If you want to chase rainbows…

It was a Sunday, in the spring of 1998. I was 23 years old. I was driving on I-435 outside of Olathe, Kan., on my way to I-70, returning from a seminar that changed my life. But I wasn’t thinking too much about that at the moment. I’m plenty familiar with I-435 north of I-70 on the Missouri side, but I’d never driven the southern portion of I-435 before. I hate driving on Interstate highways during a storm, and the rain was coming down in buckets. I hate driving in unfamiliar areas when I’m low on fuel. My orange gas indicator was lit and my car had dinged at me a time or two: “Feed me, you dingaling!” it was saying.
Finally, I found a sign that indicated a service station. It was a couple of miles off the highway, but I took it. Better to take something you know than to take chances when you’re low on fuel. The road twisted and turned, and I didn’t know if the gas station would be on the left or right. Finally I found the station, on the left. I pulled in, swiped my credit card, fueled up, and found out once again that my 12-gallon tank actually held more than 12 gallons. Meanwhile, the storm continued to relentlessly pound the earth. I got back into my car and realized I didn’t completely remember which direction I’d come from. I took a chance on my hazy short-term memory and turned right, out of the station, praying that I’d run back into I-435 because I had no idea where the unfamiliar road would lead if I’d turned the wrong direction.

Finding I-435, I continued on my journey. The road twisted more than I liked, and when I continued onto I-470, conditions didn’t really change. But as I approached I-70, the storm lightened a little. I saw a rainbow, then another, then another. Three rainbows. No matter how the road twisted and turned–which seemed like a lot at the time, even though I had a new set of Michelins and I’d already had one opportunity to find out just how good they were–those rainbows stayed directly in front of me. The storm picked back up and the rainbows faded. The storm relented some more.

It was a good metaphor for my life at the time. I was attending a church that was simultaneously admonishing me to use my talents for the glory of God and telling me that serving God in its ministries was a right that had to be earned. My ex-girlfriend was sending mixed signals at a rate of a million a minute any time she came around, which was often. Meanwhile I fought an internal battle. I wanted her back like the desert soil wants rain, yet I knew more and more with each passing day she wasn’t good for me. On top of all that, some of her friends and acquaintances seemed to be eyeing me up, making me wonder if they weren’t trying to figure out what was wrong with me that would make her leave, and whether they were wondering if I’d be good enough for them. Some of them had just ended relationships themselves, while others hadn’t had one in a long time. I wasn’t especially interested in finding out–I was gripped by a mortal fear that they’d do the same thing she did in the end. And if that wasn’t enough, my career was falling apart. I had computers breaking left and right, no budget to replace them outright, and heavily-used spare parts that were more than three years old. For lack of anything else to use, I was routinely deploying three-year-old systems to do things they were never designed to do. Things weren’t working well and I was taking the heat.

I considered all of this, looked out at the storm, and at the rainbows beyond. A thought came to mind. “If you want to chase rainbows, you’ll have to weather a few storms.”

I didn’t catch all the rainbows, but I caught some of them. And the storms are different today. Some of them are smaller and others aren’t. But the things that got me through those old storms haven’t changed.

And some of today’s rainbows are cooler than the rainbows were then.

Linux on a Power Mac 7500

I built a Linux box earlier this week. There was a Power Mac 7500 at work that was begging for a conversion. Actually it’s a classic Hackintosh, assembled from the pieces of a 7500 and a dead 7600, so it’s running at 133 MHz instead of its original 100 MHz, and with 128 megs of interleaved EDO RAM. And it’s SCSI. So it had plenty of memory, a server-grade disk, and a RISC-based CPU. I had to see what it could do once it was unencumbered by the Mac OS GUI.
I chose Debian, because Debian installs very little extraneous garbage and because it’s super-simple to maintain.

And I’ll never complain about the difficulty of installing Linux on a PC again. Not that I’ve complained in a really long time, but Linux on an old Mac is a pain.

It’s nearly impossible to make these old Macs boot Linux directly, so you do a dual-boot trick, installing MacOS and then installing BootX, which is a control panel that pops up early in the boot process and asks you what OS you want. The default is Linux. Pick Linux, or let it time out, and that annoying smiling guy disappears, replaced by the glorious text-mode (bet you didn’t know the Mac had one of those, did you?) screen of the Linux boot process. Oh yeah, there’s a smiling picture of Tux up in the right-hand corner while it’s all going on. It’s a cool Wizard of Oz-like effect, I think.

So you boot off your MacOS CD, make yourself a 20-meg Mac partition, install just the base OS and the multimedia stuff, which includes the Apple CD/DVD-ROM driver–I didn’t realize that wasn’t part of the base OS and was wondering why I couldn’t read CD-ROMs anymore. Then search the CD for Stuffit Expander and Disk Copy. You’ll need those too. The version of Stuffit that came bundled with MacOS 8.5 couldn’t do anything with BootX on the Debian CD, so you’ll need to find a newer version on another Mac and then sneakernet it over. Then you use Disk Copy to generate images of the boot and root CDs. Drop BootX in System Folder::Control Panels, drop the Debian Kernel in the Linux Kernels subfolder of the System Folder, insert your Debian CD, then boot off the floppies, and you’re ready to go.

Apple hardware–old Apple hardware at least–is generally pretty reliable, so if you’ve got ancient Macs at work you need to put to something useful, this is a good way to do it. They’ll give better file server performance than a Snap server and you can even do software RAID configurations. Old desktop Macs have two 3.5″ bays, so you can mirror disks, and there is an external SCSI port for expansion if you want to do other types of RAID or connect a tape drive. And they’d make great intranet servers.

What did I do with the Mac? I made it into a PDF server. It’s great. I print to the phantom printer, and PDFs pop up in its file share. It’s lightning fast–by the time I pop over to the share to pick up the file, the server’s had enough time to create the PDF. So this 133 MHz Mac running Linux can generate PDFs in less time than it would take to print the file. I had problems with the GNU Ghostscript package (gs), so I ended up having to use Aladdin Ghostscript (aladdin-gs) instead. No big deal to me, since I’m not a GNU bigot.

I tried to make the service available to the Macs on the network too, by installing netatalk, but the phantom printer doesn’t work right. I’m still hoping to resolve that. Making shares with netatalk is frighteningly simple, but making printers with it is less fun than configuring XFree86 by hand.

Even with the difficulties, Charlie and I had it working well for Windows clients in a couple of hours. I think it was a good investment of a couple of hours, taking a computer off the scrap heap and making something useful out of it without having to buy any software.

(hopefully) small setback for Katelyn

Katelyn update. Katelyn has developed an infection that’s going to keep her hospitalized for another week or so. Karin also thinks Katelyn may have had a couple of seizures, so she’s concerned. She’s not out of the woods yet.

It’s time.

I’m back. I needed some time to sort everything out, regroup, and, well, be something resembling a typical 27-year-old. And thanks to Dan Bowman for pointing out some of the facilities Greymatter has to take care of problems. I’d never felt the need to look for them. But now I know. And should those fail, Apache also has facilities as well. It’s good to be root.
As for Katelyn, I’ve learned to assume that no news is good news. Brad didn’t call me at all on Wednesday, and I saw him at a meeting Wednesday night and we talked, but he didn’t mention anything about her. That means no unexpected changes, which is never a bad thing.

A story. I think I’ll just wrap things up with a story. I went and saw Luke Tuesday night. Luke talked about how people sometimes treat him because of his MDA, which confines him to a wheelchair. It was so sad. Stupid. Pointless. It reminded me of something that happened a few years ago.

I was in college. I was in a fraternity. During my junior year, a young man visited us for dinner. This wasn’t uncommon; people who were interested in the house often visited for dinner. We’d show them around, answer their questions, and whatnot. What was unusual was that this young man had a condition–polio, if memory serves–that left his legs immobile, so he walked with crutches. He moved along just fine. As I recall, he even went upstairs to get the grand tour. There was some concern that if he did move in, he’d always have to live on the second floor, as opposed to the third, to minimize the amount of climbing he’d have to do. But that wasn’t a really big deal.

He left, and someone called a meeting. So there we were, the actives, sitting in the dining room. We talked about him a little, then one guy stood up and spoke.

“You do know that if he does move in here, one of you guys has to room with him.”

“What’s wrong with that, Frank?” I asked.

“Well, I’m not gonna room with him. There’s something wrong with him. Would you want to room with him?”

I pointed at one of the guys sitting at the table with Frank. “Look at Gotsch,” I said. “He’s handicapped in a way, right? His hand’s in a cast, and he can’t do everything you and I can do. And you know what? It’s his own fault his hand’s in a cast, due to his own stupidity punching a wall. Does anyone think any less of him? That guy–” and I motioned outside–“didn’t do anything to cause his handicap. I don’t think any less of him. He can room with me.”

I paused and looked at Frank.

“Assuming he’d be willing to live around someone like you.”

I guess he wasn’t willing, because he never came back. And a big part of me was glad. Not that I didn’t want a roommate–I didn’t want someone to have to go through that garbage.

A couple months later, I moved out too.

Update on Katelyn

Brad called me late on Wednesday with an update. They’ve taken Katelyn off her pain medication, which included morphine, and she’s struggling with the pain and withdrawal. Brad said she cried for a 17-hour stretch. It’s good that she’s strong and healthy enough to be able to do that, but heartbreaking that she would hurt enough to do that.

Katelyn’s out of ICU!

There is lots of news on Katelyn, and almost all of it is good. Katelyn got out of ICU today. They removed all the tubes from her, except her feeding tube, which she has always had. She’s in a private room, and the doctors say she ought to be able to go home in 2-5 days!
Her lungs still have not cleared completely, but with everything else going well, the doctors are less worried about it now. She still will not eat on her own, which is why the food tube is still there, but she has never eaten on her own so that is probably understandable.

Katelyn is improving

Dave says Katelyn’s color is back to normal, they removed a breathing tube, and she’s doing much better!! The scare from Saturday was just one doctor’s opinion, not Katelyn’s doctor, based on chest xrays and nothing else. John and Karin said they’re hoping she might get to come home this week. There is still room for complications but things look a lot better now.
Dave said one of the people in the group is a nurse who used to assist in heart surgery. She said that even 10 years ago, people with Katelyn’s condition just didn’t survive.

Update on Katelyn

Dave reports slow but measurable progress on Katelyn. He also verified the spelling of her name. The doctors removed a tube yesterday relating to breathing. The last Dave heard, there’s been progress and there’ve been setbacks, but the general trend has been forward. A group from the church is going to visit Katelyn’s parents, John and Karin, tonight. Dave may join them.

A reminder from your sponsor…

Just a reminder, for those who seem to have forgotten. I produce the content on this site. I write it, edit it, and post it. I usually sink far more time into it than I should. I don’t make any money off it, other than the occasional sale through an Amazon link, which usually amounts to $15-$20 per year. But making money was never my intent.
This is a hobby. I write about what I feel like writing about, when I feel like writing about it, how I feel like writing about it.

I don’t owe you anything. Nobody is forcing you to read this. Nor have I ever solicited donations, and I don’t have any plans to start.

I’d like to think I usually produce decent-quality stuff. Some days are worse than others. It’s not easy to come up with new and insightful and interesting stuff every day, which is why sane writers take a day or two per week off. And sometimes I run out of time, so I call it done and post it, figuring whatever I can give you is better than nothing.

I guess I was wrong about that.

This is a difficult time. I don’t know what people want me to write about right now, and frankly I don’t give a rip. Yeah, I’m moody, and yeah, I’m a bit down, and I’ve got a (mostly) one-track mind. You can deal with that, or you can join that small band of readers who’ve decided to be part of the problem. Faced with having to choose between not giving a rip about my neighbor or not giving a rip about your computer problem (or not being thorough enough for your tastes), the decision will be the easiest one I ever made in my life.

I’ll be back when I bloody feel like it. And not a nanosecond sooner.

That faith thing.

I talked to Brad again last night, since Brad’s my go-between to Katie’s family, whom I hardly know (and who have absolutely zero time to be talking on the phone right now–they talk to Brad and let Brad talk to the rest of the Oakville gang, then my little tidbits go out to who-knows-where).
Dan Bowman forwarded some comments from a nurse that were encouraging. I passed those on to Brad. I read him the comments from yesterday’s post. Brad asked me if I’d print him a copy to keep. I set some sort of land-speed record hitting ctrl-p. (Mice are for wimps.)

And I got to thinking aloud about that huge plan God’s got again. He knows twelve billion people better than I’ll ever know any single human being. I’m not even certain I can tell you who I sat next to in church last Sunday. I certainly can’t tell you all the names of the people immediately in front of me and behind me. God knows all the hows and whys and therefores about them.

One summer I sat down and wrote out on paper an algorithm that I could translate into a computer language and simulate a baseball game. Alternatively, I could do the math using a calculator and some dice. Run it 162 times for each team in a league, and I could simulate a baseball season. I could tell you what 48 players might do in a single game, what 624 players might do over the course of 162 games. I was pretty proud of myself for figuring that out.

So I could figure out what might happen if the Royals were to somehow pry Rafael Palmeiro away from the Texas Rangers. But God knows what would happen. No questions about it. And He knows how it would affect quality of life, and even if it would affect operation of a stoplight across the Kansas border in Olathe for some bizarre reason.

And He knows about the things that really do matter. I can simulate something as trivial and, as much as it pains me to say it, unimportant as a baseball game. It stretches my little brain to its limits, but I can describe it mathematically. I can’t even begin to do that with a human life.

Knowledge is power. He’s got the monopoly on both of them. Good thing He’s on my side. Yours too.

So why do I find myself not trusting Him all the time? It doesn’t make any sense.

I guess if I ever needed any proof that I’m human, I just got it.