door even larger so his creation could escape his impromptu workspace. That story always seemed like a true tale of creation and invention, that making an idea real requires pain, rupture. It’s easy for me, a man, to make the analogy between invention and birth, since I have not gone through the physical pain of childbirth. Ford’s garage makes me look at every garage differently as if to estimate what wonders might be gestating inside. Tesla seems the product of a crazy dreamer every bit as much as that first Ford.

And of course, I was a child during the Space Race, that glorious time when our driving technological metaphor was to reach the stars. It captivated our imaginations, the adventure of space travel and the ingenuity required to make those dreams real. Sure, there are valid critiques of the drive to space on a variety of levels, but from an the boyishly hopeful perspective, walking on the moom seems a more innocent, pro-social goal than military superiority or even the current rage for computer “security” and its ubiquitous surveillance. I was momentarily excited by the “One Child One Laptop” idea, not because it was a goal more worthy than, say, fresh drinking water or de militarization. I thought that the goal of providing a laptop for every child on earth was at last another grand metaphor for technology that could inspire us to invent for our common good.

Both of those childhood memories exploded into my mind when I saw that Tesla. Elon Musk is the adventuring scientist of my childhood dreams. From the re-usable rockets from SpaceX to the sexy electrics of Tesla, and yes, even his sometimes wacky pronouncements, Musk is exactly the kind of mad scientist I wanted to grow up to be. Seeing that Model S driving down the road made every ounce of that dream feel possible again. Since I was in the passenger seat, I goaded Janice to drive faster so I could soak up the experience. From every angle, the sedan felt… cool. I flashed a thumbs up to the driver — like some rodster teenager — and after a moment’s confusion, he rocketed past us, returning the gesture.

Part of the odd affection I have for Musk and the Tesla is unabashedly patriotic. I grew up in Ford’s town and my grandmother lived in Flint, “BuickTown.” There were squabbles in the family between Ford and GM partisans, good natured but spirited. The day I bought my Civic, despite all my rationalizations, I felt like a traitor, not just to my country but to my family. It was a noble compromise since the vehicle had at least been assembled in the States and gas efficiency, I knew, would be a cornerstone of American independance in coming decades. Still, it was a subtle admission that no one in my homeland was building the vehicle of my dreams.

Seeing that Tesla yesterday changed things for me. It reminded me that even in everyday activities like getting places, there is the possibility for hope. More, since that car reminded me of childhood, I realized that I must have carried those wellsprings of hope with me for quite some time. If this article has a point, it certainly isn’t to buy a Tesla or even to support single user transportation. Heck, the message isn’t necessarily about technology at all. It’s about hope and that special kind of hope that is rejuvenation, of connecting with the dreams of youth. Keep your eyes open for tangible reminders; it might be right next to you.

Posted in • Sitting Still.


Oh, Hello There, Spring…

… I didn’t hear you come in!

The snowdrops made their grand appearance on Sunday, which is an always-welcome sign of spring.

Snowdrops

Snowdrops aren’t showy or colorful, but they are a living green thing breaking out of the ground.

They signal the start of the good gardening times to come.

So welcome, Snowdrops! So happy to see you!

Posted in • Growing.