08-31-93 at 10:04

I like the picture of Rebekah and you at Madaket early in the morning.
Maybe, to be saved from the breakers, she will want to learn German.
I am pleased that you liked the land. I like it too.
Its flatness and the tantalizing proximity of the ocean,
which one can almost, but not really see,
have taken on a metaphysical meaning for me.
I too would like to have a house there,
but I am not sure that it is worth the change in our lifestyles
which such a commitment would unavoidably entail.

I was up late again last night,
trying to reconcile the modem with the satellite.
When I last wrote I thought I had it working,
but that illusion evaporated just after I had kermitted my letter.
So I lay awake sad about the wasted time and effort,
and saddened also by the awareness of another system
beyond my control, painfully conscious
that this was not the only one.

I must have gone to sleep at about 2 a.m.,
was up at 8, and certain that I now knew what was the matter.
Since the only effect of the satellite on the modem
at the time that the satellite blocked the modems handshaking
was a voltage on pin 2 of the RS-232 connection,
I reasoned that perhaps,
in consequence of an engineering fault in the satellite,
this voltage was abnormally high.
The voltmeter confirmed my suspicion,
since the "send" voltage put out
by the satellite on pin 2 was 9.2 volts,
while the comparable "receive" voltage put out
by the modem on pin 3 was 7.2. 
I then checked the voltage
on the satellite's power supply,
which was 13.8, regulated,
as opposed to a specified value of 9 to 10.
Since the satellite's current requirement
is fairly constant at about 0.5 ampere,
I thought that putting three or four ohm in series
in the power circuit should reduce the voltage by 1.5 to 2 volts.
(Volt = Ohms * Amperes)
I was going to Abingdon anyway, 
intending to convert Margrits E bonds 
before the end of the month
so that she would not lose the interest,
and took the occasion to buy a few resistors
at Radio Shack. They don't cost very much.
Since I didn't know what I would need, I got several,
for four and a half dollars in all.

The road to Damascus was enchanting as ever.
The protracted dought earlier this summer notwithstanding,
the foliage was impenetrable to the cursory glance,
(dem Blick undurchdringlich) and concealed whatever
mayhem had been perpetrated beyond and beneath it.
Damascus, with its forlorn, empty, unsightly buildings
seemed uglier than ever, and so, for that matter
did Abingdon, but I was in a clinical mood,
and remained unperturbed. 
I found it remarkable that I had come and gone
and come back so often,
and had neither regrets nor sadness
for not feeling at home.
The truth is, that I don't feel at home
in Goslar or Rothenburg either,
and if I had to commit myself to any of them,
I would say Abingdon or even Damascus,
choosing the freedom which only loneliness can create.

As I drove, I listened to a tape of Haendel's Jephtha,
which contains some of his most enchanting arias,
to one of which I listened over and over again.
The sacrifice of Jephtha reminded me of Abraham and Isaac,
except that the sacrifice of Jephtha was more than a dress rehearsal.
The father killed his daughter to propitiate the deity,
a story for the tabloids,
and one in which the feminists
would revel, if they knew how to read.

After taking care of the bank business,
getting a few groceries, and getting the resistors,
I came back; it turned out to be a quick and easy trip.
I installed the resistors, lowered the voltage,
and as I had predicted,
the modem now shook hands
and dutifully exchanged hoots with its fellow
on the other end of the telephone connection.
There was however one small problem,
namely, when I lowered the voltage sufficiently to enable the modem,
the satellite, suffering, I suppose from an anemia
of electrons, just sat there,
and refused to answer the modems call.
I had my choice, low voltage, no satellite,
high voltage no modem.
So I had to give up.
Probably I spent a day and a half
figuratively hitting my head against a wall
which a simple programming change would remove.
There is probably a five or six digit software initialization
command to the modem which will immunize it
against the RS-232 voltage.
On Sunday after you are back,
I will ask you to look at the documentation
which I foolishly neglected to bring along
and also to get the phone number of the company
that builds the satellite, so that I can call for help.

Later in the afternoon, I gunzipped and untarred the
MGR files which I had gotten off the Internet.
MGR is a huge program,
copyrighted by Bellcore,
the source code and associated
data files, fonts, terminal descriptions, etc,  of which
take more than 4 megabytes of disc space;
but inspite of the complexity,
the installation went very smoothly.
Michael (u31b3hs@pool.informatik.rwth-aachen.de)
whoever he is, wrote one of the best engineered 
installation scripts I have ever used.
The result is a very impressive program,
much like X11 but with more bells and whistles.
I compiled it to get at the library functions
for Hercules graphics, so that we can use gnuplot
independent of X11. How easily I can do this,
if at all, remains to be seen.

This evening, when it started to thunder,
I switched the computers off,
and started to clean up the shop,
emptying it, first of all,
of the layer of junk that has accumulated on the floor.
The basement is finally dry,
though still very dank and humid.
I am going to throw out a lot 
of electrical and plumbing devices that don't work,
that I had been saving for their washers and grommets,
good practice, I suppose, for the clean-up in Belmont,
when I get to it.
But I haven't finished.
As of now, not only the floor of the shop,
but also of the garage is cluttered up.

My janitorial efforts,
not to speak of my adventures in computer toyland,
have left me little time for anything serious.
I made a few short notes
on a topic which preoccupies me
in the context of my personal, private
quality assurance deliberations
regarding my medical activities.
I append it for what it is worth (which isn't much).


am 31. August 1993

Auf der vorgestrigen Fahrt von Carlyle
liess ich ein Band von Bachs Streit zwischen Phoebus und Pan spielen,
und erstaunte aufs neue ueber das Gemisch
von Ruhmessucht und Kuenstlerstolz, das darin widerspiegelt.
Dass einer der Beste sein sollte,
und dass sein Vorrang anerkannt sein sollte,
dass es das Gute gibt und darueber hinaus noch, ein Bestes,
dass Kuenstler, Menschen, Dinge, "gut" zu sein vormoegen,
und dass es demzufolge unter den vielen Guten,
bessere und ein Bestes geben muesse,
ergibt sich ja schon ohne weiteres
aus der Vorstellung an sich des Guten.
Dass das Wertvolle nicht nur erkennbar sei,
sondern tatsaechlich erkannt wird,
das scheint in diesem naiven, kindlichen,
und kindischen Text vorausgesetzt.

Anders doch bei Platon, welcher erkannte,
dass auf moralisch-politischem Gebiete, jedenfalls,
das scheinbar Gute,
tatsaechlich das Schlechte ist,
indem man das wirklich Gute verkennt.
Die eindeutigste, schluessigste Einschaetzung des Guten
bietet das Neue Testament
mit seiner ausdruecklichen Ablehnung
jeglichen Richtens und Urteilens.
Doch ungeachtet aller Unzulaenglichkeiten,
behauptet sich das Werten
in allen Bereichen menschlicher Taetigkeit als unvermeidlich.
Bei erzieherischen Bemuehungen ist es unentbehrlich.
Alles Handwerk, jede berufliche Betaetigung,
jede Kunst will geschaetzt werden,
und sind ueberhaupt moeglich 
nur unter der Voraussetzung
des Strebens nach dem Wertvollen, nach dem Guten.
Das bedeutet, dass ein Mensch, oder wenige,
etwas besser, viel besser leisten,
als viele andere.

Eines ist es auf der Spitze des Ruhmes, der Macht,
des Koennens, der Faehigkeiten zu stehen;
das ist jeweils nur wenigen,
vielleicht ueberhaupt nur einem gegoennt.
Was wird aus den anderen vielen,
die auch nach dieser Spitze gestrebt haben,
und die dennoch bei wenigem
oder oefters eigentlich bei vielem,
es nicht zu erreichen vermochten?
Wenn es Goetter gaebe, hat Nietzsche erklaert,
wie hielte ich es aus, kein Gott zu sein.
Also gibt es keine Goetter.