Annie turned in early, and I stayed up in the galley, hopeful to find others with whom to play Skat or Doppelkopf. Both complicated German card games, I learned Skat in my high school German language class and played it constantly the year I studied abroad (35 years ago). Doppelkopf (or “Doko”), which is twice as complicated, I learned aboard the Abel Tasman last year, and much to the amazement of my fellows, got to the level where I was able to hold my own.
A rousing game of Doppelkopf
There are many rules and variations to Doppelkopf. Here are a couple websites with instructions in English:
Although the rules are dizzyingly complex with countless variations, I love this game. One unique aspect of Doppelkopf is that you play with partners, but you don’t know who your partner is until well into the game! In regular play, whichever two players hold a Queen of Clubs (there are two in the deck) will play as partners against the other two. So, you have to guess who your partner is until each queen is eventually revealed.
I know no one in the U.S. who plays Doppelkopf. The only Skat players I know are a few who studied German.
Another hand of Doppelkopf
Here are couple websites with instructions for Skat in English.
Alas, the only people not already engaged in either game or chess didn’t know how to play, so we played a hilarious and simple game which so far lacks a name. I call it the Das Lügenspiel, (“the lying game”). I believe Robert learned it while studying in Singapore.
Basically, there are just enough cards to have threes-of-a-kind for each player, plus one Ace (e.g. 3 players, 10 cards). Cards shuffled and dealt, all players will have three cards, except one will have four.
You take turns asking the previous person for a specific card. They can give you any card, claim they don’t have one, etc. If you don’t trust the first card they offer you, you can ask for a second, or even a third. You have to take the third one.
Play continues until one person has a three-of-a-kind and no extra cards. Whoever is stuck with the Ace in their hand loses. Watching people’s faces as they try to determine whether they are being lied to is hilarious.
Playing the “lying game”
After several hands of the lying game, we played Oh Hell, which I think they knew as the “Wizard Game.” I was losing most of the game, only to squeak by and come in second by the end of the game. I suspect Annie would have wiped us all out.
The sun has now risen, and the harbor is awakening to the sounds of fisherman spraying down their decks and readying their crafts.
A severe muscle spasm in my right calf woke me early this morning. I get these occasionally after a strenuous hike or a lot of walking in bare feet. It’s a wonder I haven’t had one earlier. I cursed myself for having allowed myself to become dehydrated and/or not taking my calcium earlier. Oh well.
Sitting or standing, I feel the craft slightly bob and tip, although my eyes tell me the ship is stable. If the ship is actually moving, it is doing so much slower than my feet and butt would have me believe.
Our small cabin is pretty warm and humid.
All the portholes in our cabins are sealed. So, the only air in and out of our tiny rooms comes through the door. With stronger winds, portholes on the downwind side of the ship often dip below the water’s surface. Indeed, during the rougher parts of the previous two day’s journeys, those portholes looked like the doors of front-loading washing machines.
Each cabin has a sink and tiny shower and without ventilation the rooms can get pretty humid. Each door has a little hook to allow you to secure the door open a couple of inches which we do almost round the clock. Sometimes, if it gets too stuffy, I’ll get up and quickly open and nearly close my door, fanning the air and bringing in some from the hall and hopefully down the stairs from outside.
I climbed the tight spiral staircase up to the galley to stretch out, open the windows and enjoy some fresh, cool air.
It was quiet save for the birds greeting each other and seeking their morning food as well as the constant low hum of the refrigerator fans.
Quiet Klintholm harbor in the early morning
Last night at dinner we sat next to the captain and his first mate, Stein, who is his son. Bespectacled, his ruddy face daily splashed with sun and battered by wind sports a thick and closely cropped silver beard and mustache with splashes of light copper. His hair is curly and light copper only beginning to grey in front of his ears. I guess him to be around 50, but he is probably closer to 60. His son has similar hair and blue eyes, with a pointed nose, narrow pointed chin and a ready grin.
Sitting with the captain and his first mate and son, Stein
The whole crew is Dutch. The captain and son both speak excellent English and German. Crewmember “Moss” struggles with German so mostly communicates in heavily accented English. The daughter, when we see her, also prefers English. Since 95% of the people on board are German speakers, that’s what the captain speaks. But sitting next to us, I spoke with him in English, and he replied in turn fluently.
I had so many questions, I felt a little bad about preventing him from enjoying his meal, but he seemed happy to talk. His first time on a sailboat was around 3 months. His son was on a sailboat before he was born, and the captain got to see both his kids take their first steps aboard a sailing vessel. His wife does like to sail but suffers seasickness and therefore manages the not insignificant amount of computer and paperwork it takes to manage a large sailing vessel, its trips, and all the passengers.
The captain with his son and daughter
Both his kids are part of his crew on this voyage. We haven’t seen much of his daughter, who looks to be a recent high school graduate. She mostly stays inside at the bridge, venturing out to help to throw and secure ropes when we are mooring in port.
The third, “Moss,” is a young, energetic man who looks like a college-age surfer with a small man-bun. Moss was the one who climbed the mast while we were sailing at a decent clip through medium swells to secure the ropes for the aquatic swing we enjoyed a few days ago. Remembering how even the smallest movements on deck are magnified once you are 90 feet up the mast, those of us who had climbed to that height marveled how unflappable he was to scale the swinging rope ladder, straddle the crossbeam, and complete his task with aplomb. I asked Stein if he had drawn the short straw and had to do the task, but he answered, no, Moss had volunteered.
Moss and Alex lifting the gangplank. The captain’s daughter can be seen on the leftMoss climbing the main mast under full sail and high seas to secure the rope for the water swing
The captain started sailing as a full-time profession around age 30. Before, he sold wholesale vegetables at auction and was doing okay. But inevitably, his industry consolidated more and more, and as firms got bigger and fewer, he had to fire good people. He’d see his former colleagues later in the grocery store, struggling, and he felt responsible and terrible about it.
He turned to captain for-rent sailing and has never looked back. He loves it. I believe he said he’s owned the Abel Tasman for 16 years.
There’s no shortage of work. During the winter, there is a lot of upkeep and maintenance to do. They completely remodeled the galley, repositioning the bar and making more efficient use of the space. That left him too tired to sail at the beginning of the season. So, he’s really happy to be back in the captain’s chair for our voyage.
Relaxing in the remodeled galley
The Abel Tasman sails the entire Baltic Sea and the rougher North Sea as far north as Bergen, Norway, the British Isles, and south to Brest, France. He’s never sailed her to Iceland or to the Caribbean. He could, but it would be expensive, and the required time would eat into his passenger sailing season.
Abel Tasman masts sandwiched between two neighboring sailing vessels
Harbor fees are also much more expensive depending on the location. In Germany, it can cost just $100 or so to moor for a night. Farther north in Scandinavia, that cost can rise two to four times as much. In the Caribbean, it can cost $1000.
Asked what the most difficult part of the job is, he answered, the people, both crew and passengers. The crew has long hours, and regulations require them to take turns covering all those hours. Also, it takes years of study and pricy licensing to become a mariner. His son has completed his studies and licensing, and is an officer on a container ship when not first mate on his father’s schooner. It sounds like Moss is pretty close to that level as well. Good crew are hard to find and they can be lured away by other higher-paying ships.
The captain and deck hand, Moss
Passengers are mostly okay, but of course there are some who expect or demand services the crew cannot provide. There is, of course, no way to control the wind and seas. As I guessed, the captain could see yesterday how many people were suffering discomfort during the rough seas and fired up the diesel to shorten the time it took to get to Klintholm.
Post-breakfast briefing with the captain
Asked about the precision parking job last night, the captain revealed a funny story. He had called the Klintholm harbormaster ahead to make sure we had a large enough spot to moor. When we got there, he saw that the luxury German yacht in front of our space was about 3 meters back into our space. When asked, the owner said he couldn’t possibly move it forward because of the wind (which was of course nonsense).
Our 133-foot ship parked very close to a German luxury yacht
Okay, our captain replied, and as previously described, slowly and carefully started to guide our schooner into the tight spot. When the yacht owner saw our massive stern towering at least three meters over his and moving ever closer, miracle of miracles, he was suddenly able to move his craft forward the requested three meters.
Note how close our bowsprit is to the sailing vessel on the left
The captain laughed and said there are other such shenanigans with yacht owners. For example, he always has the right to tie up side-by-side with a yacht if there is nowhere else to moor. He can do so, safely, but I’d worry such a large ship next to my priceless vessel could risk a scratch or worse due to overnight winds or current. Also, when tied side by side, passengers of one craft are allowed to cross their neighbor’s ship in order to get to shore. That’s happened to us already on this trip and did last year several times.
Nevertheless, yacht owners sometimes will refuse to move to make room for the Abel Tasman. When that happens, he simply says, okay, I’ll tie up next to you – but just know that I am carrying about 30 passengers. Suddenly, the yacht owners change their mind. The thought of all those people tramping across their precious craft seems to provide an irrefutable argument and they move their yacht.
A picture from last year showing our ship tied between two others
Klintholmhavn, Møn Island, Denmark, 7:45pm, Wednesday, Aug 14
The captain reviews our location and the forecast, providing us with possible destinations
After a nice breakfast, the captain gathered us for our morning discussion about today’s destination. Although Annie and I were pulling for Copenhagen, the captain worried that if we went as far north as that or to Malmø, we might not have favorable winds for the southward trip back to Rostock. We’d potentially have to burn a lot of diesel, which is both expensive and the antithesis to the joy of sailing. His suggestion was Klimtholm, which was just a third of the distance of our prior day’s rough trip.
Now a couple German words:
Ostsee – literally “East Sea,” known in English as the Baltic Sea
As I explained in the previous post, the Baltic is relatively shallow, a lot being just between 5 and 15 meters (16-50 feet). The good news is that means the water is generally warmer and the waves smaller. The bad news is that the waves can come much closer together, and today was rough. Frank, who has sailed the Ostsee 4 times, said these were the biggest waves he’d experienced.
To my untrained eyes, they seemed not that big, maybe just 6-8 foot swells. But because they came so close together, our 40.5 meter (133 foot) craft bounced and crashed through them repeatedly, making our ride even rougher, though thankfully shorter than yesterday’s. Not thankfully for several passengers, who alternated between sitting outside, breathing fresh air and focusing on the horizon, or curling up on the padded benches inside, attempting to sleep through the tumult.
I was doing fine, until…
Sich übergeben – literally “to give oneself over,” the polite/medical term for throwing up
[like in English, there are countless slang terms in German for this mostly involuntary reflex]
I was wandering around the ship, going downstairs to fetch a jacket or cap, upstairs to offer seasickness medication, etc. Then I had to go to the bathroom. The onboard bathrooms are remarkably clean. But inside the cramped room with all walls and no window, the rolling, roiling seas provided a stirring and unsettling argument against my equilibrium. Moments later, I rushed to a sink, none too soon, returning to sender a generously prepared breakfast.
The crew, sympathetic and apologetic for a second day of discomfort for many, added diesel power to the sail power to hasten us more smoothly to our berth tonight.
Klintholmhavn is a tiny harbor, and as we lumbered toward the entrance, a large, dual-hulled ship plowed past us. I really couldn’t imagine how we were going to maneuver in this harbor, even without the other boat traffic. Indeed, one deck hand lowered the dinghy into the water and motored around to the bow, helping guide the front of the ship like a little tug boat.
Stein looking for our “parking spot”Stein using the dinghy to help tugboat-maneuver our large ship in the small space
So short was our berth that another deckhand clamored to the front of the bowsprit, which cleared a dockside streetlamp by mere feet. The dinghy, usually suspended at the stern, remained in the water, tied to the side of the ship as I think it would not fit between our stern and the next ship behind us!
Safely moored. Note the lamp post near the bow on the left
As our hulking mass inched its way into the tight berth, an old dude on ground was motioning with his hands and in German and English urged us to move our ship forward. There were indeed, several meters in front of our bow before a perpendicular wall. Mind you, this was likely a visiting vacationer, not a mariner or local familiar with the harbor. Indeed, after we were securely moored, another sailing ship, similar in size to ours, parked along that perpendicular wall, mere feet in front of our ship. Annie had to laugh. It seems like there is always some guy everywhere in the world, trying to help you park, despite having little actual clue what is needed or possible.
Uh, oh. Here comes another large ship that needs to moor right in front of us!
Once moored, Annie and I quickly disembarked, happy to feel solid ground beneath our feet. Admittedly, it still felt like the ground was moving as I walked, and I could hear Carol King singing “I feel the earth move under my feet” for at least 10 minutes.
We walked a small circle through Klintholm, passing a couple small restaurants, a market, and a little outdoor food court.
License plates revealed summer vacationers from Germany, Denmark, Italy, Belgium, Sweden, Czech Republic, and more, and we passed a couple camping sites for tents and RVers.
A little self-serve table selling fresh figs, plums, and homemade jam
We returned to the food court, and although we have dinner coming, we had both skipped lunch (and I had sent my breakfast back) so we sat down and had one of the best fish and chips we’ve had in years. Annie made a point to thank the owner.
We had a long, windy sail from Wustrow, Germany to Rødvig, Denmark, longer than any one day trip on last year’s voyage. Winds were favorable, but port side waves made the ride a little rough for those with sensitive constitutions.
The Baltic Sea is relatively shallow, much of it only 5 – 15 meters (16-50 feet) deep. That means the waves are smaller, but closer together.
One of the crew climbed the mast while the great ship pitched and swayed through the water and attached a rope a cross beam near the top of the main mast. On the bottom they attached a small chair. With the ship keeling over to the port side, a person could sit in the chair and skim the waves.
We’d sit in the chair and swing out over the water rushing past us, swinging forward and backward and side to side, as the roiling water and swells would sometimes splash and crash into us. The 40.5-meter-long (133-foot) ship was doing about eight knots, which seemed very fast from the chair.
Stein takes the first test ride in the chairSimon steadies himself on the wet, slanted floorSimon goes for a swingKeira takes the plungeRobert splashes through the waves
It looked really cold and I was trepidatious before initially springing out over the side. I was substantially larger and heavier than the previous folks, but the captain assured me the crossbeam should be able to support 200kg. Yes, but what about the knot, I wondered.
I strapped in and with little hesitation stepped overboard. It wasn’t cold, and like everyone else who tried it, I was all smiles and laughter as soon as I literally hit the water.
The ship really was keeling over
That evening was our turn to make dinner. Annie planned to make pizza and Caprese salad. She was feeling a little bit unsettled after the rough sail, but quickly recovered once we were safely moored in the harbor. Many people stepped up to volunteer with prep, slicing vegetables and cheese. I grated what was probably about 7-8 lbs. of cheese.
Tessa helps with the potatoesBengt helping with the Caprese salad
Annie had prepared the pizza dough the night prior. Watching how fast 7.5 kg (16.5 lbs.) of potatoes had been devoured during a previous meal, she decided to make a lot of dough. She used 3 kg (6.6 lbs.) of flour, and we had a bit of a challenge finding room in the onboard refrigerator for all the resulting dough to proof overnight.
She spread out the dough on seven sheets and quickly assembled the pizzas with all the previously prepared ingredients. The small kitchen on the ship was equipped with an efficient oven that could do three big pizzas at a time.
The crowd ate it all up! By the time the last pizza was delivered, a tiny bit of the salad was left, thoughtfully reserved by one of our friends to ensure we would have some to eat along with leftover pizza. People were happily stuffed by the time we came upstairs to have our meal, and Annie received a well-deserved rousing applause from the satiated diners.
Caprese Salad – there was barely any left for us
Not sure where we are bound for today. Annie and I of course would love to go to Copenhagen, but it sounds like the majority are not interested in that since most have been there many times. We’ll see.
We came aboard and slept Sunday night in Rostock, Germany. All our food was delivered the next morning, which took a while to inventory and find places to store in the fridges and dry storage containers.
Loading our food in Rostock (note the delivery truck in the background)
Winds were light and unfavorable, so we motored up the Warnow river to Warnemünde, and then northeast to Wustrow, anchoring offshore. A few of us were taxied in a dinghy to shore to stroll the beach and a little of the coastal town during sunset. The sunset was gorgeous!
Stein quickly motors us to shoreThe beach at WustrowOur first look at thatched roofsAbel Tasman in the sunset
Far from big cities, the sky was dark and perfect for stargazing. Staying up late, we saw several great meteors from the Perseid shower and a constant string of satellites crisscrossing the Milky Way. A dull light grey haze on the horizon I assumed to be glare from city lights. But photographs taken revealed brilliant colors our eyes could not perceive of the Aurora Borealis.
Our masts reach for the Milky WayAurora Borealis, which to my eyes looked like a gray haze on the horizon
Most of us sailed last year and have been quick studies learning/relearning the sails and lines. We hoisted and set sails like experienced hands under the supervision of the crew. I spent an hour or two on the wheel on the first day.
Identifying and naming the sales drawn in chalkHoisting the main sailTaking the wheel
Like last year, I took advantage of the light winds and smooth seas to scale the 95-foot mast. Several followed me to the dizzying height.
This year’s crew was all Dutch captained by the ship’s owner. Most spoke German, though a couple prefer English. Everyone on board, passenger and crew spoke English and readily used it when desired. I translated as much as I could on the fly.
I went sailing again on the Abel Tasman, a 111 year old, 133-foot long, twin masted Dutch schooner.
I wrote a 7-part blog series about my voyage last year. We all had such a good time, we urged our host to do it again. So, my friend, Frank, indulged us and organized another trip.
Last year we had 17 passengers. This year, all but one returned, and our numbers swelled to 22 as partners, children, and a few new friends joined us.
I was especially excited since this year the Abel Tasman would be departing from Rostock, a former East German city I had studied in 35 years ago before the fall of the Berlin Wall. I have a blog devoted to memories from that extraordinary experience. This would be my first time returning to that city.
Starting with several emails I wrote during the trip, I have edited, expanded, and added photographs to create this blog series.
Last year I had the wonderful experience sailing the Baltic Sea on a twin masted schooner, the Abel Tasman. I wrote about it in a 7-part blog series.
We all had such a good time we persuaded our host and my friend, Frank, into doing it again!
So. we’ll be setting sail in just a few weeks from Rostock, the former East German city in which I spent one semester studying before the fall of the Berlin Wall. I’ve blogged about my memories of that extraordinary experience as well.
We will embark on Sunday, Aug 11 and return to Rostock a week later on Aug 18.
Location of the Abel Tasman as of this writing
As of this writing, the Abel Tasman set sail yesterday from Brest, France and is making her way up to the Netherlands, Denmark and eventually to Rostock.
We won’t know where we are sailing from day to day. On a typical morning, we will eat breakfast, and the captain will announce the forecasted winds and currents and show us a chart with possible destinations.
Last weekend I played principal viola in a concert with the Oregon East Symphony (OES).
Although I have performed for over two decades with the Newport Symphony and occasionally subbed with other orchestras (such as OES), I’ve only played principal viola once before last week.
What is a Principal Musician?
The principal is the leader of a section of instruments. There is a principal cello, principal viola, principal 2nd violin, as well as principal percussion, horn, etc. The principal 1st violin is called the concert master and has additional responsibilities.
The principal leads their section. That can include assigning parts when multiple voices are written. In string sections, the principal may suggest particular bowings and fingerings. They are expected to help visually cue when the section is to start playing after a long pause in the music, and so on. Sometimes, composers may write a solo specifically for the principal musician. For this reason, the principal musician is typically the most skilled member of that section.
Accepting the Role
I knew I was not the most skilled violist in the section, and when first offered the position, encouraged them to pick someone stronger. But they insisted I was the one they wanted, so I buckled down for the task.
Rarely does the viola section get to play the melody in an orchestra. They more typically play a supporting role, offering harmony, doubling with other sections (cellos, bassoons, etc.) or the “pa pa” rhythm in a waltz “oom-pa-pa.” Once in a while, composers like Brahms and Dvořák favor the viola section with short phrases of melody. Off the top of my head, I could count on one hand the number of symphonic works I can think of that have an actual viola solo.
As luck would have it, this concert featured a rare viola solo.
One of the pieces of the program was “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” by Paul Dukas. Based on poem by Goethe and made popular in Walt Disney’s 1940 animated film Fantasia, it vividly depicts the story of the young sorcerer, bored and tired with his assigned of task carrying buckets of water, deciding to use magic to enchant a broom to do the work instead.
He is unable to stop the broom. He even resorts to splitting the broom with an axe only to see the individual pieces and splinters continue the work. He completely loses control of the situation and the room floods with rising water. The old sorcerer returns, and with a wave of his wand, quickly reverses the spell.
Mickey Mouse as “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” in Disney’s Fantasia (1940)
Musically, each character in the story has a dedicated theme. The old sorcerer has an ethereal melody played by the upper strings. The enchanted broom (later brooms) has a distinctive march played by the bassoon.
After the return of the old sorcerer and his climactic spell ending the brooms’ enchantment (2:03 in the clip above), the musical theme for the old sorcerer is played (2:24), and a short, mournful melody is played on solo viola. In Disney’s Fantasia, Mickey Mouse, who plays the Sorcerer’s Apprentice returns to his mentor the magical hat while wearing a chastened and embarrassed expression (2:32). The solo viola plays its melody twice (although the second time is cut in the abbreviated Fantasia version).
Fates Collude Against Me
The week leading up to the rehearsals and concert I was alarmed to find my left ear was blocked. I tried drops to remove any ear wax, took antihistamines, and found little relief. A healthcare provider peered in my ears and perceived no infection or wax, but she did see some fluid. She recommended saline nasal rinses, nasal decongestant spray, and failing that, a nasal steroid spray (Flonase).
At first rehearsal, I could hear almost nothing out of my left ear, which is the one closest to my instrument. I couldn’t tell if I was in tune at all during the first rehearsal. It was nerve wracking!
The veritable apothecary of medications started to take effect, and as I worked through the various rehearsals, my hearing gradually improved. My friends and colleagues gave me encouragement and helpfully answered my request for feedback and advice on my solo. Come concert day, I was feeling reasonably confident.
An overdressed principal violist
I showed up in my concert tuxedo … and saw everyone was dressed in open collar black shirts. My heart sank into my stomach. Rereading an earlier email, I found the part I had missed: “For the performance, dress all in black and for comfort. Tuxedos will probably be a little too much to bear. Short sleeved shirts/sleeveless dresses are totally acceptable attire.”
Great. So, I was overdressed (and likely going to overheat).
But happily, it all worked out in the end. I was satisfied with my solo and was humbled to receive praise from several musicians and members of the audience.
Perhaps the magic of the music buoyed me in my time of need.
Last weekend I was a judge at a robot competition.
This was my first time. A friend who was organizing the event asked if I would be willing to spend a day judging robot teams and I had to say, “yes!”
FIRST (For Inspiration and Recognition in Science and Technology) is a global nonprofit founded in 1989 which engages students around the world, inspiring them to build robots and compete in team robot challenges.
The competition I judged was a “FIRST Tech Challenge” (FTC) for students from 7th to 12th grade and took place at Hillsboro High School. Student teams from Salem, Portland, Beaverton, West Linn, Cornelius and other cities attended. In total, there were about 20 teams consisting of four to over a dozen members.
Last September, the rules of the robot challenge were published. That gave teams only a few months to build, program, and perfect their robots. At the most basic level, this game required robots to collect “pixels” (plastic hexagons) from one corner of the arena and stack them on a board at the opposite corner. But there were several optional ways to score bonus points. Here is a 6-minute video describing the rules of the challenge, which are surprisingly complex.
The Game Each match lasts 2.5 minutes. For the first 30 seconds, the robots may operate autonomously (if so built and programmed) and score points. At the 30 second mark, “drivers” pick up their controllers and take active command of their robots. Four robots are in the arena at a time. Teams are randomly paired together. For two and a half minutes, these teams work together to score the most points.
The empty robot arena
Judging Each team is interviewed, and their robots inspected to make sure they comply with the rules. The teams provide judges with portfolios describing their team and the journey they went through designing, building, and perfecting their robots. Multiple categories are available for awards, both technical and non-technical.
The latter is where I came in. Although I work in Information Technology, I am neither an engineer nor a programmer, and I have never built or controlled a robot. So, I was assigned to judge teams in two non-technical categories: “Connect” and “Motivate.” Each team is encouraged to do outreach to foster more interest and participation in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math), raise funds, and serve their communities.
Matches rotated between two robot arenas throughout the afternoon
One after another, each team marched in, gave us a 5-minute presentation introducing themselves and their robot followed by about 10 minutes of questions from the judges. After seeing all our teams, the judges shared notes and compiled follow-up questions. We then visited those teams back at the “pit” area where they prepared (and sometimes repaired) their robots for their next matches.
One robot attempts bonus points by suspending itself at the end of the match
Overall, the number one value of this entire competition is Gracious Professionalism®. One question I asked each team is what this term meant to them and how their team embodied this value. Their answers were thoughtful and inspiring.
In between interviews I was able to catch a match or two. Announcers called out robot numbers, noting scoring attempts and actions. Cheers and shouts of encouragement echoed through the hall just like you might hear at football or other sporting event.
Awards Ceremony The judging scores were compiled and ranked just as the final matches were completed and the game arenas dismantled. Teams of students and their parents waited anxiously as the judges filed out of our room to present the awards.
Handing out a trophy
We judges took turns announcing each award category and winners. After collecting their awards, the winning teams passed the line of judges receving congratulatory high-fives.
Row of judges, ready to high-five (note a winning team projected above us)
Conclusion The day was long yet exhilarating. I was amazed and inspired by the tremendous achievements of these kids — even those teams whose robots weren’t able to accomplish everything they attempted or who failed mid-competition. The cheers that erupted from the crowd were just as enthusiastic and fervent as at any athletic competition, and the genuine camaraderie and support between the teams was moving.
Back when I was in high school, the closest thing to celebrated academic competition was College Bowl.
The level of technical challenge, the fund raising, and community outreach displayed by these kids really gives me excitement and optimism for the future, which is in the hands of these young engineers and scholars.
If this sounds interesting to you, there is no shortage of opportunity to take part. Volunteers are needed at all levels (much more than just judging). Sponsorship and mentoring plays a huge role in the success of this endeavor. Check out the FIRST website and/or talk to people at your area schools to see if they participate in this program and what, if anything you can do to contribute and support.
Postscript My friend coaches 8610 ToborTech, a team which last Saturday scored the 5th highest score in the world and 2nd highest in the U.S. Here you can see the amazing match:
I donate sometimes as often as every week, but more typically 2-3 times every month. I happen to have a high level of platelets, so most of the time I donate three units of platelets (and sometimes also plasma) every time I go in.
After all the times I’ve been donated, I still am fascinated by the process – and I am still learning new things about platelets. Just last month I learned that matching donated platelets with recipients is pretty complex.
Donating in Salam, OR, back in 2022
Platelets aren’t matched simply on blood type. Instead, like bone marrow transplants, platelets are tested to find the closest Human Leukocyte Antigen (HLA) match. It’s rarely 100%, but the closer the match, the better – especially for people with weakened immune systems.
What is HLA? Greatly simplified, the HLA system encodes the surface of your cells with unique proteins – rather like fingerprints for your cells. Your immune system will recognize cells with matching HLA as your own and fight off any that appear foreign.
I spotted this Red Cross Blood Drive sign in Nagoya Japan in 2016
Donated blood products with a poor HLA match really can be a risk to a patient with a weak immune system. I have been told that your healthy donation can actually attack the patient’s system.
So, platelet donations may be sent far, far away if they are a good match. A decent supply of platelets locally does not guarantee a close match.
I receive emails after my donations letting me know where my platelets have been sent. In the past year, here are all the places they ended up:
Destinations of Toby’s 2023 Platelet Donations
University of California- UCLA, Los Angeles, CA UCSF Medical Center at Mission Bay, San Francisco, CA West Los Angeles Medical Center., Los Angeles, CA Egleston Hospital, Atlanta, GA Tanner Medical Center Carrollton, Carrollton, GA Northside Hospital, Atlanta, GA University of Michigan Hospital, Ann Arbor, MI McLaren Macomb, Mount Clemens, MI Harper University Hospital, Detroit, MI MountainView Hospital, Las Vegas, NV Sunrise Hospital & Medical Center, Las Vegas, NV Kaiser Sunnyside Medical Center, Clackamas, OR Asante Rogue Regional Medical Center, Medford, OR OHSU Hospital, Portland, OR Salem Health, Salem, OR Columbia Memorial Hospital, Astoria, OR St. Charles Medical Center, Bend, OR Adventist Medical Center, Portland, OR OHSU Hospital, Portland, OR Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, PA Kadlec Regional Medical Center, Richland, WA Seattle Children’s Hospital, Seattle, WA UW Medical Center, Seattle, WA Astria Toppenish Hospital, Toppenish, WA Yakima Valley Memorial Hospital, Yakima, WA
Given platelets can only be used within a week after they are collected, it takes sophisticated logistics to match, transport, and transfuse them in time!
They are needed especially by patients with cancer or leukemia, those undergoing major operations, and those who have been in bad accidents.
There is always an urgent need for platelets. Right now, the Red Cross reports that blood supplies are currently the lowest they have been in 20 years.
My dear friend, Alicia, donating back in 2018
Platelets have higher eligibility requirements. If you are eligible, please consider donating. If you are in the Portland area, I will happily donate with you!
Blatant Calm 