Nancy's Birthday!

My little Nance turned 20 yesterday. Her friends threw her a little surprise part saturday night (which was way too much fun), we went to dinner with a friend of hers downtown last night, and today was the big shabang.

Her mastermind sister got the idea for a petting zoo (because Nancy is an animal lover to the extreme) and Nan had NO idea. She kept saying "OH MY GOD THERE'S A DONKEY IN THE BACKYARD!" Score one for Jen.

My mom got her this huge cake decorated with all cosmetology stuff like makeup and brushes and bobby pins. It was perfect for her. It didn't last long though.

And as a perfect end to a perfect weekend, I'm working on a presentation about Creative Commons. The only upside to this is I got a geek-chic program called KeyJnote that makes presentations pretty slick. You guys should check it out.

I think one of these days I'll have to post a top 40 list of my favorite free apps. Until then, I'll be here if you need a very cheap computer guy's advice.

-Mike

Miketown: A REVOLUTION!

I got all giddy about web developing because of this IT class I'm taking, and went out and made a little website. My problem is that I like spending all my time making things look good, and I can't ever figure out anything to put on there that anyone will actually want to look at.

So everyone go to check out MIKETOWN and tell me what I could put up that would make you want to look at it.

Rice Art

"Every year, farmers in the rural town Inakadate, Japan creates rice field art by using red rice in with their regular rice in special patterns. A few others fields in rural Japan also followed the trend of this beautiful rice field art."

Watch the process.

The Dreaded Update

Just wanted to let everyone know how things have been going the past couple days. It's a week ago today that he died. The day my dad died. I can't quite decide if it's been the fastest or the slowest week of my life, but I'm almost positive it's been the worst.

It's getting a little more believable every day. Now that the rush of people in and out of the house is starting to slow down, the phone isn't ringing quite so often, and we're not running all over the place preparing for the funeral, reality is starting to drip in through the cracks in our little walls of distractions. It's easy to compose myself when I've got other things on your mind, but when a normal day goes by and I realize that I can't call him at the end of it, that's when the wall comes down. When my car starts making noises and I can't ask him about it, or when I have a test that I complain about to him, or when Furman wins and I can't call him to ask if he was watching, that's when it gets tough. This is the first school year I've started without him asking me all about my new classes.

But we're getting stronger every day. I've finally gotten to the point where I can think about him and not get choked up. Me and Nancy can talk and joke about his corny sense of humor and his legendary childhood stories and we can actually laugh instead of just feeling robbed, although that feeling is still alive and screaming. Does it ever lay down and die? I hope so, but hope is only hope. All in all, seems like a lot of progress for a week, doesn't it? For anyone who knew my dad, I think we can all agree that this is more like what he would have wanted. He hated to see anyone upset, so we're trying to hold ourselves together. I went to work yesterday. Everyone kept telling me it was a good idea to get back into the swing of things, and try to get myself out of the funk, and I think they were right. And I found out that my work may be giving me paid time off for the past week, which could end up being a lifesaver.

Back to Nancy, people don't realize how hard this has all been for her. Her and my dad had a special bond. He's the only person who has ever made her feel safe on a boat. Instead of having anxiety attacks, she had the time of her life on that thing. They are both happy go lucky people, and sometimes she was the only one who got a kick out of his terrible jokes. She used to love to try and imitate all the crazy little faces he would make without knowing it. I guess I just want people to understand that even though it's not her dad, she loved him. And she lost him, just like the rest of us. This isn't easy for anyone. So give her a break.

But I do want to thank everyone for everything you all have done for me, my mom, and Erin. Something like 350 people came to the funeral. Dad was so modest that we never had any idea that he was that loved by that many people. MetLife had Bucky's BBQ (my dad's favorite place) cater lunch for 600 people the day of the funeral. That has to be a record. And they gave the whole office the rest of the day off. My friends have been right beside me for every step of this huge staircase, and I know that that's right where they're staying. I honestly don't know where we would be without all of you. Thank you.

Well I have some Oreo's and a Japanese Culture textbook with my name on them, so I better get going. Dad wouldn't want my grades going down. Or my weight.

Another Eulogy

This was circulating around MetLife by email. John Geyer also read most, if not all, of it in his speech. For anyone who wants copies of these things, here it is:

It is with deepest sympathy and heartfelt sadness that we share in the loss of a wonderful colleague and great friend, Rick Crittenden, who passed away over the weekend.

All who knew Rick recognized that he was a truly unique and special person. He possessed a rare combination of personal attributes. He was incredibly intelligent, most would say brilliant. In fact, some of us referred to him as a "walking encyclopedia". Yet he was enormously humble. He would prefer to deflect all attention to others. He was as warm as a newly baked loaf of bread and had a self deprecating sense of humor that painted a smile right across your face. He was a gifted communicator both in a cubicle or on a stage. We can recall someone once remarking that “they could listen to him forever”, with his soothing voice, relaying key facts and information in a way that made you really want to listen generously. He was a captivating story teller who could translate highly complex issues into simple, digestible concepts using analogies that were as clever as they were effective. We fondly referred to his in depth teachings or discussions as the “full Crittenden”. And he was very simple yet incredibly sophisticated. He would equally savor dining at Bucky's Bar-B-Q and debating the works of Chaucer. And while Rick cared passionately about those closest to him he would also find a minute in his very busy day to be a friend to anyone. He approached all situations with enormous empathy and was non-judgemental. Many of us counted on Rick for his sage advice and knew that we could ask him anything without fear of feeling, well, dumb.

And Rick was not afraid to take on a challenge. He was hired into MetLife in 2000 to drive the types of projects others run from. Rick's leadership ensured that both the Atlas/Ingenium project and the launch of the Critical Illness business were successful. In fact, his performance on these projects made it clear to all around him that he was the guy to shape our entire technology architecture moving forward. In 2005 Rick took responsibility for the IT Architecture group. With the precision and passion of a craftsman, Rick labored intensively over the details of our technology future. In two short years he built an IT architecture blueprint and an IT architecture team that will drive MetLife's success for years to come. But he never wanted anyone to think it was about him. He preferred to have us think that his deep insights were either obvious conclusions or the work of others. We did not fall for it Rick, not for a minute. We knew you were brilliant.

And with all of this we have not yet touched on Rick's true passion, music. Some knew that Rick was a musician by love and original trade. In college he was a music major and taught saxophone at Mansfield State. He blew the sax with the best of them backing up the likes of the Temptations, the Box Tops and with Bob Hope and many others. Once again, Rick preferred to be behind the scenes. But just like us, these entertainers knew that Rick was the straw that stirred the drink.

Yes, Rick was blessed with that rare combination of brilliance and humility. He was passionate about his family, loyal to his friends and committed to the success of MetLife. He was a teacher at heart with music in his soul. He made outstanding contributions to our organization and has left a legacy that will endure for many years. Those of us who were fortunate enough to have known Rick recognize that we are better people as a result.

May God bless Rick Crittenden.

I'll be posting the speeches from the funeral

As I get them, I'll post them up here for anyone who wants to keep them. Here is my uncle Rob's speech, which he and my aunt Deb put together.

Our brother Rick was wedged between the two of us in birth order. Deb and I look like each other and something like our parents, and there are behavioral traits that seem to point us toward our parents. But Rick was different…he didn’t look like any of us, and in so many ways he seemed to be from another sector. He was incredibly brilliant, to the point that I said that he used up most of the family brains and there weren’t many left over in the gene pool for me. And Rick’s intelligence was in the range of “scary smart” to the point that neither one of us were ever willing to play card games (or much of anything else) with him at home because he would always win!!! And his talents…in music, in humor, in his quick grasp of any subject…put him in another league.

Rick was born with a heart defect that haunted him his entire life. He was diagnosed with this defect at 4 months old and made his first trip to Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore at 10 months. He had open-heart surgery to repair the heart defect when he was almost 13 in 1968 at Johns Hopkins amidst the burning of Baltimore during the riots created immediately following Martin Luther King’s assassination. With the miracle of modern medicine, we got to know and love Rick for not 10 or 20 or 30 years, but we are thankful that we were blessed by Rick’s presence in our life for 52. We wish would have kept him longer.

Rick was always smiling as a baby. Our mom remembers that he was incredibly happy and incredibly busy. He was into everything. Rick was very interested in sports as a boy, or you might say obsessed, but not able to participate in much because of his heart condition, which disappointed and frustrated him. Mom & Dad remember that Rick was born tactful – he never, ever wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings. One of his first jobs as a teenager was as a first base umpire in Little League, which didn’t work out at all because that’s a job where someone’s always going to be upset with you…. So that job didn’t last too long because it made him too stressed. I can always remember him taking the sports page of the daily paper first everyday and reading it front to back. Knowing him, he probably memorized all the box scores.

Being five years younger than Rick, I was a pest to him. But he certainly wasn’t an angel either. I mouthed off…he busted me in the mouth. In fact, Rick was the one who removed my front teeth when I was about six. I deserved it. He would punch me when my parents weren’t looking, and I would stuff the underside of his pillowcase with weeds, so while he slept, they would exacerbate his already-horrible hay fever. I looked forward to the day that I would grow taller than Rick and really clean his clock, but when the day came, he was awfully nice to me and I didn’t see the point.

We found out many years later that on every Christmas Eve, Rick would go downstairs in the middle of the night, open everyone’s presents, rewrap them and act surprised at what everyone gave and received a few hours later. And one Christmas, when I was about four or five, he emptied my Christmas stocking early on Christmas before anyone got up and filled it with switches. I was devastated. Mischievous, quick-to-laugh, brilliant, devoted, kind to a fault. That was our brother.

I can remember night after night of Rick blowing into his various collections of saxophones. There are musicians and then there are musicians. Rick was in that rare collection of those who go to the highest level of their talents, first excelling by winning everything available to win at the state level in high school, then excelling at Furman, where he met his wife Jeannie and where he received a degree in music education. Finally he went on to the big time at Indiana University, where he received his Masters in Music Performance. We were all so proud of him.

He loved his family so much: his wife Jeannie who he was married to for 29 years, and his two children, Erin and Michael – they were the joy of his life.. And as much as he loved music, he loved his family much more and changed careers when he realized that he would have a hard time supporting his family in his chosen field of music. Rick was so smart that he could just change what he had done for years and learn something completely new. You must understand that Rick could have chosen anything, ANYTHING, and he would have excelled at it. He grew in his career but Jean and the kids were always number one.

My one regret is that Rick and I stayed so busy in our careers that we didn’t spend that much together in adulthood. We stayed in touch electronically but didn’t get together much. For years we gently teased each other over e-mail. I can remember his admission to the hospital about 15 or 20 years over a heart issue. I called him while I was on a business trip to Brazil and told him some jokes I had heard down there and he laughed so much that I thought it mess up all the contraptions he was hooked up to. So I eased up on the jokes. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with his heart. They all threw up their hands. Rick got on the internet, read medical journals, and self diagnosed his problem. They treated him and it worked. That’s our brother.

Although Rick was born with a heart that didn’t function properly in the physical sense and had to be repaired, his heart worked exceptionally well in a non-physical way. Rather than letting his health concerns make him focused on himself, Rick’s heart seems to expand in kindness to others. He was probably the most tenderhearted person I’ve ever known.

So we are thankful for having him as a brother for all these years. He was a joy to us as I know he was to all of you. But we are going to miss him terribly. The world is a lesser place without him. We love you, Rick.

Craziest Optical Illusion Ever

For anyone who hasn't seen it yet, here it is:


Look again. The A and B squares are actually the exact same color.

In the news (not so exciting this time)

Dad's full obituary was printed today. My mom's best friend Susan wrote it, and we made a couple modifications. I think it captures him as well as you can in a few paragraphs.

Richard C. Crittenden
Greer

Richard C. "Rick" Crittenden died suddenly Sunday, September 9, 2007, at his home in Greer. He was a loving husband, father and son, an exceptionally skilled businessperson and a gifted musician. His time here was marked by a deep commitment to family, career and friendship.

He was born June 11, 1955, in Newport News, Virginia. Rick had a long love of the water and boats that began at an early age. During his time in South Carolina, the saltwater marshes of Edisto Island and the mountain waters of Lake Jocassee became the special settings for kayaking, sailing and fishing, some of his fondest pursuits with his wife Jean and their two children, Erin and Michael. Rick was also a longtime and avid fan of Furman Univeristy athletics.

Rick's first career as a saxophonist was underpinned by an undergraduate degree from Furman University and a Master's Degree from Indian University. His virtuosity as a musician was evident in the range of work he performed, from gigs with the Temptations and the Four Tops, to classical concerts with the Greenville Symphony. He taught music on every level from middle school to college, and he was a band director and a band member.

The gifts he displayed as a musician became the framework for his career in Information Technology, a field he pursued after additional training at Furman. He spent the last 21 years in the field, at Liberty Life Insurance and then at Metlife, where he was Chief Architect and Assistant Vice President.

He is survived by his wife of 29 years, Jean Marie Sansone Crittenden; his children, Erin Crittenden Shanafelt, Michael Anthony Crittenden, Stephen Mark Shanafelt and Nancy Marie Granger. He is also survived by his parents, Thomas Stilson and Gaybrooke Garrett Crittenden of Morehead City, N.C.; his sister, Debra Cantrell of Chicago, Ill.; and his brother, Robert Crittenden of Roanoke, Va.; and five nieces and nephews.

A memorial service will be held Thursday, September 13, 2007, at 2 p.m. at The Mackey Mortuary with visitation from 1 to 1:45 p.m.

Friends are invited and encouraged to record a video tribute before or after the service at the mortuary.

In lieu of flowers, please make donations to the American Heart Association, 3535 Pelham Rd., Ste 101, Greenville, SC 29615.

The Mackey Mortuary, Century Drive.
A message of condolence may be sent to the family by visiting www.mackeymortuary.com

Published in The Greenville News: 09-12-2007

My dad passed away this morning.

Sometimes, my dad stays on the couch and plays on the computer or watches TV after my mom goes to bed. Then he'll fall asleep and wake up in the middle of the night and go to bed. That's what happened last night, except my mom woke up this morning, and he wasn't in bed. He was still asleep on the couch.

She panicked and ran to him and tried to wake him up. She said that she talked and then talked louder and then nudged him a couple times. It took her a few minutes until she realized that he wasn't going to wake up. She called 911, and 2 cops and a couple paramedics showed up. They checked him over and said something like "Now you know that there's nothing we can do, right?" My mom said "No! Can't you do the shocks or something!" No shocks. No anything. Nothing but that bitter aftertaste of denial and nausea you get when something truly horrible happens. They said that he'd been dead since 1:00 or 2:00 AM. They didn't know why, and we're not going to have an autopsy.

She found him at 8:00 AM. She called me around 9:00 AM and left a voicemail saying it was an emergency. I called back right away. She said "Son, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this but I have some bad news." I expected her to say that my grandma had died, and I took a deep breath for that. As composed as possible, she said "Your dad passed away late last night."

I always thought that when I got life-changing news like that, news that takes years to think about without your eyes swelling, I thought it wouldn't seem real at first. I was wrong. It hit me hard as hell, and I screamed and cried and started running over ways that she could be wrong, but I knew that no one is wrong about something like that. The only words I got out were "that's my dad! that's my dad!" over and over to Nancy and John and Jen and Karen and anyone who came in to try and help me. At least that's all I can remember saying in the deep gray blur of this morning. The morning I found out my dad had died.

So it's 12 hours later now. After a day of pinballing back and forth between crying and hugging, it finally doesn't seem real. It ran me over, then backed right back up and pulled away. I'm better somehow. I don't know if it's denial or shock or just that my eyes are all cryed out, but I'm very normal right now. That's kind of melancholy in itself.

I guess if it had to happen, it happened in the best way possible. I got to spend all of last night with him. We ate sushi (something we always used to do that we haven't gotten to do in a while), visited Nancy at work, then just drove around downtown and talked for a long time. He told me all about the ways downtown were changing, and the history museum coming this month, and how the Furman team was shaping up this year. We had a great night. The night before my dad died. We wanted to start doing it every Saturday. I guess we can't now, but I'm going to try it alone next weekend in his honor and see how it goes.

Some more good things: My sister spent Wednesday night with him. My mom slept through the whole night (something that she NEVER does as a result of her insomnia) so she didn't find him till this morning instead of the middle of the night (which is a blessing). It's Sunday so we were all able to come over and she didn't have to break the news to us at work or anything. And the EMT said that he died in his sleep. He didn't seem like he had struggled or even moved. He was probably gone before he had a chance to know anything was happening. It all seems very orchestrated...a little too perfect, you know? Take it religiously or take it like luck. I don't care. But I'm glad it happened like it did.

After a flurry of calls from relatives and friends that my mom had to deal with singlehandedly (me and my sister were too much of a wreck), his boss called and told my mom that he was a "rare mix of genius and humility." I guess he had it pretty close. He was (I HATE having to say "was") the most genuine, kind-hearted, friendly, good person I've ever known. My dad. Mine. I know we'll hold it together without him, but I'd do anything to not have to find out how we're gonna do it.

I just already miss him. I walked into his closet today looking for slippers to wear (in the havoc this morning I forgot socks so my feet were freezing). I saw his shoes on the floor, and just sat down and looked at them and cried alone in the closet for a few minutes. The people who took him away sent back all the stuff he had on him and in his pockets, and my mom gave me his watch. I can't put it down. It's on top of the bedpost right next to me as I'm typing this, because I can't type and hold it at the same time. Nancy found the receipt from sushi last night and framed it for me. I keep seeing his crappy handwriting where he wrote the tip amount (he always gave huge tips) and at least I know I'll always remember him by the night we spent together.

But I can't stop thinking of all the things that will be missing to all of us now. Who will eat all of the apples my mom bought for him (like she does every week) or drink all the diet orange soda or take us out on the boat or tell us what the newest building is downtown or call me and leave me a voicemail telling me exactly what time of day it is even though it tells me that anyway or take pictures with the thumb covering up the lens or make all of our corny jokes or leave shoes for people to trip on or...or...answer to "diddyo"? Who will be my dad?

He will. That's who. He'll always be my dad. I'll always love him. Although my knees buckled when I realized that he won't be there for my graduation or my wedding or my children, I finally decided that he really just has the best seat in the house for it all.

Desperation

Simply awesome. Flickr Link.

If only I had a room big enough...

"Perfect for watching long movies: Video of fish swimming along a coral reef plays on an overhead LED panel at a new shopping district in Beijing. The 2,296- by 88-foot flat screen is said to be the biggest in Asia."

Link.

Biggest spray bottle of all time.