That is, if you would use something like

Person.class

in Java, you would use

classOf[Person]

in Scala.

For more information on this, please see my Scala classOf operator in like Java .class or getClass source code example.

I’ve written so many articles on Scala lately that I can’t currently refer you to one specific article where I sum everything up, but if you’re interested, you can dig through my collection of Scala tutorials, to find all sorts of things about Scala, Scalatra, MongoDB, Casbah, Scala testing, and more.

Sadly, the artist who sang this song, Jeff Buckley, passed away in 1997, when he was only thirty years old. Some of his other songs are outstanding as well, including:

• Hallelujah
• Grace

(I’m pretty sure I listened to Grace for four days in a row.)

• Dutchess
• Undertow

It’s hard for me to know what they sound like any more, because as soon as I hear them I picture the open road of northern New Mexico, in particular the “high road” area around Santa Fe and Taos.

A friend sent me the photo by email, and didn’t know where it originated either, but it sure is pretty. I don’t know if I can ever build another snowman after seeing something like this.

And I pretty much hate my life.

Even though I’ve badly hurt my throwing arm, I have several baseball scholarship offers, including Western Illinois University, where my idol, Rick Reuschel pitched; and another to UTEP, where little do I know it, but future baseball Hall of Famer Greg Maddux’s older brother Mike is currently pitching. (Nobody even knew who Greg or Mike were way back then, though they’re both famous now.)

I also get an academic scholarship from some rinky-dink little school named Kentucky Wesleyan College (KWC), population about 300. I have no idea why we do it, but my dad drives me down to the little town of Owensboro, Kentucky, where KWC is located, for scholarship interviews. I don’t remember much about that time, other than the the drive through Gary, Indiana was really unpleasant; the town was very small; they were having something called a “revival” in a tent just off one of the streets we drove on; I thought a female teacher was very, um, sexually aggressive; and plants with enormous leaves were growing on farms. (I’d later learn that these were tobacco farms.)

I have no idea what I said at the interviews, and having never really worn a suit, I knew I was dressed like a dork. But despite whatever I said, they made me/us an offer. (I’d later learn how expensive that “offer” really was.)

For some reason — I don’t remember the discussion — my dad and I decided to accept it. I imagine the discussion was my dad saying, “You’re going to KWC,” and me saying, “Duh, okay,” while also thinking, “I’ll do anything to get the hell out of here.”

The only part of the discussion I really remember is this: My dad tells me, “Don’t worry about the cost, I’ll find a way to pay for it.” (The way he found to pay for it was that I would take out student loans, and work to pay those loans off until I was thirty years old.)

Meeting my future wife and her family

With that decision (to “get the hell out of here”), I went to KWC, and very quickly met the young girl who in a few years would become my wife. Thirty years after that initial meeting, and 28 years after we were married, she is still my wife. Though we are separated now, today would have been our 28th anniversary.

I write this note tonight because, even with our ups and downs, for 99.9% of the time we have known each other, she has been a good friend to me, and her family has been like my extended family. In 1981, despite my long hair and beard as a freshman, her family somehow tolerated me. Her dog, who I’m told judged her boyfriends, slept on a cot with me. Her brother and I fed peanut butter to a pet bird that I’m told never drank water. I remember driving her sister to school with her friends. For some reason, her parents let me live in their house before we were married. Her dad, grandmother, and grandfather became my friends. Her dad and grandfather taught me about the stock market, her dad kept helping me find jobs, and her grandfather inspired me to start my own business. I remember her mother, grandmother, and grandfather passing away. Four of our dogs also passed away. And I remember her sister having her babies, two nieces I’d do anything for.

There is no real moral to this story, other than to say that when it came to one little decision about going to some place called KWC, however that decision was made between my father and I, I’m glad for how things worked out. It may not be a storybook ending where the husband and wife ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after, but I think I’m better off for having taken this journey in this lifetime.

That’s how I roll.

Besides the Drupal users groups in the area, which are very cool, I’m also really happy to see that there is going to be a Drupalcon event in Denver, Colorado in March, 2012. As a new Colorado resident, that timing couldn’t be any better.

If you know something about Zen, you know that Einstein is writing about the “oneness” of the universe. Zen tries to teach us about this through techniques like Zen Meditation (zazen), and the concept of all things being interdependent.

I don’t know what Einstein knew about Zen Buddhism, because Zen wasn’t popular or even well-known in the United States during his lifetime, but he certainly understood interdependence.

For more information on Zen, I’ll refer you to one of my favorite websites, the Kwan Um School of Zen.