'One' is the loveliest pronoun

It's no secret that from the women's lib movement of the 1970s to today's age of gender fluidity, personal pronouns have taken a beating. The problem is our language doesn't include a good gender inclusive singular personal pronoun. I distinctly remember being told by my eighth grade English teacher that the masculine (he, him, his) should be used when gender is not being specified. This didn't sit well with me in the late '70s, and it still doesn't.

When I was in graduate school in the early '90s, I noticed a bit of a backlash against the generic masculine, in which many scholarly authors had taken to using the feminine generically instead of the masculine. While that pointed out the problem, it didn't really offer a viable solution, and since then has faded from use.

My solution for many years was to use both the masculine and feminine together (him or her, his or hers, he or she), and while this could be viable in many situations, it could be awkward as well, especially when the pronouns need to be repeated in the same sentence. 

Interestingly, we have solved this problem in conversational language by using plural pronouns (they, them, their) in the singular, and it is gaining acceptance in written language as well. Most scholars and language experts still maintain that parallel construction should be maintained whenever possible (e.g., Children should do their homework before watching television, instead of A child should do their homework before watching television). In other words, when you use plural pronouns, it is still better to make the entire sentence plural; however, that view has become noticeably relaxed in recent years as our society attempts to accommodate gender fluidity, especially as people who consider themselves to be gender nonbinary embrace plural pronouns as an alternative to their gender-tagged counterparts.

But there is another alternative that, in my opinion, is too often overlooked. The use of 'one' as a singular, gender inclusive pronoun may sound a little formal and old fashioned to those who aren't accustomed to hearing or reading it, but it also conveys a certain simple elegance, as in 'Whether one chooses the steak or the lobster, the meal will be delicious'. 

The simplicity and inherent inclusiveness of 'one' make it an excellent tool for making written language both correct and comprehensible at a time when so much else, linguistically speaking, remains in flux.

To be sure, it can lend itself to awkwardness, especially with overuse or repetition in a sentence, but it's a good substitute for some of the even more awkward and convoluted constructions. but used judiciously, it can add variety and a more comfortable flow to our syntax. In short 'one' is ripe for a comeback. 

Setting Computers Free

Lately, I have been very focused on free and open source software, but the obsession is not new. It goes back almost to the beginning of my use of computers. Long before I even had a dial-up modem for my Mac Classic, I was enjoying freeware and shareware. The idea that someone would create a piece of software, and then distribute it for free, or maybe ask for a few dollars to unlock additional features, was fairly interesting. Yes, a lot of that software was garbage, but every now and then, a title would come my way that had a fair amount of polish and usability. 

By the late '90s, I was reading more and more about desktop Linux operating systems, and had begun experimenting with free and open source (FOSS) titles on Mac and Windows computers. The first open source title I installed with Mozilla Communicator, an open source version of Netscape Communicator, and forerunner of the Firefox Web browser and Thunderbird email client. I felt absolutely devious installing this software on my work computer, and actually questioned whether I was doing something wrong. 

Soon enough, I was branching out and trying more FOSS titles, most notably OpenOffice. The idea that a complete office suite, rivaling MS Office, which at the time cost hundreds of dollars, would be distributed for free was simply mind blowing. Granted, OpenOffice back then was not exactly ready for prime time, but it has matured over the years, to the point that its de facto successor, LibreOffice, is a worthy competitor in that market segment. 

It would not be until early 2009 when I encountered desktop Linux for the first time. I was immediately impressed that an entire operating system could be had for free, and that it came bundled with just about all the free software one might need for most day-to-day computing tasks. Even better, it was less hungry for system resources, and thus ran better and faster than the commercial operating system it was replacing, especially on older hardware. I quickly resolved to find a cheap, used laptop and begin some extended experimentation with Linux. 

I made that laptop pay for itself with interest by using it to write several articles on the Linux experience for the now-defunct PC Solutions magazine. All in all, it was a fun way to score a laptop.

Over the years, my understanding of the concept of 'free' has changed. I initially thought of it as software I didn't have to shell out cash for, which is admittedly appealing, but also misses the larger point. 'Free' in this case is more about freedom—the freedom to configure and modify software as one chooses. I'm still an end user with no real programming skills, but it's nice to know that if I had the technical skills, I would have license to truly make the software my own. It's also freedom, as in freedom from constant surveillance and data collection by Big Tech. Yeah, it's hard to get away from it entirely, but these days, my data is more or less my own, far less commoditized in the Linux world.

While I have never completely divorced myself from the world of commercial software and operating systems, I am increasingly finding that I can largely do without them. 

Case in point: A couple of months ago, I bought a Dell Latitude 7490 laptop, loaded with the latest Linux Mint, mainly as an excuse to dip my toes back into the Linux world after a few years away, where I had strayed to a Chromebook as a secondary computer. After trying in vain for two years to make that browser-in-a-box computer work like a regular PC, I discovered in coming home to Linux that, not surprisingly, it was easier to make a Linux computer behave like a Linux computer than it was to make a Chromebook do that. 

I have really come to enjoy the Linux experience on this relatively high-spec business laptop, and I find that it can cover my daily computing needs the way I want them covered, to the point that I seldom feel the need to go back to my aged MacBook pro, and I've all but completely abandoned Windows. 

There's just something about going non-commercial for my computing needs that strongly appeals to me in a very satisfying way. The bottom line is desktop Linux has really grown up in the past decade, to where it is as robust, user friendly and generally useful as any commercial operating system. I count myself as a Linux user in a way that I never have before. 

UPDATE (one year later)--What a difference a year makes. Linux Mint has now become my default operating system on several laptops at home, and although I still use Windows at work, because that's what I'm expected to use, not because it's what I want to use, my Windows laptop at home has been completely retired. Also, I almost never use my 12-year-old MacBookPro, except to retrieve files from it. The fact that I am using Linux Mint more or less full time doesn't really register with me anymore. I'm just getting things done efficiently and without surrendering as much of my data to Big Tech.

Tuned In on Linux

When I was using Linux regularly a few years ago, I found a nice little Internet radio app called Radio Tray. As the name suggests, it sat on the system tray at the bottom of the screen and allowed one to tune in Internet feeds from broadcast radio stations worldwide, as well as Internet only stations. Earlier today, I went in search of Radio Tray to install it on my recently-acquired Linux laptop, and to my dismay, I found it was no more, at least as far as Linux Mint is concerned. Undeterred, I decided to see what equivalents were available. 

After downloading and trying several apps, I found and settled upon one called Tuner, which offers many of the same features that I had enjoyed in Radio Tray. It includes a collection of genres, such as rock, jazz, folk, and classical, and gives users the ability to 'star' favorite stations for quick access.

One genre missing from the list is 'Talk', which in Radio Tray included several sub-categories, including old time radio, which is what I used it for most, to listen to shows from radio's golden age. At first, I was a bit disappointed at this glaring omission, until I began playing with the Search function and found I could create my own collection of stations, even if the software did not allow me to create and populate my own genres.

Upon entering the phrase "old time", I was presented about a dozen stations that offer this type of programming. I was able to save the ones I liked in my library by starring them. I was also able to go off-list and add a few stations that I wanted, and that Tuner was able to find. 

While it is not a perfect substitute for Radio Tray, it will get the job done and make my computing time a little more tuneful.

Tom Swift Invents the Twentieth Century

I have been an avid reader my whole life, and I attribute that in part to the Hardy Boys and Tom Swift books I read when I was growing up, from about age six or seven until about 12 or 13. Often, my grandmother and I would read them together, trading off chapters. I am very thankful for the love of books and reading she helped instill in me.

As with many things in life, I eventually outgrew those juvenile series books; in fact, I remember a major turning point at the age of twelve, when I discovered Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. Meanwhile, the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew mysteries enjoyed a resurgence in popularity on television during my early teenage years, and some of my peers began reading the books at a later age than I had. My mom began loaning my copies out during this time, and I didn't always get them back. 

While I never completely forgot about the Hardy Boys and Tom Swift, they became less and less important to me and I completely lost track of my copies, until a few years ago when my dad handed me a box of my old Hardy Boys books, with one Tom Swift title among them, and tried to explain to me what they were, even though I knew them well. It is interesting to me that as a child, I found the Hardy Boys more approachable, but as an adult, I'm more interested in Tom Swift, especially the original titles, published beginning in 1910.

Tom Swift was one among several juvenile fiction series created by the Stratemeyer Syndicate and published by Grosset and Dunlap. The books were written by contract writers from outlines supplied by the syndicate. This was a novel (pardon the pun), and somewhat controversial business model for the time, as children's books intended solely for entertainment were largely unheard of. Up until this time, most children's books were intended to be instructional in nature, for the purpose of instilling proper values in the children who read them. Many adults at the time decried books published by the Stratemeyer Syndicate and other similar organizations as potentially undermining the moral fiber of young people, much the way rock-n-roll music would be condemned a few decades later, ironically by generations who had grown up reading Tom Swift, The Hardy Boys, and Nancy Drew.

Unlike the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, which seem to exist in a chronological continuum where time progresses but the characters don't age, instead remaining perpetually in their late teens, Tom Swift has actually gone through several generations:

The first series of books, published between 1910 and roughly 1940, are now retroactively referred to as "Tom Swift, Sr." In this iteration, Tom was an 18-year-old self-taught inventor, who lived with his widowed father, Barton Swift,an inventor in his own right. Modeled on the likes of Thomas Edison, Tom, along with his best friend, Ned Newton and his sweetheart, Mary Nestor, are often challenged to create new inventions to meet technological challenges, or assist the U.S. government. Tom, for instance, is granted a draft deferment in World War I, or the European War, as it is referred to in the books, to enable him to continue developing military technologies for the U.S. and its allies.

 Other characters in the series include an eccentric neighbor named Wakefield Damon, who accompanies Tom and Ned on many of their adventures, an aged African American handyman, named Eradicate "Rad" Sampson, and an Amazonian giant named Koku. These three are a source of comic relief, often seen as decidedly un-PC to modern sensibilities. While some would see that as grounds for these books to be banned, burned, and buried for all eternity, I believe a modern reader must look upon them as historical artifacts of their time, not so much to excuse the attitudes expressed in them, but to learn from them.

As the first Tom Swift series was drawing to a close, the Stratemeyer Syndicate granted a reprint license to Whitman, a publishing company best known for its Big Little Books series of picture books. Although Whitman held a license for the entire series, they reprinted only the final ten titles, under the Whitman imprint, and then added two of their own under their heavily illustrated Better Little Books line. Printed on cheap paper and without illustrations, these copies are less desirable to collectors today, but have allowed many to complete their collections affordably by upending the common phenomenon by which the last titles of a series are exceedingly rare and priced accordingly.

The Tom Swift franchise lay fallow for more than a decade, with no new titles emerging until the mid-1950s, when the Stratemeyer Syndicate determined the series was ripe for a reboot, perhaps in response to another series, Rick Brant, that was published by Grosset & Dunlap, independently of the Stratemeyer Syndicate, and drew heavily on the premise of the earlier Tom Swift books.

At the same time the syndicate was revising (some would argue dumbing down) the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books, shortening them from 25 chapters to 20, and toning down things like violence and racial stereotypes, and in some cases doing complete rewrites, it took a different approach with Tom Swift, by releasing a new series, with direct chronological continuity from the earlier series. Centering on the exploits of Tom Swift, Jr., son of Tom Swift, Sr. and Mary Nestor, Tom's friend Bud Barclay, and Charles "Chow" Winkler, a former chuck wagon cook and comic relief character that draws a bit of inspiration from earlier characters like Damon Wakefield and Eradicate Sampson.

Published between 1954 and 1971, the Tom Swift Jr. stories are more firmly in the realm of science fiction than its parent series, drawing on the Atomic age for inspiration, with many stories set in outer space and in other ways far beyond the realm of contemporary technology. 

The franchise again lay fallow during 1970s and early '80s, during which a handful of Tom Swift, Jr. titles were re-published in paperback editions, but no new titles would emerge until the mid '80s, when a new series, Tom Swift III was released. Also during this period came a parting of ways between the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Grosset & Dunlap, as the two organizations were acquired by rival companies. The Stratemeyer Syndicate went to Simon and Schuster, while Grosset & Dunlap became part of Random House. 

In the process, Grosset & Dunlap sued Stratemeyer, claiming ownership of the book series it had published under contract. The courts ultimately made a ruling worthy of King Solomon, stating that the syndicate, and thus Simon & Schuster, owned the intellectual property of the various series, including Tom Swift, which gave them the right to produce new titles in the series, while Grosset & Dunlap owned the publishing rights to the back catalog titles it had previously published under contract. Under those terms, Simon & Schuster has continued, under its various imprints, to bring out additional Tom Swift adventures for successive generations.

Today, the earliest Tom Swift titles have fallen into the public domain. Most titles of the original book series, along with a couple of Tom Swift, Jr. titles that fell into public domain due to clerical errors, are readily available online as ebooks and audiobooks, transcribed by volunteers and offered via Websites like the Guthenberg Project. Enterprising entrepreneurs are even offering print-on-demand paperback copies and omnibus collections, as well as digital text and audio editions on CD-ROM. 

Over the years, Tom Swift has inspired a number of authors and inventors, including science fiction authors Isaac Asimov and Robert A. Heinlein, Gone with the Wind author Margaret Mitchell, inventor, author and futurist Ray Kurzweil, and Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak. 

The TASER, used by law enforcement as a non-lethal means of subduing suspects, even takes its name from the title of a Tom Swift book. TASER is an acronym for "Thomas A. Swift's Electric Rifle", drawn directly from the title "Tom Swift and His Electric Rifle". Interestingly, Tom Swift is never given a middle name or initial in the books. It was added by the TASER's inventor to avoid calling it the "Teaser".

Without a doubt, Tom Swift had a significant impact on the twentieth century, and that for a fictional character, that is his greatest legacy.

Nine Linux Myths Busted

If you've read any of my recent posts, you will have noticed a little bit of a trend. I'm once again excited about Linux, after recently acquiring a refurbished laptop with Linux Mint loaded onto it in place of Windows, and subsequently setting up my old Windows laptop as a dual-boot system with Linux Mint alongside Windows. It's quite a surreal experience, though, to be met with blank looks when I try to share my newfound enthusiasm with others. If I'm lucky, I get a question or statement expressing reluctance to consider the subject. In the process, I've found myself attempting to bust certain myths about Linux in an attempt to assuage some of people's fears and misconceptions. Below are nine of those myths (in no particular order) and my, hopefully helpful responses:

Myth #1: I'll have to learn how to use my computer all over again. Not necessarily. Several Linux distributions have interfaces that look very similar to Windows. The best way to begin is to do things in Linux the same way you would in Windows or Mac OS. Chances are that will work.

Myth #2: You have to be a programmer to use Linux. While it is true that many Linux users are programmers, it is not exclusively for programmers. Most popular Linux distributions use a graphical interface by default and user's can point and click, just like in other popular operating systems.

Myth #3: I can't use Linux because I don't know how to use the Terminal. While it can be useful to know a few basic Terminal commands, it definitely isn't a make-or-break proposition. Windows and Mac OS also have command line terminals, into which you can type commands instead of pointing and clicking, and it is equally possible to get a long day-to-day without using them.

Myth #4: If I put Linux on my computer, I'll lose all of my data. This depends on how you install Linux. While installing Linux in place of Windows will erase all existing data, you can easily create a dual-boot system, installing Linux alongside Windows, and leaving 100 percent of what's already on your computer intact. 

Myth #5: I might get the 'wrong' Linux. Linux does come in a wide variety of distributions, or distros, with features to appeal to different users' needs. That said, most distros allow one to boot the operating system from a CD or USB drive and effectively take it for a 'test drive' before installing it. Bearing in mind that things will run slower this way, you can still get a good feel for whether you'll like it before you install it. Once you find the one you want, you can install it in place of, or alongside, your existing operating system and enjoy it running to its full potential.

Myth #6: It's too hard to get everything working on Linux. This may well have been the case years ago, when Linux was in its relative infancy and many things like print and WiFi drivers had to be configured manually through the terminal. Today, setup is much more automated and transparent to the end user.

Myth #7: I can't run my favorite apps in Linux. While it may well be true that you can't run the desktop Windows version of your favorite app, there are often viable substitutes and workarounds available; for instance, LibreOffice largely duplicates the functions of Microsoft Office, and GIMP is a useful replacement for Photoshop. Some applications, such as Firefox, Thunderbird, and Zoom, do have Linux versions. Many Windows applications can be run via an emulator called WINE, and Web versions of popular apps abound. The bottom line is, where there's a will, there's likely a way. 

Myth #8: I've never used Linux before: Actually, chances are you have. Linux is everywhere, but largely behind the scenes. Most major Websites run on Linux servers, and devices we use every day run on Linux, whether we realize it or not. Two major examples are the Android operating system for smart phones and tablets, and Chrome OS, on which Chromebooks run. Both of these are built on versions of Linux.

Myth #9: Linux is unstable, and therefore dangerous to use. Actually, nothing could be further from the truth. A variant of Unix, Linux is very stable, more stable, in fact, than Windows. Users also tend to find Linux runs faster and more efficiently on their computers than the Windows OS that came on them.

Linux Secure

 Now that I've been back in the Linux fold for a few weeks, I'm coming to recognize a sense of comfort—comfort that the operating system is fast, stable, and surprisingly user friendly, but also that it is very secure. In fact, desktop Linux distributions are among the most secure operating systems out there, and many users don't feel the need for antivirus or anti-malware software, and with several good reasons:

Small market share—The largest target for malware is, not surprisingly, the  largest desktop operating system by market share. Windows attracts the lion's share of  malware attacks, but what's engineered to infect Windows machines will not necessarily have any effect on an identical piece of hardware running Linux. Thinking like a malware writer for a moment, it's easy to see that if one wishes to do the most damage, Windows would be the target of choice. And not only is the desktop Linux market share infinitesimally smaller than that of Windows, it is also far more fragmented. Not every desktop Linux user runs the same distribution, and what might potentially affect one distribution might not affect another, so many malware authors will simply not see it as worthwhile. But small market share does not necessarily make an operating system inherently more secure.

Safer protocols—Desktop Linux distributions are also safer because of their operating protocols. First and foremost is that most desktop Linux users do not routinely stay signed into a root (administrator) account by default. If they need to perform an operation that requires root access, they sign in and then sign back out. Windows and Mac OS, by comparison leave users permanently signed into administrator accounts by default. Although they can—and should—create an additional non-administrator account for daily use, most Windows and Mac OS users do not bother to do this because it is less convenient. What users do not realize is that by doing this, they leave their computers more open malware attacks, designed to exploit administrator/root privileges.

Another de facto safety measure is how desktop Linux users acquire their software. Because most Linux software is free, most end users never look beyond the software repositories provided by their Linux distribution. Since all the software there has been vetted by those who maintain it, one can generally rely on it to be safe. By comparison, many Windows and Mac OS users will download software from less legitimate sources in search of a deal. This increases the chance of ending up with an infected copy. 

Linux is bigger than you think—While the desktop Linux market share is very tiny, and divided up between a number of different distributions, Linux itself is surprisingly pervasive. From large server farms to smart phones and appliances we may not even consider to be computers, Linux is everywhere in various forms. As a result, malware actors may be more likely to target large Web servers running on Linux than they would individual users. It also means operators of large server complexes, whether they are fueling eCommerce, hosting Websites or email, or supplying desktop Linux users with software, are going to necessarily exercise greater caution. 

Where individual users are more likely to run into malware attacks is on devices they don't even know are running Linux, including Android phones and tablets, smart TVs and set-top boxes. Unfortunately, there is little that end users can do to protect against such attacks, other than to make sure such devices are kept updated.

Also potentially a growing target is Chromebooks, which run a highly customized version of Debian Linux, and can run both Android and Linux apps, in addition to its own native version of the Chrome browser. This may become an increasingly attractive target for malware actors, given that the Chrome OS market share surpassed Mac OS during the COVID pandemic.  

Is antivirus/anti-malware software necessary on Linux?—This is a simple question with a complex 'yes and no' answer. If you're running a Linux-based server farm, then the answer would be a definitive yes. Those servers need to be protected. Meanwhile, individual users are reasonably safe—not completely immune, but reasonably safe—from malware attacks. That said, a little caution never hurts to exercise a little caution. There are free antivirus packages, like ClamAV, that can help with this effort, but just as importantly, users should keep their software updated to minimize vulnerabilities, and make sure only install software from trusted sources.

It's a dangerous world out there for Internet-connected computers, but as operating systems go, most desktop Linux distributions—I'm using Linux Mint on two laptops—are about as safe as it gets, which is yet another reason to consider upgrading from Windows.

A Unifying Experience

I am a pretty easy going individual, and there are few things I am truly picky about, but one of these things is computer input devices. For a long time, I mainly used whatever came with the computer, but that has changed over time. The first revelation came almost 25 years ago, when I purchased a PowerMac G4, and instantly came to hate the truly awful hockey puck-shaped mouse. The day the computer arrived, I ran to Office Depot and picked up a Logitech Marble Mouse trackball. It was an ergonomic wonder and worked nicely with my small desk space, since I didn't have to physically shift it around to move the pointer on the screen. I still have that mouse and all these years later, it still works flawlessly. I will say that I did eventually make peace with that hockey puck mouse by attaching a snap-on cover that gave it a more conventional, albeit chunky shape, but by that time, I had fallen in love with the trackball.

Since that time, I've become increasingly loyal to Logitech input devices, because keyboards and mice form the connection between the computer and my brain, so it is vital that they are comfortable and robust. It may sound like circular logic, but I have come to rely on them precisely because they are highly reliable—well built and thoughtfully designed. Another feature that makes them my go-to brand is the Unifying Receiver, identified with an asterisk logo, which allows multiple Logitech devices, similarly marked with an asterisk, to connect to a single receiver, leaving other USB ports open. This ecosystem is also useful because in the event that a keyboard or mouse fails, the receiver is most often still good. This makes it feasible to pick up compatible second-hand input devices on the cheap at thrift stores, etc. Sometimes they come with a receiver and sometimes they don't, but the Unifying Receiver makes that almost irrelevant—and equally easy to forget about.

My most recent Logitech acquisition is an MK270 keyboard and mouse combo, which I picked up at a thrift shop in its original box for about the price of a fast food meal. A check on Logitech's Web site shows this to be a price leader package, retailing for about $28, so I found this one for a little less than half price. The package included a K270 full size wireless keyboard, an M135 compact wireless mouse, and a USB receiver, paired with both devices. The keyboard is nicely designed, very quiet and comfortable to use, with a pleasant, soft touch on the keys and minimal clacking. Some people love noisy mechanical keyboards, but honestly, I don't need my computer to sound like a manual typewriter. The only feature I see that it lacks is a PC lock key. Other than that, it has everything I could want in a keyboard. The mouse is a compact, 'portable' model, not quite as comfortable to use a full size mouse like the M310 or M510, but it's all that not bad, either. I've definitely used much worse. 

The biggest disappointment of this package is the USB receiver, which is not marked with an asterisk and is thus not of the Unifying variety.  That said, both the keyboard and mouse are paired with it, and thus, it satisfies my needs for my work laptop. In the office, the computer is connected via a USB-C cable to a full size monitor with a built-in docking station, which also acts as a charger for the laptop and provides wired Ethernet and video connections. Also connected to the laptop is a wired Logitech Trackman Wheel trackball device. I have the keyboard and mouse connected directly to the laptop via their shared USB receiver, but I seldom use both devices simultaneously. I use the keyboard when I'm at my desk and I use the mouse with the laptop when I have it away from my desk. This will continue to be a useful combination, despite the lack of a Unifying Receiver system. The only thing that could undermine that functionality is if one of the paired devices were to become lost or damaged.

While this is not the dream combo I might have hoped for, it gets the job done despite its shortcomings.

Coming Home to Linux

After more than two years of playing with Chromebooks and trying to make them behave like Linux computers, I finally came to the acceptance that what I really wanted was a true Linux computer. Yes, ChromeOS is based on Debian Linux, which is why it wasn't too hard for the folks at Google to create a Linux "developer environment", called Crostini, on which to run Debian Linux applications. That has actually become one of my favorite aspects of ChromeOS. But at the end of the day, it just doesn't quite get the job done. Linux apps run in their own 'walled garden' and they take up an inordinate amount of system resources on notoriously scantily equipped machines. 

I have used various Linux distributions in the past, on decrepit hardware that was just a step or two away from e-waste, but the Chromebook experience got me to wondering what it might be like to run Linux on reasonably up-to-date hardware. I recently took the opportunity to find out by purchasing Dell Latitude 7490 notebook computer with Linux Mint installed. This computer is a few years old, but was a fairly high-end machine when it was new, equipped with 16GB of RAM, 1TB solid state drive, and an Intel Core i5 eighth generation processor. and is still fairly respectable today, so the Linux experience on it is a revelation, to say the least. 

I’d had the same model computer on my desk at work for a few years and liked it. Even running a ridiculously locked down version of Windows 10, it was a very quick and capable machine. Running Linux Mint 21, which puts much lighter demands on the hardware, it is closer to amazing.

Even in the short time I’ve had this machine, I’ve been very favorably impressed with its performance, and it has made me realize that some of my former frustrations with Linux have had more to do with the hardware I was running it on than with the operating system itself. I have also been pleasantly surprised with how user friendly Linux Mint has become over the years. In some ways, it matches or surpasses even Windows or Mac OS. Case in point—the minute I logged this computer onto my home WiFi network, it automatically detected both of my networked printers and installed their drivers. This is a far cry from my first Linux experiences, where almost every function had to be manually configured from the terminal. 

The only legitimate concern one might have about Mint, or any other flavor of Linux, might be the lack of availability of commercial software like M$ Office, but the truth is there are equivalents readily available like LibreOffice, and even a Web apps like Micro$oft 365 and Google apps make the chasm between Linux and other proprietary operating systems much smaller than it used to be. The truth is, the more I use this Linux Mint-equipped Dell, the more I become convinced that desktop Linux far more ready for prime time than ever before. Of course, I also acknowledge that my much more favorable impression of Linux Mint may also be a result of the struggles I have recently experienced, trying to make a Chromebook behave like it's running a desktop Linux distro, a task at which it is doomed to fall short.

In fact, I was so impressed with Mint on the Dell that I used the USB recovery flash drive that came with the computer to install Mint on an older HP laptop that came with Windows 10 and does not meet the minimum specs to upgrade to Windows 11. I'd had it in mind to put Linux on it when support for Win10 ends two years from now in October 2025, but this experience prompted me to accelerate that timetable and set it up as a dual-boot system. The curious thing has Windows fought me every step of the way. 

On the first installation attempt, I rebooted the computer to complete the process and Windows disabled Linux Mint. I thought it had been removed, but when I attempted to reinstall it, I found Linux was still present, so I went into BIOS, disabled Secure Boot to prevent the system from ‘defending’ itself against Linux. I have the dual boot working, although the process is a bit convoluted. The laptop still boots into Windows by default, without presenting an option to choose Linux Mint, but I can choose the alternative system by holding down the F10 key at startup to access a boot options menu, in which Linux Mint (curiously identified as Ubuntu) is the second option on the menu. The final challenge to making the HP a Linux laptop was to move "Ubuntu" to the top of the boot list, which required another trip into BIOS. The system now presents the boot options menu on startup by default, and the first choice on the list is now "Ubuntu", aka Linux Mint. It took a few tries, but I finally won the battle.

Linux Mint has breathed new life into that old HP laptop, and while it’s not quite as good as it is on the Dell, the machine does not bog down the way it does under Windows. Since a Windows 11 upgrade will never happen on my HP laptop, the time will eventually come when it and Windows will need to part ways entirely, making Linux the obvious upgrade path beyond Windows 10’s October 2025 expiration date. Realistically, that day may be coming sooner, rather than later. I’ve begun what I anticipate to be an extended test of Linux Mint on that HP laptop, and I have no doubt I will be able to get a few extra years of use from it as Linux device, and likely enjoy it more than I did when it was running Win10. 

Update (four months later):  Now that I have been using Linux Mint again for a third of a year, something unexpected has happened. I had expected the Dell Latitude 4790 laptop running Linux Mint to be a secondary machine supplanting the Chromebooks mentioned above, and that my daily driver, an aging MacBook Pro, would continue to be my primary machine. This is not exactly what happened. Surprisingly, the Dell has largely supplanted the MacBook Pro to become my de facto daily driver. 

Also along the way, the aforementioned HP laptop has been retired in favor of a second Dell Latitude 7490. The experience with the first one was so good positive, I opted for another one.

The Linux Mint user experience has always been a good one, but in its most recent iterations, it has become so intuitive and user friendly that for me, it rivals Mac OS in many ways, and far exceeds that of Windows. In fact, I seldom even consider what operating system I'm using. The novelty of using Linux has largely worn off, leaving in its place a sense of comfort and familiarity that allows me to be far more productive. 

A Self-Starter

 My daily driver car is a 2013 Buick LaCrosse with 2.4 liter eAssist hybrid engine. It wears no "Hybrid" badging, and the only way to distinguish it from the more common variant, which has a 300hp 3.6 liter V6 under the hood, is the rear bumper, which lacks the dual exhaust cutouts the V6 models sport.

In the almost four years I've had this car, I've come to call it a joke of a hybrid, because what GM did was to add an induction motor that functions as a combination starter, alternator, and auxiliary drive motor to an existing four-cylinder EcoTec engine. It never completely takes over from the gasoline motor; it just makes that wimpy four-banger a little less wimpy by adding an extra 15 horsepower to make a total of around 185hp. To do this, of course, it has the requisite 115v lithium ion battery pack taking up space in the trunk, along with a recursive braking system to charge it and an utterly useless 'ECO' gauge in place of a far more useful temperature gauge. 

Although the six-speed transmission helps get the most out of this not-so-powerful power plant, it's an okay cruiser, despite the fact that the car is arguably too heavy for a four-cylinder engine. The automotive press generously calls this a "mild hybrid" setup, but General Motors didn't even call it a hybrid at all. Their marketing materials just said it "uses hybrid technology" to produce more power without using more gas. And to be fair, it does get decent gas mileage for its size, although not what one might normally expect from a hybrid. You'll never see 50 mpg in this car. The best it will do on the highway, downhill, with a tailwind, and not running the air conditioner, is about 36 mpg. Normal in-town driving with the AC running is closer to 26. Those numbers are only about four miles per gallon less than what the car I had before it, a similarly sized 2011 Chevy Impala with a 3.5 liter V6, would do. 

I really don't grouse much about the car, because despite being a fairly unimpressive hybrid, the LaCrosse is still a comfortable, yet economical car, albeit with a puny trunk, thanks to the aforementioned 115v battery pack, which lives back there. But I can't complain too much about that, because it holds a secret super power. Ironically, I discovered this secret super power a few days too late to take advantage of it. 

In addition to the battery pack, the car has a conventional 12v battery under the hood to start the engine and run the myriad 12v systems the hybrids share in common with more traditionally powered Buicks, and like 12v batteries in most cars, they eventually go out. Mine started to show signs of weakness over the past month or so with erratic behavior messages on the driver information screen, located between the speedometer and tachometer. 

Annoying as that was, the problem soon escalated to the point where the car failed to start twice in the space of a week. The first time, I was at church and a friend was parked close by with some jumper cables and we quickly got it started. The same thing happened a week later, but it was late in the evening, and I was alone in a parking lot, so I had to summon another friend to bring cables. The next day, I bought a new battery.

On both occasions, I found myself thinking how nice it would be if I could somehow use the 115v battery pack to jump-start the car. I since have read that few hybrids are set up this way, but guess what? It turns out my LaCrosse is a rare exception to the rule. It has a little-publicized feature by which it can indeed jump-start itself, giving a whole new dimension to the idea of a self-starter, the name by which electric starters on cars were known a century ago. Better yet, it does so without the need for jumper cables and you don't even need to leave the driver's seat!

According to the owner's manual, this feature is accessed via a couple of switches on the turn signal lever. First, press the "Menu" button on the side of the lever to bring up the Vehicle Information menu on the aforementioned information screen. Then, using the up/down switch to the left of the menu button, find the "Jump Start" screen, press the button set into the end of the turn signal lever, and wait for the prompt to start the car.

I haven't yet tried this feature, since I didn't know it existed until after I had already bought and installed a new battery, but if it works as advertised, it would be a real life saver. And that makes me wonder why in the world GM didn't publicize this onboard-jump-starting feature as a significant selling point for the cars that were thus equipped. The only thing I can figure is that the eAssist hybrid was the base engine configuration for the LaCrosse, along with several of its other Epsilon platform siblings, such as the Chevy Impala and Malibu, and GM was more interested in up-selling customers to the 3.6 liter V6. Of course, it's kind of a moot point now, given that the eAssist system was discontinued a couple of years before the LaCrosse itself. Be that as it may, I'm glad my car has this particular 'super power'.

Lost and Found: Revisiting the Dismal Final Season to an Otherwise Brilliant Show

It's hard to believe it's been almost twenty years since Lost made its debut on television, and some 13 years since it came to its, in my opinion, highly dissatisfying conclusion. When I watched the final season on TV, I felt like it was the worst conglomeration of disconnected ideas I'd ever encountered. It seemed as if the writers had run out of anything innovative and stitched together previously rejected script ideas to come up with enough material to call it a season. And when the eagerly awaited series finale finally arrived, the only phrase I could utter was "out with a whimper," as one of the most innovative shows on television concluded with what, to me and others, felt like a sea of missed opportunities. The brilliance of Lost was, indeed, truly lost. 

So deep was my disappointment in the show's sixth and final season that I vowed never to own it on DVD or Blu-Ray, preferring instead to see the finale episode of season five, in which Juliette, stuck in the Dharma compound in the late '70s, detonates a hydrogen bomb, as a far more appropriate and enigmatic place to end the series. By comparison, the sixteen episodes of season six added little of interest or narrative value to the show's overall story arc.  

What was especially disappointing to me then as now was that for most of its run, the show had lived up to its potential as a tightly crafted, if somewhat convoluted, narrative of a group of plane crash survivors on a (not so) deserted island in the south Pacific, and their myriad connections with each other prior to the crash, told via extensive flashbacks to the past, as well as flashes 'sideways' into alternate realities. 

To be fair, the show's descent into chaos was not limited to season six. The beginning of the end came with the finale of season four, where Ben Linus moved the island. To me, this took to a whole new dimension the concept of jumping the shark, which originated with an episode of Happy Days, where Fonzie won a skiing contest in Hawaii by jumping over a shark, after which the show began a slow descent into irrelevance. 

As a result of the moving of the island, the narrative for season five was more than a little disjointed and stretched credibility to the breaking point, such that the only real—and fairly elegant—solution was to set off an H-bomb. I say that it was an elegant solution because setting off the bomb in the past meant the island was already destroyed in the present, thus annihilating the events of the whole show. I maintain to this day that it would have been the best possible conclusion to the show, leaving viewers eternally wondering what the hell just happened. Honestly, everything that transpired in season six was superfluous.

So, why am I choosing to write about this now? Despite having stood firm on my decision not to acquire season six on DVD, I finally broke down and got it. I found a copy on eBay, the purchase of which benefited charity, for half the price I normally see them at my local second-hand music, movie, and book store. There is apparently sufficient demand for the final season, lackluster though it may be, that it still commands a premium price, when the earlier five seasons routinely show up in the bargain bin for two dollars each. I'm guessing the previous owner of the season six set I bought didn't like it much, either, because it's in absolutely pristine shape and they donated it to charity.

The five-disc set arrived today, and I intend to watch them in the near future to see if I can make anything remotely resembling coherent sense out of it. I'm just wondering whether or how many of the earlier seasons I'll need to watch first. I'll amend this post with my final impressions once watch it.

Are Costco's Interstate Car Batteries Really a Good Deal?

 From five-dollar rotisserie chickens to flat-screen TVs, Costco is known for offering a variety of good deals. Many Costco customers count car batteries among them. Costco sells Interstate co-branded car batteries at prices so low, one would be forgiven for questioning their validity, especially since they carry a premium brand at a little over half the price one would expect to pay elsewhere. 

For comparison, I bought an Interstate battery from my local Interstate store last December and paid about $220 for it. Today, I bought a Costco Interstate battery for my other car and paid $119. Wait, what? Did I really pay $100 less for the same battery from Costco? That's a tough question to answer and it hinges upon whether they are, indeed, the same battery. 

First, we need to understand that while car batteries are available in under a plethora of brands, all American-made car batteries come from just three contract manufacturers—Exide, Johnson Controls, and East Penn. In many cases, the only differences between two battery brands could be the logo on the label and the distribution channel through which it reaches the consumer. 

Interstate batteries and their Costco co-branded counterparts may well originate at the same factories, but they take very different routes to find their way under the hoods of customers' cars. The Costco co-branded  Interstate batteries may bear the Interstate logo under license, but they are distributed and warrantied exclusively by Costco. Interstate has no relationship or responsibility for them, beyond putting their logo on them.

So, does this mean the Costco Interstate batteries aren't genuine Interstate batteries? They are 'genuine' in the sense that Interstate authorizes the use of their logo, and thus they ride on Interstate's positive reputation, but that appears to be the extent of the relationship. Interstate neither distributes nor stands behind the Costco batteries that carry their brand.

Does this mean Costco Interstate batteries are a ripoff? Not necessarily. They're of reasonably good quality and the price is right for what they are, especially if you're handy enough to install it yourself, since Costco merely sells them over the counter. Consumers are responsible for installation, whether they do it themselves or take it to a third party. This is one way Costco keeps their costs down. Think of it this way, you're getting the battery for only the cost of the part and not labor.

So, how do the two Interstate batteries compare in terms of performance? My own experience is hardly a statistically significant sampling, but I've owned two Interstate batteries in the same car and three Costco Interstate batteries in two different cars, including the battery I bought today. The battery I bought directly from Interstate in December replaced another Interstate battery that was in that same car when I acquired it in 2018. I have no idea how old it was when I got the car, but it lasted more than four years while I owned it. 

The first of the Costco Interstate batteries was only a few months old when I replaced the car it was in, so I have no idea how long it ultimately lasted. The one I replaced today outlasted the 36-month warranty by a little more than two months. That's not exceptional, but not bad either. Speaking of warranties, the Costco batteries carry a 36-month full replacement warranty, which is longer than that of some Interstate batteries, but it is honored only at Costco. Many battery brands have short replacement period, followed by prorated replacement for the remainder of the warranty period. 

From a standpoint of price, performance, and warranty, Costco's Interstate batteries are an exceptional value with a lot to offer for a modest price. The trick here be an informed consumer, know what you're getting into, maintain realistic expectations. Approaching it this way will allow one to see the batteries as for what they are and value them accordingly. One can safely say that if you buy a Costco Interstate battery, you will at least get what you pay for, and likely more.

 

LibreOffice: Version Numbers Gone Wild!

Now that LibreOffice 7.6 has been out for a few weeks and has seen its first maintenance update to 7.6.1, word is filtering out that its parent organization, the Document Foundation, is making a big change in version numbering for the free office productivity suite. Since beginning with version 3.3 back in 2010 (it started with the then-current version number of OpenOffice, from which it was forked), LibreOffice has been on a fixed release schedule with major version releases in February and August, and maintenance releases every five or six weeks see the release plan for details. But the next major version release, scheduled for February 2024, will be version 24.2! Wait! What? They're jumping ahead 17 version numbers and skipping the first two maintenance releases? No, not exactly.

The semi-annual version bumps, like the most recent one from 7.5x to 7.6x, are where new features are introduced. The smaller point releases, say from 7.6.0 to 7.6.1, include bug fixes and minor improvements, but not new features. Under the old numbering scheme, the February release would have been 7.7, with version 8.0 coming out in August, but the new numbering system changes all that. If you haven't guessed it yet, 24.2 refers to the year and month of the version's release. A final digit would sequential, indicating maintenance release versions, (e.g. 24.2.0, 24.2.1, 24.2.2, etc.); thus, next August's version release would be 24.8.0.

So, why do this? The Document Foundation apparently decided a date-based numbering system would be more in keeping with their scheduled release scheme than the traditional two-digit numbering system, especially since the February and August version releases are usually fairly subtle upgrades, rather than radical redesigns. Perhaps this also marks a further shift away from its parent software Apache OpenOffice, which only sees an occasional maintenance update and is presently at version 4.1.x for several years.

I am not expecting anything spectacular when the new version numbering makes its debut next February, but if you're curious about what it will include, check out the release notes at release notes for more information. They're very preliminary at this time, but will be fleshed out further as the release date draws nearer.

A tale of two grocery stores

 As of a few months ago, we now have two German-based discount grocery stores in our city. Aldi, based domestically in the Chicago suburb of Batavia, Ill., has had a presence in town for almost 20 years, while Lidl, with U.S. headquarters in Arlington, Va., has been open locally for about three months. The two chains offer lower prices than most other grocery chains and a largely no-frills shopping experience with more than a nod to the ideal of German efficiency, but there are differences that could sway a shopper from one to the other.

Both stores are physically smaller than competing American supermarkets and don't offer the same upscale shopping amenities. Simplicity is the watch word as they both lean heavily on limited SKUs (stock keeping units), house brands, and relying on customers to perform simple tasks, such as bagging their own groceries to help keep overhead costs down.

Aldi takes this a step further, charging a 25-cent deposit to use one of their shopping carts, which one gets back when the carts are returned and chained up, releasing the quarter. Shoppers often pay kindness forward by leaving their cart unchained, or simply handing it off to another customer and declining their quarter. The net positive effect of this is there are few, if any, stray carts in the parking lot. Lidl does not chain up their carts; in fact, they offer them in two sizes, a full-sized version and a smaller double-decker cart. 

Amenities at both stores are relatively spartan, although Lidl does have a small bakery section, albeit with somewhat limited selections. Neither store has a deli or cut-to-order meats; in fact, most of their meats are prepackaged by the processor.

Another area of contrast is at the checkout. Aldi has no self-checkout, but their cashiers are amazingly fast and are taught to use the quantity key on the register to ring out multiples of the same item with a single scan. To be honest, I have never had the cashier experience at Lidl, since they offer self-checkout. Having worked as a cashier in the past, I can manage self-checkout very efficiently, so that is my preferred method at just about any store that offers it.

Neither store uses plastic bags. Customers must either purchase paper reusable bags at the checkout, or else bring their own. Another alternative at both stores is to keep one's eyes peeled for usable boxes. Produce flats are a great choice, as they are extremely sturdy. Employees at both stores are constantly removing empty and nearly empty boxes from the shelves, and they are dropped into a large, wheeled basket, from which one can grab what one needs. Just don't dump the contents from a nearly full produce flat, just to get the box. Just as an aside, his same strategy also works at Costco or Sam's Club. 

So, how do Aldi and Lidl stack up against each other in the areas of price and selection? Aldi has far fewer nationally advertised brands, relying almost exclusively on house brands, usually with a single choice of package size. The quality of offerings at both stores is quite comparable. Prices are comparable or slightly lower than those at Lidl, which offers more in the way of national brands, but still nowhere near the variety of more conventional stores. While neither store has a loyalty card program, Lidl does offer special deals through its My Lidl smartphone app. 

So, does one store offer a more compelling value proposition than the other? It's hard to tell. Today, I did not have a quarter in my pocket to unlock a cart at Aldi, so I shopped at Lidl. But there may be other days where I find a better reason to shop at Aldi. There are things I particularly like at Aldi that will make the visit worthwhile, but I'm also finding favorites at Lidl. Either way, I feel like I can save a bit, compared to shopping at more mainstream and upscale stores, which is a win, whichever I pick.

The Easiest Way to Check your Blood Glucose

 I was diagnosed as a type 2 diabetic more than two decades ago, and at the time, the most exciting breakthrough in glucometer technology was one with which you could draw blood from less sensitive areas, such as a forearm or the heel of a hand, instead of one's fingertips. Still it was a pain—both literally and figuratively—to have to do this several times a day, and it was a major aggravation to have to carry a glucometer, lancets, test strips, and a lancing device around with me. As a result, I didn't test my sugar nearly as often as I should have.

It took many years for a solution to this problem arrive, but in about 2018, my doctor suggested I try the new Freestyle Libre2 14-day blood glucose monitoring system. This was a game-changer. Wear a sensor on my arm (I like to refer to it as a Borg implant) and check my sugar by touching a monitoring device or smart phone to it. When I first started using the sensors, my smart phone was one generation too old to be compatible with the sensors, so I used a dedicated monitoring device, which looked like a conventional glucometer, and even accepted test strips as a backup, but eventually, I upgraded my smart phone to one capable of reading the sensors, where I could use it instead. Less hardware to carry around meant more frequent checks. Just open the Freestyle Libre app and touch my phone to the sensor. What could be easier than that?

The answer to that question came to me last December when I went to visit my doctor for my four-month checkup and he handed me a 'gift bag' containing a new sensor, the Freestyle Libre3. This sensor used Bluetooth technology to continually communicate with my phone, providing updates every minute and triggering alarms when my glucose levels go out of range, either too high or too low. All I have to do is open the app to see how I'm doing. As if that wasn't an improvement enough, the Libre3 sensor is considerably smaller than its predecessor, presenting less of a target to bump and get knocked off my arm. 

The only real issue I've had with the Libre3 sensors is getting hold of them. When my doctor first wrote me a prescription for them, the pharmacy I used didn't have them and didn't know when they'd get them in stock, so I temporarily went back to the Libre2 sensors. Eventually, they became available, but either the way the prescription was written or the way my insurance company has specified that it be filled, I had to get a large quantity at once. The first pharmacy I tried wanted more than $500 for an order of nine sensors. I later found them at another pharmacy, where I get six for what I'd previously paid for two Libre2 sensors. Better functionality for a third the price, I'll take it!

The net result of all this is I'm checking my blood sugar more frequently than ever, and using that information to make better food choices, which is a win all the way around. 

The last time I saw my doctor, we found ourselves speculating what innovations a Freestyle Libre4 sensor might bring. Thirty-day service life? Smart watch integration? We'll just have to wait and see.

UPDATE: A few weeks ago, I went to refill my prescription for Libre3 sensors and received the most unwelcome news that my health insurance no longer covered them. They wanted me to switch to a different brand, the Dexcom G7, but they wanted prior authorization before making the switch. This process has dragged out for more than a month; meanwhile, my doctor has kept me supplied with free "samples" of Libre3 sensors. 

Based on my reading, the Dexcom G7 operates essentially the same as the Libre3, except that it lasts only ten days, instead of 14, and it transmits data to the user's phone once every five minutes, instead of every 60 seconds. I think I can live with the less frequent data uploads, especially if that extends my phone's battery life, which has been significantly shorter since I started using the Libre3. The ten-day operational life is a little more of a wild card, as I have no idea how much the Dexcom sensors will cost me. If my copay is significantly less expensive than the Libre3 sensors were, then it will okay; otherwise, it will be a less cost effective solution. I'll make a full assessment, if and when the prescription ever gets filled.

The Night They Drove Ol' Robbie Down

With the recent passing of Robbie Robertson on August 9, I'm finding myself revisiting the music of The Band, most of which he wrote. Today, The Band is widely acknowledged as one of the progenitors of the musical sub-genre known as Americana, which blends aspects of country, rock, folk, blues, jazz, etc., into a uniquely American art form.

The Band's story is also unique. Instead of bursting onto the scene with their debut album, they quietly paid their dues, first backing rockabilly artist Ronnie Hawkins as The Hawks, then backing Bob Dylan as he controversially electrified the folk scene in the mid-'60s, eventually collaborating with him on the Basement Tapes project, while he recuperated from a near-fatal motorcycle accident.  

As a result, their first studio album, Music From Big Pink (1968) conveys a maturity, achieved through almost a decade of playing together live. It, and its 1970 follow-up, the eponymously titled The Band, make a good introduction to their music, and together contain many of their best known songs. 

While jumping on at the beginning with those two albums has its virtues, another option for a broader view is the two-disc compilation from 1988 called To Kingdom Come. Released during the heyday of CD reissues, To Kingdom Come has one noticeable shortcoming shared by many digital remixes from that era, which consists mainly of bumping up the bass and drums in an attempt to give the music a bit more 'punch'. Nonetheless, the collection presents a concise but comprehensive overview of The Band's entire catalog, plus a handful of unreleased rarities. The three-disc box set, Across the Great Divide, is also excellent in its own right, presenting The Band in context with their earlier incarnation as the Hawks, along with a larger helping of rarities, but I tend to prefer To Kingdom Come because it is more focused and presents a solid collection of must-have tunes.

Also worth considering for anyone new to The Band is their live album Rock of Ages. Originally issued on two LP's, and later in several different CD configurations, this album captures The Band at the peak of their powers in a four-night run at New York's Academy of Music, culminating on New Year's Eve 1971. Performances on this set are generally more energetic than their studio counterparts, as would be expected from a band that cut its teeth on stage. A particular highlight is keyboardist Garth Hudson's Bach-inspired organ workout, called "The Genetic Method". CD versions of this album are many and varied. Its first CD version was a single disc that was missing a couple of tracks to fit it onto one disc, as was common practice in the early days of CD reissues. It later came out as an expanded two-disc collection that included most of guest artist Bob Dylan's performance with them, as they welcomed in 1972. The entire four-night run was also issued as a limited edition box set, and at the other end of the spectrum is a severely truncated 11-track CD titled The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.

Honorable mention goes to The Last Waltz, the soundtrack to Martin Scorsese's concert film of the same name, which documented The Band's farewell performance on Thanksgiving 1976 that included a virtual who's who of popular music at the time, including Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Ringo Starr, Muddy Waters, Neil Diamond, and the Staples Singers, among others. Originally issued on three LP's, which later fit comfortably on two CD's, it also came out as an expanded four-CD box set titled The Complete Last Waltz. While it is excellent in its own right, it isn't as good of an introduction to The Band as some of the other albums mentioned, as the arrangements are often quite different from the originals and it represents a culmination of an era, and the final time Robertson would perform with The Band, although the other members would re-convene, tour and record, with Robertson's blessing but without his participation, on into the 1980s and '90s. 

The music world lost one of its brightest luminaries last week, but we can be thankful that Robbie Robertson's recorded output, both with the Band and as a solo artist, has granted him a certain measure of immortality.

The Next Phase of Chrome OS

One of the unique aspects of Chromebooks is the tight integration of the Chrome Web browser into the ChromeOS operating system. This architecture has both been lauded as elegant in its simplicity and derided as reducing those computers to a 'browser in a box'. I have to admit I fall into the latter category, and have always regarded Chromebooks as lesser computers with severely limited functionality. 

Fortunately, Google has been steadily moving toward expanding Chromebooks' functionality, first by making it possible to run Android apps on them, and more recently by allowing Linux apps to run in a virtual machine environment, code named 'Crostini', but also referred to as the Linux Developer Environment. It's a little clunky and requires at least rudimentary knowledge of the Linux command line interface, but once you get everything set up, you can run almost any Debian Linux application, including LibreOffice, Thunderbird email client, GIMP photo editing software, and Firefox Web browser, on your Chromebook. Officially Google says it's just for developers, but in reality, it marks a huge leap forward in functionality for those who prefer desktop apps to their Web-based counterparts.

Google is now poised to take the next step in the maturing of ChromeOS by separating the Chrome browser from the operating system. The project, known by its code name Lacros (Linux and ChromeOS) is intended, according to Google, to extend the useful lives of older Chromebooks by allowing them to receive browser updates even after they pass their official 'expiration date', after which ChromeOS updates will cease. This project has been under way for a couple of years, and has been available under an experimental flag that gave users the choice of running the integrated Chrome browser or the separate Lacros browser, which is actually a natively running Linux application that does not require Crostini for life support. 

The separation process will begin with ChromeOS 116, out next week, where Lacros will be turned on by default, no flag required, but it may be a little while before the integrated Chrome browser goes completely away. At that point, the Lacros browser will be renamed as Chrome and will sport the multicolored Chrome icon, instead of its present yellow Lacros icon. Once the process is complete, average users will hardly notice the difference.

That is all well and good, but I see an even larger possibility that I hope Google decides to leverage. If they can make a Linux version of Chrome run natively without Crostini, how hard could it be to allow other Linux applications to run natively as well? ChromeOS is based on Gentoo Linux, after all. To my mind, this would truly turn Chrome OS into a 'grown-up' operating system, in which the user can choose to run full-featured Linux applications with ease, just as one can with any desktop Linux distribution. 

I realize this move is not without some controversy among the Chromebook faithful, many of whom regard ChromeOS' Web-based approach as the future of computing, and see the separation of the browser from the OS as a step backward, potentially eviscerating what makes ChromeOS unique, but thin clients aren't for everyone, myself included. In fact, I avoided Chromebooks for almost a decade after they came out, because I felt I wasn't missing anything. I could do everything on a Mac, Windows or Linux machine that I could on a Chromebook, plus a whole lot more. And although I am now a Chromebook owner, I still feel that way, and only use it for specific tasks.

I don't have any special knowledge about the future of ChromeOS, but I am hopeful that the implemention of Lacros in ChromeOS 116 will be a decisive step in the evolution of the ChromeOS platform. 

UPDATE: I wrote the above shortly before ChromeOS 116 landed on my two Chromebooks, and the most amazing thing is how little of a difference it has made, day-to-day. Chrome behaves just the same, and because I had opted to use Lacros exclusively when I activated it in the previous version of Chrome OS, it implemented itself as the default, and the only way to know the difference is to check the version of the Chrome browser I'm running. So far, I'm pleased.

A Brighter Idea

 A few years ago, I had the bright idea to purchase a new, fairly high-tech light fixture for my front porch. It had built-in LED's and a light sensor to turn it on automatically at dusk and off at dawn. It worked flawlessly for about six or seven years, until one day a few years ago, it just didn't. At that point, it became an expensive mistake. Instead of replacing a bulb, I had to replace the entire fixture. 

Not one to make the same mistake twice, I opted for one that took screw-in bulbs, LED's of course, and decided I'd just have to accept the fact that I'd have to turn it on manually at night. A few days after I'd installed the new fixture, I was grousing to a friend about the loss of the light sensor, and they suggested a screw-in socket with a sensor. 

It sounded like a great idea, but when I priced them, they cost more than I was prepared to pay, and it appeared they'd add enough length to the bulb to make it stick out of the bottom of the fixture. Fortunately, that wasn't the only option. I ended up buying an LED bulb with a built-in sensor instead.

The unit I purchased was made by Sylvania and not only was it the only one on Amazon that carried a brand with a recognizable name, it was also one of the least expensive options. The same size as a normal bulb, this nine-watt LED bulb puts out as much light as a 60-watt incandescent bulb, albeit with an icy, bluish white hue that makes it seem even brighter. It doesn't do much for ambience, but it's great for nighttime visibility.

When turning the light switch on for the first time, immediately after installing the bulb, it came on for about one second, indicating that it works, before being shut off by the sensor, which detected afternoon sunlight. Several hours later, it turned itself back on in the encroaching darkness.

Although slightly more expensive than a comparable standard LED bulb without a sensor, it and the new standard fixture together cost significantly less than buying another sensor-equipped LED fixture, and replacing the bulb will require far less effort—and expense—than replacing the fixture. Also, as a hedge against inflation, I went ahead and bought two sensor bulbs, so I’ll have another one ready to go whenever this one fails, which I hope won’t be for a long time. Speaking of which, I cannot make any claims regarding the bulb’s longevity, as it has been in place for only a few days, but I'm pleased so far.

___________________

In other light bulb news, I also have an LED bulb in a bedroom lamp that seems to be slowly failing. It's fairly dim when it first comes on, but then it comes up to full brightness after a few minutes. The thing is, I kind of like this malfunction. The first thing in the morning, when I turn it on with my "Hey Google" speaker. The dim light allows my eyes to gently grow acclimated before it comes up to full brightness. At which point, I'm ready to get out of bed. I don't know how long it will (mal)function in this manner before it quits completely, but I'll enjoy it while I can. I guess a dim bulb isn't always a bad thing.

A Key Repair

 

Many General Motors and other brand cars come with a remote key FOB with an integrated key that flips out in ‘switchblade’ fashion. My car came with key FOBs of this type. The key blade is held in place with a tiny roll pin that can work loose over time, and I had to super glue both of mine into place. Shortly before doing this to the first of the two keys, I had bought a pair of replacement shells online, with the idea of transferring the circuit board and key blade over to it, but the super glue proved easier, so I never used them—until now. The super glue solution worked well for a couple of years, just the tiniest droplet at each end of the roll pin, until I noticed that one of them had developed a stress fracture, just above where the key blade slips into place.

Facing an imminent structural failure, which is quite common on keys of this design, along with tearing of the rubberized buttons, I decided it was time to transplant the operational components of the cracked key fob over to one of the new shells. This is one of several options available. The list below may help you decide which is best for your needs:

Complete replacement—This is the most expensive option, but requires the least work on your part. Replacement key FOBs are readily available online for between $8 and $20, and you can have the key blade cut by a locksmith for an additional fee. This will be far less expensive than purchasing one from a dealership. Pairing the new FOB to your car can be done without any specialized equipment, as long as you have a working, factory original key, at least that's the way it works on many GM cars. Your mileage may vary.

Key blade swap—You can save the cost of having the key cut (about $20 in my case) on a replacement FOB by swapping the key blade from your old key FOB over to the new one.  Just tap out the roll pin, remove the blank key blade, replace it with the original, and press the roll pin back into place. You will still need to pair the remote with the car, but you will also have an extra remote, albeit without a key. You might put the blank key blade away for safekeeping, just in case you ever need to get it cut.

Component transfer—Empty key FOB cases with uncut blades are also available for about half the cost of a complete FOB that is ready to cut and program (around $5). This option allows you to swap the key blade and circuit board from the original remote into a new shell. This is the least expensive option, but the most labor intensive. This is the option I chose when the hinge on one of my original remotes started to give way.

Moving the key blade over was the easy part. I used a small precision screwdriver and a hammer to tap the roll pins out of both the damaged FOB and the empty shell, which included a blank key blade. The original key blade was a snug fit, but it went in and lined up perfectly, allowing me to press the pin into place with a pair of needle nose pliers. I first grasped the pin straight on and pushed it into the hole, then squeezed it the rest of the way with the jaws of the pliers.

The empty shell came apart easily, prying and twisting it with my fingers, but the original was not at all designed to come apart, which essentially necessitated the destruction of the original shell to extract the circuit board. In other words, getting inside of it marked the point of no return.

Before I made that decision, I had another one to make. I could either break up the case on the original remote to get to the circuit board and put it into the replacement case, along with the key blade, or I could get a replacement remote with a circuit board already installed, transfer the key blade only, and program the remote, leaving me three functioning remotes, two of which have keys. I ultimately decided to try the first option, since I already had the empty cases on hand.

Tearing into the original, factory remote was a challenge. Unlike the replacement units, the case is not intended to come apart, so one must be fully committed to this course of action. Once I started trying to get it apart, I quickly went from being hesitant that it was what I wanted to do, to be obsessed with the idea of getting it apart, no matter what it took.

Before I began tearing into it, I had already transferred the cut key blade to the new housing. This left me some room to slide a flat blade screwdriver in above the hinge, for maximum leverage to twist and pry, without endangering the circuit board inside. Mine eventually gave way, but the two halves of the case did not come apart cleanly. I eventually tore away enough of the back half (the one that does not have buttons) so that I could slide the circuit board out. At that point the original case was trash, although I did save the battery cover to have as a spare.

The final step is to put everything into the new case. There are essentially five parts that go inside the case—the circuit board, the key blade and hinge assembly, key blade release button, a spring, and a battery clip. Getting all of these parts properly positioned inside the case and tensioning the spring so the key blade pops out when the release button is pressed, and then snapping the case together, is a challenging proposition to say the least. The steps to do so are below. For purposes of this discussion, The side of the key fob where the buttons are located will be referred to as the ‘front’ and the side with access to the battery compartment will be referred to as the ‘back’.

1. With all necessary components extracted from the original, factory FOB, open and disassemble the replacement case. This will be far easier than opening the original unit, and should require no tools, only fingers.

2. Position the circuit board in the back half of the case, making sure the battery clip is properly positioned underneath it. The circuit board is asymmetrical, so it only goes in one way.

3. Position the spring in the back half of the case so that the end with the ‘ear’ extending from it catches on a little tab inside case.

4. Insert the button into the hole in the ‘hinge’ of the key blade assembly, making sure the three tabs of the button properly align with the slots in the hinge. It only goes one  way.
   

5. Lay the key blade and button on top of the spring so that the key is in the open position.

6. Tension the spring by turning the key blade counter-clockwise 1.5 turns until the key blade is in the closed position.

7. Holding the key in place so that the spring does not escape, bring the two halves together and snap into place. This will be challenging, as the circuit board will inevitably shift a bit. You can nudge it back into place with your finger through the battery compartment, keeping pressure on the corner where the key blade attaches to keep tension on the spring.

8. Once everything snaps into place (some replacement FOBs will also have a screw that will ultimately be hidden by the manufacturer’s emblem) insert the battery, snap on the battery cover, and test the remote. The buttons and the key should work as before.

At this point, I have three FOBs for my car—an unmolested original, a ‘frankenFOB’, which contains the original circuit board and key blade in a new enclosure, and a replacement FOB that I had cut and programmed. I also have a second empty replacement shell, should I ever need it. I had both the replacement FOB and the two shells on hand, so the only expense involved was having the blade cut on the replacement FOB. Had I realized how easy it would be to swap the key blade over, before I got the key cut, I might well have done that and saved a little money.

At this point, I am carrying the replacement FOB and using it on a daily basis. I prefer using it because the circuit board is of an updated design that requires the trunk release button to be held down for a second or so before the trunk opens. This effectively eliminates the common problem of spontaneous trunk opening. The frankenFOB is now the go-to spare and the remaining original is effectively retired, as its buttons are heavily worn and I’m not eager to perform another component swap anytime soon. 

UPDATE 1 Aug 2023: It's been almost three months since my adventures with the key FOBS. I've spent part of that time carrying the replacement FOB and the rest of the time carrying the FrankenFob. Both work quite well, and I've noticed one added benefit. Before I did all that, I was frequently finding my trunk open when I went to start the car. This is apparently a common problem with my make and model, and GM even came up with a programming fix to require the user to press the FOB's trunk release button twice to open it. I've found that carrying either the new or the renewed FOB, this doesn't happen anymore. I can only conclude that the buttons on both the replacement FOB and the replacement case are stiffer than the original, making them less susceptible to accidental pressings in my pocket. Since this was not initially a problem when I first got the car, I can further conclude that the buttons on the original FOBs weaken over time.

Rehabbing My Gas Grill

 When I moved into my house nine years ago, there was already a gas grill permanently installed on the deck and plumbed into the natural gas line. This has been a nice setup, because I never need to worry about propane cylinders, as there's an essentially endless supply of gas from the street. The grill worked well when I bought the house, although the built-in igniter never worked, but over time, it had started heating unevenly, the cast iron cooking grates were gradually rusting away, and the ceramic briquettes were starting to disintegrate, so I decided it was time to either replace the grill entirely, or at least replace some of its key components. Because of the natural gas thing, and my general aversion to hiring things done when I can come up with a way to do them myself, I decided I would be better off gutting it and replacing the needed parts. 

I ordered a new burner and enameled cast iron cooking grates from Amazon, but decided I would source the ceramic briquettes locally. The cooking grates came yesterday, and although they're from a third-party manufacturer, they fit the grill perfectly. I had thought the burner would be third-party as well, but it turned out to be a genuine, OEM Broilmaster part. 

Installation of both items was very easy. I had to attach the burner to the Venturi tube assembly, and from there, it was essentially a drop-in replacement. I just had to make sure the Venturi tubes were properly seated over the gas jets on the valve assembly. The cooking grates were even easier. And for good measure while I had everything apart, I used my shop vac to clear out the collected debris—briquette fragments, rust, ash, etc., so now it should be working almost like new. 

I didn't realize just how bad off the old burner was until I took it out. Instead of coming out as a single unit, it came out in three pieces. It was beyond shot. Fortunately, I had already committed to the full makeover, so now my grill is essentially still old on the outside, but mostly brand new on the inside, even if I still didn't bother replacing the igniter.

What really surprised me was the fact that no place around here sells the ceramic briquettes, or even lava rocks, for that matter. These used to be a common and inexpensive items that needed to be replaced occasionally, but it appears most newer gas grills do not use lava rocks, and the ones that did are now old enough that stores have stopped stocking them. All I can say is thank goodness for Amazon. 

Even at Amazon prices, my grill parts weren't exactly cheap. I ended up spending about double what I expected to on the replacement parts, but like the ceramic briquettes, it seems that inexpensive universal replacement grill parts are also less common than they once were, and I've also come to find out that Broilmaster grills—and parts for them—aren't exactly economy models. Besides, the natural gas connection would have necessitated professional installation, whereas just replacing needed parts did not. And now that the project is done, and it was a pretty simple one to be sure,  I can employ an old cliché and say that what was old is now at least partially new again.

Star Trek: Picard Hits All the Right Notes

 I have been a lifelong Star Trek fan since about the age of seven, more than half a century. With each new iteration I have been simultaneously hopeful that the producers would get things right and fearful that they would get them wrong. Usually, it's been a mix of the two, with the ratio of good to bad being the operative question.

Being old enough to remember when Star Trek was just a single 79-episode series, and not a TV, movie, multimedia, etc., franchise, the original series from the 1960s has always been the gold standard to which all other iterations are compared, and it's not a stretch to say some have measured up to that standard better than others.

There have been many times that viewers have felt Paramount had milked their cash cow dry and run out of good ideas, but like agricultural fields allowed to lie fallow for a season, there is always the opportunity for new growth.

The latest period of renewal has come with advent of streaming. Paramount+, originally known as CBS All Access, has used Star Trek as its flagship franchise, producing several new series, including some real gems along the way.

Star Trek: Discovery got off to a rocky start in its first season, while its second essentially served as a back door pilot for Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. Beginning with the third season, it has explored a series treatment originally penned by Gene Roddenberry and fleshed out as the non-Trek series Andromeda in the late 1990s and early 2000s.

The series that has proved most surprising to me is Star Trek: Picard, which just wrapped up this week after three seasons, each of which encompassed a complete story arc. In this way, Picard captured the best aspects of both the films and TV series, as each season played out like an extended feature film. 

This was an innovative approach and it very much worked, especially in the just-concluded third and final season. Telling out a narrative over ten episodes gave the opportunity to be both expansive and concise at the same time, and best of all, to experience the types of moments that made for the best moments of Star Trek on both the big and small screens. Show runner Terry Matalas just made the whole thing work. 

While this particular iteration of Trek is now in the proverbial can—or canon, as the case may be—the final episode closed with some tantalizing tidbits, teasing of what could be ahead. Matalas has said in interviews that there is nothing solid in the works, but a passing of the torch certainly looks to be in the realm of possibility. Hey, we got Strange New Worlds out of Discovery, which seems set to yield a Starfleet academy spinoff as it warps off into the sunset later this year, so who knows. 

All I can say to that prospect is... Engage!

 

Sparking an Improvement

 My daily driver car, a 2013 Buick LaCrosse eAssist hybrid, is approaching the 100,000-mile mark, so I decided a bit of scheduled maintenance in the form of a new set of spark plugs was in order. After a little online research, I discovered that the plugs on my engine, a 2.4L four-cylinder Ecotec hybrid, are very easily accessible, right on the top of the engine. Having all of the necessary tools (a socket set with a spark plug socket and extension bar, flat blade screwdriver and needle-nose pliers) I decided to forego the services of a mechanic and undertake the swap myself. 

The first step was to research what kind of spark plugs to use, as they come in three varieties—copper core, platinum, and iridium. Copper core plugs are what usually comes in a car from the factory and are the least expensive option, but they typically have the shortest service lifespan. The next step up is platinum, which has a coating of that rare and expensive metal on the electrode. There are also double-platinum plugs that have a tiny platinum disc on the ground contact, where the spark from the electrode hits. The advantages of platinum plugs are better spark and longer service life. Some cars even require platinum plugs. The top of the line, and most expensive option, is iridium. These plugs outlast platinum, use less energy, and produce an even better spark, resulting in improvements in both fuel economy and performance. 

Since General Motors is presently offering a substantial rebate on its ACDelco Iridium plugs, which cut the price almost in half, I ordered a set from Rockauto.com. They're probably a bit of overkill for the little four-banger under my Buick's hood, but for the price, I saw little downside to that choice, and a big win, if they delivered on the promises of improved performance and fuel economy. Since the engine was not misfiring, I decided to keep using the original ignition coils and save that expense until it is truly needed. Generally speaking, it is best to replace all of the coils when one fails, since the others will likely not be far behind.

Installation was quite easy and only took me about 45 minutes. As with any such project, replacing the first plug was the most difficult. Repeating those steps with the next three was easier, as I knew exactly what to expect. The basic procedure went something like this:

• With the engine cold, remove the plastic engine cover
• Unplug the wire from the ignition coil
• Unbolt and remove the ignition coil
• Remove the old spark plug
• Put a small amount of anti-seize compound on the threads of the new plug
• Screw the new plug into place
• Put a dab of dielectric grease on the bottom end of the ignition coil to seal out moisture
• Put the coil in on top of the spark plug and bolt it down
• Replace the electrical connection
• Repeat the above steps with the three remaining spark plugs
• Replace the plastic engine cover and put your tools away.

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect in terms of performance from the new plugs, but in driving the car the past couple of days, I have seen a noticeable, albeit not dramatic, improvement in throttle response and the car labors a bit less going up hills. The car is still a somewhat under-powered, but it's a definite improvement.

I can't yet speak to fuel economy improvements, as the new plugs have not yet been in place for 48 hours, but I am topping off my tank today and we'll see how it goes. Even a modest improvement in fuel economy would eventually pay for the plugs, and delivering more power in the process makes it a double-winner. 

And the sense of satisfaction that comes from successfully installing the new plugs myself was priceless.

Network Complications

 Like most people here in the first quarter of the twenty-first century, I have become overly dependent on my home wireless network, and as a result I have a lot of—arguably too many—devices connected to it, including four laptops, two tablets, two printers a smart phone, three Roku boxes, two Google Home devices, and a half dozen smart plugs. It's probably little wonder that my wireless router recently a little flaky and failure prone, randomly dropping devices. A quick unplug and re-plug would correct things, but who wants to be doing that several times a day?

I'm not sure whether it was out of frustration or desperation,  or despair, but I reached the point last week where I felt the need to take decisive action, so I replaced my wireless router. Physically disconnecting and reconnecting the cables only took a couple of minutes, and setting up the new wireless network took a couple more, but getting everything back registered on the network has taken several days. 

In all fairness, I got most of it—the laptops, tablets, Roku boxes, printers and Google Home devices—done in an hour or so, but the Kasa smart plugs proved the most vexing of all. Despite the simplicity of their operation, the setup routine is anything but. The plugs must be set up using the Kasa smartphone app, and the on-screen instructions are less than accurate. To put it into perspective, I have a master's degree in technical communication and I couldn't properly follow the steps as written. 

Where they fell short was in the crucial step of registering the plugs on the new network. The instruction said to "join the network," but failed to make clear that this was accomplished by finding the plug as an unsecured network, then joining that to the router's network. This had to be done for each plug. As if that weren't enough, my Google Home devices still did not recognize the plugs until I reset them again, after I had gotten the plugs working.

To be sure, this is not the first time I've changed out a wireless router. This has got to be the seventh or eighth time I've done it. But over the past three or so years, the sheer number of things connected to it, both via the 802.11 wireless protocol and physically via Ethernet cables, has expanded phenomenally. The router is no longer just a jumping on point for a wireless Internet connection; it is now a central technological fixture of my home, enabling so many other things to function. As far as I can see, this role will only expand in the future.

Re-reading World War II

I recently revisited a piece of my childhood through a book I found at a second-hand store called Life's Picture History of World War II. There had been a copy at my grandmother's house, which had belonged to my grandfather, a veteran of both world wars. When I was growing up, my cousin Bob and I both enjoyed looking at it, together and separately. Published in 1950, a scant five years after that conflict had ended, it presented a visual account of the war through Life magazine's archive of photos and illustrations with a minimal amount of interpretive text. Although not necessarily intended as such, it was a good introduction to the conflict for a young reader. I even used it as a source for a paper I wrote on the Blitzkrieg in ninth grade. When I had it in my possession for that project, I really did not want to give it back.

Toward the end of her life, my grandmother passed many treasured belongings to family members, who would appreciate them. Although I would have enjoyed having that book, it went to Bob. I respect the fact that my grandmother took the time to make carefully considered decisions about her belongings, and I am happy that he has it and will one day pass it down to his son, yet I've long thought that I'd like to find a copy of it for myself. I have often looked for it on the shelves of second hand book stores, but until recently, I haven't even seen another copy.

Having not seen the book in about 40 years, I had forgotten the exact title, which made searching for it a little more difficult; in fact, when I found my copy, I wasn't sure at first that it was the same book, but leafing through it quickly convinced me, even though it had a different cover. The copy I remember from childhood had a red leatherette cover and may have originally come with a paper dust jacket, while the one I bought has a tan, cloth binding with a brown spine and a matching slipcase, but for the two dollars I paid for it, I can't complain; in fact, it is a rather handsome edition. 

Having the exact title, I was able to take a look online to get an idea of how rare this book actually is. Second hand copies are readily available both on eBay and Amazon and prices are all over the place, ranging from about $4 to $75, which makes my $2 investment for the more deluxe slip cased edition a real bargain. When looking for this book, be aware that there is a later and entirely different book called Life Goes to War: A Picture History of World War II, which was published in the 1970s. Interestingly, one version has a cover that could easily be confused for this earlier volume. 

Looking through that coffee table sized volume after so many years, I was struck by a couple of things. One was just how many of the images I vividly remembered from back then, but also how I regard them differently, viewing them through adult eyes. For one thing, the book is definitely a product of its time, making liberal use of terms we would deem offensive today, such as 'Jap', and editorial choices that represent an almost propagandistic mindset, the same that would have existed at Life, or any other American publication, during the war. Any atrocities depicted in the photos were being committed by Germans or Japanese, not Americans or their allies, and any grievously wounded soldiers mangled corpses were always those of the enemy. The few images of wounded G.I.'s depicted them receiving first aid for fairly minor injuries. 

In a broader sense, it is interesting to note that despite the patriotic tone, the book presents a surprisingly unflinching look at the grim realities of war, neither glorifying nor condemning it. That said, one shocking omission from the book is the lack of any mention of the Holocaust or Nazi concentration camps, which would have been common knowledge by the time the book came out. Perhaps that also is a product of its time.

While I am glad to finally have my own copy of Life's Picture History of World War II, even if it is not the one I enjoyed looking at when I was a kid, I'm not sure how often I will be looking through it. My feelings toward war and its destruction are much different today, and I'm not as fascinated by it as I once was. Still, the connection to family history makes it a special addition to my library.