On Being a Tourist

When I was a kid I had no idea what exactly my father did for work. I knew he worked with computers or something, but computers at the time were these room-filling machines that really did not do much that would impress a ten-year-old. I do not know when exactly this photo was made. My guess is when he worked for HP in the late 1960s, or wherever else he worked. What was he working on? The handwriting on the background chalkboard is probably not his handwriting, his was much messier, like mine — I did inherit his sloppy handwriting, thanks dad.

And, no, I did not take this photo. I would have been an infant or not yet born. If I think about that too much it can cause an existential crisis, there was a time that I was not, oh, crap, that means there will be a time when I am no longer…

Sorry, got sidetracked there. I have no idea who took this photo, but it is pretty good. I cropped it from the original and added the ragged border. I like the chalkboard background, looks like he is working with a slide rule #sliderulesrule he used to carry them around in his pocket, like the awesome nerd he was. I loved playing with the slide rules and little engineer stencil things, and often broke them, which was really fun, until I got caught. Every time my son breaks something  I have an opportunity to understand my father a little more, but mostly I just yell like a maniac.



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