My favorite Forrest Gump scenery

It turns out that my two favorite bits of scenery in Forrest Gump are very near each other.

The first, a stone bridge with snowy mountains in the background, is near the St. Mary entrance to Glacier National Park:

Forrest running across a stone bridge

Forrest running across a stone bridge

The second shows Forrest on the Going-to-the-Sun Road, also in Glacier National Park, with St. Mary Lake in the background:

Forrest running on the Going-to-the-Sun Road with St. Mary lake as the backdrop.

Forrest running on the Going-to-the-Sun Road with St. Mary lake as the backdrop.

Even more reason for me to visit Glacier National Park. :)

On being a good dad

Harold Ramis, on the perspective of National Lampoon’s Vacation:

I was much more interested in the father, the guy who wants to be a good dad, wants to be a good husband, but only has two weeks a year to do it.

That hits a little too close to home.

Note to self: prioritize my exit from the rat race.

Manual labor sucks… but it is a great motivator

Scott Adams has a great blog post today titled The Unhappiness Motivator. In it, he wonders whether today’s students are so overloaded with homework that they don’t have a chance to experience shitty jobs, and thus may lack the drive to push themselves to achieve an easier lifestyle.

I can’t speak for society at large, but based on a scientific sample of one guy named Jon, I can confirm that working boring, tedious, manual labor jobs during my summers in high school absolutely motivated me to seek a career that provided an easier, more comfortable life. I felt so lost and frustrated out there on the farm, and I quickly realized it was no life for me.

Edit: And, of course, the requisite zinger:

Research tells us that piling on the homework doesn’t make kids smarter. Schools do it anyway, because although schools teach science, apparently they don’t believe in it.

You can’t go home again

While reading You Are Going to Die, this really struck me:

I hadn’t realized, until I was forcibly divested of it, that I’d been harboring the idea that someday, when this whole crazy adventure was over, I would at some point be nine again, sitting around the dinner table with Mom and Dad and my sister.

It profoundly disappoints me to accept that my childhood is gone. Forever. As wonderful as it was, I can never have it back.

Pictures from the turkey fry

We deep fried a turkey for the first time this Thanksgiving. Here are some pics:

The turkey derrick is all set up and ready to go. Just waiting for the oil temp to hit 250F.

Here’s the bird mid-fry. It looks absolutely volcanic in there.


All done. Just need to let it cool down before carving it up and serving.

The meat was very moist, and the skin was crispy and incredibly tasty. 10/10. Will fry again.

* Much credit goes to Alton Brown for providing the plans for the turkey derrick.

Missed opportunities

About 1.5 years ago, I received an email out of the blue from a man who also had the last name of Sagara. It turns out he was a distant relative.

I kept putting off sending a response until his email eventually got buried in my inbox, and I forgot all about it. I happened upon it again this past July while cleaning out old messages, and I finally replied. I never heard back from him, and didn’t think much of it.

Today I received a response, but from his daughter (I presume). It turns out that he passed away in March of this year.

Well, f—.

Answer your emails, people. You don’t have to answer all of them, but definitely answer the important ones — and that includes messages from family.

RIP, Peter.