It was the night of the high school band's annual fundraiser at the "fancy hotel" in our town. I don't know the official name of the event; I just call it the Annual Dance for Rich Parents. I'd dropped her off with her trombone, let her know that Mom would probably be picking her up because I was exhausted, then drove home and went to sleep.
Here's an actual bedtime conversation with my (then) 5-year-old, many years ago. I know, I'm a terrible parent.
HE: Dad, I know I need to go to sleep, and I know this is kind of ridiculous, but I'm sort of afraid of bears.
Adapted from my original post on Google+, back when we were allowed to have nice things.
One of the difficult things about learning a language is understanding that a word may have several different meanings. Sometimes those meanings are so different that they have absolutely nothing to do with each other. And sometimes they're even different parts of speech.
Consider the word buffalo:
buffalo: (n) an ox-like mammal; bison
buffalo: (v) to confuse or intimidate
Buffalo: (n) a port city in New York
OK, three different meanings and two parts of speech. How bad could that possibly be? I'm glad you asked!
Richard Feynman is one of my heroes, as much for his brilliance and creativity as for his sense of humor, his matter-of-fact view of the world, and his unassuming and, well, human personality. Years ago, as I read his autobiography, Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman, I couldn't help thinking I would have loved to work with him. Maybe, just maybe, I might have absorbed some of the Feynman genius (or at least some of the Feynman humor) through osmosis. But I also wonder if he'd approve of my curiosity and quirky thoughts, or if he'd just shake his head and wonder if I'd ever get it right. The first chapter of his autobiography is titled "He Fixes Radios by Thinking!" But my version, one of the highlights of my career, might've been called "He Fixed a Critical Product Flaw by Accident."
