My Friend Doug

Me, Cedric, Doug - around 1982

Two weeks ago, we talked. Really talked - about work, about old times, about nothing important that felt like everything. His voice was weaker than before, but it was still him. Still Doug, the guy I'd known for forty-five years, whose expertise in yeast and fungi identification had earned him recognition nationally as a mycologist.

Each visit since showed me less of my friend. First, the conversations grew shorter, his words more labored. Then came the days he mostly slept, stirring only when I gave his hand a shake. Last week, even that response faded.

His breathing changed completely. What was once steady became urgent, desperate. Each breath sounded like a struggle I couldn't help him win. He thrashed against sheets, against pain, against something I couldn't see or understand.

Was he dreaming? Was some part of him still in there, wrestling with memories from four and a half decades of friendship? Maybe he felt the strength that once earned him multiple degree black belts in judo, or remembering those early Pan-Mass Challenge rides we tackled together every summer - pushing each other through the hills, sharing water and encouragement, pedaling together for cancer research, raising money to beat the very disease that finally took him. Or maybe he was laughing at one of countless crazy memories - so many things that still make me smile.

I sat beside this man who changed my life in 1980. I'd just finished a one-year internship in clinical laboratory science, trying to figure out my next steps, when I interviewed for a position in the clinical microbiology lab. Competition was fierce, he was on the interview team and hired me. He saw something in me I hadn't yet seen in myself. Three of us became inseparable - Doug, Cedric, and me. But by 1982, my mind started to drift. Hospital work wasn't for me; I wasn't a good fit. When I decided to leave and a new direction, and Cedric headed off to Hawaii, Doug stayed behind. As he put it then, "Someone has to stick around and save lives."

It was difficult when I left the lab. In some ways, I was giving up, admitting I did not like the work. Back in 2012 I wrote about my decision to leave here.  Some were upset with my decision. But Doug - Doug encouraged me always. He understood that sometimes the best thing you can do is recognize when a path isn't right for you, even when others see it as failure.

And he did stay, saving lives for decades through his work, his dedication to understanding the microscopic world that could heal or harm. Doug was amazing at fungi identification - a skill that required incredible technique. Growing the fungi, using sticky tape to collect the flowering head, staining it, then identifying it under the microscope. I sucked at that. Doug was incredible at it. Over the years, he rose to become laboratory director, leading with the same precision and expertise he brought to every slide he examined. Through all these years, no matter where life took us, we remained in touch. If I needed anything - anything at all - he was always there. That steady presence, that unwavering friendship, became a bedrock I could always count on.

Five years ago, he had his bladder removed - the first major battle against cancer. Every three months after that, the trip to Dana-Farber in Boston for stent exchanges. He hung in there with that same determination he brought to everything - the judo mat, the Pan-Mass Challenge, his meticulous lab work, his life. He fought the good fight until the very end. 

The last word I heard him say was "pizza" a few days ago, when a dietician came in and asked what he wanted for dinner. She asked if he wanted fish - he hated fish. Even then, even barely able to speak, he managed to tell her he wanted pizza. That was so Doug, holding onto his preferences, his personality, his fight, right until the end.

Yesterday morning, things slipped away. His wife, his son, his dog, family - all left behind, trying to navigate a world that suddenly feels a lot smaller without him. The cruelest part is losing a rock-solid constant, a person who dedicated his life to saving others, who gave people a start and then a push, and who spent forty-five years being a true friend.

Rest up buddy. 

SIM Cards as Weapons

A successful attack could have caused 911 service disruptions, market instability and security communication breakdowns during this major international event.

Yesterday, the United States Secret Service stopped a major telecommunications potential disaster by shutting down 300 sophisticated SIM servers and confiscating 100,000 SIM cards that were deployed near the United Nations General Assembly in New York City. The attack system combined digital warfare capabilities with physical sabotage methods against physical infrastructure through the utilization of authorized cellular network equipment. The attackers converted legitimate SIM servers that telecom companies use for testing and marketing into command centers for launching extensive denial-of-service attacks across the NYC region.

Here’s a diagram (AI generated with input from me. Click it to enlarge) showing how the attack infrastructure was 
positioned to create maximum disruption during the UN General Assembly, with the technical capability to disable communications across the New York metropolitan area when world leaders and critical services needed them most. The network operated through SIM servers which handled hundreds of cellular connections at once so it could have generated attacks from fake phone users numbering in the tens of thousands. The system has the capability of overwhelming cell towers with connection attempts that could trigger a chain reaction of failures throughout telecom networks. Here are the key technical elements shown in the diagram:

Attack Infrastructure (Left Section)

• Remote operators controlling the network from anywhere
• 300 SIM servers managing 100,000+ SIM cards simultaneously
• Attack capabilities including spoofing, mass communications, and network overload

Target Infrastructure (Center)

• Multiple cell towers across the NYC area
• Network operations centers managing call routing and traffic
• Coordinated multi-vector attacks overwhelming the cellular infrastructure

Critical Impact Zone (Right Section)

• UN General Assembly with world leaders present
• Emergency services (911) that could be disabled
• Financial markets dependent on cellular communications
• Cascading consequences affecting public safety and government operations

Scale Indicators (Bottom)

The diagram shows this wasn't a small operation - it was a sophisticated, professionally-equipped attack infrastructure positioned strategically within 35 miles of one of the most important international gatherings, with the technical capability to create a communications blackout during a critical time when reliable communications were essential for security and emergency response. The timing, location, and scale suggest this was designed to cause maximum disruption during the UN General Assembly, potentially creating chaos that could endanger both world leaders and the general public.

Does Each SIM Need An Acccount?

Now, you may be asking yourself - Don’t I need a cellular account with a provider (Verizon, AT&T, etc) to make calls, access the web, and send texts? Yes - you do! Legitimate cellular accounts are required for this type of SIM server attack, which makes the incident even more alarming. Each of the 100,000+ seized SIM cards needed to be activated with real cellular service plans to connect to cell towers - the attackers couldn't simply create fake connections. This means someone had to establish, fund, and maintain an enormous number of cellular accounts, representing a massive financial investment and sophisticated planning operation.

The scale suggests this was far beyond typical cybercriminal capabilities. Attackers likely used a combination of stolen identities, shell companies, compromised existing accounts, or international roaming arrangements to create this vast network of legitimate cellular connections. The sheer logistics of managing 100,000 active cellular accounts - along with the monthly service costs - points to either state-level resources or a major compromise of cellular carrier systems. This requirement for legitimate accounts actually strengthens the theory that this was a nation-state operation, as few other actors have the resources and sophistication to establish and maintain cellular service at this scale while keeping it hidden from authorities.

Security experts for years have been warning about an attack like this. This incident has exposed physical layer weaknesses in essential infrastructure to the general public. 

Ball Bearings

A month or so ago, someone I knew growing up died. What follows is a memory from around 1964.

Her father fixed cars. The shop was across downtown, by the river.

Marbles were everything in second grade. Kids brought bags of them to school. Cat's eyes and steelies and the clear ones that looked like ice. Recess was marble time.

"Want to see something?" she asked one morning in Mrs. Elsden’s class.

She opened her small hand. Three steel ball bearings sat in her palm, perfect and cold.

"From Dad's shop," she said.

I took them. They were heavy for their size. Heavier than any marble. I rolled them between my fingers during reading time. They made no sound.

At recess, I put them in my marble bag with the others. My friend Jimmy watched.

"Those aren't marbles," he said.

"I know."

"Let me see."

"No."

The ball bearings made the bag heavier. They clicked against the glass marbles when I walked. I liked the sound.

After school, I found her in the bus line.

"Thank you," I said.

She shrugged. "Dad has boxes of them."

I kept those ball bearings for years. I lost them in one of my moves after college. I’ve looked for them but never found them.

Her father kept the shop going as far as I know.

What the Ice Knows

Me around 7 with a
"keeper" pickerel

I was maybe seven years old.... The Berkshire reservoir was white and hard under our boots. Dad carried the ice chipper like he used to carry his Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR.) I knew this because he told me once, then never said it again.

"Here," he said, and set the chipper down. The metal blade gleamed in the morning sun.

His hands were thick around the handle. The fingers didn't bend right. They never had, not since I could remember. Korea, Mom said when I asked. The cold got to them over there. He was just eighteen when they sent him. The frostbite left them always numb.

Dad slipped the wrist strap over his right hand and raised the chipper. He brought it down hard. Chunk. Ice flew up in white chips. He worked steady, chopping down through nearly two feet of ice. His breath came out in white puffs. The tendons in his neck stood out.

"You try," he said after a few minutes. He slipped the strap off and helped me get it around my wrist. "Don't want to lose it in the hole."

I took the handle. It was heavier than it looked. The metal was cold even through my mittens. I chopped the way Dad showed me, trying to hit the same spot each time, then working around the edges to keep the hole wide. My arms got tired fast.

Dad used the skimmer to clear the ice chips, the big ladle with holes in it scooping out the slush and chunks that floated up once we broke through.

"Good," Dad said. "Before we get a gas auger, this is how we do it."

Dad got out a tip-up, uncoiled some line and attached a lead weight to the hook, dropped it down the hole, letting it sink until the line went slack. "Bottom," he said, and pulled it up a couple feet. He slid the button stop down the line to mark the depth. "Couple feet off the bottom. That's where they feed."

My brothers and I watched him bait the hook. "Hook goes through like this," he said, showing us. The shiner wiggled on the hook. Dad's thick fingers worked the shiner with surprising gentleness. "Not too deep. You want them to swim."

We chopped holes along the edge of the drop-off. Dad knew where the fish were. He always knew. Uncle Tom and my cousin arrived and set up their own tip-ups down the line from ours. Uncle Tom had been in a different war than Dad - the Pacific, on a battleship. He moved slower on the ice but his hands worked fine.

After we set all the tip-ups, one of my brothers chopped a rectangular hole between our lines. He worked the ice chipper in a rectangle, maybe two feet by three feet, chopping down deep while the other cleared it out with the skimmer.

Then my brother moved about a foot away and chopped another smaller hole, this one going all the way through to the water below. Dad had showed us how to use the ice chipper to cut a narrow channel connecting the small hole to the rectangular basin. "Feed hole brings the water in. Keep the fish fresh. Too small for them to swim out."

The water rose up into the rectangular basin they'd made, black and cold. Dad nodded, satisfied with their work.

"Now we wait," Dad said.

We sat on overturned buckets. My brothers, myself, and cousin got hot chocolate from Mom's big jug.

Dad reached into the tip-up bag and pulled out a port wine bottle. Dark glass, no label. He unscrewed the cap with his thick fingers and took a sip.

"Sneaky Pete," he said, holding it up like a toast to the empty lake. "Keeps the blood moving."

He passed it to Uncle Tom, who took a drink and nodded. They shared it back and forth, and Uncle Tom started telling stories from the Pacific - battleship stories with a few choice words thrown in that always made us kids giggle behind our mittens. Dad would shake his head but he was smiling too.

A flag went up on the third tip-up. Number three that's mine! I ran over, my heart pounding. Dad and my two brothers right behind me. Hand over hand, I brought up the fish.

"Pickerel," Dad said as I held it up, my hands shaking with excitement. The fish was smaller than a pike, with the same green back and needle teeth. "Good fighter. You did good."

Dad showed me how to unhook it, how to hold it so it wouldn't thrash. His hands covered mine, steady and certain with the fish.

"Back you go," he said, and helped me slip it into the dark water. The pickerel flicked its tail and disappeared.

"Why'd we let it go?" I asked.

"Not big enough to keep. Let it grow."

It was cold, but the early morning sun warmed us even as our breath steamed. A little later when the sun was higher, we set up the small charcoal grill up on the ice and got the coals going. The smell of charcoal and cooking hamburgers and hot dogs mixed with the cold air. We huddled around the grill, warming our hands over the heat, eating lunch while watching the tip-ups. 

The flags kept going up. Yellow perch mostly, fat and golden. These we kept, dropping them into the live well where they swam in slow circles in the small space. Our cousin Tommy pulled up a nice brown trout, dark spotted and thick through the middle. That one went in the live well too, the water rippling as it joined the perch.

We fished until the sun was dropping and our feet were numb. Dad never complained about the cold, never mentioned his hands. But I saw him flex his fingers when he thought I wasn't looking, trying to work the stiffness out.

Dad pulled the fish from the live well and put them in a bucket pacled with snow, the perch and brown trout still fresh and bright-colored.

On the walk back to the car, our boots crunching on the snow, I asked him about Korea. Just once.

"Cold there," he said. "Colder than this."

That was all. But it was enough. I understand why he never wore gloves, why he always said the cold here wasn't so bad. Why his hands were the way they were, and why that was just how things were. Why he bought us expensive mittens when we were kids, I understand that now. He didn't take any disability for those frostbitten hands for over seventy years, until his late eighties. That's Dad.

We loaded the gear in the station wagon. Dad started the engine and turned the heat on full.

"Good day," he said.

It was. I knew it was. But I couldn't have known that mornings like this were building what would follow. Dad teaching patience as we watched for flags. How to work steady through thick ice, one deliberate strike at a time. Letting me struggle with that heavy chipper until I my arms ached, then helping just enough.

He was showing us quiet certainty. Respect for wild things - releasing that small pickerel to grow. That good things come to those who wait and watch.

So much started in places like this, with a man whose hands were numbed by cold and war, but whose knowledge ran deeper than the ice and water beneath our feet.

Finally Captain: A Long-Awaited Achievement

Last week, I accomplished something I've been dreaming about for years – I passed my captain exams. As I sit here reflecting on this milestone, I'm struck by how the journey to get here mirrors so many of the life lessons I try to share with my students about persistence and prioritization. 

The Challenge of Time

Between my demanding work schedule, quality family time, and staying current in a field where new technologies emerge almost daily, finding dedicated study time felt nearly impossible. As an engineering professor, I consistently observe how rapidly our field evolves, requiring both my students and myself to embrace lifelong learning - though finding the time for this continuous education presents a significant challenge. Between teaching loads, grant commitments, and administrative responsibilities, each semester brings new pressure to integrate cutting-edge topics into our curriculum.  The irony wasn't lost on me that I teach others about learning and managing complex technical challenges while struggling to carve out time for my own personal goals.

 

Four Exams

The captain licensing process requires passing four comprehensive exams, each covering different aspects of maritime knowledge and safety protocols. Every time I thought I could block off a few days to focus, a new semester would start, or a major technology shift would require me to completely revamp my curriculum. Students depend on faculty to stay current with industry standards, and there is no way I could let that commitment slide.

 

Finding the Balance

What finally made the difference was treating my exam preparation like I teach my students to approach complex projects – breaking it into manageable chunks and finding study opportunities in unexpected moments. Early morning sessions before others woke up, audio review during workouts, and yes, even squeezing in practice questions between classes.

 

The Sweet Victory

Receiving that passing score email last week felt incredible. It wasn't just about achieving a personal goal – it was proof that even with a packed schedule and competing priorities, persistence pays off. The experience has given me new appreciation for my students who are juggling their own complex lives while trying to master rapidly evolving technology. Whether they're studying circuit design, complex communications protocols, or advanced mathematics, they're doing it while managing work, family, and countless other responsibilities.

 

What's Next

Now that I have my captain's license and semi-retired, I'm looking forward to combining my love of the water with quality family time and of course part-time learning and teaching. But more importantly, this achievement has reminded me that growth never stops – whether you're learning new maritime skills or staying current with the latest communication protocols.

To the students reading this: if a 68 (almost 69 ugh) year old professor can finally pass his captain exams after years of "someday I'll find the time," you can absolutely conquer whatever technical challenge you're facing right now. Sometimes the biggest obstacles aren't the material itself, but finding the time and persistence to see it through.

 

Fair winds and following seas – both on the water and in the classroom.

The EV Tipping Point: How Norway Accelerated the Innovation Adoption Curve

When it comes to market transformation, there's a well-established pattern that governs how
disruptive technologies gain mainstream acceptance. Right now, we're watching this play out in real time with electric vehicles—and one country has essentially cracked the code on how to accelerate the process.

The Mechanics of Technology Adoption

Rogers' Diffusion of Innovation theory maps adoption across five distinct market segments, each with predictable characteristics and thresholds. The distribution follows a normal curve: Innovators (2.5%) and Early Adopters (13.5%) represent the technology-forward minority, while the Early Majority (34%) and Late Majority (34%) comprise the mainstream market. Laggards (16%) adopt only when forced by market conditions.

The critical inflection point occurs at approximately 15-18% market penetration—the boundary between Early Adopters and Early Majority. This is where network effects, social proof, and infrastructure maturity converge to create exponential rather than linear growth.

Norway's Strategic Market Intervention

Norway provides a textbook example of policy-driven market acceleration. Rather than relying on natural adoption curves, Norwegian policymakers implemented a comprehensive framework targeting the specific friction points that prevent mainstream consumers from crossing the adoption threshold.

Their approach was multi-dimensional:

• Economic incentives: Eliminated purchase tax and value-added tax (up to 25% savings)
• Operational advantages: Bus lane access, free municipal parking, reduced tolls
• Infrastructure development: Systematic charging network deployment addressing range anxiety
• Regulatory framework: Clear long-term policy signals reducing uncertainty

The results demonstrate successful market transformation. Norway achieved 97% EV market share for new vehicle sales—effectively completing the adoption curve in under two decades.

Technical Implications for Global Markets

Norway's case study reveals key insights about accelerating technology diffusion:

Infrastructure as adoption catalyst: The charging network addressed the primary technical barrier preventing mainstream adoption. This wasn't just about convenience—it fundamentally changed the risk/benefit calculation for ordinary consumers.

Policy coherence: The intervention package addressed multiple adoption barriers simultaneously, creating mutually reinforcing effects rather than piecemeal solutions.

Market signal clarity: Long-term policy commitments reduced uncertainty, encouraging both consumer adoption and private sector investment in supporting infrastructure.

Scaling the Model

The Norwegian approach offers a replicable framework for other markets, though implementation will vary based on local conditions. The core principle remains consistent: systematic removal of adoption barriers can compress natural diffusion timelines from decades to years.

For global EV adoption, this suggests we're approaching multiple regional tipping points simultaneously. As charging infrastructure reaches critical density and battery technology continues improving, the conditions that enabled Norway's success are being replicated worldwide.

The question for other markets isn't whether electric vehicles will achieve dominance, but how quickly policymakers will implement the systematic changes necessary to accelerate their natural adoption curves. Norway demonstrated that with the right intervention framework, market transformation can happen far faster than traditional diffusion models would predict.

The Great Divide: Online vs. On-Campus Teaching Preferences in Engineering Education

The shift toward online learning (hustled along by the pandemic when academic programs were forced to go online) has revealed distinct preferences among engineering faculty and students, creating an ongoing dialogue about the most effective teaching approaches for this traditionally hands-on field.

[Image AI generated]

Faculty Perspectives on Engineering Education Delivery

Engineering faculty who favor online teaching often appreciate the flexibility it provides in balancing their teaching loads with industry consulting work or professional development. Many community college engineering instructors work in multiple settings or maintain active industry connections, making the elimination of commute time particularly valuable. They find that online platforms can effectively deliver theoretical engineering concepts and allow students to work at their own pace through complex mathematical derivations and design principles.

However, a significant majority of engineering faculty remain strong advocates for in-person instruction. In a recent national survey, 55 percent of instructors across all disciplines reported preferring face-to-face teaching, with engineering faculty showing even stronger preferences for traditional delivery methods. Engineering educators emphasize that their field requires unique pedagogical approaches that are difficult to replicate online. They argue that the discipline's emphasis on hands-on problem-solving, laboratory experimentation, and design thinking requires the immediate feedback and collaborative environment that physical classrooms provide.

The challenge is particularly acute for laboratory courses. As one study noted, "Laboratory education is central in engineering studies, and it is a challenge to deliver remotely." Faculty consistently report that practical engineering courses requiring hands-on experience with equipment, materials testing, and real-world problem-solving are less effective when taught online and should be conducted in traditional engineering laboratories.

Student Needs and Preferences

Student preferences in engineering education are notably complex and often differ from their counterparts in other disciplines. Working adults and non-traditional students - who make up a significant portion of community college engineering programs - often gravitate toward online courses for their convenience and flexibility. These students frequently balance full-time jobs, family responsibilities, and educational goals, making the scheduling flexibility of online learning attractive.

However, engineering students face unique challenges in online environments. Research has found that online engineering students often struggle with the lack of hands-on experience that is fundamental to engineering education. Students have reported particular difficulties with remote laboratory components, noting that virtual simulations cannot fully replicate the tactile learning and real-world problem-solving that traditional labs provide.

Studies have shown that engineering students in online courses may face lower completion rates and different learning outcomes compared to their in-person peers. The nature of engineering coursework - with its emphasis on spatial reasoning, hands-on experimentation, and collaborative design projects - presents particular challenges for remote delivery.

The Laboratory Challenge

Perhaps nowhere is the online versus in-person debate more pronounced than in engineering laboratory education. Traditional engineering labs provide students with direct experience using instrumentation, working with physical materials, and troubleshooting real-world problems. These experiences develop crucial engineering skills that are difficult to replicate in virtual environments.

While virtual laboratories and simulations have improved significantly, research indicates they currently "lack the ability to completely replace hands-on labs in engineering education." However, virtual labs do show promise in enhancing student motivation and engagement, particularly when used to supplement rather than replace traditional laboratory experiences.

Some engineering programs have found success with hybrid approaches that combine virtual pre-lab activities, remote data collection, and in-person analysis and discussion. This model allows students to prepare thoroughly before hands-on sessions while maintaining the essential tactile learning components.

Emerging Solutions and Future Directions

Engineering educators are exploring innovative approaches to bridge the gap between online convenience and hands-on requirements. Virtual and augmented reality technologies show promise for enhancing online engineering education, allowing students to interact with 3D models and simulated environments that closely approximate real-world engineering challenges.

Remote laboratories - where students control actual equipment from a distance - represent another emerging solution. These systems allow students to conduct real experiments with physical equipment while maintaining the flexibility of remote access.

The most successful engineering programs are recognizing that both modalities serve important purposes in their unique educational context. Rather than forcing a one-size-fits-all approach, they're offering diverse options that accommodate the varied needs of both faculty expertise and student populations. Theoretical courses and design principles may translate well to online delivery, while laboratory work and hands-on applications continue to require in-person instruction.

The key lies in thoughtful course design that leverages the strengths of each modality while addressing the specific learning objectives of engineering education. As the field continues to evolve, the most effective programs will likely be those that strategically blend online and in-person elements to create comprehensive engineering learning experiences.