Several pigeons gather on a pier piling on the Sacramento River in Old Sacramento on Saturday, Feb. 2, 2013.
I don’t know if anyone else has done this, but I’ve attempted to calculate how much prices have gone up since it cost “tuppence a bag” to “Feed the Birds” from the Disney movie “Mary Poppins.” It was a bit of an odd journey given that I was trying to figure out inflation for a currency that changed pretty drastically over the past 114 years, but I think the math makes sense.
I’ve actually crunched the numbers twice over the years. The first time was when I was hosting “Evening Jazz” on Northstate Public Radio in Northern California sometime after 2011. As a volunteer DJ, I was spinning Kurt Rosenwinkel’s take on “Feed the Birds (Tuppence a Bag)” off of “Everybody Wants to be a Cat: Disney Jazz Vol. 1.”
While the song was playing, I wondered to myself what a tuppence was and how much it would be worth in modern times.
It took a while, but I crunched the numbers in between songs and came up with a number that I gleefully shared with listeners during a station break.
Fast forward to last month when I was browsing Threads as part of my social media move away from the site formerly known as Twitter. I came across a post from user andromedacat2016 noting that the original movie was set 53 years before its 1964 release and a modern version with the same time gap would be set in 1970.
The user wondered why that question popped into their head and I replied with my random question about the inflationary impact on the tuppence. Andromedacat2016 asked if I had figured it out, so I decided it was time to do the math again.
So my best guess involved using a Bank of England inflation calculator to estimate how much inflation there was on the tuppence up to decimalization and then calculating the new pence inflation to the current year.
2d in 1910 might be 16.12d (£sd) at decimalization in 1971.
Decimalization would convert that 16.12d (£sd) to 6.7 new pence.
From there, the 6.7p would grow to 82.3p today — really 83p, due to rounding.
Still a great deal for a bag of crumbs!
As I recall from my long-ago radio shift, I think my 2011 calculation came up with something around 72p. That’s a little higher than my current guess after recent inflation, but it seems to be close.
Attempting to solve this problem was fun but challenging for several reasons:
In 2011, I wasn’t sure of the year that “Mary Poppins” was set in. Thankfully, I went with Andromediacat2016’s date this time out.
What the heck was a tuppence? It’s clear now that it’s a variation of “two pence,” but the old pounds, shillings, pence system (£sd) of British currency prior to decimalization in 1971 remains a bit baffling to me. (As an aside, it’s popped up on some 1980s British TV that I’ve watched, including the “Doctor Who” story “Remembrance of the Daleks” and the Britcom “Hi-De-Hi!” which is set at a holiday camp in 1959.)
Before I could get to decimalization in 1971, I had to calculate an initial 61 years of inflation. While the Bank of England’s calculator goes back to 1209 (six years before the signing of the Magna Carta!), it only allows input in whole pounds. I may have gone off track at this point, but I started with a single pound to calculate the rate over 61 years and applied it to the tuppence.
When I reached decimalization (and looked back on Decimal Day via the BBC), I needed to convert the £sd value to the modern system. While this may be another point where my math may have gone astray, I think it was relatively straightforward to convert the old pence where 240 pence equaled 1 pound to the updated system where 100 new pence equalled 1 pound. At least I wasn’t trying to convert shillings, florins and crowns to decimal.
From there, it was back to the inflation calculator to determine how much change there’s been over the past 53 years (again being limited by the fact the calculator only allows input of whole numbers).
While I’m hopeful that my estimate is close, there may be factors I didn’t consider that I welcome someone knowledgable to point out.
It’s certainly possible I goofed somewhere. In its article on the song, Wikipedia apparently uses an inflation template to come up with £1.29 in 2023 pounds, and I’m more than a little curious about how it reached that number. Coincidentally, that figure is closer to my 2011 calculation (adjusted for 12 years of intervening inflation).
In the end, it’s fascinating to think about how money may have changed over time and how much things might have cost 114 years ago. Eighty-nine pence (or £1.29) doesn’t seem like it would go far today, and I wonder how much two pence in 1910 would help the woman after accounting for the cost of the bag and crumbs. Indeed, I think the bag would be the biggest cost without knowing how the woman obtained the bread or subsequently prepared the crumbs.
There’s also value reflecting on the message of the song — that of a beggar woman outside St. Paul’s Cathedral selling a frivolous item ostensibly to benefit pigeons, but it’s really charity to help the elderly woman. In one verse, the lyrics include the line “Their young ones are hungry, their nests are so bare/All it takes is tuppence from you.”
As we saw in the film (and can see in real life), it’s easy for some to turn away from those in need. I know that I don’t personally rise to the occasion every time, but hopefully the tragic beauty of a song such as “Feed the Birds” will push me to reconsider (or find other avenues to help).
The lead engine of an eastbound California Zephyr train dwelling at Grand Junction, Colo., on Friday, March 6, 2020.
I’ve been spending more time on Reddit lately, as the discussions there seem more lively and engaging than what’s available on X/Twitter or Facebook (although Threads has been surprising me lately). As I surf the subreddits, I chime in from time to time.
Since many of these responses are geared to be informational, I figure it would be useful to reproduce them here. (I will also note that my musings get more views on Reddit, but I do enjoy keeping a blog after all these years.)
On the r/Amtrak subreddit, someone asked what was better — Amtrak or Greyhound? Considering that it was a train-focused forum, nearly all of the responses favored the train (although many don’t have rose-colored glasses and are more than willing to point out problems with America’s Railroad).
Passengers wait to board a Greyhound bus at the Oceanside Transit Center in Oceanside, Calif., on Tuesday, Dec. 27, 2022.
Here’s the bulk of my response:
All things being equal, almost any train including Amtrak is usually going to be a better experience than Greyhound/FlixBus. Amtrak is usually a pleasant journey with a few frustrations. Greyhound is usually an exercise in frustration that manages to get you from point A to point B.
Of course, this is a Amtrak subreddit, so responses will likely favor the train.
FlixBus/Greyhound has sold off most of their station buildings, so you’re often waiting curbside for a bus on initial departure or transfers — even in big cities. Amtrak has some of those stops but bigger cities usually have station buildings (which range from spectacular to merely serviceable).
The experience onboard the train is going to be a huge step up from the bus. While bus accommodations have taken a step up in recent years with Wi-Fi, power outlets, etc., most of those are also on Amtrak (Wi-Fi varies). On the train, it’s far easier to walk around and between the cars (while you’re usually stuck in your seat on the bus).
Trains have windows so you’ll be able to catch the sights. In the cities, you’re often seeing people’s backyards or the industrial areas of town. It’s definitely different from being in the No. 2 lane on a 8-lane expressway. Amtrak often shines outside of the city, as the train sometimes goes to areas hard to reach by car. In the west, Surfliner, Capitol Corridor and Coast Starlight run along the water in places and the views are spectacular (but it’s not along the entire route). Many of the Western routes, like Empire Builder and California Zephyr, have great views.
There’s often food aboard the train available for purchase in the cafe car. Long-distance trains often include a diner car with full meals (primarily for sleeper car passengers, but it’s sometimes offered to coach passengers). A bus will usually make meal stops, but it’s not really the same.
Many long-distance trains have lounge cars where people can relax, sightsee and chat with friends and strangers. The train is usually a better social experience — people who want to chat with others will usually be in the common areas, people who don’t are often back at their seats.
For both services, the nature of passengers can vary. Both services often serve cities that are inaccessible by other modes of mass transportation. Economically, the bus is usually cheaper and can draw passengers who need to save money. The train can have those passengers, but there are also people who are paying considerably more for sleeping accommodations (and may have higher expectations for their trip).
The nature of on-board staff can also vary. I really haven’t had either a bad Amtrak or Greyhound staff experience, but I’m sure that those are out there. With the bus, you’re usually just dealing with the driver, but Amtrak can have many more people — car attendants, conductors, cafe staff, etc.
The bus does have a bathroom, but I don’t know who would want to use it unless it’s urgent. The train bathrooms aren’t always top-notch, but there’s usually at least two per car including a larger accessible restroom.
I hope this helps. Good luck planning your journey!
My first head-to-head comparison between Amtrak and Greyhound was in Northern California. I needed to get from Chico to the Bay Area on short notice and I opted for the bus because it had the better departure time.
The bus got the job done but there was a long transfer in Sacramento at a crowded and aging depot building (that’s since closed after a new building opened north of downtown). When the train arrived in Oakland, the station building wasn’t in the best part of town and the building had clearly seen better days. That building has since closed and was being used for underground raves, according to The Oaklandside.
The return trip was slightly better, although the driver I think struck a sign and then was sideswiped by a vehicle in a left-turn lane. We had to wait for the police to take a report.
An Amtrak California bus loads passengers at the Chico train station on Saturday, Aug. 2, 2014.
By comparison, the train was a vast improvement. There was only one train per day through Chico, but it was supplemented by three buses to connect with trains in Sacramento and Stockton. The transfers are timed, so you’re not waiting for a long time to board the train (although there’s some additional waiting time on weekends and holidays). Plus, if a train was late, buses would wait for it to arrive (the opposite is _not_ true, trains don’t wait for buses).
The stations were in better repair and the on-board experience was stellar with large windows, wide open seats and a cafe car for snacks and beverages.
In the bistro car with available food and drink on an Amtrak Cascades train en route to Seattle on Thursday, April 18, 2019.
That experience set the tone for most of my bus and train journeys in subsequent years, and I tried to prioritize travel on trains instead of buses.
Part of that may be due to the California state government subsidizing Amtrak services, including buses, to create a robust intercity transit network in the state. However, it generally works pretty well, even if they rely on buses to connect Los Angeles with Bakersfield and the Central Valley.
The other part of it may be due to the crumbling intercity bus networks. Greyhound was the bigger player, but they’ve since been bought out by Flixbus. Other companies have tried to enter the market, like Megabus, but they haven’t necessarily built much traction.
The Greyhound/Flixbus network has been getting a bit patchier with some potentially key routes getting the ax (like between Salt Lake City and Reno, Nevada) and others being outsourced to partner agencies. For example. Salt Lake Express handles Greyhound trips between Las Vegas and Salt Lake City.
Compounding the problem for passengers is that Flixbus/Greyhound has been leaving and selling many of their station buildings. That station in Oakland has been swapped with a curbside stop at the West Oakland BART station. That’s all well and good unless the weather’s atrocious or just darn hot/cold.
I saw some of this firsthand when I needed to travel from San Diego to Salt Lake City after the Southwest Airlines meltdown in December 2022. The train, even if it had been available, wasn’t a great option — I would’ve had to get from San Diego to Sacramento and then take another train from there to Salt Lake City. I’ve done similar routings before but it would take a lot of time.
Thankfully, Greyhound was an option, but it was a 21-hour schlep that included four buses. At one point, my first bus visited Los Angeles Union Station en route to Glendale. I waited for a transfer at Glendale … to go back to Union Station. I would’ve preferred to get off at Union Station (where I know a good restaurant or two), but I didn’t want to run the risk of having my reservation canceled due to not transferring at the correct station.
The journey wasn’t too bad, although it was long, the power outlets generally didn’t work and I wasn’t able to get much sleep. Plus we kept visiting train stations and airports offering arguably better modes of transportation.
Oh, the bus driver struck a stop sign in a darkened parking lot in Barstow. Hitting signs — a proud Greyhound tradition.
At the end of the trip, we arrived at Salt Lake International Airport — apparently the downtown Salt Lake Central Station was no longer the primary stop. In fact, it would’ve cost an additional $120 to take a shuttle from the airport to a curbside stop downtown … somewhere. Thankfully, my car was already at the airport, so I could just go home after the ordeal.
The Salt Lake Express bus stop at Salt Lake International Airport on Dec. 28, 2022.
Ultimately, riding either the bus or train can be something of an off-beat adventure. I’ve struck up conversations with people on both modes of transportation, although it’s slightly easier to do that on a train when you can walk around. During the long trip home in 2022, I was able to use Google Translate to help guide a young man in Las Vegas that primarily spoke in Spanish.
Both are mostly safe, although there was one crowded Greyhound trip where I had to sit next to a man who seemed angry and twitchy, but nothing happened. (And, to be fair, I met someone traveling home on the train after being released from prison. He seemed fine, but I was a little cautious.)
While I would rather be on a train, the bus still has some appeal, especially when it came to last-minute travel that was often affordable and visiting destinations that aren’t frequented by plane or train. As routes and stations fall away, any possible allure of the bus fades and some of the ties that help bind us together as a nation weaken.
Utah’s new state flag waves in the breeze next to the U.S. flag and a flag for Real Salt Lake at America First Field in Sandy, Utah, on Wednesday, June 7, 2023.
Utah’s flag officially got an upgrade this month and I couldn’t be happier. The new banner features a large, golden beehive in a blue hexagon over three horizontal stripes representing the state’s red rocks, white mountains and blue skies. It succeeds the old design, which was primarily the state’s seal on a blue background — an approach emulated by about 23 other states. More on that later.
The new design had to survive a challenge from a relatively small group of unhappy residents displeased that the old design was being demoted (but not eliminated). Despite the group’s claims of erasure, the old flag remains the state’s historic flag and people can fly whichever flag they choose. Additionally, the state seal that the old flag is based on remains as-is.
The residents against the new flag twice attempted to gather enough signatures to force a vote, but fell considerably short of their goal both times. While I appreciate their democratic efforts, I felt the proposal would undo a compromise to keep both flags in favor of solely the older design. Hence why I called the proposal from Restore Utah’s Flag as “Heads, we win. Tails, you lose.”
The old flag would have survived as a state symbol no matter what, so they didn’t really have anything to lose:
Had the measure succeeded, the old flag would’ve been the sole flag.
Had the measure failed, the old flag remains an official flag in addition to the new design.
Truly a win-win for supporters of the old flag. Not so much for everyone else.
Had the proposal passed, the state would’ve lost out on what is arguably a better way to represent the state (in flag form).
With that said, the new flag probably wouldn’t have entirely gone away had the Restore Utah’s Flag effort succeeded and voters had excised the new banner as an official state symbol. Even before the new banner officially became the state flag this month, the design was becoming widely adopted. I’m fairly sure that the design would’ve thrived even without the state’s imprimatur.
My homage to the new Utah state flag depicts a curling stone as a beehive in a blue hexagon. It’s part of a variation of the new logo of the Oval Curling Club.
After the Utah Legislature approved the new design last year, I began thinking about ways to incorporate the banner in the team attire of the Oval Curling Club. Many sports uniforms feature the flag of the state or province they hail from (think of Baltimore Ravens and their embrace of the Maryland state flag in their logos).
My curling club is undergoing a rebranding and I took the opportunity to design a logo that incorporated the new Utah flag. I also designed a variation that depicted a curling stone as a beehive in the blue hexagon. I’ll be forthright here and note that the club’s members seem to prefer the original beehive version over the curling stone beehive.
I was honored when the club members voted for the designs to be the new logos for the club (more on that in a future blog post).
I wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity to incorporate the old flag into the club’s logo or uniforms. At most, it could’ve been used as a shoulder patch.
Challenging the new standard
Over the past year or so, it’s been interesting to see the arguments about why the new flag was a harbinger of the end of civilization and the only way to stave off this chaos was to have the old flag be the only official state flag. Every few days, I would search Twitter for “Utah flag” to keep up on the hyperbole.
Defenders of the old flag touted the difficulty in adjusting the design for other purposes as a feature, not a defect. They lamented that people jumped on the opportunity to remix the new flag design for fun or to make a point.
It has been popular since the new design was introduced last year to replace the beehive with another symbol, like a popular whale sculpture on display in a Salt Lake City roundabout. Others changed the flag colors to represent LGBTQ+ identities, which generated ire (although it must be pointed out that people could also put the old flag over a rainbow background or the like, but most never really bothered to before).
Expressing outrage at the possibility of a symbol being embraced and remixed by non-traditional groups was one of the tactics frequently deployed by proponents of the old flag. Other posts on social media asserted that the new flag (approved by the heavily Republican Legislature) was somehow Marxist or an attempt to erase history — which doesn’t make sense when the old flag still has official status.
Another argument was against the $500,000 cost for the new flag proposal (which has already been spent, to the best of my knowledge). It was primarily for outreach efforts — most of the flag replacement costs weren’t included in this figure because groups would simply get a banner with the new design when their old flags needed to be swapped out due to wear and tear.
A half million is a hefty sum for you or me, but it’s 0.0017% of the state’s $29.4 billion annual budget or about 14 cents per Utahn.
Speaking of costs, many heritage flag opponents ignored or justified the cost of running the petition for a public vote. Setting aside all the money and effort that the signature gathered expended, county agencies needed to spend money to verify petitions (which admittedly is part of their jobs).
Had a special election been called as it would’ve been under the original effort, the cost of that would’ve been in the millions (which is more than a half million). Spending millions to fight a half-million dollar expenditure seems like the textbook definition of cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face.
Ultimately, I don’t have any reason to doubt the sincerity of the heritage flag proponents, but many of the arguments put forward seemed breathlessly disingenuous.
At the same time, some of the critiques of the new flag’s design seemed valid — appreciating design can be largely subjective despite efforts by flag enthusiasts to apply some objective guidelines (which some then try to apply far too rigidly). It’s kind of funny when some call the new flag as being overly corporate — many big corporations are deemphasizing logos in favor of quirky wordmarks.
Even if the new flag isn’t perfect, it certainly seems like an improvement.
The ol’ SOB (seal on a bedsheet)
Find the Utah flag among the state flags displayed in the warm room of the former Southern California Curling Center in Vernon, Calif., on Thursday, Jan. 20, 2022.
Prior to the current flag fervor, I didn’t give too much thought to Utah’s flag. It was always a bit ho-hum and I never owned a copy of it. I did buy one once — as part of a fundraiser for the now-defunct Southern California Curling Center in Vernon, California.
The curling center had asked people to buy a flag to represent their state, nation or province in the new facility. I hesitated making the purchase — I didn’t particularly care for the flag, but I ultimately contributed because I wanted to ensure that Utah was represented at the unique sport facility just south of downtown Los Angeles. I was also supposed to get a curling center nametag with my name and the flag, but the facility closed before that came to pass.
At the time I was making the donation in 2021, there was buzz about changing Utah’s flag. There was a flag to commemorate the 125th anniversary of Utah’s statehood, but I was ambivalent about that design too — the banner was divided into red, white and blue quadrants that resembled an “X” underneath a circle featuring the beehive. It just didn’t work for me.
In any case, I donated for the old Utah flag and I told myself I would be happy to buy a new flag to replace it whenever that came to pass.
When I finally made my way to Southern California to visit the curling center in January 2022, I tried to spot Utah’s flag on the giant wall with all the flags. It took me quite a while to locate it, even after I figured out that the state flags were displayed alphabetically.
My inability to find Utah’s flag in the pack of U.S. flags underscored one of the biggest complaints of the historic flag — as a symbol that should clearly identify the state it represents, the Utah seal on a blue background didn’t do a very good job.
There’s so much meaning in the old flag – like HATU and 6981!
The central part of Utah’s historic flag is shown backwards.
Defenders of the historic flag often like to point out all of the symbolism in the design, such as a bald eagle, American flags, bees about the beehive and sego lily flowers (which apparently helped stave off hunger during the state’s pioneer era).
All of these symbols are well and good (and survive on the state seal), but it’s extremely hard to appreciate the symbology when you’re looking at a flag a hundred feet away. At such a distance, it’s easy to miss details — such as a mistake on the placement of the year Mormon settlers first arrived.
That error wasn’t officially fixed until 2011, or 89 years after the goof was first committed (basically the year 1847 was supposed to be on the shield, but the original text of the law was easy to misinterpret and the year was placed below the shield to appear as if it were behind it).
Also, writing on a flag is generally considered to be a bad idea (although there are always exceptions to this guidance, like California’s flag). Utah’s historic flag is an excellent example of this, as it will be seen as backwards about 50% of the time when it’s on a flagpole.
As much as one might draw meaning from the words “Utah” and “Industry” and the years 1847 and 1896, what meaning can be gleaned from “Hatu” or “Yrtsudni”?
Some historic flag defenders will point out that it doesn’t matter that people can’t pick out Utah’s blue flag among dozens of other blue flags — in Utah, it will likely be the only blue flag flying. I suppose that consideration may also apply to all the symbolism on the flag — it doesn’t matter if few people can see it well enough to appreciate the intricate details, it’s enough to just know it’s there.
At the same time, is it fair to ask the general public to automatically know, understand and appreciate all the old flag’s intricate symbols when they’re difficult to make out at a distance?
Demanding a flag plebiscite when it had never been done before
Wrapping things up, I found it fascinating to see some demand a public vote on the new flag. I wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea (despite the format heavily favoring the heritage flag), but insisting that the vote was absolutely necessary for a state symbol seemed to be a bit too much.
Some heritage flag supporters asserted that a public vote had been promised, but that isn’t my recollection of the process.
There was never a public vote on any of the changes.
Also, Utah has 28 or so official state symbols. To the best of my knowledge, there has never been a plebiscite on any of them. As a curler, I demand a recount on making skiing and snowboarding the official state winter sports.
Many of the state’s symbols were adopted by the Legislature when school groups appealed to them to make the change (often as part of a lesson on how laws are passed at the state level).
In that regard, the new state flag has also provided a civics lesson — even if some people weren’t exactly civil about it. Having two state flags that residents can choose to fly was probably the best outcome of this process.
The karaoke crowd at Paxton Pub in Salt Lake City on Saturday, Feb. 10, 2024.
When I conduct an interview for my job, I generally use courtesy titles such as mister or miss unless the subject tells me it’s OK to use their first name. I don’t want to be overly familiar with people unless I’ve given permission to be less formal. (That said, my stories follow Associated Press style where the courtesy titles are omitted in most situations.)
That sort of came to bite me on the rear about a month ago as I was leaving a karaoke night at Paxton Pub in Salt Lake City. While I was walking outside to my car, I said good night to a younger woman on the patio.
“Good night, sir,” she said, or something like that.
Suddenly, I felt positively ancient.
I’m not used to being called “sir.” That applies in nearly all contexts, but especially in a social situation like a karaoke night. At the same time, I must acknowledge that I’m among the older people at such events these days.
I wondered if this was a feeling that my interview subjects had. After all, I’ve been using courtesy titles while conducting interviews throughout my professional career — including when I was the younger man.
While I’ve always strived to be professional, courteous and respectful, maybe people were put off by my use of courtesy titles.
I don’t think I’m going to change my practice. I just hope that it properly conveys the respect and professionalism that I’m working toward.
And when I’m on the other side of such honorifics, I hope I have the grace to casually wave it off and politely say that it’s totally fine to call me Ryan.
With 2023 rapidly receding in the rearview mirror, it’s time to look back at the previous 12 months — or 11 months, in the case of Spotify’s 2023 Unwrapped. This is the first year that I really started using Spotify for much of my listening (in addition to BBC Sounds and the good old-fashioned over-the-air radio).
My Spotify Unwrapped has always been odd, but in past years, I could usually chalk it up to listening to a handful of songs sporadically over a year. Given that I was in the top 27% of listeners worldwide with 12,978 minutes worth of music in 2023 (and probably 14 hours of ads), I guess that Spotify may have a better finger on my listening tastes today than in years past.
And the verdict is — my listening tastes are still pretty weird. I seem to have settled on a couple of playlists and listened the heck out of them for months at a time.
My most-listened-to artist — a novelty a cappella group called The Blanks — is largely due to the fact that they’re on two separate playlists — a previous Top Songs list and a playlist I’m calling “Songs for the End.” Considering that The Blanks are primarily known for singing versions of TV theme songs and were most prominently featured on the sitcom “Scrubs” (where their most prominent performer, the late Sam Lloyd, was a recurring cast member) it’s an unusual artist to be my No. 1 of 2023. I apparently listened to the group so much, I’m in the top 0.05% of listeners to the artist.
A chart from Spotify 2023 Unwrapped shows when I listened to The Blanks, apparently my No. 1 artist of the year.
This year, Spotify provided charts mapping when I listened to each of my top five artists. While some of the artists were in pretty heavy rotation until the early summer when I switched away from a Top Songs playlist, The Blanks dipped a little in the middle of the year and then came back strong in July through September (when I created the “Songs for the End” playlist and began listening to a Top Songs playlist that didn’t feature the group as much).
‘Songs for the end’
The “Songs for the End” playlist are tunes that I thought would be nice to play at a memorial or funeral for me. Although I’m a journalist, I never had to do the Kobayashi Maru of journalism school projects — writing your own obituary.
I don’t feel particularly comfortable writing my obit today (despite winning the Nobel Peace Prize AND colonizing the Moon), but I believe that developing a playlist for a funeral is fun — memorial services need more bangers and jams. Another name I came up for the playlist is “Now THAT’S What I Call A Funeral, Vol. 7.” I’m not going to lie — I spent a few minutes trying to find a quick way to generate an album cover with that title.
As I starting adding tunes to this list, I prioritized songs that either speak of endings, would fit a spiritual or solemn moment (or tweaks such expectations), or otherwise speak to me from my past or memory. For example, I would often sing “Africa” or “It’s the End of the World as We Know it (and I Feel Fine)” to finish karaoke nights. The REM song feels a little out of place, but I’m sticking with it for now. I also opted for a cover of “Africa” that’s not as rockin’ as the Toto version.
I eventually started listening to the playlist more at work because the songs are pretty decent tunes to have on in the background while I’m trying to focus. That’s also why I started listening to BBC Radio 1 Relax a lot more over the past year (except some of the white noise programs, which are simply too distracting).
Ultimately, four out of my top five songs are from the “Songs for the End” playlist. The other song is the main theme from the Apple TV+ series “Severance,” which I watched the heck out of this year. One of the episodes is called “Defiant Jazz” — I pretty much _have_ to watch this show.
Odd conclusions
A Spotify Unwrapped graphic describing the author as a “vampire” in 2023 due to a propensity to listen to emotional, atmospheric music more than most.
While Unwrapped is all in good fun, I’m not sure I agree with some of the conclusions. For example, it described me as a “vampire” because I listen to “emotional, atmospheric music more than most.”
I get that part, but I don’t necessarily make the leap between that and “vampire.” It’s especially odd because Unwrapped identified “My Top Genres” as Rock, Brass Band, Jazz, Jazz Funk and Soul. I listen to so much jazz, it’s on the list three, maybe four, times.
Maybe part of my objection is that I associate vampires musically with emo. It’s probably not fair, but I don’t necessarily feel like I fall in that category (although I also suppose that emo as a genre or vibe could be expanded to encompass many, many things).
As I listen to music while I work, I definitely tend towards more mellow tunes to set a pleasant foundation for me to get stuff done. Over the years, I’ve been in workplaces that sometimes play rock stations on the radio. I’ve found it incredibly distracting if I’m trying to focus (unless I’m playing marching band covers of rock songs — I’m oddly OK with that).
What’s missing
As I mentioned at the top of the post, this is really the first year that I’ve listened to Spotify with any regularity. At the same time, I still do listen to radio stations — either over the air or streaming.
When I’m driving to work, I bounce between terrestrial stations like X96 or Power 949 because it’s often easier than making sure Spotify launches correctly. I used to listen to podcasts or news on public radio, but I haven’t been in the mood lately.
I sometimes listen to YouTube Music, as that’s where my music archive is saved. However, I’ve found that YouTube Music is a more frustrating experience than its predecessor, Google Play Music, so I don’t linger very long. It’s OK to listen to my own music, but YouTube throws an ad between every song elsewhere on the site. It’s unpleasant.
At work, I bounce between Spotify and BBC Radio 1 Relax because it’s pretty chill. After discovering that I can connect Shazam to Spotify, I’ve (mostly) enjoyed listening to the nearly 5 hours of songs that piqued my curiosity in the wild.
I used to listen to the “Hearts of Space,” but the distributor changed something up on its site and it isn’t easily available to me (unless I want to pay for it).
When I wind down for the night, I often queue up KUVO Jazz from Denver, KSDS Jazz 88 from San Diego, or “NIghtstream” from CBC Music (“Whatever gets you through the night.”). After I turn out the lights, I put KBYU Classical 89 on a sleep timer for the best way to end the day.
While I appreciate Spotify’s access to scads of music, I do find myself often sticking to one or two playlists (which, again, explains how The Blanks is my most listened-to artist of 2023). Many people decry over-the-air radio stations and their narrow playlists, but I find that these stations point me down different paths than I would normally travel. I appreciate the variety, which I guess explains why I bounce from station to station and different services over the course of the day.
I don’t feel as connected to music as I did when I hosted a jazz program on public radio, but it’s heartening to look back at some of the things I’ve listened to in 2023 and realize that music is still very much a part of my life. Here’s to the great songs that will be added to my 2024 playlist.
A view of Olympic Plaza at The Gateway in Salt Lake City on Dec. 31, 2018.
After over a month of Christmas tunes, it’s time to bust out all of those classic New Year’s tunes like …
… um, I can think of one New Year’s song — “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” as performed by Ella Fitzgerald. I’m sure there are more New Year’s songs, but that’s the one that leaps to mind.
”What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” is an apt question. While most people want to be home for Christmas, New Year’s Eve destinations can vary wildly — especially depending on one’s willingness to stay up until midnight.
This year, I may wind up on the couch (or at karaoke at Paxton Pub in South Salt Lake), but I probably won’t go to the Last Hurrah! at The Gateway shopping center in downtown Salt Lake.
I generally had an enjoyable time during my one visit in 2018, but the event skipped a key New Year’s tradition at midnight that disappointed me and will likely dissuade me from returning this year. No, it wasn’t sharing a kiss with a date.
For those that don’t know, The Gateway was originally a bougie and chic outdoor shopping center based around the former Union Pacific Depot train station on the western edge of downtown. It’s been struggling in recent years, especially after a bougie-er and chic-er mostly outdoor shopping center called City Creek opened atop the rubble of the former Crossroads Plaza and ZCMI Center malls a few blocks east (presumably they cleared the rubble).
In recent years, The Gateway operators have tried various ways to encourage crowds to visit, particularly by hosting community events like New Year’s Eve.
Since I didn’t have any plans in 2018, I decided to give the Last Hurrah a shot. I planned a little carefully — starting with bundling up for the cold. I also parked near the Delta Center (then Vivint Smart Home Arena) on city streets a couple blocks away, so I didn’t have to deal too much with traffic after the event.
It was a starkly cold night with no snow, but spirits seemed high among the crowd that started small and grew right up until midnight. There were food and drink vendors set up along the main road through the heart of the shopping center, but I didn’t linger as I was on a fairly tight budget and it was chilly.
Shelter was provided in the form of vacant storefronts that had been repurposed as pop-up bars and karaoke lounges. The spaces had been stripped down to the walls, but were gussied up with decorations like balloons and colorful lights.
A crowd gathers in a vacant storefront transformed into a pop-up bar during the Last Hurrah 2018! at The Gateway in Salt Lake City on Dec. 31, 2018.
It was clever to reuse the storefronts, but it was also slightly depressing how many retail spaces were available. There were signs of the struggling mall all around, including a Sur La Table holding a going out of business sale. One of the largest tenants appeared to be WeWork. It’s not there anymore (although the struggling company apparently still has space nearby).
There were also a lot of temporary barriers promising upgrades, but I’ve never really checked to see if the upgrades were finished.
While repurposing closed stores did much to create a lively atmosphere for the event, the fenced-off areas were a bit of a bummer.
A closed-off area at The Gateway featured a large banner promising upgrades during Last Hurrah 2018! at The Gateway on Dec. 31, 2018. It’s unknown if the upgrades were ever completed.
The barriers also got me thinking about what used to be in certain locations. I remember there being a small, slightly depressing food court in 2016 — where did that go? There is a more prominent restaurant row that still offers a decent number of casual eateries, but the disappeared food court featured more fast food options.
Throughout the evening, I tended to gravitate toward the indoor spaces to stay relatively warm. I would normally be a fiend for karaoke, but the lines looked long at many of the spaces and I don’t think I bothered signing up.
The biggest pop-up bar was pretty bustling and I think there was a band. Otherwise, it was an OK communal spot. I also tried an underwhelming beer from Salt Flats Brewing Co. for the first time. I was so unimpressed by the beverage, I haven’t sought it out since.
As midnight neared, I made my way toward Olympic Plaza to find a good viewing position for the live music and the fireworks. Crowds also flocked to some fire pits scattered around the plaza that provided a little relief from the frigid cold.
Event goers gather around one of the large fire pits set up around Olympic Plaza during Last Hurrah! on Dec. 31, 2018, at The Gateway in Salt Lake City.
The music was OK for these types of public events. The band played a mix of classic rock and country tunes, but I don’t recall much of their performance five years later.
The band kept rocking up until midnight when there was the traditional countdown with added fireworks. My heart soared a bit as the crowd counted down in unison and then celebrated the start of 2019.
My heart sank back to earth when I realized that they weren’t going to sing “Auld Lang Syne.” I started singing what I knew of the song at a normal volume, but I gradually lowered my voice to sotto voce when it became obvious that no one else was singing.
I really missed the group singing “Auld Lang Syne.” I guess it’s one of those traditions that you see every year on TV and want to re-create wherever you happen to be at midnight, even if you don’t remember all the words. It’s also a moment of collective celebration and catharsis that seems to be growing increasingly scarce over the years.
At the same time, traditions are often meaningful because we ascribe meaning to them. For the vast majority of people in the Last Hurrah! crowd, perhaps being in downtown Salt Lake City for New Year’s Eve is a tradition or will be in the years to come.
For me, I’d like to keep the tradition of singing “Auld Lang Syne” for the sake of old times. Also, taking a cup of kindness sounds a lot tastier than that Salt Flats beer.
So this year, I’ll probably be skipping Last Hurrah! rather than take the chance of being disappointed that there’s no “Auld Lang Syne.” Staying closer to home may be preferable, especially because I have to work relatively early on New Year’s Day (before going to celebrate the new year with relatives — a family and cultural tradition that reaches back decades).
An iPad screenshot shows a heat map from Google Photos indicating where photos had been taken based on geotagging or Google determining identifiable landmarks.
With this year’s Independence Day celebrations fading into memory, I was thinking about the fact that I’ve had the opportunity to travel across great swaths of this wonderful and beautiful nation. In one sense, I’ve been everywhere (man) — from coast to coast to coast to coast. In another, I haven’t been to nearly enough destinations.
I’ve wanted to write about the map feature in the Google Photos app (Android and iOS) for quite some time, but it was hard for me to summarize why I feel this feature is so amazing. The Fourth of July celebrations brought this picture into focus as I realized that I’ve been able to visit so many different destinations, as specified in many of the songs about our nation.
The first song that came to mind was “This Land is Your Land” by Woody Guthrie. This song stands out strongly in my memory in part because we sang it every morning in kindergarten when I was living in Southern California.
A photo of the author in front of a pair of redwood trees at the Muir Woods National Monument in Mill Valley, Calif., on May 8, 2016.
For as encompassing as the song is, “This Land is Your Land” mentions only four specific destinations and they’re in the first verse — “From California to the New York island/From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters.”
Of those four, admittedly broad locales, I realized that I’ve been able to either visit or live in all four over the course of my life. Unfortunately, the map feature in Google Photos doesn’t reflect this — my trips to New York and the coasts of Texas, Florida, Georgia and South Carolina all predate when we all carried cameras with us on a daily basis and where we could take endless numbers of photos without worrying about loading or developing film (so before the iPhone, basically).
Using the photos that are uploaded to the site/app, Google Photos generates a heat map based on the location data in the user’s photos plus whatever identifiable landmarks Google can identify in the images itself. The features is accessible under the search menu. It shows up as “Your map” (but it’s not available on the desktop version of the app).
A screenshot shows the Places map in Apple Photos.
I will note that Apple Photos also has the option of showing photos based on where they were taken, but I don’t find Apple’s solution as engaging or appealing as Google’s. Apple Photos shows thumbnails based on location. Zooming in will increase the number of thumbnails, but it seems clunky and inelegant compared to Google’s heat map.
The heat map evokes memories of past travels, family reunions and other adventures. I’m agog seeing some of the paths that I’ve taken over the past 39 years.
It evokes the spirit of roaming and rambling from Woody Guthrie’s song. There’s also some of the energy from the burgeoning lists of destinations called out in songs like “I’ve Been Everywhere” or “Living in America.”
The map displayed by Google Photos also reminds me of the map from “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,” by C.S. Lewis. In that book from “The Chronicles of Narnia,” a magician gives the captain of the titular ship a map of the ship’s voyage to that point. The map was so detailed that when one looked closely with a magnifying lens, they could see accurate drawings of the actual place albeit at some distance. On the other hand, the map was incomplete in some areas because it could only depict where the ship had traveled.
The Google Photos map can feel like magic at times, even though it is simply a matter of technology and information (although Arthur C. Clarke did say something about technology and magic…). Zooming in on the map offers some joy as I can see the areas where I’ve been able to visit. Like the magician’s map from “Dawn Treader,” it can show documented locations in remarkable detail but be incomplete in areas lacking photos.
A screenshot from Google Photos shows a map indicating where photos were taken during a flight from Salt Lake City to San Diego in October 2016. Thumbnails of the photos from the trip are displayed on the right side of the iPad application.
When one zooms in far enough, one can sometimes see individual points along a trip, which can be an interesting way to relive a past journey. At other times, the data can be a bit of a muddled mess — good luck sorting through the 2,800 photos I’ve taken over the course of six years around the venue where I curl, the Utah Olympic Oval in Kearns. The Oval is my most-photographed location by far.
A screenshot shows a heat map from the Google Maps app showing the approximate location of 2,700+ photos taken in and around the Utah Olympic Oval in Kearns, Utah.
The heat map of the Utah Olympic Oval also exposes some inaccuracies with the location data. GPS can give a good approximation of where a photo was taken (or where your phone is at a given point), but it’s not 100% accurate all the time. Some of the photos that the map says were taken outside the building were very much taken _inside_ the building (the ice is usually a giveaway, particularly in the summer).
It’s amazing that over 27,000 of my photos have been tagged — it’s probably about 95% of the photos that I’ve ever taken in my life. The vast majority of photos have tags because I took them with a smartphone with GPS. That era essentially started for me in September 2013 with an iPhone 5 issued for work (I bought a Samsung Galaxy SII in April 2013 but it didn’t have a data plan).
For the earlier era where photos were taken with a film camera, a digital point-and-shoot, a “dumb phone” or a feature phone, I’ve had to go back and manually map where I took the photos. That process is inevitably incomplete — there are some places that I don’t remember exactly where I was or there are photos where it doesn’t make sense to tag (including photos of loved ones taken by others but I was not actually present for).
Before tonight, I didn’t know how many photos were tagged by Google based on its ability to identify landmarks. When I first discovered that Google was attempting to locate photos way back in 2017, the process could be hit-or-miss. For example, I had taken a photo of a train car during a 2009 trip through California. For some reason, Google thought the photo was taken in Kunming Shi, China. It’s northwest of Vietnam — and nearly 7,500 miles from the nearest Amtrak stop.
Just a bit off the mark. In 2017, Google Photos thought this photo of an Amtrak train car was taken in China — about 7,500 miles from where it was actually taken.
Since then, Google has appeared to get better as guessing where I might have been. It’s been interesting to take photos or videos during plane trips (when the phone is supposed to be in airplane mode) and to later see that Google had apparently located where they had been taken (again assuming that I wasn’t a dummy and I remembered to put the phone in airplane mode during the flight).
For example, here’s a screenshot of a photo I took of the Salton Sea. Google Photos was able to correctly identify the location.
A screenshot shows a photo taken in September 2021 from an airplane showing the Salton Sea and an estimated location by Google Photos.
Apparently, Google Photos has estimated locations for about 6,200 of my images. Interestingly, it doesn’t include some of the aerial photos of the St. George area that I thought Google was able to place. That must mean that I was an insensitive jerk and didn’t use airplane mode during that trip. Whoops.
By the way — It may seem creepy for Google to have so much location data and it can be. Unfortunately, it appears that Google Photos only has an option to remove the estimated location data. As Google notes, “If the location of a photo or video was automatically added by your camera, you can’t edit or remove the location.” In that case, it seems that the best option is to disable location data on the phone/camera _before_ taking the photo.
I don’t necessarily mind saving location data because I find it to be a useful set of information. I do try to be selective in the images that I share, but if I needed to be extra careful, I would need to take additional steps to ensure that people couldn’t find geodata (or identifiable landmarks) in the images.
While I find this data useful, it seems like it would be difficult for a stranger to really root through the information. Google Photos presents the location data in a heat map that someone needs to interact with to learn any additional context (such as dates). The map also doesn’t appear to be shareable.
Google has taken the additional step of turning off location sharing by default in some common ways of sharing information like shared albums or conversations (it can be turned on by the user and was apparently on prior to 2021).
I also know that the heat map is woefully incomplete — as I mentioned earlier, the map can only show places that I’ve taken photos of. I’ve visited or traveled through 42 states, but the heat map can’t show that because there simply aren’t many photos from my time living in the Southeast or my lengthy trips across the Sun Belt, Midwest or the Northeast (or visits to Canada and Mexico, for that matter).
The map can also exaggerate single trips across great distances. This can be seen with my single trip aboard the Empire Builder train across the Upper Midwest in 2009. It was memorable, but my only trip through North Dakota and Montana is depicted as a giant blue ribbon on the map.
The map is ultimately a fun look at where I’ve been. It is truly amazing that we have so much freedom to travel about the country. It’s a right that has sometimes been denied to Americans (and regrettably still is to some extent today). I certainly don’t wish to take this right for granted.
The map also indirectly shows places where I haven’t been. Even in areas where it looks like I’m well traveled, there are destinations that I haven’t yet been able to visit such as national parks in Utah.
I don’t know if I’ll get to some of these locales — such expeditions depend on time, money and planning. If I do, I’ll make sure that photos from those trips are added to my Google Photos map.
An American flag is on display at Arden Fair Mall in Sacramento, California, sometime before 2009.
Many of you may know that I was a volunteer disc jockey for North State Public Radio for about eight years. From 2008 to April 2016, I was one of a rotating set of hosts for “Evening Jazz” (most often hosting on Mondays and Fridays) and sometimes “Blues People” on Saturdays. It was my third gig as a volunteer DJ, after starting at KSDT in college and having a show at WMTU in Michigan.
During my nearly eight years, I hosted on Independence Day once or twice. I recorded the July 4 episode from 2014 for my personal enjoyment.
Given the July Fourth holiday, I thought I would temporarily share that episode from my archive.
[Link]
I loved all of my shows and approached each program as an ongoing exploration of music for both myself and the audience. I don’t think I ever presented myself as an expert in any genre, just someone who loved good tunes and checking out past greats and what’s new.
Every so often, “Evening Jazz” would fall on or near a holiday. I would often take advantage of the occasion by presenting music appropriate for the day. For example, I tried to find songs from Boston and Vancouver performers during the 2011 Stanley Cup Final. Another year, I did a combined Presidents Day/Valentine’s Day episode.
The 2014 July 4 episode was a little different from my usual episodes, as it tried to encompass different elements of the holiday.
By all appearances, this looks like it might be a rebranded update of “Making Curling Great Again” that first appeared a year ago. The title card for both films appears to be very similar and the YouTube page for “Anything is Possible” refers back to a “Making Curling Great Again” page on CurlingZone (with dead links to the original documentary). The description of “Anything is Possible” also sounds like it covers the same territory (curling in the United States up to Team Shuster winning gold).
When the documentary first appeared last year, many, many people disliked the overly political nature of the title, including on Reddit. That thread got only 47% upvotes and shows no overall upvotes (which is probably one of the most lukewarm responses I’ve seen on this usually friendly group). Several redditors noted that the documentary itself wasn’t overly political (and they had other critiques of the film).
Gerry Geurts started a thread on CurlingZone introducing the film and defending the choice of the title.
The title “Making Curling Great Again” was adopted as a way to take back the power of these words and try to bring people back together again, though I didn’t fully understand the depth of hurt this title had for many people as a parody of the more contentious slogan that has become a battle cry for a cause. This was strongly debated internally as to the direction, but we ultimately felt that the title fit in so many ways and we’re comfortable with trying to create conversation. We just wish it could be more constructive and less about winning and losing and the insults that flow from the debate.
Ultimately, I think a lot of curlers didn’t want to engage in that conversation because the name of the doc. Many curlers I know will share anything related to the sport, but I don’t recall seeing many shares when the original film came out. The number of views on YouTube didn’t appear to be high compared to other CurlingZone docs.
Personally, I’m more willing to share info on a film entitled “Anything is Possible,” even if it is the same film (and the new name isn’t very eye-catching). I’m interested to see what is posted later today on YouTube.
Swedish skip Niklas Edin prepares to deliver a curling stone during a game at the 2018 World Men’s Curling Championship in Las Vegas on Monday, April 2, 2018. Team Sweden won the silver medal for men’s curling at the 2018 Winter Olympics in PyeongChang, South Korea.
This is a re-creation of pages previously hosted by the World Curling Federation linking to replays of curling games from the 2014 and 2018 Winter Olympics. The replays are hosted on OlympicChannel.com, as of this writing.
One of the great things about the Olympic broadcasts is that they’ve recently broadcast every game from each session. At most curling events, the broadcaster picks a game from a featured sheet or two when there are four or five games happening at the same time.
I’m very thankful that the World Curling Federation, International Olympic Committee and the Olympic Broadcasting Services has made these recordings available for viewing.
