Blindness, Parts 1 and 2

Blindness, Part 1

More than five week have passed since the retinal surgery, and my vision is still not back. That's the bad news. The good news is that the surgeon thinks the problem is with the sutures. They take about two months to dissolve, and until they do, the light won't focus properly. I have my next appointment in mid-January, by which time I should see improvement. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Blindness, Part 2



I made the mistake of reading a book called Blindness, by Portuguese writer Jose Saramago while recovering from eye surgery, and I don't know if the translator took liberties with the translation, and does the Portuguese language have fewer grammatical rules than English?, but it took some time to adjust to the writing style. Why? Because there are run-on sentences and no paragraph breaks to speak of and punctuation was sorely lacking but once one adjusts to these things the book is quite enjoyable. Enjoyable in an excruciating kind of way and one man's joy is another man's torment, but who can tell the difference? A blindness takes over the world, starting with one man sitting at a traffic light but this is a white blindness, if such a thing can be. Can it be blindness if all one sees is white? Can so many rhetorical questions be found in any other book? No matter, as the doctor's wife would say, we all see something whether it is white or colors, and since she's the only one who can see the mess that humanity has become, yes she is the only one with vision, allegorically speaking, although others surely see things she cannot for there are many ways to see, she leads them out of the wilderness as it were to a world in which all can see which is perhaps the optimal state of mankind.

Thanksgiving 2010

Another Thanksgiving come and gone...

We had nine people over this year. Among them: my mother and Dorothy's mother, who inexplicably showed up wearing matching purple jackets. Must be something about growing up during the Great Depression that leads to a fixation with all things purple!





Of course, Bea was also our guest, and it is simply a joy watching her grow up. She came down with the childhood affliction known as "happy feet," from which I hope she never recovers.



She'll turn 2 on Saturday, so I expect to post more about her after her birthday party on Sunday. Something tells me Grandpa Sam is going to spoil her some more...

Stairway to Heaven – Climbing a 1768 ft Tower

I don't quite understand why these guys are wearing hardhats...watch it in full-screen, and don't look down!




Stairway to Heaven – Climbing a 1768 ft Tower

Life As We Know It

Graphical representations of life as we know it:

See?

I'm back from the retinal surgery...this one sure didn't go as well as the one I had last year. Although the gas bubble is dissipating more quickly, the vision is not coming back as well. As I look out of my left eye, I see everything with a yellow cast, and the world resembles the House of Mirrors. I see straight lines as bent and broken, and everything seems to fall away from me and off to the right. (Hard to describe, but not good.) This is a consequence of the detachment crossing the center of my field of vision, and the possibility that there is some damage to the macula.

Here's a nickel's worth of free advice for you: if you suddenly see a bunch of floaters appearing out of nowhere, go see your ophthalmologist. And if you see a shadow - which could look like a bubble or a curtain - crossing your field of vision, seek immediate aid. I first noticed that something was amiss two weeks ago. Large floaters suddenly appeared in my eye, and I could also make out hundreds, if not thousands, of little specks floating around (which I learned later were droplets of blood). That was on a Sunday, and I called my ophthalmologist, who met me at his office 20 minutes after we spoke on the phone. He couldn't find anything, but sent me to Midwest Retina for another look.


Hey, get that thing out of my eye!


The doctor opened the Midwest Retina office for me, but he couldn't find anything either. He told me to come back Thursday for another look, but that if I saw a shadow form, I was to call immediately.

Wednesday morning, I noticed that something had changed in my eye. There were many more floaters, and things looked cloudy out of that eye. I spotted what I thought was a large floater in the lower left of my vision, but as time passed, I realized it was not a floater. It was late afternoon before I decided I had best call Midwest Retina. The office, of course, was closed by that hour, but they put me through to the emergency service, and I explained what was happening to the doctor on call. I asked if hours were crucial in a situation like this. He said, no, but don't wait for your 2 o'clock appointment to come in tomorrow, come in first thing in the morning.

By the time I went to bed Wednesday night, the bubble in the lower left of my eye had grown so that about 25% of my vision was obscured. When I arose on Thursday, it was more like 40%, and by the time I got to see the doctor at 8 o'clock, fully half of my vision was gone. He sent me to the hospital for surgery, and as I was rolled into the operating room around 1:30, I could see only a little sliver at the top of my field of vision. As the surgeon was completing the procedure, he remarked that the detachment was more severe than he had expected, and that it was possible that the macula might have been damaged.

That bubble turned out to be the retinal detachment, and had the operation taken place several hours before it did, I would probably not have any issues right now. Forgive me if I question the statement by the doctor who told me that hours don't matter.

At my appointment on Friday, the surgeon told me there was a lot of inflammation and swelling in the eye, and that things would improve, though I shouldn't expect to have perfect vision in that eye. I will see him again in 4 weeks, at which time they'll take a CT scan and we'll go from there.

The Eyes Have It

I'll be absent for a while. I learned this morning that I have a detached retina in my left eye, and surgery is in about 2 hours. Wish me luck...again.

Jumbo Perch

We made a trip to Madison on the Lake last weekend to visit friends, and took the opportunity to go out on Lake Erie to go after some perch. The waters in the eastern part of the lake are much deeper than in the Western Basin, and the fish tend to move to the east as the weather cools, so we expected a good catch.

The waters were calm as we set out at 8 o'clock in the morning. Unfortunately, the winds picked up through the morning, so that by about 11 o'clock, we were bouncing around in 3 foot waves. It's very difficult to feel the perch bite in those conditions, so we gave up around noon - but not before we had 30-some perch in the box.

I've fished a lot in the Western Basin, and the rule on my boat was that if the perch wasn't at least 7 inches long, it was to be thrown back in the lake. I know some guys who keep fish as small as 5 inches, and I just don't understand that. Those fish need another year to grow. So a typical catch would be a lot of 7 and 8 inch fish, with a few 9 or 10 inch fish generally n the mix. We've caught some 11 and 12 inch perch, but those are rare in the west.

I'm happy to say that the perch we caught last week were good sized fish. There was probably one 7 incher in the box, but most were in the 10 to 12 inch range. The prize of the day was one I caught - it was slightly over 14 inches in length, and not only is it the largest perch I've ever caught, it is the largest perch I've ever seen. According to the Ohio Department of Natural Resources, the state record is a 2.75 pound, 14 1/2 inch yellow perch taken from Lake Erie by Charles Thomas of Lorain, Ohio on April 17, 1984. We didn't weigh my fish, but that record puts my catch into context.

For comparison, the perch in the lower left of this picture was an 8 incher. We'll plan another trip next fall - perch like this are just too hard to pass up.

More Chalk

This fascinates me. The man spends many hours creating these chalk drawings, only to have them washed away or eroded within hours or days.

His time might be better spent going to Scotty's for a Porkanopolois!

Porkanopolis

I have not been around for a while, and I need to leave for Toledo in about 8 hours, but I need to post this.

A few miles south of Defiance, Ohio, on Route 111, is a barbecue place known as Scotty's. I had dinner there Monday night with some friends, and I was intrigued by one of the "signature" sandwiches: The Porkanopolis. This sandwich is composed of a half-pound sausage patty covered by a half pound of pulled pork, topped with a fried onion ring, into which is stuffed some cole slaw, over which is poured barbecue sauce, all of which is put into a large sesame seed bun. I had a side of curly fries to complete the meal.



I'm one of those people who tries to maintain a balanced diet. I'll drink several cups of coffee in the morning, but I'll also try to have a glass of fruit juice or some fresh fruit to go along with it. During the week, I usually have a salad for lunch, with more fresh fruit for dessert. The evenings are for pizza and beef and bacon (which goes well with EVERYTHING), but I don't go overboard with any of it. I subscribe to the Ben Franklin philosophy of well-being: all things in moderation.

After I ate this monstrosity, Scotty (the owner) came to our table and told us that he was working on an improved sandwich, which would include everything that is on the Porkanopolis, but would be supplemented with a half-pound ground beef patty, curly fries on top of the onion ring, and a dousing of cheese sauce before the slathering of barbecue sauce.

I think I'll pass on this one. The Porkanopolis was good, but I felt so bad about having eaten it, that the next morning I actually had a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. I haven't had oatmeal for breakfast in probably 30 years. And if I eat any more Porkanopolis sandwiches, I'm not likely to be around in another 30 years.

Milestones

With an absence of more than a month, it should come as no surprise that Sam has been a very busy guy lately. During that time, there were several mileposts achieved, and I'll pass along three of them here, in no particular order.

First, the dock has been built, the boat is in the water, and little Bea came out to go on her first fishing trip with Grandpa Sam. The first order of business was to make her safe, and that was accomplished by Bea donning the little "boat coat" that Dorothy got for her. I was happy that she put up no fuss, even though it was very hot and muggy, and the coat restricted her movement somewhat.

So after wishing everyone a bon voyage, Bea went out with Mommy and Grandpa Sam to find some bass. We were only able to find one, in part because it was so hot that we decided to go back after only 10 or 15 minutes in the water. Bea was a great boat mate, and it's obvious that she likes being on the water. We'll get her back out this fall after the weather cools.


The second milestone relates to golf. I've been out 15 or 20 times this year, but on most occasions, my back hurts so much that I can hardly swing a club after a few holes. Twice I've had to cut the round short, and other times I stuck it out, but my scores reflected the state of my back. I can swing the club pretty well when it doesn't hurt, but it seems to hurt more often than not these days.

Two years ago, I set a golf milestone by scoring a 78. That is still the lowest round I've ever played, but I came close yesterday -- I shot a 79.



The reason this is a milestone is that I am prouder of this 79 than the 78 I shot two years ago. My back started to get to me around the 12th hole, and I ran off a series of bogeys, which marred what had been a stellar round of golf. But they were bogeys and no worse...on 3 occasions, I got into some serious trouble, but in all cases I managed to keep my cool and salvage the bogey. It's a rare day when I have nothing worse than a bogey on my scorecard. And I simply played better yesterday than the day I shot the 78 -- had I made a few easy putts (one from 2 feet) and avoided that one bad fairway wood, this could have easily been a 73 instead of a 78.

The third milestone is the biggest.

You might remember the first Wyndanwood post, in which I described meeting Dorothy for the first time after a round of golf. That was June 29, 2000. So on June 29, 2010, I took her back to the scene of the crime, got down on one knee, and proposed. After ten years, you get to know your partner pretty well, and she has been the most consistently...well, just about anything good that I could insert here...woman I've known. I knew that once I committed to buying Wyndanwood with her that there was no backing out, but I wanted to wait for a special moment to ask the question.

So those are the milestones in my life over the past month...and summer isn't even halfway over yet. I'm curious to see what's coming around the bend.

(By the way, she said "Yes!")

Philosophy

Just as I thought....

Tales From the Woods

The weather has warmed, and we've been spending a lot of time at Wyndanwood. We continue to clear trails and keep the plant growth under control on the dike. I started cutting the wild grape vines out of the woods, a project that will never be finished. Dorothy has started some plants - water irises and Cana lillies - at water's edge around the dike.

I had some friends out last week and I spent quite a bit of time getting the place ready for their visit. I set up a tent, stuck some Tiki torches into the ground, filled two coolers with beer, water and soft drinks, and raised the official Wyndanwood flag. You can't see all of that in this picture, but you get the drift. The first guests arrived a little before noon, and the last arrived around 5 o'clock. In the meantime, we played with our paintball guns and did some fishing. We caught probably 50 fish among us, mostly large mouth bass, but there were also a few crappies and blue gills. (For those not familiar with crappies, it rhymes with poppies.) That was the first time I stayed overnight out there, and I left the tent up, assuming I'd be doing it again several times over the summer and fall.

We took a walk down the trail to the dike, where I showed off the new landscaping around the spillway. Nice, eh?







Dorothy had told me the story of a sign her mother had kept at the farm, and its modern replacement can be seen here. "Hither" points to the spot where a house will someday be built; "thither" points to the road; and "yon" points to the dike and the pond and the woods beyond. Appropriate, I think.

Then there was Saturday. I've been looking for the right boat to put on the pond, and we finally found one. We bought the boat and trailer from a nice couple from Seven Hills, Ohio, and got it back to the farm after a 7-hour round trip (including the time needed to negotiate the deal and take care of the paperwork). Although it is not yet in the water (waiting for the dock), I think it's going to be perfect for the pond. This picture doesn't show much of the boat, but I'll take a picture after we drop her in the water.

The Demise of the Boycott?

I'm sure the new Arizona law on illegal immigration has had some coverage outside the US. Some have condemned it as racist, an open door to racial profiling. Others view it as necessary. The folks in Arizona are tired of paying the social and economic costs of people invading their state, and I applaud the Governor and the legislature for taking a stand and enforcing the rule of law. Drug cartels are taking advantage of the porous border to ply their illegal trade, and murder rates in the border cities are among the highest in the world. The federal government is too concerned with political expediency to do anything constructive about this serious, and growing, problem. Did someone say 14 million new voters?

In the event you disagree with the law, let me ask you a few questions. Is your homeland being besieged? Are your national values being threatened? Would you allow these people into your home?




These pictures were taken in London, England. They could have been taken in any western city in which people were raised in a free society. Guess what? It won't be free for long if action isn't taken now.

Did these people enter England legally? if so, England needs to rethink its immigration policy, and I hasten to add, so does the USA. If they entered illegally, it is time to enforce immigration laws. The Arizona law is not aimed specifically at any particular group except those who have illegally entered the state of Arizona. If I entered your home illegally, you would have recourse. This is no different. And lest you think that there aren't similarities between those invaders and some coming from south of our border, take a look. The images and back stories are varied, but there are elements of each that want nothing less than to undo the magnificent accomplishments of free western societies.

Several political subdivisions have passed resolutions condemning the Arizona law, and a boycott is afoot. The rest of this post is self-explanatory, and I think it amply illustrates the economic interdependence that exists in a market society. Your boycott can get you in trouble...

The Los Angeles City Council voted to boycott the state of Arizona over its new immigration-enforcement law, and now the Arizona Corporation Commission has responded. Gary Pierce, one of the commissioners chosen in state-wide elections to the utility regulation panel, notes that Los Angeles gets about 25% of its power from Arizona producers. If the City of Angels really wants a boycott, Pierce offers his services to help, as he explains in a letter to Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa and copied to Hot Air:

Dear Mayor Villaraigosa,

I was dismayed to learn that the Los Angeles City Council voted to boycott Arizona and Arizona-based companies — a vote you strongly supported — to show opposition to SB 1070 (Support our Law Enforcement and Safe Neighborhoods Act).

You explained your support of the boycott as follows: “While we recognize that as neighbors, we share resources and ties with the State of Arizona that may be difficult to sever, our goal is not to hurt the local economy of Los Angeles, but to impact the economy of Arizona. Our intent is to use our dollars — or the withholding of our dollars — to send a message.” (emphasis added)

I received your message; please receive mine. As a state-wide elected member of the Arizona Corporation Commission overseeing Arizona’s electric and water utilities, I too am keenly aware of the “resources and ties” we share with the City of Los Angeles. In fact, approximately twenty-five percent of the electricity consumed in Los Angeles is generated by power plants in Arizona.

If an economic boycott is truly what you desire, I will be happy to encourage Arizona utilities to renegotiate your power agreements so Los Angeles no longer receives any power from Arizona-based generation. I am confident that Arizona’s utilities would be happy to take those electrons off your hands. If, however, you find that the City Council lacks the strength of its convictions to turn off the lights in Los Angeles and boycott Arizona power, please reconsider the wisdom of attempting to harm Arizona’s economy.

People of goodwill can disagree over the merits of SB 1070. A state-wide economic boycott of Arizona is not a message sent in goodwill.

Sincerely,

Commissioner Gary Pierce


And here's the link, in case you'd like to look at some of the comments.

Hat tip to Paul for the story.

Go Bucks!

The Ohio Statehouse

Cleaning up some files again...ran across this picture from the Statehouse Museum grand opening, of which Columbia Gas of Ohio was a sponsor.



The major donors were presented with a glass...thing, as thanks for our efforts. It reminded me of The Fickle Finger of Fate award that was a running gag on the old Rowen & Martin's Laugh-In show from the 1960's.

But seriously, the museum is a real treasure. I think most of us who work in the Ohio Statehouse appreciate its history. The first time I entered the building was in the spring of 1982 when I interviewed for an internship, and I was in awe of the place. I still feel some of that awe every time I enter the building.



The cornerstone was laid in 1839, but it took until 1861 for the building to be completed. It is an excellent example of the Greek Revival style of architecture. Before it was finished, Abraham Lincoln made a speech from the east steps in September of 1859 while campaigning for President. He returned in February 1861, about a month before being sworn in as President, to address a joint session of the legislature. The large chair that sits on the Speaker's platform in the House chamber is known to this day as the Lincoln Chair. Lincoln's last stop at the Statehouse was when his body laid in state in the Rotunda on April 29, 1865.

The Rotunda, with a bust of Lincoln prominently displayed.

When I first worked at the Statehouse, it had been divided into many small offices, and the place had fallen into disrepair and was generally a mess. Thanks to the foresight and dedication of some of its denizens, a major reconstruction took place during the 1990's, and it has been masterfully restored to its original beauty. That might be the best $140 million ever spent. It is a special place.

If you find yourself passing through Columbus, take the time to tour the Statehouse and the Museum. Both will be well worth your time.

The Master

It was 25 years ago today that my Dad passed away, and it still seems like yesterday.

The brief bio: Rodger Ambrose Gerhardstein, born in 1925, graduated high school, enlisted in the US Army during WW II, farmed, learned to weld and erect buildings, fathered nine children, planted many thousands of fruit trees (with the help of the boys, of course), and died at the age of 59 on April 20, 1985.

Rodger and Donald Gerhardstein, circa 1928


It would take many thousands of pages to really explain what this guy was about. He was larger than life, and I can’t imagine that too many people packed more life and happiness into 59 years than Dad.

We had our assigned places at the supper table, and mine was at the corner of the table next to Dad, who sat at one end. I felt special because I could sit next to Dad at the supper table. They say that a family that prays together stays together, but I think in our house, it was eating together that really kept us grounded. School, farm and work issues were discussed at the supper table, and the time around that table could be carefree and humorous, or serious and sober, and all points in between. And when the meal was over, the boys cleared the table and swept the floor, while the girls did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen.

Dad grew up on the edge of town, in a large brick house that was influenced by the German heritage of its occupants. He didn’t have a lot of patience for failure of any kind, and throughout his life, it never once occurred to me to challenge him on anything. If he said to do something, I did it, even to the extent of giving up little league baseball because he needed me in the orchard. There was very little discussion about it, and it still puzzles me that he even made that request, considering that it came from a man who was scouted as a pitcher by the Cleveland Indians.

Some German was spoken in that brick house, and Dad seemed to have mostly picked up words that he should not have picked up. But one general-usage term he picked up was “Der Meister,” a term he frequently used to refer to himself, in his mock-serious way. When we might ask Dad how he knew something or how he had figured something out, he’d look at us with that gleam in his eye, tap his temple with his index finger, and say “The Master knows!”

A coffee cup I bought for Dad, but he died before I could give it to him.


The Master he was, and it was easy for me as a child to assume that he knew everything there was to know, and could do anything there was to do. He was a tall, barrel-chested man, with a laugh as big as his physical self, and he was one of the hardest working people I’ve ever known. His philosophy was: Work hard, play hard, and take good care of your family – and he did all three.

He was also one of the most generous people I’ve ever known. When you are tending to thousands of fruit trees, there is plenty of work, and Dad had a habit of offering that work to people who had found the bottom of existence and had nowhere else to go. Many of the people who worked in the orchard were living in $5-per-day boarding rooms, and had no transportation or visible means of support. Dad put them to work and gave them a paycheck and some dignity.

Time passed. Then the grandchildren came along, and it seemed as if Dad had found his true calling. He loved his grandchildren, and they loved him back. This bear of a man could be as gentle as a lamb when it came to those little ones, and the smile he smiled when around them was all you needed to know about the human race.

The first time I walked into the house after he died is when it really hit me – Dad would never be seen or heard in that house again, and the house seemed suddenly different and strange. And I sat on the couch and wept. That was the first time I understood the temporal nature of this life, and that feeling has stayed with me and has colored everything I’ve done and thought about since.

Like the rest of my siblings, and of course my mother, I miss him every single day.



Copyright Richard Heeks - Bearcroft Media

Drunken Monkeys and Toasted Elephants

Somewhere in the jungle is a stand of trees containing a fruit that ferments in the hot sun. The animals find their way to the trees and have a block party.

I can't understand a word of this (it's in French), but it doesn't matter. This is reminiscent of an evening in my brother's back yard.

Lux Aurumque and Happy Easter

I just checked out a blog post that is worth sharing.

Check out Rhymes With Plague's Easter post, follow the Lux Aurumque link, and enjoy the virtual choir.

Happy Easter.

Signs

There's an old song from the Five Man Electrical Band that hit the nail on the head:

Sign, sign everywhere a sign
Blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind
Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?


Many signs serve a purpose, but many serve no purpose at all. And then there are the signs that purport to serve a specific purpose, but actually serve a different purpose. Take, for example, this sign from the Hannaford Suites. In the interest of giving you the privacy you deserve, they will do your housekeeping only once a week,  provided your stay with us is for at least seven nights. In the meantime, if you need towels, don't bother calling the front desk to ask for them - you have to take them to the front desk to exchange them. Trust me, this policy is not at all about your privacy.




Here is a good example of a sign that has a specific purpose, and there is no hidden agenda. This man is parched, and he is asking you to endow his Budweiser Fund. You gotta love honesty in advertising, and I would happily throw this  guy a few bucks.

This one is from Robin's Ridge Golf Course, out in the middle of nowhere. It costs something like ten bucks to play 18 holes with cart, and you really do get what you pay for.

This is an honest sign - the path got very steep in front of this sign. But if they would just pave the path, it probably wouldn't be so slippery.

Another sign at Robin's Ridge that I did not photograph was one that said something like: Alcohol abuse is not allowed on the course. So I guess you can drink yourself right up to the point of abuse and stay within their guidelines.  Just be careful when you come to the steep, unpaved cart path - and remember to go down slowly.



This sign has a purpose, and every donut shop should have one like it.

Some signs are informative and helpful.

And this sign should be thrown into a landfill. This was taken at the Safari Golf Course near Powell, Ohio. The "environmentally sensitive" claim has been used by many golf courses as an excuse not to mow anywhere outside the fairways. This particular "environmentally sensitive" area was a dried-up patch of ground where real grass won't grow, and for some reason, they don't want you to walk there. Note the ducks on the sign. Maybe the sign was meant for them, not us.

Super Bowl Sunday

Today is Super Bowl Sunday, and like millions of other people, I'll be sitting in front of the TV tonight to watch the game and the commercials. I think it's amazing what the NFL has done with the marketing of this game. Even people who don't like football tune in to see the commercials. And there have been many memorable ones.

Budweiser typically buys the lion's share of the air time, and they've had some great ads over the years. The Clydesdale horses are an integral part of Bud's marketing, and here is one of the better ads they've aired. A year or two ago, they came up with this ad, which is a tribute to the great American pastime of streaking.

But my favorite ad by far was one that was shown only once, during the 1984 Super Bowl. The introduction of the Macintosh computer and the calendar turning to 1984 resulted in a unique confluence of events, of which Apple's ad agency took full advantage. It is an advertising masterpiece.


Disclaimer: No dictators or thought police were harmed during the production of this ad.

The Games People Play

Some tidbits about games...

The earliest known example of a game is a complete set of equipment for the Royal Game of Ur, dating to about 3000 BC. The Royal Game of Ur can be thought of as a precursor to Backgammon, and it was played with a precursor to dice. The earliest record of cubical dice is from 700 BC, so we must surmise that the people who played the Royal Game of Ur probably used 4-sided sticks to determine their moves. It's a good thing that cubical dice were invented - otherwise, most cars south of the Mason-Dixon line would sport a set of fuzzy sticks on their rear-view mirrors.

For the next 2,000 years or so, that was about all there was to play. Then one day, some guy in India came up with chess. This was a quantum leap from the Game of Ur, and chess quickly spread throughout Asia Minor. Chess is not a difficult game to learn, but it may be the most difficult of any game to master. The number of possible moves runs into the quintillions, and my feeble mind can't remember all those moves. But I still like to play.

Around the middle of the 15th century, the French, not having sufficient intellect to play chess, invented the standard four-suited deck of cards that we still use today. That led inexorably to the invention of the casino, where you won't find a single chessboard. For the French, this was a simple concept - all you needed to open a casino was a table, a deck of cards, and some cubical dice. I suspect they left it to the people in India to figure out the various odds for their casino games. This is not to say that the French invented the casino, for they did not. An invention like that required more creativity than could be found in France. But they needed a place to drink their wine, and what better place than a felt-covered table, complete with rails to prevent one from falling to the floor.


I recently discovered a new game: KenKen. This is no joke - it is a real game, invented just a few years ago, and can be found in the NY Times and many other dailies. It is similar to Sudoku in that it is played on a grid (as small as 4x4 and as large as 9x9), and that each row and column has no repeating numbers. In a 6x6 game, for example, each row will contain the numbers one through six, as will each column. The difference between KenKen and Sudoku is that there is some math involved with KenKen. What this means in practice is that you have to logically determine the possibilities before you can logically determine the possibilities...a wonderful concept.

Rather than me trying to explain it, follow this link to the KenKen page, where you can print off puzzles and learn the ropes. You can also read Will Shortz' assessment of the game - and if Will Shortz likes it, it is probably worth a look. (He's the guy who edits the NY Times crossword puzzles and who has tempted more than one cruciverbalist to jump out the window.) The game is beautiful in its simplicity, yet devilish in its deceptions. If you can think logically, give it a go.






One of these drawings is logical, the other is not.

Can you tell the difference?