Let The Marketing Begin

Over the past few years I’ve managed to do what was impossible when I first proposed it around ten years ago. I built a broadcast quality video studio/production facility then wrote the software to create the graphics behind me and allow me to operate it by myself. There is no other set-up like this anywhere.

My studio
“Studio 5E” Irvine, California

I’m on every evening on a network of TV stations in the Plains. I want to add to that.

I’d like to become the meteorologist for a news oriented website. It’s a position that doesn’t exist, but should. And (hopefully) I’ve figured out exactly what’s needed to do it.

Here’s a look at what I’ve begun sending in an attempt to market myself and my service.

click to play my video

It All Started In Cleveland

The fifties was a time of scratchy film and live local shows. These TV hosts were my role models.

Tim Conway, McHale’s Navy

Tim Conway died today. Age 85. Sometimes it seems dead people are all I blog about. Sorry.

Most people know Tim Conway from Carol Burnett and McHale’s Navy. Not everyone knows it all started in Cleveland in local TV in the 1950s.

Back then TV was very different. The networks programmed four hours a night plus a few hours during the day. Few owners saw TV news, expensive to produce and with no more immediacy than a newspaper, as a money maker.

That left local stations a lot of time to fill. The fifties was a time of scratchy film and live local shows. These TV hosts were my role models. It was by watching these TV naifs feel their way around the business that I learned what to do.

Tim did a lot of live TV in Cleveland. It’s where he met and worked with Ernie Anderson, the guy in the bread commercial.

And you know Ernie Anderson even if you think you don’t. In the 80s he was the voice of ABC… the guy who said “Tonight, on a very special Loooooooove Boat.”

May I See Your Worst Show, Please?

“What’s the worst TV program you’ve got?” I got a ‘wait-a-minute’ hand gesture and he walked off to fetch my prize.

The freeze frame used in the Mod Squad open to introduce Peggy Lipton.

Peggy Lipton died today. Cancer, said the LA Times. Early 70s. Too young. Cancer sucks.

Maybe you don’t know Peggy Lipton. In the late 60s she was TV’s embodiment of a flower child/hippie chick. She was the female lead on the Mod Squad.

Peggy Lipton’s name brought me back to the pre-Internet 80s. Even then it was possible to watch archival TV footage. It was all available in the library of the Museum of Television and Radio in Manhattan, next to the 21 Club. I went often.

As I remember you’d be greeted by a librarian who’d fetch the video you wanted. I can’t remember how it played back or who controlled it, but I do remember comfortable seating and two or three could get in front of a set to watch together.

One day I walked in and asked the librarian, “What’s the worst TV program you’ve got?” I got a ‘wait-a-minute’ hand gesture and he walked off to fetch my prize.

The show he brought back lived up to my expectation. It was terrible. It was the pilot for The Mod Squad!

It tried hard to be hip and cool while at the same time remembering it was on Richard Nixon era ABC! There was a co-equal woman and a black man (seemingly the only minority group that existed on 60s TV) and though they were cops they weren’t pigs, man. Ya dig?

It was painful to watch. Actually, it was more painful to hear. The script was full of ‘trying to be hip’ language that seemed very ‘hello fellow kids’ awkward.

Meanwhile, what do I (or the librarian) know. It was a hit! Peggy Lipton was a star. It will always be my worst show ever.

Blogger’s addendum: My museum time was mostly spent watching serious events and programs I remembered as being clever or smart. One day I asked for news footage from the day the Soviet’s launched Sputnik, the world’s first orbiting spacecraft.

We were blindsided.

The year was 1957. America wasn’t TV savvy and the pols interviewed in Washington were totally demoralized and let it be known. They spoke with great candor, something often missing today.

It is probably the single most surprising and memorable piece of history I watched at the museum. It left a mark.

A Sleepless Night From Hell

That was easier than I thought. But as I got lightning running I noticed other scripts failing.

I’m working today. There will be afternoon/evening thunderstorms in Nebraska. My tools are ready after what was a mainly sleepless night from hell.

My former North Branford middle school weather watcher, now meteorology professor and noted authority on tropical weather Dr. Bob Hart, helped me over a mapping problem.

I couldn’t figure out how to plot lightning. Months of futility.

Lightning is different from just about every other map I make. Most are contours, areas that can be surrounded by drawing a line. Lightning is plotted as points, often colored or sized to show frequency.

The lightning data I get divides the world into 1km squares (about 6/10 mile on a side) then calculates how many strikes occur in each. I fetch 24.5 million squares of data every two minutes — the vast majority empty (no lightning).

On a national or even a regional map a 1km “point” is easy to miss. I needed something bigger. Bob figured out how to plot the points as characters. I’m going to add his explanation. He has major league coding chops. What looks like a single line of code is really five separate instructions not all of which I understand.

extracts in csv format all the values of flash count that are non-zero, replaces the commas by a space, and then sorts by the flash count so that higher flash counts are drawn on top of lower ones in the grads script.   this is then redirected to a text file out.txt

wgrib2 MRMS_NLDN_CG_030min.latest.grib2 -undefine_val -9e20:0 -csv - | cut -d',' -f5-7 | egrep ',' | sed 's/,/ /g' | sort -k 3 > out.txt
Demo lightning map from Bob’s generic script

My TV version of a Texas lightning map

My job was to take Bob’s generic code and modify it to run in my environment. That was easier than I thought. But as I got lightning running I noticed other scripts failing.

Somehow I deleted the entire directory containing my basemaps. There was a backup. It was missing a few recent maps. It took a few hours to remake them.

Also deleted were a bunch of my most important scripts. These are programs that call other programs. Backups for this weren’t as easy to come by.

I am such a slob I was actually able to scrape up most of these from discarded versions I never deleted. Most were abandoned when the Weather Service changed from http: to https:, so updating was simple. A good programmer would have deleted those! A good programmer would have better backup.

Most everything was running by 3:30 am. More problems would be discovered through the morning and quickly fixed. It was time to make the lightning maps TV pretty.

As a meteorologist I don’t use my own maps for forecasting! They’re not meant for that. They’re meant to explain and so there are words and borders and things which get in the way of meteorology but are critical to viewers.

I went to bed for a few hours at 5:30. My server is again churning out weather maps including lightning!

My Dad Wanted Me To Tell You

My dad and the family know why this is happening. He is suffering from heart failure. His heart is leaky and no longer has the ability to pump all the blood his body needs. It’s at a pretty advanced stage. His fragility means he’s not a candidate for treatment.

Father and son

I just got home from visiting family in Milwaukee. It was a whirlwind trip. Planned on Wednesday. Executed Thursday. It’s Sunday night and I’m home and in pajamas.

This was a great weekend for my dad. He’s living with my sister now. He had both his children, two of four grandchildren and all four great grandchildren. That’s a lot of family and it was perfect.

The little kids are little enough to be adorable no matter what they do. The big kids are now grownups–each of whom I like a lot. They all disappear when the Sun goes down.

My dad has gotten very weak. It has not affected this mental capacities. He can still tell jokes on demand. However, the mere act of walking a step or two leaves him gasping for air. He would rather eat soup because chewing is physically taxing.

My dad and the family know why this is happening. He is suffering from heart failure. His heart is leaky and no longer has the ability to pump all the blood his body needs. It’s at a pretty advanced stage. His fragility means he’s not a candidate for treatment.

My dad has chosen to be on hospice care. In his case he’ll continue to take his current medications and let the chips fall where they may. A hospice nurse will check on him, report back to his doctors, treat minor maladies and make sure he’s in no pain. At the moment he’s got the aches all 93 year olds have.

Living with my sister is excellent for my father. He likes the company. He’s eating regularly. There’s always family around. He is VERY happy.

My dad will go with no regrets. He told me so and I believe him. He is loved and cherished by us and pretty likable to everyone else. And he’s become an Internet luminary which he absolutely loves.

Please, don’t feel sorry for my dad. There’s no good way to go. That being said he has chosen the best way.

My Chinese Internet Eyeglasses Have Arrived

This time I decided to try and get my glasses over the Internet from Zenni, which manufactures the lenses in China, bulk ships them to California then repackaged and FedEx’ed mine from there. I paid extra for that. I was desperate.

The new ones are on the left. I should have let you guess.

A few weeks ago I broke my glasses. No problem. I have a backup. But it was old and the prescription has changed.

This time I decided to try and get my glasses over the Internet from Zenni, which manufactures the lenses in China, bulk ships them to California then repackaged and FedEx’ed mine from there. I paid extra for that. I was desperate.

There was one advantage I had over most. I have my prescription. I see an ophthalmologist on a regular basis and asked for one a few months ago. I did measure (or more accurately Helaine measured) my pupillary distance.

I ordered on the 4th and they arrived today, the 11th.

They come with a plastic case you won’t want to use.

Right off the bat I see better. I see clearer. Everything is a little brighter. I’m guessing that’s because these glasses have a thinner lens and a 1.67 index rating. The focus is good for computing and reading.

I got all the coatings but am a little disappointed in the anti-glare, sort of important in my work. It is however better than the glasses it replaces, so maybe I’m too critical.

They look almost exactly like my old glasses, which is the point. This frame seems a little heavier, but with lighter lenses it’s about the same. On the website I found little distinction between most frames. This is one part of online where you sacrifice.

Total price including express shipping and a 15% discount (easily found) $153. I think that’s pretty good for good progressives.

I Make The Maps

There are all sorts of free open source programs to produce maps and charts, but none made them pretty. And for video you need pretty.

Having a TV studio is one thing. Trying to sell my services to non-traditional users is another. Most TV stations have expensive equipment to produce on-air weather graphics. My potential clientele do not.

The solution was to ‘roll my own.’ There are all sorts of free open source programs to produce maps and charts, but none made them pretty. And for video you need pretty.

Together with my friend Greg in Connecticut the problem has been solved. And it’s all done with free open source software.

Each finished weather map is the product of multiple basemaps and overlays. The program I use to contour the data has no idea those other elements exist. They’re all squeezed together like an Oreo to make what you see.

Finished map showing snow totals expected through midnight Friday morning.

Nebraska overlay map
Nebraska background map


The weather data goes through GrADS. The base maps are made in QGIS using data from NaturalEarth. All the colors, which rivers to include and the opacity of county lines is all my judgement. There are at least a half dozen layers at work.

The tools for cartography are amazing and I enjoy using them but it’s exacting and tedious.

Broken Glasses

CLICK TO READ MORE: It has become uncomfortable to read for any length of time. I’m typing this with my laptop actually serving as a kneetop. Adding distance helps.

New glasses

My glasses broke a few days ago. A quick scramble found an old pair. I was hoping they’d be fine. They are not.

First the good news about my eyes: they’re good. That’s no small thing. Part of the collateral damage from cancer was becoming a diabetic. Diabetes can take a toll on your eyes, but my ophthalmologist just cut me back from visiting every six moths to once a year.

I wear progressives, correcting both near and far. My vision has remained pretty steady but this pair probably made the trip from Connecticut. Old prescription.

It has become uncomfortable to read for any length of time. I’m typing this with my laptop actually serving as a kneetop. Adding distance helps.

Trying on glasses in augmented reality.

I’ve got a muscle ache near my right eye as it tries to focus.

On top of this eyesight is one thing I’m crazed about. It’s really important for me to see sharply especially with all my screen time.

In the short term there’s not much I can do. New glasses are on-the-way. I shopped online with H. We both agreed to stick with something similar to what I wear.

I now know my pupillary distance!

A status report after they arrive.

Shooting Myself In The Foot

When you work alone there are no experts. There is no ‘guy’ to call. You’re on your own to find the solution. I knew that going in but reality is sometimes more than expectation.

Alexa powered power strip
Alexa powered power strip.

I spend a lot of time in my TV studio. When I’m not working on-air I’m developing new techniques and tools. The studio lights get switched off and the fluorescent tubes installed when this was a garage come on.

Over time the fluorescents have become intermittent. A poke with a yardstick or golf club gets one back — but not last night.

The studio lights are bright. Too bright for desk work. Since they’re Alexa controlled I pulled out my phone and turned most of them off. Then I went back to my project.

Note to self: When you do something unusual try and remember you dd it.

When I went to record this afternoon my camera was dead. I quickly figured out what was wrong, but now its signal wasn’t getting to my control room switcher.

It took a while but I finally realized what I did and how I turned off a few outlets I forget could be turned off. Twenty minutes wasted.

When you work alone there are no experts. There is no ‘guy’ to call. You’re on your own to find the solution. I knew that going in but reality is sometimes more than expectation.

Daddy, You’d Be In Jail For Life!

My dad and I just finished our afternoon FaceTime call. You would never know his age by our conversations. We talked baseball, President Trump’s father’s birthplace and the Joe Biden thing.

Before continuing it should be noted I worked with the Connecticut woman who accused Biden of inappropriate behavior. She was a nice person and I enjoyed her company on-the-floor where she worked as camera operator.

She’s bright and worked in politics so she surely understands the power of her words. I believe what she’s said.

I also believe Joe Biden who says he never knowingly did anything inappropriate.

“You know,” I began to my dad. He started laughing. He knew where I was going.

“If Joe Biden is in trouble for what he did, Daddy you’d be in jail for life.”

It’s true. The touchy feely flirtatious nature my dad displays is typical of men his age. There’s undoubtedly some in me too. I grew up watching my father and how it was accepted and even welcomed.

He wasn’t hitting on anyone or coming on sexually. It was how he was brought up in our male dominated society. This was his way of showing he was a nice guy.

“Times have changed.” I could hear a little disappointment in his voice as he said that but he understands. He’s also smart enough to know age 93 gives you some license.

He’ll be better, not perfect.

Alex Trebek’s Journey Ahead

Alex Trebek

You can always tell when something’s up. It used to be the phone. Now it’s text messages and Facebook posts. Alex Trebek has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It is Stage 4. He has only found out within the last week.

Today pancreatic cancer is incurable.

Sometimes it can be cut out surgically, but only a limited number of patients catch their cancer early enough to qualify. That’s what happened with me. Mine was found while looking for something else.

If the cancer is detected at an early stage when surgical removal of the tumor is possible, the 5-year survival rate is 32%. About 10% of people are diagnosed at this stage. If the cancer has spread to surrounding tissues or organs, the 5-year survival rate is 12%. For the 52% of people who are diagnosed after the cancer has spread to a distant part of the body, the 5-year survival rate is 3%. – cancer.net

At Stage 4, meaning the cancer has already spread beyond the pancreas, they won’t even try surgery. That’s not being cruel. If the cancer has spread the surgery has more danger than value.

In his video Alex says he’s going to fight — exactly what I said. I told my doctors right away I wanted aggressive treatment. In his case it will probably be a combination of chemo and radiation to try and slow the cancer down.

Most patients in his situation also avail themselves of clinical trials, drugs that are being tested but are not yet proven. It’s a crap shoot. Hardly anything thrown against pancreatic cancer has even made a dent. It’s seriously a ‘what do you have to lose’ situation.

For a while Alex will be able to work. Over time the cancer will grow and take the physical space now occupied by vital organs. That’s how it ends. Your liver or other organ is just crowded out of existence.

I remember visiting my friend Kevin in Cheshire the night he died of pancreatic cancer. His condition that night is seared in my memory.

At this point Alex Trebek is just starting to understand the new job that’s been assigned to him. He’s got the right attitude. I wish him good luck and good health.

The Doctor Who Saved My Life

Right there. That’s the difference. That’s the life and death move that spared me. And that technology wasn’t always here to know contemporaneously how well you’d cut.

Someone left a voicemail a few days ago. Voicemail. In 2019 friends don’t leave friends voicemail.

Transcript: Hi, Mr. Fox, my name is Tiffany. I’m calling from Dr. Shaw’s office. I wanted to remind you that you’re due for an annual appointment follow-up appointment. So, please call us back at 949-76x-xxxx. Thank you, bye-bye.

A pre-chemo blood draw to make sure I was strong enough to endure the poisonous drugs they were about to drip into my system

“Helaine,” I called out, “Do I have a Dr. Shaw?”

Anything’s possible. Cancer left me with an army of docs including some who stepped in-and-out for a single procedure. I returned the call.

We were right. No Dr. Shaw. I was really wanted by Dr. Selby, one of the surgeons who performed my Whipple operation. He wants to admire his handiwork which required me to leave the hospital with my belly held together by 16 staples.

This is an emotional moment for me. Lots of people worked hard and were integral in saving my life. It’s different with Dr. Selby and his partner Dr. Staffer. They cut out the thing that was going to kill me.

As they were closing me up a pathologist found they hadn’t gotten a clean margin, meaning a few cancer cells were left. They undid some stitches, went back in to cut some more.

Right there. That’s the difference. That’s the life and death move that spared me. And that technology wasn’t always here to quickly know how well you’d cut.

All my test are clean from a cancer that returns quickly. I likely will survive 10:1 odds against–just a 9% chance. That’s crazy. A lucky early find and skillful surgeons well equipped. No one is luckier than me.

I will hug Dr. Selby when I see him. Last time I whispered in his ear, “You saved my life.” I’m thinking no one tires hearing that… or saying it.

It All About The Rain (and Snow)

During our last drought you couldn’t take a shower to wash off at California beaches, a ridiculously ineffective water saving example of political theater. As it turns out making a gesture isn’t the same as making a difference.

Current Sierra Mountain snowpack readings through 2-7-2019

Tonight’s snowpack in the Sierra Mountains averages a melted two feet of water. In the spring much of that will be harvested in a series of huge reservoirs. Wherever you live you’ll benefit because California grows most of America’s nuts, fruits and veggies with that water.

Water is a constant concern and battle in California. If you live elsewhere and have somehow heard how thirsty almond trees are, that’s one of those water battles that escaped state lines.

Farmers vs city dwellers. Lettuce versus grass (the fescue kind).

During our last drought you couldn’t take a shower to wash off at California beaches, a ridiculously ineffective water saving example of political theater. As it turns out making a gesture isn’t the same as making a difference.

With 2018-19’s bumper crop in the mountains (and more to come) the pressure will be off for a while. A very good year can fill reservoirs for a much longer run.

Here in the OC rain is more a curiosity than anything. Yes, we stop watering but not for long¹. Same goes for the strawberry fields scattered about the area in two and three acre chunks.

Most of our drinking water comes from elsewhere. We don’t even collect rainwater here. Quite the opposite. We have concrete lined river beds and washes to speed Santa Ana Mountain runoff to the sea.

California’s water year begins in October and follows what are usually six or more nearly rain free months. So far this season we’ve gotten a lot. Five months in we’re already well over an average full year.

The strawberry farmers are probably pleased, but I’m ready for the rainy season to end.

Last 20 years of rain at John Wayne Airport, around 8 miles away.

¹ – Our city, Irvine, being a recently built and well planned city has two water mains. The purple main contains recycled water not good enough for drinking but perfect for plants.

My Dad And I Speak

My dad grew up in a slum. “I was scared of black people,” he said today. “If I saw black people walking in my direction, I’d walk across the street.”

I’d not heard this before. He said it with regret in his voice and concern I could see on his face.

My dad and I speak nearly every day.  Often our conversations turn to his memories.  I initiate.  I want to know how he got where he got. 

Williamsburg is in the borough of Brooklyn (Kings County) in New York City.

So much of his life’s experiences are anachronisms, memories of a time that’s passed.  There was no phone in the house growing up.  They lived above  Fox’s Trimmings, where my grandparents sold everything having to do with cloth, thread, yarn, buttons, snaps, etc.  Peddlers drove horse drawn wagons through the neighborhood selling their wares.

That Williamsburg is desirable today surprises my father.  My dad grew up in a slum later torn down to build a city housing project.

“I was scared of black people,” he said today.  “If I saw black people walking in my direction, I’d walk across the street.”

I’d not heard this before.  He said it with regret in his voice and concern I could see on his face.  We were talking about our divided nation today and pre-World War II America.

“I didn’t know.  We didn’t know.  That’s how I was brought up.”

Even as a kid I remember our family referring to black people by a derogatory Yiddish word.  In retrospect our bigotry kept us from seeing what was real.  We stayed in our own prefab fog.

My dad looks back on those days with regret.  You can’t undo the past.  But you can learn from it.

It was easier to marginalize minorities in the 30s and 40s.  They were invisible in the movies and in print.  Much of America was segregated, openly or defacto.

But how can anyone hold these attitudes today?  That’s what we wondered as we Facetimed.  My father was sheltered from the world outside Brooklyn.  Today it’s impossible not to see how wrong he was.

As we finished tonight I asked if it was OK to write about.  He said, “yYes,” without hesitation. 

Who Was Here Before 1900?

There’s a lot of talk about immigration nowadays.  It was always an accepted part of my life.  The US is very attractive.  People come here.

Growing up I assumed it was the norm.

Seriously, when I went to PS 163Q, EVERYONE I knew was from another country or had parents and/or grandparents who were immigrants.  EVERYONE is capitalized because I don’t think I’m exaggerating.

I remember wondering to myself, “Who was here before 1900?”  They weren’t related to anyone I knew.

Grandpa Sol in his Brooklyn luncheonette.

That’s not to say it was easy back then.  My Grandpa Sol arrived from Poland speaking no English with no money nor any valuable skill.  He didn’t ask if America was good with that before he got on a ship with forged papers.  He was a deserter from the Polish Army.   

Now I live in another immigrant infused area (though more educated and affluent).  So many of the traits I saw in my parents and my friends’ parents I see in the parents of this neighborhood.

I don’t want ‘open borders.’  We do need to limit the flow.  I just don’t want to disfavor people because of where they were born or how they choose to worship.  That seems unAmerican–antithetical to the way I was brought up.

It seems to me people come here because they like what they see and they want it too.  That’s my grandpa’s American success story in a nutshell.