David Soubly

(This is the second in a series of observations on our pandemic times.)

I’ve argued elsewhere that misinformation endangers us more today than even the exposure of our personal information; that information’s usefulness, its value, is better understood by those who use it versus those who own it; that we each create the value of the information we see by attaching it to things we already know: our tacit knowledge, the sum of our learnings, influences the value of what we see.

Now we are in...

(This is the first in a series of observations on our pandemic times.)

Several months ago, on the near side of the pandemic that’s reminded us of our place in nature, I did an essay on Martha ("Martha's Anniversary") — the last passenger pigeon, who left this earth over a hundred years ago. I then embarked on two long thought exercises. One had to do with the nature and value of information, its protection, and how to develop policy statements that are strong, direct, and easy to understand...

In the midst of all the Coronavirus stress and uncertainty, I want to tell you a story.

Once upon a time, many years ago, when I was on my way to work, I heard a commercial from a faith-based sponsor. Some of you may recognize this, others won’t. I don’t remember the name of the sponsor.

The commercial didn’t advertise anything. All it did was to explain the concept of the Center of Moments. The Center of Moments is that spot on a ship at sea where all the forces at play meet and are...

One of my favorite poems is Philip Larkin’s “Church Going.”

It begins, “Once I am sure there’s nothing going on, / I step inside, letting the door thud shut.”

This is the way I sometimes return to my home, letting the door thud shut on the world. It’s especially the case when I return from a talk where the speaker has wowed us with the latest in connectivity, machine learning, AI, smart homes, smart cars, smart toilets.

Smart toilets. Honest. There was a smart toilet (costing maybe five times a...

Here’s a story. You’ll have one just like it.

I was in sixth grade, at Howard Elementary School in Dearborn, Michigan.

My sixth grade teacher was Mr. Wilson, a no-nonsense, by-the-book teacher that helped you in your journey from the exploratory fun of elementary school to the rough-and-tumble, hormone-laced experience of junior high.

This was back then, of course. Today, I really have no idea how kids manage to be kids.

Back then, Mr. Wilson taught sixth grade to a 1967 class mostly...