Go to the farthest horizon and you will fall off the earth. Centuries ago people believed this and had every reason to believe it. So, when ships sailed out of sight and headed toward the falling-off moment, they really fell. And today, we still sail to the earth’s edge and we are still falling; it’s just that humanity has mastered the state of free-falling.

We fell in love with adventure, the whole earthly environment, the idea that we had inherited what we didn’t create, that in between the visible-to-the-eye celestial world and the dark world below the seas there we were left to exist. There are just as many people in love with the flat world as there are adventurers; they ground us from falling too fast and too often. After all, many ships met their fate on the seas as nature proved its power. They were claimed as they set out with the purpose of claiming. And for those who keep pulling us over the edge, they need not try to take the whole world with them. Maybe their personal risks and love for adventure and discovery will inspire the next generation – that alone is the risk of falling.

Robert Waters, 2016. From, "The Prophetic Backbone"

adapted from, The Only Fields That Matter

Trying to keep up with IBM Watson social media is challenging; in March 2014, I saw an app developer’s contest that can be submitted to IBM using a downloadable form but unfortunately it is not an open-to-anybody invitation. I had an interesting app idea that  goes like this:

I want Watson to provide answers to the names of companies that will hire a skilled worker over age 50. That’s all; just provide some insight fast and actionable so I won’t be age 60 and still responding to online job posts such as those on LinkedIn. My guess, as a non-coder, would be Watson needs to know something about me, needs some geo-data, knowledge of the names of firms that didn’t hire me and specific job titles, classifications, industries and sectors of interest. Now, hit “Search”. I’m waiting.

Can America do better than accepting its 63% workforce participation rate? What can you tell me, Watson?




Robert P. Waters. The Only Fields That Matter (Section 6)

This past Saturday was one of the finest October days with bright sun rays and orange and yellow leaves making their final journey to earth. At 10am I grabbed my leaf blower. It wouldn’t start. Two of my close-by neighbors were on their way to the golf course and noticed my struggle with the leaf blower so they pulled into the driveway. “Hey Rob, what’s going on?”  “G’morning, men, - the on-switch seems broken”. Both neighbors were technology workers in big firms; one a coder of emotional intelligence software and the other worked for a big consultancy talking of Internet-of-Things things. How could they help me, I wondered.

Fred asked me where a sensor was located on the blower to which I responded, “Fred, I’ve had it five years!”. “Sure”, he replied, “but if you had it sensored you would’ve known about that switch beforehand.  Let’s get it sensored-up”. Fred pulled out his iPhone, went to Amazon.com and ordered a new switch and also a sensor. Thirty minutes later a drone dropped the package in my back yard and I installed the switch. After, Fred installed a sensor that needed a little algorithm input via downloadable app – and now the blower worked again. “This app”, he told me, “will notify you when the switch fails”. “Well”, I responded, “I also need to mow the grass once the leaves are removed”.
“Really?” asked Dave. “Have you changed the oil on your lawnmower lately?”
 “Not sure, maybe last Spring”
“You’ve gotta keep small engines well oiled; we best take a look”. Dave removed the mower oil cap and sure enough, it was low. “You know, Rob, you gotta get a smart sensor on this thing right away. Let me get one set up”. Dave took out his iPhone, got on Amazon and 30 minutes later a drone dropped his order in my back yard. He installed a new sensor halfway down in the oil reserve, put in a little algorithm, hit “send” and the sensor told his phone the mower needed .65oz of oil. So, I filled it up. “Thanks Dave”.

Now we were thirsty and I offered them a cold beer heading toward the back door. “Hmmmm, groaned Fred, once in the kitchen, “it’s rather humid in this room.”
“Sure is, said Dave; where’s your thermostat?”
“It’s over near the stairway”. Dave walked over and saw that it indicated “73” but that was the only number on my Westinghouse unit. “Rob, he said, watch this”. Dave took his right hand and literally ripped my thermostat off the wall. “I’m going to my car”, he said, and ran out the door. Coming back in, he opened a small box with a round thermostat called Nest. He installed it on the wall, pulled out his iPhone and performed set-up and cried out, “Oh my gosh, the humidity in here is 88 percent, no wonder were feeling sticky”. Then he programmed the Nest for me so I could control all kinds of atmospheric data.  Added now to the lawnmower and my leaf blower - life was quickly feeling like the Internet of Things. Fred, enjoying my new life come-of-age, asked me how the frig and stove and microwave were working. “Well, a…”, but he suddenly interrupted me. “Just as I thought! Dave, get on Amazon and do your thing!” Thirty minutes later a drone flew over my driveway with a box and dropped it into the bed of my old 2010 pickup. I grabbed a second beer hoping my wife wouldn’t come home from Publix too soon. The guys took apart the screens on my 3 kitchen units to install sensors, used their iPhones to input some code, run a small software app and suddenly Dave was ready to cook a frozen pizza without even pre-setting the oven. “You see here, Rob, all you have to do from now on is…..”

“Well, guys, thanks for stopping by. I’m all set, just gotta get my garage door opener back up and I’ll be done for today".
“Really? asked Fred, let’s take a look”. Oh no, I thought. Thirty minutes later a drone flew over my driveway dropping a small box into Fred’s hands. He dismantled the electronic door opener, placed a sensor inside, pulled out his iPhone – and bingo. “Stand back and watch”. My own iPhone loaded a digital picture representation of exactly the level the door was at and by hitting a number 100, the door would be down completely, by hitting 50, the door would be half down. As the men were leaving, Sandra, my wife, pulled into the drive, tapped her remote for the garage door: no movement. “Oh Rob”, she yelled, “that dang opener can’t be broken again can it?”

“No dear, just watch this.” Holding my iPhone loaded with the new app, I tapped “zero” and the door went up. She looked at Fred and Dave with raised eyebrows.

“Rob, I got a ticket on the way home because one brake light burned out; gonna be a $50 ticket. I’m so mad cos I didn’t even know it was out”. Dave and Fred looked over to me and I looked back at them. Thirty minutes later a drone from Amazon flew over the front yard depositing a small box.

“Sandra, Dave asked, may I borrow your car for a few minutes? From now on you will always know when a brake light is out - sound good? “Oh, whatever”, she replied and took in the groceries. When she returned, Dave asked for her iPhone, downloaded an app and told Sandra to come look: “Ok, he said, I put a sensor in the lighting wires - see if you can tell from the screen which light is dead." 
“Ah, yes, she exclaimed, it’s that one” while pointing to her phone’s screen.
“This app will never let you down. No more unknowns on this car.”
Quickly now, the men said goodbye while walking to Dave’s car, only to hesitate. Dave knocked his hand on his head and pounded his fist on the car roof with his other hand. “I’ve locked my keys inside”. I’ll have to call my wife to bring a spare!
“WAIT”, I shouted.
“WAIT”, shouted Sandra.
Before long, off in the distance there was a faint buzzing sound heading for Dave. Fred just stood there in amazement, watching in the sky.