Friday Tidings

By now, you may have heard about ChatGPT. It’s an Artificial Intelligence program that works like a search engine. It has the side benefit of producing word-perfect essays. That’s how I learned about it. You can imagine how sweet this is for high school and college students.   Of course, I wasted no time getting my own ChatGPT account. Just for fun, I asked it to write numerous essays and it did so flawlessly—in seconds. Amazing. Maybe it could do all my grant writing this year…. But I digress.  Because of Artificial Intelligence, the social media-famous psychologist, Dr. Jordan Peterson, predicts that a third of the universities will go broke in five years. We’ll see. AI is already smarter than we are, so perhaps writing college essays is now irrelevant. But we do need skilled computer scientists—so we can at least manage the AI. Elon Musk predicts the world will be controlled by whoever produces the most functional AI system the fastest. So, Musk is researching how...

Okay. I had my turn with Covid.   But it didn’t announce itself loud and clear. It waited until I was feeling better from what I presumed was only a stomach bug—then I tested positive. I’d been isolated already—since I knew I’d been exposed. So now I had to isolate even longer.  I’ve been keeping the cabin warm and cozy and drinking plenty of fluids, but the mental haze is the worst. I have little recall of anything I’ve read. My mind is too fuzzy.  Whenever I get sick, I realize just how little I understand the suffering of those who are even more sick. Covid has taken many lives far too soon—incredibly heartbreaking for families. I may have to be isolated, but I’m steadily improving. Then there are those battling cancer—you’re an inspiration to me as you painfully fight through each chemo phase. Weeks and weeks of chemo—where you feel far worse as you wait for the prospect of getting better. Then there are others suffering chronic, debilitating health issues. Y...

It’s not something I really wanted to do, but when my step-mom asked me to officiate my father’s small memorial service I said I would. About ten years earlier, they had moved to an Arizona retirement community. They enjoyed golfing and sunny days. Sadly, those sunny days of golfing ended far too soon. The memorial was supposed to be very brief. As I looked into the faces of people I had just met—I knew they didn’t know the father I’d known. They knew him as a golfing buddy or a neighbor.   How could I describe my dad? How could I honor his memory? I told them Dad enjoyed encouraging others. He was thoughtful. He had been a community volunteer. He loved his family.  Then, I opened my Bible and said that I’d found a description of how my dad tried to love others.  Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Lov...

I must have been six when I met Gee—a shortened version for her name Guinevere. A friend of my mother’s mother, she had a two-day flight layover on her way from her native France back to her home in Molokai, Hawaii. After retrieving her from the airport, Mom planned a full itinerary of outings to show her our mountains, forests, and seas. This meant being sandwiched between Gee and my sister in the backseat for miles of car touring. I was at that fidgety stage when I frequently asked, “How long until we get there?” Gee, who had been my grandmother’s college roommate, seemed to have an interest in everything she saw. Even in a little girl who couldn’t sit still. She taught me finger games, and we created imaginative stories from the random things we could see from the back seat. When my fidgeting became grouchiness towards my sister. Gee gently remarked, “You didn’t get to choose being in the car, but you can choose to be kind.” I looked into her eyes, and it wasn’t a scolding l...