Bryan Strawser

I’ve often said that all things come full circle - and indeed they do.

It was six years ago when I sat in this hotel lobby in Cambridge along with a peer to screen and select our first managers for our team here in Boston:

And last night, I stayed at this same hotel after the going-away party last night at a nearby restaurant. How things change.. how they remain the same.

On the way home, I realized it was likely one of the last time I’d drive through Boston’s BIG DIG - so here’s a picture of that portion of my ride home from work, for the last time in this position.

I report Monday to my new position. Strap in!

Tim Bray wrote recently about the decline in his handwriting:

I think the fine art of handwriting is about done for

My handwriting is so bad I have trouble reading it any more. It’s not rocket science, I’ve been sitting in front of a computer for two and a half decades, what do you expect? It’s gotten to the point that I no longer apologize for popping open the laptop to take notes in meetings, even with people in suits. And I frequently find that I’m not carrying a pen when I have to fill out the customs forms.

It’s even worse for me. I’ve had horrible handwriting since I learned to write in cursive - for which I received “Cs” in school, mind you. Oh, that was in 1st grade. And it never got better.

With the advent of technology, my handwriting has simply gotten worse. I type most notes nowadays, I use email for many things, but I still take notes on my Tablet PC and sometime on paper - but I guarantee you that no one else can read them.

Over at English Cut, a blog by an English Bespoke Tailor, you can read a fascinating look into the world of a bespoke tailor:

I was Mr. Hallberry’s striker (undercutter), and my future partner, Edwin was striker for Mr Harvey. Although this was comparatively only a few years ago, the company was still very much old school. Ed & I had to address the cutters as ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr.’ ….. The use of first names was far too informal.

It may look as if I’m painting a very austere atmosphere of the company, but although it was quite Dickensian at times, it was a great environment to be part of. Mr. Hallberry was every bit your Swedish expat cutter, silver hair & steel blue eyes. His attitude to the profession was as sharp as his shears, he didn’t suffer fools gladly; neither staff or customer.

On a red hot August day in early 1990, I sneaked out of the side door of Anderson’s to a cafe, no more than 50 yards away, for a sandwich to go. Unknown to me I had been spotted by Mr. Hallberry.

To go out at lunchtime was not a crime, however I had committed a cardinal sin. Not only was I without a jacket, but I was wearing braces (suspenders). For this I was summoned and duly berated for my sloppiness. As Mr. Hallberry said, cutters of A&S do not go out in there shirt sleeves, let alone their underwear.

When I write of my time with A&S it feels as if I worked there in the 50s , not the 90s. But you got used to such a formal atmosphere- no idle conversation, no whistling, no music or anything that could distract.

You remember how unique it was to just hear the clipping of shears into endless privileged clients’ clothes (Royalty, movie stars, that kind of thing) and the soft drone of the overhead fans. We had no air conditioning, and the fans were kept slow or they’d blow the patterns off the boards, if they were turned up to any worthwhile level. Comical really, but who’s complaining, we would’t have dared.

Today’s New York Times reports on the death of three firefighters in New York City:

The fireball burst through the floorboards on Sunday, consuming the room in flames and trapping two firefighters from Rescue Company 3 by the single window overlooking the icy pavement five stories below.

Four other firefighters had already jumped to the ground from a room next door; two would die. The last two men on the floor were alone in the flames.

“I got a rope, but I got nothing to tie it to,” Firefighter Jeffrey Cool said to his partner, Joseph DiBernardo, whose father recounted the story of their escape yesterday.

‘”Throw it to me and I’ll support you,”‘ Firefighter DiBernardo replied.

Firefighter Cool tossed the rope, and Firefighter DiBernardo tied it to the window’s child safety bars and lowered him from the window, fire officials said.

Suddenly, the rope became taut and snapped, sending Firefighter Cool falling to the ground, said Joseph DiBernardo Sr., a retired deputy fire chief.

But Firefighter DiBernardo was still able to use the remaining piece of rope for his own escape, lowering himself until, when he was about 10 feet from the ground, the bars ripped from the window frame and he fell.

“They saved each other’s lives,” said his father, who gave the dramatic replay for reporters outside Weill Cornell Medical Center, where his son was being treated.

Where do we find such men?

One of my favorite activities of my childhood was watching the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson - The New York Times is now reporting his death at age 79:

Johnny Carson, the “Tonight Show” TV host who served America a smooth nightcap of celebrity banter, droll comedy and heartland charm for 30 years, has died. He was 79.

“Mr. Carson passed away peacefully early Sunday morning,” his nephew, Jeff Sotzing, told The Associated Press. “He was surrounded by his family, whose loss will be immeasurable. There will be no memorial service.”

The best there ever was - the best there ever will be.

You’ll be missed.