On the Streets of Chicago

I was taking a walk on the Magnificent Mile in Chicago, where all the posh shops are, last evening (Saturday). Most of the shops were closed already, but the lights were still bright and it felt safe. Nevertheless, I walked as close to the street and the traffic as possible, away from the dark corners.

At one point a tall, young black man approached me and started to say, “Mister, can I ask you a question ...” He spoke clearly and politely. But the sidewalk was narrowing, and I felt I could get cornered. I dared not answered, and hurriedly moved away.

I then noticed another black man shielding himself from the wind in one of the nooks between two shops. It was about 2 degrees Celsius at the time.

I couldn’t help noticing he was holding a baby and a plastic cup. I assumed he was begging, although the sidewalks were practically deserted, and he was just sitting still. The contrast between his desperation and the closed-but-brightly-lit, posh shop couldn’t be more brutal.

Jesus died for him too.

Easter Sunday in Chicago

The Good Friday service told only the first half of the story, of course.

So Jesus died. If even Jesus had to die, then what hope is there for me? For the second half, I have to attend the Easter Sunday service.

There is a Presbyterian Church to doors down from my hotel. Two long lines of people have formed, on either side of the main entrance, early on Easter Sunday. They were waiting for the first service to be finished, so that they can enter for the second one. Judging from the length of the lines, it looked like the service would be well-attended.

A man in a wheelchair was distributing Easter eggs. A young lady was handing out hot drinks - at 10 degrees Celsius in windy Chicago, it was rather chilly. Another walked behind the young lady with a garbage bag, collecting the used paper cups and handing out tissues. The image is that of a well-attended church (at least on Easter Sunday), an enthusiastic congregation and a well-organized operation.

Upon a closer look, most of the people in the two lines were well-dressed. Overcoats, topcoats, leather jackets, dress shoes, high heels, ... I saw two and only two pairs of sneakers, and no down jackets. A well-heeled congregation, certainly. This was Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago, the so-called Magnificent Mile, after all.

This was not where I worshiped this morning, however.

Remembering Christ

Yesterday, the day that Jesus died for us on the cross two thousand years ago, I happened to be visiting my eldest daughter at her university. So we went to church in the evening, together with a big bunch of her friends from the Inter-Varsity Campus Fellowship.

The pastor told the story of Jesus’ Last Super, arrest, interrogation, carrying of the cross, and death on the cross, one scene at a time. In between each scene, different people came forward to lead the congregation to sing. At the end of each song, a candle was extinguished. After the last scene, in which Jesus died on the cross, all lights were extinguished. The congregation prayed, and left at their own time, in almost complete darkness and silence. It was a simple service, but very touching.

A lot of things went through my mind on this trip, and I found myself unusually emotional. The special service reminded me of what Jesus did for me, my loved ones, and everyone else, and helped to settle me down.

Going soft? Or just getting old?

For three and a half days, I was at the conference, among thousands of people, and rather busy. On the afternoon of the last day, I decided not to go out, in order to get some work done.

I found myself in a dingy, stuffy, smelly motel room, all by myself. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by unbearable loneliness. Thousands of miles away from home and family, in a dingy motel room, faced with work that I do not particularly enjoy doing, I just couldn’t do it.

So I walked out into the sunshine. It was a bright, clear day, with white clouds floating in a deep blue sky - something rarely seen in Hong Kong. The neighbourhood consists of rows and rows of quaint but picturesque red-bricked apartments. My mood lifted a bit right away. I probably would not mind living here. But I don’t belong here, at least not without my family, loved ones and friends. Why am I doing here?

This does not usually happen to me. I often travel on duty alone, enjoying the freedom of movement. I can go where I want after work, and take as much time as I want to see interesting sights, to take interesting photographs. Somehow, this time, the loneliness would not go away completely. As much fun as whatever I was doing was, it just wasn’t as much fun when the people I care about were not there with me.

Am I going soft? Or just getting old? I could not decide.

But Boston was indeed beautiful on that day.

Our Wearable Computer

This is one of our research students demonstrating our own version of a wearable computer - and the reason why I am in Boston. My colleague G (the prime mover behind this project) and I, together with the research student, are here to present our research in designing wearable computers. This one mainly for the purpose of introducing young students to electrical circuits and computer programming.

Tailored conductive fabrics are ironed onto the shirt, and specially-altered snap buttons installed to make a “TeeBoard” - a circuit board on a Tee shirt. The students are then taught how to attach a programmable controller with snap buttons, sensors, lights, a battery, and additional connections with conductive fabric. A simple program is written and - presto - the lights turn on and off in a pattern governed by the program. Once the basic skills are acquired, the students can proceed to design their own wearable computer, e.g., the lights light up only if you flap your arms up and down like a mad man.

We are reporting on and demonstrating the TeeBoard at the prestigious CHI 2009 conference - organized by the Association of Computing Machinery’s Special Interest Group on Computer-Human Interface. The good responses so far has made us proud. The hard work in the past year has paid off.

Sunset above the clouds

I have not been able to blog for several days because of a long flight to Boston to attend a conference. The flight was very tiring but I was somewhat rewarded by some very dramatic views. I was seated in the aisle so I had to sneak off to the rear of the plane to look out the tiny window.

But it was worth it. For a few moments, the sun painted a corner of the sky brilliantly golden. - it was so bright that it almost seemed like the sky was melting. And suddenly, it was all over.

Looking down through the clouds, the lights of the cities were getting brighter, hinting at the busy human lives therein. In the vastness of the earth, each human life is but a tiny invisible speck.

Yet within the short live span, each of us fights against each other to be the “best” - fastest, richest, smartest, most powerful, most successful, ... If one has to be a winner to be a success in life, and there is but one winner in any competition. then 99.99...% of us are condemned to be losers. In this case, this world is really an extremely cruel place, and “competition” is a dirty word. Rather than treating life as a competition in which we fight against each other, I feel there has to be a better way for us to live.

Marriage Supermarket - answer

When 20 single women show up but only 19 single men, one woman is going to go home empty-handed. The odd woman will make the obvious rational decision to muscle in on an existing pairing, offering a deal better than a 50-50 split, perhaps accepting only 40 dollars. Her rival, being a rational sort, will counter-bid, maybe offering just 30 dollars. ... The bids will fall until the woman who faces leaving alone is offering to walk through the checkout with some luck guy and accept 1 cent as the price. He will get $99.99. She will get 1 cent, but it is still better than nothing.

The trouble doesn’t end there. No matter what deals are agreed, there will always one girl left over, offering to pair up for just 1 cent. One cent is what all of them will get: anyone on the verge of offering a better offer will be undercut. The 19 men will all get $99.99. 19 women will get 1 cent each, and the last woman will get nothing.

A shortage of just one man gives all the other men massive scarcity power.

In reality, the bargaining process is probably not as calculating, and it is not as easy for suitors to bid against one another as marriage prospects. But it is just as brutal.