Waldtaube.org

Today we in the United States have a national holiday called Labor Day, which we are celebrating in theory by not laboring and thinking about those who do. Sadly, we now do this in a country that has during the course of my lifetime lost a great deal of the respect it once had for those who labor. 

When I was a kid I had great respect for those whose life’s work was based on labor. I did not grow up on a farm, but I grew up in a farming area. I grew up knowing dairy farmers, cash crop farmers, one horse farmer, and their kids. Throwing bales of hay up on trailer after trailer all day is labor. Good, honest, meaningful labor.

My paternal Grandfather, Truman “Stu” Stewart, spent his entire working career in good, honest, and skilled labor. When he retired, he collected retirement checks from three unions. Two were tiny – tinsmith’s and typesetters. The main retirement check was from the United Association of Union Plumbers and Pipefitters. Most of his career was spent in Saudi Arabia and Libya as a pipefitter and pipefitter foreman. Saudi Arabia to begin with, Libya after the Saudis nationalized the oilfields and threw Aramco out. My grandfather wasn’t perfect; none are.  But I was always fascinated about the things I learned from him about work and mechanics. And he was always proud of his safety record. Never was a worker in one of his crews killed on the job. Regardless of what we think today about carbon-based economies, my grandfather spent decades in the Mideast building what he thought would be a better future for all. After my grandfather was old enough that work in the Mideast was no longer practical, he worked for a few years in Pennsylvania and surrounding areas. On his last job before retiring the Union put him in the tool room. Handing out tools, not doing real work as far as my grandfather was concerned. He bitched incessantly about being in the tool room.

Pipefitting is pretty skilled labor. Not all labor is skilled. When I was kid, I had a good friend who lived out in the middle of nowhere. His dad was a farmer. The extended family included an unskilled laborer – developmentally disabled I am sure. Yet the need for unskilled labor on a farm gave him something meaningful to do.

The stuff I have read for decades now about a “knowledge economy” and “knowledge workers” is all well and good. But a healthy country makes stuff too. The people at Apple, Inc. feel all good and self-satisfied about things “designed in the United States” and manufactured in China. Right now our economy is feeling the impact of our inability to perform the highly skilled work of producing microprocessor chips. Thousands of not-fully-completed vehicles are parked and not ready for sale. They are not fully built and ready for sale because the manufacturers don’t have the chips needed to make them go. Many other goods are simply not available because of “supply chain issues.” And heaven help us if we ever got into a shooting war with China. We’d be fighting naked in six months because the US no longer mass produces clothing. You can’t buy silverware mass produced in the US, either. All has been outsourced to China, where workers are not protected by labor unions. We’d rather have cheap shit from China than pay what it costs to have a reasonably compensated worker do work in the US and do it in a reasonable way in terms of impact on the environment. Maximization of profits through outsourcing manufacturing to China matters more, it seems, than having the US be able to defend itself or respecting the labor of American workers enough to pay for it.

Speaking of respect…. I live in a “right to work” state. What a wonderful twist of phrase. The politicians who pass “right to work” bills call them that because no one but management would like them if they were called what they really are – “right to fire people without cause” laws. Another sign of our disrespect is the federal minimum wage. The last time the minimum wage was raised was 24 July 2009. Since then, the buying power of that $7.25 an hour has decreased by 21%. 

Labor Unions ended child labor, made coal mining reasonably safe, and gave us the 40-hour work week. If we really want to honor labor, then we should all buy products MADE in the USA. Expect to pay more. And expect the combination of value of the product you purchase* and the respect you offer to your fellow US citizens to be worth it. 

*This assumes that US manufacturers will continue, as some have been, to engage in better engineering and better manufacturing processes, so that “Made in the USA” again means what it once did.

Resources for anti-racists in general and resources for computer professionals to increase diversity in the computing profession

Five Smooth Stones

See the text of my sermon message from 20 June 2021 at http://www.waldtaube.org/five-smooth-stones/. A video of the service, including my delivery of the message, is online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPmiCnQopew. I would like to thank my support and advisory group for their advice and comments on earlier version of this message.

Marion’s Birthday Composition and Concert (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8S71jOralyY)

This blog post is a much delayed explanation of Marion’s 63rd birthday present – a French Horn Quartet concert, with a new piece composed specifically for her. The entire concert is online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8S71jOralyY&t=11s

To those not vaccinated against COVID-19: please look at the evidence, and then choose to be kind

Jeremiah told us in the Old Testament what to do about COVID-19

Waldtaube (wood dove) is a character in a wonderful piece of music entitled Gurrelieder (Songs of Gurre) by Arnold Schoenberg. Waldtaube’s function in Gurrelieder is to comment on the goings-on within the drama.  In this blog I hope to comment carefully and clearly on topics that seem of interest to me and hopefully to you, but which are not chosen around any particular theme. Hence the slogan: “Careful thoughts on semi-random topics.” The Wood Dove image that graces this page is courtesy of my granddaughter Madeline. (c) Madeline J. Bookwalter, 2008, all rights reserved.

I read this in the New York Times Book review recently: A children’s guide from 1995 called “My hobby is birdwatching” concludes: “Whenever time hangs heavy on your hands, you can watch the birds.”

I watch birds a lot, but I also watch squirrels. Here is the squirrel feeder outside the window of the office I share with my sweetie, Marion Krefeldt. On the feeder is Rocky the non-flying squirrel, a gift from David Y. Hancock, Therese Miller, and other of my colleagues. And next to Rocky is a real live squirrel – one of many who visit regularly. I get a lot of Bluejays when I put peanuts out. When it is warm enough for the chipmunks to be out and about they visit as well. But there are always very beautiful fox squirrels (Sciurus niger) to be seen, and they warm my heart. Of course, this squirrel feeder provides me an excuse any time I write a sentence that just

I last posted to this Blog in April of this year. Much has happened since then in the world and in my life.

The good news – out of character with 2020: My last day as a professional employee of Indiana University was 1 October. This was the 24th anniversary of my promotion to senior management in what was to become the Office of the Vice President for Information Technology. (I hit my 35^th anniversary as a professional employee of IU in July). My announcement to retire was made with relatively little time between announcement and retirement. Nothing is more useless than an administrator that people think they can outlive. But the preparation was anything other than rash. I have been very quietly preparing to either retire gracefully or die gracefully since I first figured out that cancer was not going to kill me right away after I was diagnosed in 2017.

It took a while to get here, but I feel I am leaving IU and the Pervasive Technology Institute (PTI) at a good time. I’ve led PTI now for 12 years and I feel it is poised to be successful for years to come.

But it is still 2020. As I have discussed before, I am a person of faith. I have never much feared the wrath of the universe or our creator, but I have always been wary of what seems like a certain penchant for irony. And well so. My long-time colleague Rob Lowden was promoted to be Vice President for Information Technology on the 1st of August, after long-time VP Brad Wheeler stepped down to return to teaching and research. On the 25th of August I told him of my plans to retire. On the 31st of August I had a regularly scheduled CT scan that showed just a smidge of new cancerous tissue growth. The criteria for staying in the trial I was in are based on percentage growth. Because there was no cancerous tissue visible before, any amount of new growth was enough to bounce me out of the study.  (That whole “divide by zero” thing….). And that is as it should be. As much as I had hoped the treatment I was on would just keep working, it didn’t. And this is one of the issues with any kind of cancer therapy – cancer often finds a way to “mutate around” whatever it is you are throwing at it. Something happened to the genetics of the tumor cells to let them start growing when before the immunotherapy was keeping the number of cells so small that there was nothing visible on CT scans. But I am not complaining. On the contrary I am very happy with what this trial has done for me and what it might do for other people. The treatment I was on worked for 23 months. Eight months-ish of monotonically decreasing size of cancer tissue visible in CT scans. Twelve months of CT scans with no visible sign of cancer. And three – ish months of cancer growing to the point that it was visible again on 25 August. The medication I was on didn’t just “stop working.” My cancer mutated and a new mutant was resistant to the immunotherapy I was on. So put that tool away, take another out of the toolbox.

I am now on chemo – a therapy referred to as Flofiri, which is the standard chemo agent for a second round of chemo. I reacted well to Flofox, which is the standard first round. (The two cocktails have one drug in common, one drug different). The two anti-cancer drugs are Fluorouracil – referred to as FU-5. That is the drug that is common between Flofox and Flofiri. The drug that I haven’t had before that is part of the Flofiri cocktail is called Irinotecan. Irinotecan is a plan alkaloid that interferes with the replication of chromosomes when cells divide. The cells cannot successfully duplicate and separate the genetic materials in the chromosomes, so cells die rather than successfully divide. Like most chemotherapeutic agents, it messes with all cells as they divide, but because cancer cells divide faster than others this chemical kills cancer cells at a greater rate than other cells.

So far I am managing the side effects pretty well. Actually the biggest problem we had to begin with was that I was getting enough steroids with my chemo that I was very chatty. Too chatty. We have things adjusted now. I feel kind of punky on the two days a month I actually have chemo sessions at the infusion center. I would say that I am no more bothered by chemo in a given month than the bother experienced each month by the average woman of child-bearing age. 

As long as chemo works, we’ll go with that. That could easily be a year and a half to more than two years. Then I might have to change treatments again. We’ll keep track of new trials and new treatments as time goes on. I have been a Hoosier long enough that I am never daunted. I have things to do and places to go. And there are worse things. It’s tough to look around the world right now and feel sorry for myself. Marion is doing a better job getting a grip on herself and our situation as well. If there is anything I regret, it’s the impact of this on her. 

This is not the way I intended to ride off into the sunset. But Marion tells me she gives me full credit for having decided on my own to retire before I knew I was going to have a bumpier road than expected with my health. I am glad that I was smart enough to make the decision to retire when it was a decision. And I retire in faith, in the short run and the eternal long run.

Sincerely, Craig

That I am here today writing this is the end result of decades of research about cancer treatment and now years of work treating me and keeping me alive. 

First and foremost I must thank my wife Marion Krefeldt. Without her, I’d be dead long ago. She is the love of my life, and always will be. When I was diagnosed she made keeping me alive her job and she has done that. 

And now thanks from both of us: Our families have been particularly strong supporters: our children, their partners, and our grandchildren Kai (and husband George), Katja, Madeline, Michael; Tony (and partner Kristen) and younger grandson Elan. Until COVID-19 put an end to visitors at the IU Health Hospital this spring, Tony visited me for every infusion session I have had over more than 3 years, save 3 when he was himself ill. Marion’s brother Uwe and his wife Ines, and our nephews Nils and Tim, have been wonderful help. My family, particularly my Mom, my sister Jodie, and my niece Jennifer, have been great help. Special thanks to Iñigo Diez Garcia, our Spanish son and a member of our family in all ways that count. And thanks to Sanjoli and Abbey, our most recent household cohabitants and the newest members of our global family.

Friends and coworkers have been tremendously supportive and helpful. Matt Link and Von Welch have been particular sources of support and strength. The Finance Office in the Office of the Vice President for Information Technology sent me a huge care package when I was first diagnosed. The accountants? Thanks particularly to Heather Pawluck for being the force behind this and to Matt Allen for his musical curation. Therese Miller and David Hancock are in a special category as dear friends and the people behind the cement “Rocky the nonflying squirrel” and the “Bad to the Bone” sign that now grace my office. Everyone I know at Indiana University has been just wonderful, particularly my fellow leaders in the Office of the VP for IT, everyone in the Pervasive Technology Institute, particularly the Research Technologies Division of UITS, has been wonderful. Dave Hancock, Matt Link, and Von Welch belong in a special category among friends and colleagues. Matt ran the Research Technologies Division of UITS while I was sick and went on to take on leadership of that group permanently. Dave Hancock took on leadership of the Jetstream project when I was first diagnosed and took it over permanently as well. Von Welch graciously led PTI while I was sick, and then was happy to focus on the Center for Applied Cybersecurity Research as I came back and was able to resume my duties leading PTI. 

Cancer isn’t fun, but it isn’t all bad. I’ve gotten wonderful hugs from many friends and coworkers – prominent among them are Stephanie Cox, Kate Holden (virtually), Tassie Gnaidy, Marianne Chitwood, Deb Allmayer, Rob Ping (hugs from hot guys are nearly as great as hugs from hot chicks). Rudeana Honeycutt and Monica Shannon have been my everyday support for now many years. And IU VP for Information Technology and CIO Brad Wheeler has been extraordinarily kind and considerate. IU President and First Lady Michael McRobbie and Laurie Burns McRobbie have been extraordinarily kind and thoughtful as well.

I have learned a lot in this whole escapade. Particularly wonderful sources of wisdom and support have been David Y. Hancock, Richard Meraz, Barry McDonald, and the now deceased Bob Epps and Mike Winter. Steve Simms, Eric Sinclair, Anne Zender, Matthias Mueller, Chris Bischof, the Wernert family, and Robert Henschel deserve special thanks as well. Max Lauchli, Patrick Casey, Michael Fitzgerald, and P.T. Wilson have been sources of support and insight. Jimmy Moore, Mary Beth Morgan, and the entire communities of St. Marks United Methodist Church and First United Methodist Church of Ellettsville have been great support. From Ellettsville Cindy Spahr and Mava Rogers deserve special callouts. The Chronic Disease Support Group organized under the auspices of St. Mark’s United Methodist Church has been a tremendous source of support. 

Brian Holzhausen and the entire DINO trail running community (http://www.dinoseries.com) deserve special thanks. One of the things that kept me going in the darkest moments was a desire to get back and toe up for a DINO trail race. Thanks also go to the Bloomington Area Runners Association. And if you are thinking about trying out a race, remember…. Everyone that toes up and runs beats anyone who does not. Running a race is a great form of being in community no matter how fast you are. 

Under the category of “not everything is bad no matter what,” cancer has brought me the close friendship of Don Byrd. His wife Susan and my wife Marion worry, justifiably, about what Don and I are capable of cooking up if left to our own devices. We’ll try to keep at it, knowing that our better halves will not leave us to our own devices very long or very often. This has also been a time when I have deepened my friendship with Chrissy Garrison, whose friendship and whose books (https://sillyhatbooks.com) have been sources of support, entertainment, and distraction when distraction was what I needed the most.

The people who support Marion deserve special thanks as well. I know many days they have been and continue to be the support that gets Marion through the day. Particular thanks to Susan Schneider, Marie Deer, Sue Swany, Beth Lodge Regal, Rhonda Winter, Marion’s walking group, running group, English Book Club, and German book club.  Susie Hinkle and Jennifer Hart have long been sources of support for both of us.

Keeping me alive in spirit is great, but somebody needs to take care of the body as well. I don’t even know all of the names of all of the people who have kept me alive. Some of them I never got to meet while awake, as members of surgical teams often came and went without me ever being awake to thank them. Gratitude is owed to many that I can name or at least identify, including:

• The nurses and technicians of IU Health. Thank you all. Particular thanks go to the staff of the IU Health Indianapolis Infusion Center and the nurses and techs on the 3^rd and 4^th floors of IU Health Hospital Indianapolis. The most miserable nights of my life were spent on those floors, and the nurses and techs were a source of comfort and aid.
• Dr. Patrick Loehrer and Dr. Ora Pescovitz. Dr. Loehrer is the Director of the Simon Cancer Center and my primary oncologist. He is also the IU PI of the research study that is keeping me alive. He is an internationally recognized GI cancer researcher and a wonderful person. Dr. Ora Pescovitz is the former Executive Associate Dean for Research at the IU School of Medicine. She is responsible for much of the greatness of that School today. And when I was at my desperate, I reached out for her help when she was nearly half a globe away on Valentine’s Day 2017. At something around midnight local time she called Dr. Loehrer who turned around and called me at about 8 pm on Valentine’s day to say that he and the IU Cancer Center would do their utmost to take care of me. And they have.
• My surgeons, gastroenterologists, and radiation oncologists: Bryan K. Holcomb, Michael G. House, Ehab El Jagg, and Susannah Ellsworth. Though the slightest of the bunch in physical stature, I am most scared of Dr. Ellsworth (radiation oncology) who certainly hurt me the most.
• A special shout out to the MDs of the IU Precision Health Genomics Program: Milan Radovich, Bryan P. Schneider, and Bert H. O’Neil.
• Dr. Tracy Gunter and Linda Brown deserve special thanks. Dr. Gunter in particular has been a part of my medical team from my first day of chemotherapy up to today. On days when the car is in the middle of the road, I have her to thank. Both have been invaluable to our success in navigating these waters.
• Dr. Marc Frost gets the unique trifecta of being one of my doctors, a friend, and a running buddy.
• Other members of my medical and advisory team that deserve special thanks are Drs. Anantha Shekhar and Paul Herscu and Linda Manus.

Three organizations deserve special thanks; I donate to all regularly and if you find yourself dealing with cancer, you may someday have reason to as well: 

• The Simon Cancer Center. THE number one reason I am alive is the medical treatment I received from the experts at the Simon Cancer Center, part of IU Health. Donate at http://cancer.iu.edu/giving/index.shtml. As a sign in the cancer pavilion states, we who experience cancer thank Melvin and Bren Simon for the gift that established this center.
• Fairhaven. To quote their web site – “Thousands of patients come to Indianapolis each year from across the Midwest for expertise and specialized care … We share the love of Christ during a time of great difficulty by providing a convenient and comfortable place to stay near the hospital.” Marion and I stayed in one of their apartments in Indianapolis and are ever grateful. Donate at https://fairhavenfoundation.com/donate-to-fairhaven/
• Caring Bridge. Caring Bridge provided Marion and me a way to communicate and hear from a wide group of friends and supporters. https://www.caringbridge.org/give

And in closing: I am ever so grateful to you for your support, and for reading these posts. I hope they have been of use to you. Nothing on earth is ever so good that there isn’t something bad contained within, and nothing on earth is so bad that it is impossible to wrest some good from it. Understanding the love and support that surrounds me, and helping others, have been among the good that has come from my experience with Cancer. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

One closing note: I am sure I have forgotten someone who desperately deserves to be thanked. I’ll update this post as names come to me, and if you are a person I overlooked I apologize – please let me know and I will make amends. After administering an appropriate number of dope slaps to myself. 

For now, we are closing the book on these chapters of our cancer journey. Thank you for reading, take care of yourself, and be compassionate with yourself.