Gee, it's been a while. My last association with a PCC event must have
been about 1979 when Dragon Bob roped me into appearing on a panel at
the Jack Tar Hotel in San Francisco with a rogue's gallery of current and
former editors of computer magazines. (I had been the original editor of
Personal Computing.) The fact that the hotel was burned down not long
thereafter was probably unrelated.
I've spent the decades since chiefly as a consultant to small technical
set up by people who had no idea what a struggle it is to be in business for
yourself, and who urgently needed assistance with corporate communications.
Worked with a pattern recognition company twenty years ahead of its time
that has survived, and will be a force in years to come. Worked with
fellows who use luminescent bacteria to measure toxicity in water. (If
something in the water makes the bugs sick, they faint, and their light
output dims proportionally.)...and so on. Have been working with other people
who are trying to establish new ideas and are being properly punished for it.
I've published a few books (some about robots) in these years, and go out as a
speaker occasionally to explain how to deal with the fact that people are
profoundly offended by anything new...probably fortunately.
Since 1985 I've published a newsletter, The ABQ Correspondent,
just to keep my network intact. Since 1995, that's appeared also in an online
edition at http://www.swcp.com/correspo.
It's brief, just talks about odd
things that happen to catch my attention. My contact information is all
I should mention that my daughter Chantal, who as a high school student
illustrated some stuff of mine that appeared in PCC, has for years been
elaborate walkaround outfits - team and commercial mascots, for example...
six-foot sandwiches, bears, roadrunners, skating scorpions, and all that. Her
Her PCC experience encouraged her to press on with other creative activity.
The downside is that I've had to try on sandwiches, bear outfits, and
the like all these years while people stick pins in me, and my grandchildren
laugh. Ah well. No lack of entertainment.