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Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4 Finding real love, at last. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. Driving home the next day felt like waking up from some kind of dream until I pulled into our driveway and Munchkin came running out to greet me. As I was getting out to reassure him that he hadn't been abandoned, the reality of my life settled right back in. I went inside, and Lane and Mary grunted their hellos without looking up. Ah, home. I texted Erin that I made it back safely, and she replied almost immediately saying what a great night she had, and how much she missed me already. It was going to be a long three weeks until she rotated back to the hospital in Petoskey. Luckily, life was as busy as always, and time flew by. For the first time since I was a child, I could honestly say that I was happy. My happiness lasted until the day before Erin was scheduled to return. I got my first inkling that something might be wrong when I called to see if Wilma wanted me to pick up any groceries for her from town. She didn't answer, which was strange, and the call went to voicemail. Even if she was napping, she was a very light sleeper and would normally answer by the third ring. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I went straight to Wilma's to make sure she was alright. Everything seemed fine when I pulled into the yard, but there was no answer when I knocked on her door. I tried again, but there was nothing but an eerie silence. Fearing the worst, I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and went inside. I called Wilma's name and, hearing no reply, went quickly through the house trying to find her. When I got to her bedroom, I could hear a low moaning sound from the attached washroom. I ran in and found Wilma collapsed by the bathtub. She had slipped and hit her head, injuring her hip and arm in the process. She didn't have her phone with her when she fell and had been unable to move, so who knows how long she had been lying there. I called 911 for an ambulance and then called Erin and suggested that she meet us at the hospital. It took forever for the paramedics to arrive, and longer still to get Wilma loaded into the ambulance. By the time I got to the hospital, she was already being triaged by their emergency team. I took a few minutes while I waited for an update on Wilma's condition to call the rest of the family and give them the news. Alison came directly to the hospital after class, and Sharon brought Mary and Lane as soon as they got home from school. Erin arrived a few hours later and broke down when she saw me. Finally, just after nine, the doctors gave Erin an update. Wilma was in rough shape; she was badly dehydrated and had a moderate concussion, a fractured wrist, and a bone bruise on her hip. It would take her weeks to recover in the hospital. The good news was that she would make a recovery, given enough time and support. Erin and Mary decided to stay with Wilma in the hospital while Sharon dropped Alison at her dorm and drove Lane back to the house. By midnight, Mary had nodded off in a chair in the corner of Wilma's room, while I waited outside with Erin. "You should go home, Davis. There's nothing else you can do tonight. Thank God, you found her; I am not sure what I would have done if you hadn't. I already lost Grampy; I am not ready to lose Gran as well. They are all I have." I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close. "You have me, now, too. And the girls. And you know Lane would do anything for you, you just need to ask. I was serious about what I said in Grand Rapids, Erin. I love you." Erin pulled me closer but didn't reply. The following week was a rollercoaster of emotions. Wilma was improving far quicker than the doctors had anticipated, but she would still be in rehab for at least another two weeks. It was impossible to hide Wilma's accident from the rest of the family, and they descended on the hospital like vultures; or, more accurately, their lawyers descended on the hospital while, for the most part, they stayed far away where it was warm. The one exception was Erin's stepfather, who flew in the next day. "For Christ's sake, Erin. Haven't you done enough harm as it is? Do you want your Gran to die alone on the floor of that dingy old shack of hers? It's time for her to move into a care facility that can look after her. Be reasonable!" When he failed to persuade Erin to act on his behalf, his attorneys requested an emergency court order, alleging that Wilma lacked the capacity to make her own medical decisions, that Erin was not acting in her best interests, and that one of Wilma's children should be appointed as her legal guardian. Wilma was furious when she learned of his actions, but there was little she could do to stop him until she was discharged from the hospital. Both sides knew that her doctor's recommendation would hold a lot of weight with the judge, and it was not good news for Wilma when it came. "If Mrs. Anderson is to return home, she will require around-the-clock care and company. If such care can't be arranged, then I recommend that she be placed in a long-term assisted-living facility that can treat any lingering effects from her fall, and from her late-stage cancer." Erin took the news like a physical blow, and she staggered backward to a chair. We didn't have the resources for 24-hour nursing, and it would be impossible to arrange it with such short notice even if we did. "I'm sorry, Davis. I need to be alone for a while to think." She left without looking back or saying goodbye to Wilma, and I just let her go. I wanted to ease her pain, but I knew that there was nothing I could do. She had lost, and her family had won. I was despondent as I made my way towards the exit, so much so that I nearly ran into Alison who was finishing up her shift at the hospital. "You look terrible, Brother, what happened? Is Wilma alright?" I explained to her about the doctor's recommendation and Erin's reaction. "No one has had the heart to tell Wilma, yet. She's recovered from the fall, but this news is going to kill her." Alison looked at me for a minute, before her mouth quirked upwards in a smile. "I'll do it." "What do you mean? "I'll do it. I'll look after Wilma. I am wrapping up my clinical practicum tomorrow, and I was planning on working this summer. I will look after Wilma instead. Mary can move in with us as well, and I can teach her what she needs to know to care for her when I'm not there. Once her school year is done in June, she and I can spell each other off, and I can still pick up some shifts here and there." It was an amazing offer, but I couldn't let her do it. "Alison, I can't ask you to give up your job for the summer. You need that money for your living expenses at school." "You're not asking; I'm offering. And since you've paid for my tuition so far, I am debt-free and can take out a loan to cover my last term." "I didn't cover the tuition, it was your;" "Davis. Really? Our mother, who never met a five-dollar bill she couldn't snort or inject, left me a college fund? Please. I am not an idiot. I love you, Big Brother, and I love what you have done for me and the others, but it's my time to step up now as well. Let me do this." I felt a heaviness lift from my chest as I hugged Alison and lifted her off her feet. I tried to reach Erin to let her know about Alison's offer, but I drove to her apartment, and she wasn't there, and she must have turned her phone off. I figured she must have gone to Wilma's, so I headed that way. I pulled in just as the sun was setting and found her SUV parked in the laneway, crosshatched by the lengthening shadows of the trees. I parked and saw a lone figure at the end of the dock, still wearing her scrubs. I could see whitecaps on the waves as they smashed into the dock, and I knew she must be freezing, so I grabbed my jacket out of the back of the truck and went to join her. The footing was treacherous, with patches of ice hidden by the gloom and spray, but I made my way carefully to Erin and wrapped my jacket around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned back against me. "Am I doing the right thing, Davis? Gran could have died. She would have died if not for you. Can we risk that happening again? Am I just holding on to the past?" When she was finished, Erin lapsed into silence. "You are doing what Wilma asked you to do. I know your stepfather says that she isn't mentally competent, but I tell you, if she's not mentally competent then none of us are." "But it doesn't make a difference anymore. You heard what the doctor said, and I can't go against her recommendation." "You don't have to, Erin. Alison has offered to move in with Wilma to look after her, and she will teach Mary to look after her as well. Between the two of them, Wilma can stay in the house until the fall, at least, and then we can see." Erin turned towards me in her excitement but lost her footing on the slippery dock and fell backward into the water, pulling me with her. Now, in the summer, that kind of accident might be cause for some laughter and an embarrassing story around the dinner table. In late April, however, spending any time in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan could rapidly prove fatal. The shock from the cold when Erin hit the water caused her to gasp involuntarily, and she took in a mouthful. I had a half-second longer to prepare myself and managed to keep my mouth closed as I submerged, but I could immediately feel the cold in my extremities. The ladder that would normally have been at the end of the dock had been taken out for the winter, so we had no choice but to make for shore. Time compressed as I struggled to pull us through the water while Erin coughed and vomited. Finally, we dragged ourselves onto the shore, wet and shivering. I felt clumsy and weak from the cold, and my clothes felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, but I wrapped my arm around Erin's waist, and we started stumbling toward the house. By the time we got there, we were both shivering uncontrollably and my hands were numb from the cold. I knew we needed to get warm, but it was like my brain was in a fog and I couldn't get my limbs to move the way they were supposed to. So, I did the first thing that came to mind, and started feeding paper and kindling into the fireplace, while Erin went to the linen closet and grabbed a stack of towels. She stripped off her wet scrubs while I got the fire started, and then she helped me get undressed as well. When I felt a little feeling return to my fingers, I fed a larger log onto the fire and then went and got a large comforter which I wrapped around us as we shivered in front of the fire. Eventually, our shivering subsided as our bodies warmed up, and Erin laid her head back against my chest. "I'm not ready for her to go. I'm not ready to be all alone again." "You're not alone anymore; not unless you want to be. I love you, Erin." I felt her relax back against me. "I love you too, Davis, and I'm sorry." "For what?" "For pulling you into the lake like a dumbass; fuck, that was cold." Chapter 6. Wilma's family insisted on taking their emergency petition to court, over Wilma's continued objections, but once the judge learned that Alison, a trained nurse, was going to be staying with her, their decision was an easy one. And let me tell you, Wilma's mind was still sharp as ever, and she made it clear both to her doctors and, eventually, to her family and the judge, that she wanted to go home. Erin's stepfather was beside himself with anger after they lost the hearing. "Why do you insist on delaying the inevitable like this? Wilma is dying. We know it, she knows it, the doctors know it. You're the only one who won't accept it. She would get better care in a facility with real nurses here in town, rather than relying on a student, a little girl, and whatever time you can give her at home. The next time she has a crisis maybe we won't get so lucky, and it will be on your head." Outwardly, Erin looked as smooth and unbothered as glass as her stepfather screamed at her, but her hand was squeezing mine so hard that I thought she might break a bone. Luckily, before I could say anything to make matters worse, Wilma intervened. "What is it that makes you so damn sure that you know what's best for everyone else? You're right, I'm dying. There is nothing that anyone can do about that. If I happen to fall again and speed the process along, so be it. But don't you dare pretend that you care one iota about my health or happiness, or your stepdaughter's happiness for that matter. The only thing you care about is getting your wife's inheritance faster. Is your business doing so badly that you can't wait until I die? It seemed like she had scored a direct hit, as his face turned solid red as he started to stammer out a response, but she dismissed him before he could even begin. "Now go away and leave us in peace. You will be back here for my funeral soon enough, and no one wants you hovering around, hoping to speed it up." A week later, Wilma was released from the hospital, and we brought her back home. Alison moved in right away, along with Munchkin, and Mary soon followed. On most days, James would come by to pick Mary up for school and then drop her back afterward. Alison stayed with Wilma during the day, and Mary covered most of the evenings. Erin came by to help whenever she could, and I did my best to keep them stocked with supplies. It wasn't perfect, but it worked and, more importantly, it made Wilma happy. She didn't talk much about her cancer, but it was clear that it was getting worse. Mary noticed that she was eating less and resting more and that she had begun to take her pain pills in the morning as well as in the evening before she went to bed. Wilma was still adamant that she wanted to stay in her home, however, and continued to teach Mary all she could about art and life. In early June, I had stopped by to visit Wilma and the girls late in the afternoon and I was still there when James dropped Mary off from school. He escorted her into the house but then stood awkwardly in the entranceway rather than leaving. "Mr. Crawford, could we talk for a minute, if you have the time?" I shook my head in amusement. No matter how many times I told him to just call me Davis, Mr. Crawford, I remained. "Sure, I was just finishing up with Wilma," I replied as I gave Wilma a gentle hug. She felt more like a bird at that point than a person, just skin hanging on fragile bones held together by her indomitable will. James looked worried as we went outside. "This may not be any of my business, but yesterday, when I got home from school, Calum and my dad were on a conference call with some officials from the county and Wilma's son and one of her granddaughters, the lawyer. I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything, but they were on speaker, and it was loud enough that I could hear them in the kitchen. "They were saying that when Wilma dies, her estate is being divided up equally amongst all of the children and grandchildren, but there is a part of the will that states that the land by the lake can't be sold or developed. From the sounds of it, however, once Wilma is gone, the county is going to seize that land, using eminent domain, to create a public boat launch, since Wilma's dock is the only four-season dock for at least ten miles in either direction. They will fix it up and then sell the rest of the land to the McDougals for development. "So, Wilma's family will get their money when the county forces the sale, and the McDougals will get their land. The only person left who might make a fuss would be Erin, but they figure she will fall in line once she sees the big fat check from the county." Listening to James' story made my blood boil. I hated the kinds of rich pricks who used their money and their purchased politicians to run roughshod over the rest of us. I just wasn't sure if there was anything that we could do to stop them. I thanked James for the heads up and went to speak with Wilma once he left. I expected Wilma to be as filled with rage at her family's treachery as I was, but she seemed remarkably calm about the whole thing. "Thank you for sharing this with me and thank James for his candor. He must have been deeply conflicted between his loyalty to his family, and his desire to do the right thing. Now, as to what we are going to do about this, we are going to do nothing. I don't want you to mention this to Erin or Mary, it will just worry them and make them upset. And you have more important things to do than to rage against a bunch of duplicitous assholes. Leave this one with me. "Now, why don't you go outside, take that shirt off, and start chopping some wood or something equally manly? Erin will be here soon, and you know how she likes to see you when you have worked up a sweat." I didn't know exactly what Wilma had planned, but for the next few days, she spent a lot of time on the phone. Towards the end of June, a very well-dressed older man in a tailored suit was leaving her house just as I was pulling in. It was clear that he had been there before since Munchkin ignored him and came over to give me an enthusiastic greeting instead. The man gave me a friendly smile as he put his briefcase in his top-of-the-line Lexus SUV before walking over to introduce himself. "Brantford Sage," he said holding out his hand. "You must be Mr. Crawford. Wilma has told me a lot about you. With everything she said, I was kind of expecting you to be seven feet tall and wearing a cape." I laughed at the image. "It's nice that she thinks so highly of me, but she gives me too much credit. And please call me Davis." "Well, Davis, and please call me Brantford, I have known Wilma for more years than you have been alive, and I have never heard her talk about anyone the way that she talks about you, except for Phillip, of course. And we all know how she felt about Phillip." I knew that it was none of my business why Mr. Sage was visiting Wilma, but my desire to protect her overrode any hesitation on my part about speaking out. "I am sorry if it's rude of me to ask, Mr. Sage, but what is your business here with Wilma? As you may know, her own family, along with a local family of some prominence, have been waging a campaign to get Wilma to sell this land. You are not here on their behalf, are you?" "I can assure you, Davis, that I am only here as a favor to Wilma. I normally split my time between our offices in Detroit, New York, and London, but when Wilma calls, I make it a priority to answer. I am sorry that I can't say more about my business here, attorney-client privilege, but you can ask her yourself if you would like." "It's all good. Wilma is still sharp as a tack, and even if she has lost a step or two, she is still twice as smart and four times as wise as I will ever be." "Well, I should be going. But sadly, I am sure I will see you again, soon enough." By the end of the summer, it was clear that Wilma's adventures were almost done. When she worked with Mary, she would often fall asleep in the comfortable chair in the corner. She had never had a large appetite, but recently, it had dwindled almost to nothing. Erin was very worried and suggested that it was time to move her Gran into hospice, but Wilma wouldn't hear of it. "This house has been my home for more than 60 years; I am not going to leave it now. It would miss me too much, and I can't have my home pining away over me. There is nothing more depressing than a sad home." Even Munchkin, the dog with boundless energy, became more subdued and often sat a quiet watch over Wilma while she slept. Finally, on the last Sunday of August, I got the call I had been dreading. I could hear Mary's voice on the other end of the line, holding back tears. "Gran says she's too tired and it's time to stop fighting. She told me to call you and Erin, and ask you to come;" I could hear the sobs building in her as she spoke, "to say goodbye." "Is James there with you, Mary?" "I called him. He's on his way." "I will call Erin and then go and pick her up. She won't be in any condition to drive." I figured the odds of there being a speed trap on the highway to Petoskey before 7 AM on a Sunday were slim to none, so I made it to Erin's apartment in record time. She must have been watching for me out of her window, as she threw herself into my arms before I was fully out of the truck. "I am so sorry, Honey," was all I could say, and I just held her in silence until the waves of grief that wracked her body had subsided. "We should get going," I said, not knowing what else to say. Maybe I should have told her that "Everything would be alright," but I suspected that it would be a while before that was true. But that was okay. People grieve in their own time. Erin held my hand tightly as we started the drive to Wilma's. "Why don't you tell me some of your favorite memories with your Gran and Grampy?" Erin remained silent for a few minutes, but once she started talking, the floodgates opened wide. She told me about the first time that her parents dropped her at the airport when she was only seven. How scared she was of these strange older people she didn't know. Phillip had seen her fear, and rather than trying to comfort her; how do you comfort a child whose parents have abandoned them; he had taken her for a long walk down by the lake. She remembered the sound of the wind blowing off the lake, as Phillip told her stories about their past. She remembered the summers she spent with Gran and Grampy as a teen. By that point, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, and her parents wanted to show her off to their important friends in Europe and places further afield. But she had already chosen to spend her time with the people that she loved. She spoke of coming to see them when she was in college. Of the awful year that Phillip got sick, and her grief at his passing. She said that her parents came to Good Hart for the funeral, but it felt like she and Gran were the only people to truly grieve his loss. She fell silent as we pulled into Wilma's laneway. "Go and see your Gran. Let me know what you need, Honey. I am here for you." Despite her grief, Erin looked at me as she took my hand. "What about you? What do you need, Davis? You love her too." "People show their love in different ways. I never really got the chance to give or receive love as a child, at least not in the way that most of us think of it. But being with you has made me realize something important about myself; I take care of the people I love. So, let me take care of you, Mary, and Wilma, one final time." By that point, Mary and Munchkin had come outside. Mary's eyes were red, and you could see the tracks that her tears had left on her cheeks. I got out of the truck and just held her for a minute. Erin came up behind me and enveloped her as well. Munchkin, mourning in his own way, stood watch for us, keeping us safe as we grieved. "Mary, you don't have to be here for the end if it's too hard. You can say goodbye, then take the truck and go and meet James. We can let you know when it's over." She just shook her head. "Where is she?" Mary led us into the living room. The wisp that remained of Wilma was in the comfortable chair by the fire. She had been a very small woman when we met less than a year before, but now she looked almost ethereal. Like the wind could slip right through her collecting her stories as it passed. She beckoned me over with one of her curled hands. "Davis, I am glad that you're here. I know I am a greedy old biddy, but I have three favors to ask, and I don't have a lot of time left to do the asking." "Of course, Wilma. You know I would do anything for you and Erin." She closed her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. "The first favor is that I need some time alone with my girls. I am sure James will be here in a minute; he is a good boy, don't hold those assholes in his family against him. He loves our Mary. Go outside, and when he arrives, I want you to go down to the lake and set up the five Adirondack chairs, so they are all together and facing out over the water. Then come back up to me." "Of course, Wilma." I went outside and sat on the front steps, scratching Munchkin's ears as I waited. James pulled up less than ten minutes later and I explained what had happened, and Wilma's request. When we were finished at the lake, we walked back up to the house, with Munchkin following quietly on our heels. We let ourselves in and saw Wilma, Erin, and Mary pulled together in an embrace. I was hesitant to interrupt, but Wilma saw us and called us over. "There's your big, strong men. Girls, could you get some of the outdoor blankets for James to carry down to the lake for us? And Davis, my second favor is for you to carry me down to the lake one last time. Would the rest of you give us a few minutes before you follow?" I picked Wilma up from the chair and wrapped her in my arms. She felt almost weightless, but I saw hints of her mischievous smile as we started walking. "You know, the last time a man carried me like this, the journey ended very differently." I couldn't help but smile, even at the end Wilma was still quick with the teasing and innuendo. "I bet you wish it was that other man carrying you now," I joked in return, but Wilma just rested her head against my chest. "No. No, I don't, Davis. I will see that other man soon enough. I am well content to be here with you. I am so proud of you. You are such a good and faithful man. It is a lot to ask of you, but for my third favor, will you look after my girls when I am gone?" By that point, we had reached the shore, and I set Wilma down in the middle chair of the five. "You don't need to ask, Wilma. Of course, I will look after them. Because you asked it of me, and because I love them just like you do." Wilma smiled and reached out to take my hand while she pressed three small objects into my palm. I looked down and saw that she had removed her engagement and wedding rings and given them to me. They were joined by an almost identical wedding band that must have belonged to Phillip before he passed. "You will know when the time is right for these. I would have liked to have been there to see it, though. Through these rings, maybe Phillip and I can continue to be a small part of your love for each other, even once we're gone." James and the girls had started down the path to the lake and would reach us in a minute. Before they arrived, Wilma gave me a final serious look. "All hell is going to break loose when they read my will after the funeral. Be there for Erin, please. The mistakes I made with my children are all my fault, but Erin will be left to bear that weight for a little while longer once I'm gone. It would mean a lot to a dying woman to know that she won't have to carry that weight alone." "I'll share that weight with her, for as long as she needs. For as long as she will let me." Wilma patted my hand. "That's good. I love you, Davis, but I think it's time." Mary and Erin arrived with James, and they made sure that Wilma was bundled in warm blankets as she looked out over the lake. Mary and Erin sat on either side of her and held her hands, while James and I sat at the ends. Munchkin settled against Wilma's feet, to keep them warm. After a while, Wilma started talking. She told stories about her life with Phillip; how they met, when they first came to this place, building a home, and raising their family. She spoke of their success as artists, and their failures as parents. She spoke of her regrets but also about her deep love for Erin and Mary, and how much she appreciated what they had done for her. She paused for a moment as the wind began to pick up, but we heard her last words before the wind carried the rest away. "You are all artists, and you are all worthy of love." She fell silent, and we sat for a long while listening to the wind off the lake. Epilogue. As always, Wilma was right. The reading of her will did indeed set off a firestorm, but she had made sure that we were ready for it. Do you remember Mr. Sage, that man in the suit who came to visit Wilma not too long before she passed? It turns out that he wasn't just an old friend, he was also a named partner at the largest law firm in the state and one of the most powerful firms in the country. It seems that Phillip didn't just paint portraits for the richest family in the state (you would recognize their name from the hospitals, museums, and other cultural institutions where it is featured prominently), but he also became a close family friend. You would never have known it, though, since Phillip refused to even acknowledge their friendship in public so that he didn't inadvertently trade on their name. Mr. Sage was also a good friend of that family and, over the years, became close with Wilma and Phillip, as well. After James told Wilma his story, she called those old family friends and, for the first time in their long friendship, asked for their help. She would never have done so for her own benefit, but she couldn't bear to think that Phillip's legacy would be lost because of the greed and treachery of his children. Within a day, Mr. Sage was working on a solution to Wilma's problem, and everything was signed and sealed well before Wilma passed on. The day of the reading of the will would have been comic if it hadn't also been so tragic. In the weeks after Wilma's death, her remaining children and grandchildren had gathered to express their deep sadness at her passing. Many black outfits were worn, and many sad faces were made. Not surprisingly, the entire McDougal family also showed up both to the funeral and to the smaller gathering at Wilma's house afterward. James stood with Mary, his arm around her shoulder, both to comfort her and to protect her from his own family, as best he could. The rest of the McDougal clan stood with Wilma's family and made sure to avail themselves of the free wine and hors d'oeuvres. As per her wishes, Wilma was cremated, and her ashes were scattered from the deck behind her house so that the wind could carry them towards the lake. Again, as per her wishes, the will was read immediately thereafter. The first surprise of the day came when Mr. Sage, who everyone thought was there merely to express his condolences at Wilma's passing, informed the family lawyers that the will in their possession had been revoked earlier that year. Both Wilma's family and their lawyers began to protest until the man formally introduced himself as a named partner at Sage, Bentley, and Carstairs, and as the new executor of Wilma's estate. The second surprise was the size and extent of that estate. The property by the lake was considerably larger than anyone had known and included a number of additional houses and cottages that Wilma and Phillip had acquired over the years. Unlike the previous will, however, that had left an equal share of the land to each of Wilma's descendants, the new one protected the entire property, in perpetuity, as part of a land trust that was established for the benefit and use of artists, local residents and even the Fudgies, when summer came to the lower peninsula. As part of the land trust, the dock was to be extended and reinforced and a public boat landing and park were to be built and maintained on the land, again, in perpetuity. Erin and I were named as trustees of the land trust, along with Mr. Sage and Mary, when she came of age. Given Michigan's strict laws around the use of eminent domain for private gain, there was no chance that the McDougals and the county would be able to move forward with their plans to seize the land. The third and final surprise was that Wilma and Phillip had done much better with the sale of their art and with their investments over the years than anyone had thought or expected. In addition to the property that was now in the trust, they had amassed a fortune in the low eight figures. Most of that money was left to manage the land trust, but a not inconsiderable amount was set aside to fund the college education of my brother and sisters and to pay off Erin's considerable student debt from medical school. The will also stipulated that the estate would pay for any costs that Wilma's family had incurred to attend the funeral (with receipts, of course.) Wilma's paintings were left to the public gallery in Grand Rapids and galleries further afield, with a few notable exceptions. Mary was given three paintings of her choice from the collection, that weren't otherwise named in the will. After much thought and consideration, she chose both the first and last works that Wilma had painted, both of which had been hanging in the living room, along with a small study of the house that Wilma kept in her bedroom beside a picture of Phillip and her on their wedding day. Erin was given Phillip's portrait of her as a young woman, and that portrait still hangs above our mantelpiece alongside his portrait of Wilma as a young woman, which she left to me. The only time they left our mantelpiece was when they were featured in a retrospective exhibit of their work at a museum in New York, but the house felt strangely empty when they were gone. Erin's family was furious at the changes in the new will. They threatened to fight it with every resource at their disposal. They tried every dirty trick they could think of, questioning Wilma's mental capacity in the months before her death, fighting the legality of the land trust, and trying to impugn our characters implying that we were gold diggers who wormed our way into Wilma's life to steal the family inheritance. In the end, though, the family's lawyers were no match for Brantford and his firm. When none of their ploys worked, Erin's family and the McDougals turned on each other, and the ensuing lawsuits are still ongoing to this day. I would love to say that that was the end of the McDougals, or that Erin's family came around in the end. Unfortunately, they are still just as terrible as ever. But at least their arrogance and corruption are now far enough away that we can safely ignore them. On a similar note, my mother is still absent from our lives. I don't honestly know if she is even still alive, although I assume that someone would have tried to find her next of kin if she had died. Sometimes, I am charitable and hope that she managed to face her demons and turn what's left of her life around. But most of the time, I am just glad that she is no longer able to hurt the people I love. After things settled down, Alison finished her schooling and became a nurse practitioner, as she had always dreamed of. In her last year of study, while she was doing a clinical practicum at a hospital in Detroit, she met a lovely internist who fell madly in love with her. Luckily for him, his feelings were reciprocated, and they are now married and living in Grand Rapids. They split their holidays between our family and her husband's family in Detroit, and they stay with us for a few weeks each summer. Their son is as thick as thieves with our daughter, and their imagination carries them through endless adventures together. Sharon was successful in her ambition to leave the peninsula and see more of the world. She finished her undergraduate degree in creative writing in Chicago before setting out to see the world, and she is still out there wandering. But she sends us lots of pictures when she gets the chance, and recently, Erin noticed that many of her pictures have the same very attractive woman smiling in the background. I think it was probably a coincidence, but Erin thinks otherwise. I sure hope Erin's right. There is nothing I want more than for my family to find love and happiness. When the spirit moves her to come home to us (with or without her friend), she will be very welcome. Mary spent months grieving her loss, but rather than turning inward, she channeled her emotions into a triptych of paintings that firmly established her as an upcoming talent in the world of art. She lived with us for several years until James proposed, at which point they moved into one of the cottages owned by the trust. Unfortunately, James' family found out that he told Wilma about their plans, and they disowned him. He had a few tough years, but Mary helped him through, and when he turned eighteen, I took him on as an apprentice. He now runs one of my crews. I used to worry that he loved Mary more than she loved him and that the imbalance would lead to heartache. My worries were put to rest when she painted her first portrait. James was her subject, and I have never seen a painting more suffused with love and desire. A few years later, a collector offered her an eye-watering amount of money for it, but she politely declined. As for Lane, well who knows what he will do with his life, but he is carrying a 4.0 GPA, and the world is his oyster. He was sure impressed by the lawyers who rained hellfire down on the McDougals, though, so I suspect that he might be leaning that way in the future. He is also building quite a following as a DJ, combining classics from the 40's and 50's with new beats. He recently started dating a new girl, and she is a real sweetheart. We haven't told her about the day that he met Erin for the first time; yet. But trust me, that time will come. But until it does, Lane is more than happy to keep up with his chores and help out around the house. But what he loves more than anything is to carry his rod out to the end of the dock and fish, while the wind off the lake plays through his hair. And then there is Erin and me. I have to say that things have worked out pretty well for us, in the end. It took less than a year for me to make use of Wilma's last gifts, and Erin and I were married the next summer in the new park down by the dock. Wilma left her house and a few acres of land to Erin, separate from the land trust, and we spent several years fixing it up and expanding it so that my brother and sisters know that there is always a place for them if they need it; for a day, a week, or a lifetime. I am still not the best at taking orders or following instructions; but gentle requests from the woman that I love, sealed with a kiss on my cheek? It turns out that I am more than fine with those. And I am still not always sure what a beautiful doctor sees in a plumber like me. But rather than let my insecurity get the better of me, I have learned to accept my good fortune with a smile. One tradition that we've adopted as our own is that we make time to dance together every Friday night. If we have guests, or family who are home, they know that they will be joining us as well; Wilma's 'no wallflowers' rule is still in full effect. Now that she is old enough, I am teaching our daughter to dance, and her favorite thing in the world is to twirl around the living room in her mommy and daddy's arms. Some nights, when it's just the three of us and our daughter has gone to bed, we let the soft crackle of Wilma's old 45s take us back. We dance together with the lights down low, the music threading through the quiet night like a whisper from the past. And when the music fades, we hold each other close and listen to the voices of those we have loved, as they linger in the wind off the lake. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4 Finding real love, at last. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. Driving home the next day felt like waking up from some kind of dream until I pulled into our driveway and Munchkin came running out to greet me. As I was getting out to reassure him that he hadn't been abandoned, the reality of my life settled right back in. I went inside, and Lane and Mary grunted their hellos without looking up. Ah, home. I texted Erin that I made it back safely, and she replied almost immediately saying what a great night she had, and how much she missed me already. It was going to be a long three weeks until she rotated back to the hospital in Petoskey. Luckily, life was as busy as always, and time flew by. For the first time since I was a child, I could honestly say that I was happy. My happiness lasted until the day before Erin was scheduled to return. I got my first inkling that something might be wrong when I called to see if Wilma wanted me to pick up any groceries for her from town. She didn't answer, which was strange, and the call went to voicemail. Even if she was napping, she was a very light sleeper and would normally answer by the third ring. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I went straight to Wilma's to make sure she was alright. Everything seemed fine when I pulled into the yard, but there was no answer when I knocked on her door. I tried again, but there was nothing but an eerie silence. Fearing the worst, I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and went inside. I called Wilma's name and, hearing no reply, went quickly through the house trying to find her. When I got to her bedroom, I could hear a low moaning sound from the attached washroom. I ran in and found Wilma collapsed by the bathtub. She had slipped and hit her head, injuring her hip and arm in the process. She didn't have her phone with her when she fell and had been unable to move, so who knows how long she had been lying there. I called 911 for an ambulance and then called Erin and suggested that she meet us at the hospital. It took forever for the paramedics to arrive, and longer still to get Wilma loaded into the ambulance. By the time I got to the hospital, she was already being triaged by their emergency team. I took a few minutes while I waited for an update on Wilma's condition to call the rest of the family and give them the news. Alison came directly to the hospital after class, and Sharon brought Mary and Lane as soon as they got home from school. Erin arrived a few hours later and broke down when she saw me. Finally, just after nine, the doctors gave Erin an update. Wilma was in rough shape; she was badly dehydrated and had a moderate concussion, a fractured wrist, and a bone bruise on her hip. It would take her weeks to recover in the hospital. The good news was that she would make a recovery, given enough time and support. Erin and Mary decided to stay with Wilma in the hospital while Sharon dropped Alison at her dorm and drove Lane back to the house. By midnight, Mary had nodded off in a chair in the corner of Wilma's room, while I waited outside with Erin. "You should go home, Davis. There's nothing else you can do tonight. Thank God, you found her; I am not sure what I would have done if you hadn't. I already lost Grampy; I am not ready to lose Gran as well. They are all I have." I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close. "You have me, now, too. And the girls. And you know Lane would do anything for you, you just need to ask. I was serious about what I said in Grand Rapids, Erin. I love you." Erin pulled me closer but didn't reply. The following week was a rollercoaster of emotions. Wilma was improving far quicker than the doctors had anticipated, but she would still be in rehab for at least another two weeks. It was impossible to hide Wilma's accident from the rest of the family, and they descended on the hospital like vultures; or, more accurately, their lawyers descended on the hospital while, for the most part, they stayed far away where it was warm. The one exception was Erin's stepfather, who flew in the next day. "For Christ's sake, Erin. Haven't you done enough harm as it is? Do you want your Gran to die alone on the floor of that dingy old shack of hers? It's time for her to move into a care facility that can look after her. Be reasonable!" When he failed to persuade Erin to act on his behalf, his attorneys requested an emergency court order, alleging that Wilma lacked the capacity to make her own medical decisions, that Erin was not acting in her best interests, and that one of Wilma's children should be appointed as her legal guardian. Wilma was furious when she learned of his actions, but there was little she could do to stop him until she was discharged from the hospital. Both sides knew that her doctor's recommendation would hold a lot of weight with the judge, and it was not good news for Wilma when it came. "If Mrs. Anderson is to return home, she will require around-the-clock care and company. If such care can't be arranged, then I recommend that she be placed in a long-term assisted-living facility that can treat any lingering effects from her fall, and from her late-stage cancer." Erin took the news like a physical blow, and she staggered backward to a chair. We didn't have the resources for 24-hour nursing, and it would be impossible to arrange it with such short notice even if we did. "I'm sorry, Davis. I need to be alone for a while to think." She left without looking back or saying goodbye to Wilma, and I just let her go. I wanted to ease her pain, but I knew that there was nothing I could do. She had lost, and her family had won. I was despondent as I made my way towards the exit, so much so that I nearly ran into Alison who was finishing up her shift at the hospital. "You look terrible, Brother, what happened? Is Wilma alright?" I explained to her about the doctor's recommendation and Erin's reaction. "No one has had the heart to tell Wilma, yet. She's recovered from the fall, but this news is going to kill her." Alison looked at me for a minute, before her mouth quirked upwards in a smile. "I'll do it." "What do you mean? "I'll do it. I'll look after Wilma. I am wrapping up my clinical practicum tomorrow, and I was planning on working this summer. I will look after Wilma instead. Mary can move in with us as well, and I can teach her what she needs to know to care for her when I'm not there. Once her school year is done in June, she and I can spell each other off, and I can still pick up some shifts here and there." It was an amazing offer, but I couldn't let her do it. "Alison, I can't ask you to give up your job for the summer. You need that money for your living expenses at school." "You're not asking; I'm offering. And since you've paid for my tuition so far, I am debt-free and can take out a loan to cover my last term." "I didn't cover the tuition, it was your;" "Davis. Really? Our mother, who never met a five-dollar bill she couldn't snort or inject, left me a college fund? Please. I am not an idiot. I love you, Big Brother, and I love what you have done for me and the others, but it's my time to step up now as well. Let me do this." I felt a heaviness lift from my chest as I hugged Alison and lifted her off her feet. I tried to reach Erin to let her know about Alison's offer, but I drove to her apartment, and she wasn't there, and she must have turned her phone off. I figured she must have gone to Wilma's, so I headed that way. I pulled in just as the sun was setting and found her SUV parked in the laneway, crosshatched by the lengthening shadows of the trees. I parked and saw a lone figure at the end of the dock, still wearing her scrubs. I could see whitecaps on the waves as they smashed into the dock, and I knew she must be freezing, so I grabbed my jacket out of the back of the truck and went to join her. The footing was treacherous, with patches of ice hidden by the gloom and spray, but I made my way carefully to Erin and wrapped my jacket around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned back against me. "Am I doing the right thing, Davis? Gran could have died. She would have died if not for you. Can we risk that happening again? Am I just holding on to the past?" When she was finished, Erin lapsed into silence. "You are doing what Wilma asked you to do. I know your stepfather says that she isn't mentally competent, but I tell you, if she's not mentally competent then none of us are." "But it doesn't make a difference anymore. You heard what the doctor said, and I can't go against her recommendation." "You don't have to, Erin. Alison has offered to move in with Wilma to look after her, and she will teach Mary to look after her as well. Between the two of them, Wilma can stay in the house until the fall, at least, and then we can see." Erin turned towards me in her excitement but lost her footing on the slippery dock and fell backward into the water, pulling me with her. Now, in the summer, that kind of accident might be cause for some laughter and an embarrassing story around the dinner table. In late April, however, spending any time in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan could rapidly prove fatal. The shock from the cold when Erin hit the water caused her to gasp involuntarily, and she took in a mouthful. I had a half-second longer to prepare myself and managed to keep my mouth closed as I submerged, but I could immediately feel the cold in my extremities. The ladder that would normally have been at the end of the dock had been taken out for the winter, so we had no choice but to make for shore. Time compressed as I struggled to pull us through the water while Erin coughed and vomited. Finally, we dragged ourselves onto the shore, wet and shivering. I felt clumsy and weak from the cold, and my clothes felt like they weighed a hundred pounds, but I wrapped my arm around Erin's waist, and we started stumbling toward the house. By the time we got there, we were both shivering uncontrollably and my hands were numb from the cold. I knew we needed to get warm, but it was like my brain was in a fog and I couldn't get my limbs to move the way they were supposed to. So, I did the first thing that came to mind, and started feeding paper and kindling into the fireplace, while Erin went to the linen closet and grabbed a stack of towels. She stripped off her wet scrubs while I got the fire started, and then she helped me get undressed as well. When I felt a little feeling return to my fingers, I fed a larger log onto the fire and then went and got a large comforter which I wrapped around us as we shivered in front of the fire. Eventually, our shivering subsided as our bodies warmed up, and Erin laid her head back against my chest. "I'm not ready for her to go. I'm not ready to be all alone again." "You're not alone anymore; not unless you want to be. I love you, Erin." I felt her relax back against me. "I love you too, Davis, and I'm sorry." "For what?" "For pulling you into the lake like a dumbass; fuck, that was cold." Chapter 6. Wilma's family insisted on taking their emergency petition to court, over Wilma's continued objections, but once the judge learned that Alison, a trained nurse, was going to be staying with her, their decision was an easy one. And let me tell you, Wilma's mind was still sharp as ever, and she made it clear both to her doctors and, eventually, to her family and the judge, that she wanted to go home. Erin's stepfather was beside himself with anger after they lost the hearing. "Why do you insist on delaying the inevitable like this? Wilma is dying. We know it, she knows it, the doctors know it. You're the only one who won't accept it. She would get better care in a facility with real nurses here in town, rather than relying on a student, a little girl, and whatever time you can give her at home. The next time she has a crisis maybe we won't get so lucky, and it will be on your head." Outwardly, Erin looked as smooth and unbothered as glass as her stepfather screamed at her, but her hand was squeezing mine so hard that I thought she might break a bone. Luckily, before I could say anything to make matters worse, Wilma intervened. "What is it that makes you so damn sure that you know what's best for everyone else? You're right, I'm dying. There is nothing that anyone can do about that. If I happen to fall again and speed the process along, so be it. But don't you dare pretend that you care one iota about my health or happiness, or your stepdaughter's happiness for that matter. The only thing you care about is getting your wife's inheritance faster. Is your business doing so badly that you can't wait until I die? It seemed like she had scored a direct hit, as his face turned solid red as he started to stammer out a response, but she dismissed him before he could even begin. "Now go away and leave us in peace. You will be back here for my funeral soon enough, and no one wants you hovering around, hoping to speed it up." A week later, Wilma was released from the hospital, and we brought her back home. Alison moved in right away, along with Munchkin, and Mary soon followed. On most days, James would come by to pick Mary up for school and then drop her back afterward. Alison stayed with Wilma during the day, and Mary covered most of the evenings. Erin came by to help whenever she could, and I did my best to keep them stocked with supplies. It wasn't perfect, but it worked and, more importantly, it made Wilma happy. She didn't talk much about her cancer, but it was clear that it was getting worse. Mary noticed that she was eating less and resting more and that she had begun to take her pain pills in the morning as well as in the evening before she went to bed. Wilma was still adamant that she wanted to stay in her home, however, and continued to teach Mary all she could about art and life. In early June, I had stopped by to visit Wilma and the girls late in the afternoon and I was still there when James dropped Mary off from school. He escorted her into the house but then stood awkwardly in the entranceway rather than leaving. "Mr. Crawford, could we talk for a minute, if you have the time?" I shook my head in amusement. No matter how many times I told him to just call me Davis, Mr. Crawford, I remained. "Sure, I was just finishing up with Wilma," I replied as I gave Wilma a gentle hug. She felt more like a bird at that point than a person, just skin hanging on fragile bones held together by her indomitable will. James looked worried as we went outside. "This may not be any of my business, but yesterday, when I got home from school, Calum and my dad were on a conference call with some officials from the county and Wilma's son and one of her granddaughters, the lawyer. I didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything, but they were on speaker, and it was loud enough that I could hear them in the kitchen. "They were saying that when Wilma dies, her estate is being divided up equally amongst all of the children and grandchildren, but there is a part of the will that states that the land by the lake can't be sold or developed. From the sounds of it, however, once Wilma is gone, the county is going to seize that land, using eminent domain, to create a public boat launch, since Wilma's dock is the only four-season dock for at least ten miles in either direction. They will fix it up and then sell the rest of the land to the McDougals for development. "So, Wilma's family will get their money when the county forces the sale, and the McDougals will get their land. The only person left who might make a fuss would be Erin, but they figure she will fall in line once she sees the big fat check from the county." Listening to James' story made my blood boil. I hated the kinds of rich pricks who used their money and their purchased politicians to run roughshod over the rest of us. I just wasn't sure if there was anything that we could do to stop them. I thanked James for the heads up and went to speak with Wilma once he left. I expected Wilma to be as filled with rage at her family's treachery as I was, but she seemed remarkably calm about the whole thing. "Thank you for sharing this with me and thank James for his candor. He must have been deeply conflicted between his loyalty to his family, and his desire to do the right thing. Now, as to what we are going to do about this, we are going to do nothing. I don't want you to mention this to Erin or Mary, it will just worry them and make them upset. And you have more important things to do than to rage against a bunch of duplicitous assholes. Leave this one with me. "Now, why don't you go outside, take that shirt off, and start chopping some wood or something equally manly? Erin will be here soon, and you know how she likes to see you when you have worked up a sweat." I didn't know exactly what Wilma had planned, but for the next few days, she spent a lot of time on the phone. Towards the end of June, a very well-dressed older man in a tailored suit was leaving her house just as I was pulling in. It was clear that he had been there before since Munchkin ignored him and came over to give me an enthusiastic greeting instead. The man gave me a friendly smile as he put his briefcase in his top-of-the-line Lexus SUV before walking over to introduce himself. "Brantford Sage," he said holding out his hand. "You must be Mr. Crawford. Wilma has told me a lot about you. With everything she said, I was kind of expecting you to be seven feet tall and wearing a cape." I laughed at the image. "It's nice that she thinks so highly of me, but she gives me too much credit. And please call me Davis." "Well, Davis, and please call me Brantford, I have known Wilma for more years than you have been alive, and I have never heard her talk about anyone the way that she talks about you, except for Phillip, of course. And we all know how she felt about Phillip." I knew that it was none of my business why Mr. Sage was visiting Wilma, but my desire to protect her overrode any hesitation on my part about speaking out. "I am sorry if it's rude of me to ask, Mr. Sage, but what is your business here with Wilma? As you may know, her own family, along with a local family of some prominence, have been waging a campaign to get Wilma to sell this land. You are not here on their behalf, are you?" "I can assure you, Davis, that I am only here as a favor to Wilma. I normally split my time between our offices in Detroit, New York, and London, but when Wilma calls, I make it a priority to answer. I am sorry that I can't say more about my business here, attorney-client privilege, but you can ask her yourself if you would like." "It's all good. Wilma is still sharp as a tack, and even if she has lost a step or two, she is still twice as smart and four times as wise as I will ever be." "Well, I should be going. But sadly, I am sure I will see you again, soon enough." By the end of the summer, it was clear that Wilma's adventures were almost done. When she worked with Mary, she would often fall asleep in the comfortable chair in the corner. She had never had a large appetite, but recently, it had dwindled almost to nothing. Erin was very worried and suggested that it was time to move her Gran into hospice, but Wilma wouldn't hear of it. "This house has been my home for more than 60 years; I am not going to leave it now. It would miss me too much, and I can't have my home pining away over me. There is nothing more depressing than a sad home." Even Munchkin, the dog with boundless energy, became more subdued and often sat a quiet watch over Wilma while she slept. Finally, on the last Sunday of August, I got the call I had been dreading. I could hear Mary's voice on the other end of the line, holding back tears. "Gran says she's too tired and it's time to stop fighting. She told me to call you and Erin, and ask you to come;" I could hear the sobs building in her as she spoke, "to say goodbye." "Is James there with you, Mary?" "I called him. He's on his way." "I will call Erin and then go and pick her up. She won't be in any condition to drive." I figured the odds of there being a speed trap on the highway to Petoskey before 7 AM on a Sunday were slim to none, so I made it to Erin's apartment in record time. She must have been watching for me out of her window, as she threw herself into my arms before I was fully out of the truck. "I am so sorry, Honey," was all I could say, and I just held her in silence until the waves of grief that wracked her body had subsided. "We should get going," I said, not knowing what else to say. Maybe I should have told her that "Everything would be alright," but I suspected that it would be a while before that was true. But that was okay. People grieve in their own time. Erin held my hand tightly as we started the drive to Wilma's. "Why don't you tell me some of your favorite memories with your Gran and Grampy?" Erin remained silent for a few minutes, but once she started talking, the floodgates opened wide. She told me about the first time that her parents dropped her at the airport when she was only seven. How scared she was of these strange older people she didn't know. Phillip had seen her fear, and rather than trying to comfort her; how do you comfort a child whose parents have abandoned them; he had taken her for a long walk down by the lake. She remembered the sound of the wind blowing off the lake, as Phillip told her stories about their past. She remembered the summers she spent with Gran and Grampy as a teen. By that point, she had grown into a beautiful young woman, and her parents wanted to show her off to their important friends in Europe and places further afield. But she had already chosen to spend her time with the people that she loved. She spoke of coming to see them when she was in college. Of the awful year that Phillip got sick, and her grief at his passing. She said that her parents came to Good Hart for the funeral, but it felt like she and Gran were the only people to truly grieve his loss. She fell silent as we pulled into Wilma's laneway. "Go and see your Gran. Let me know what you need, Honey. I am here for you." Despite her grief, Erin looked at me as she took my hand. "What about you? What do you need, Davis? You love her too." "People show their love in different ways. I never really got the chance to give or receive love as a child, at least not in the way that most of us think of it. But being with you has made me realize something important about myself; I take care of the people I love. So, let me take care of you, Mary, and Wilma, one final time." By that point, Mary and Munchkin had come outside. Mary's eyes were red, and you could see the tracks that her tears had left on her cheeks. I got out of the truck and just held her for a minute. Erin came up behind me and enveloped her as well. Munchkin, mourning in his own way, stood watch for us, keeping us safe as we grieved. "Mary, you don't have to be here for the end if it's too hard. You can say goodbye, then take the truck and go and meet James. We can let you know when it's over." She just shook her head. "Where is she?" Mary led us into the living room. The wisp that remained of Wilma was in the comfortable chair by the fire. She had been a very small woman when we met less than a year before, but now she looked almost ethereal. Like the wind could slip right through her collecting her stories as it passed. She beckoned me over with one of her curled hands. "Davis, I am glad that you're here. I know I am a greedy old biddy, but I have three favors to ask, and I don't have a lot of time left to do the asking." "Of course, Wilma. You know I would do anything for you and Erin." She closed her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. "The first favor is that I need some time alone with my girls. I am sure James will be here in a minute; he is a good boy, don't hold those assholes in his family against him. He loves our Mary. Go outside, and when he arrives, I want you to go down to the lake and set up the five Adirondack chairs, so they are all together and facing out over the water. Then come back up to me." "Of course, Wilma." I went outside and sat on the front steps, scratching Munchkin's ears as I waited. James pulled up less than ten minutes later and I explained what had happened, and Wilma's request. When we were finished at the lake, we walked back up to the house, with Munchkin following quietly on our heels. We let ourselves in and saw Wilma, Erin, and Mary pulled together in an embrace. I was hesitant to interrupt, but Wilma saw us and called us over. "There's your big, strong men. Girls, could you get some of the outdoor blankets for James to carry down to the lake for us? And Davis, my second favor is for you to carry me down to the lake one last time. Would the rest of you give us a few minutes before you follow?" I picked Wilma up from the chair and wrapped her in my arms. She felt almost weightless, but I saw hints of her mischievous smile as we started walking. "You know, the last time a man carried me like this, the journey ended very differently." I couldn't help but smile, even at the end Wilma was still quick with the teasing and innuendo. "I bet you wish it was that other man carrying you now," I joked in return, but Wilma just rested her head against my chest. "No. No, I don't, Davis. I will see that other man soon enough. I am well content to be here with you. I am so proud of you. You are such a good and faithful man. It is a lot to ask of you, but for my third favor, will you look after my girls when I am gone?" By that point, we had reached the shore, and I set Wilma down in the middle chair of the five. "You don't need to ask, Wilma. Of course, I will look after them. Because you asked it of me, and because I love them just like you do." Wilma smiled and reached out to take my hand while she pressed three small objects into my palm. I looked down and saw that she had removed her engagement and wedding rings and given them to me. They were joined by an almost identical wedding band that must have belonged to Phillip before he passed. "You will know when the time is right for these. I would have liked to have been there to see it, though. Through these rings, maybe Phillip and I can continue to be a small part of your love for each other, even once we're gone." James and the girls had started down the path to the lake and would reach us in a minute. Before they arrived, Wilma gave me a final serious look. "All hell is going to break loose when they read my will after the funeral. Be there for Erin, please. The mistakes I made with my children are all my fault, but Erin will be left to bear that weight for a little while longer once I'm gone. It would mean a lot to a dying woman to know that she won't have to carry that weight alone." "I'll share that weight with her, for as long as she needs. For as long as she will let me." Wilma patted my hand. "That's good. I love you, Davis, but I think it's time." Mary and Erin arrived with James, and they made sure that Wilma was bundled in warm blankets as she looked out over the lake. Mary and Erin sat on either side of her and held her hands, while James and I sat at the ends. Munchkin settled against Wilma's feet, to keep them warm. After a while, Wilma started talking. She told stories about her life with Phillip; how they met, when they first came to this place, building a home, and raising their family. She spoke of their success as artists, and their failures as parents. She spoke of her regrets but also about her deep love for Erin and Mary, and how much she appreciated what they had done for her. She paused for a moment as the wind began to pick up, but we heard her last words before the wind carried the rest away. "You are all artists, and you are all worthy of love." She fell silent, and we sat for a long while listening to the wind off the lake. Epilogue. As always, Wilma was right. The reading of her will did indeed set off a firestorm, but she had made sure that we were ready for it. Do you remember Mr. Sage, that man in the suit who came to visit Wilma not too long before she passed? It turns out that he wasn't just an old friend, he was also a named partner at the largest law firm in the state and one of the most powerful firms in the country. It seems that Phillip didn't just paint portraits for the richest family in the state (you would recognize their name from the hospitals, museums, and other cultural institutions where it is featured prominently), but he also became a close family friend. You would never have known it, though, since Phillip refused to even acknowledge their friendship in public so that he didn't inadvertently trade on their name. Mr. Sage was also a good friend of that family and, over the years, became close with Wilma and Phillip, as well. After James told Wilma his story, she called those old family friends and, for the first time in their long friendship, asked for their help. She would never have done so for her own benefit, but she couldn't bear to think that Phillip's legacy would be lost because of the greed and treachery of his children. Within a day, Mr. Sage was working on a solution to Wilma's problem, and everything was signed and sealed well before Wilma passed on. The day of the reading of the will would have been comic if it hadn't also been so tragic. In the weeks after Wilma's death, her remaining children and grandchildren had gathered to express their deep sadness at her passing. Many black outfits were worn, and many sad faces were made. Not surprisingly, the entire McDougal family also showed up both to the funeral and to the smaller gathering at Wilma's house afterward. James stood with Mary, his arm around her shoulder, both to comfort her and to protect her from his own family, as best he could. The rest of the McDougal clan stood with Wilma's family and made sure to avail themselves of the free wine and hors d'oeuvres. As per her wishes, Wilma was cremated, and her ashes were scattered from the deck behind her house so that the wind could carry them towards the lake. Again, as per her wishes, the will was read immediately thereafter. The first surprise of the day came when Mr. Sage, who everyone thought was there merely to express his condolences at Wilma's passing, informed the family lawyers that the will in their possession had been revoked earlier that year. Both Wilma's family and their lawyers began to protest until the man formally introduced himself as a named partner at Sage, Bentley, and Carstairs, and as the new executor of Wilma's estate. The second surprise was the size and extent of that estate. The property by the lake was considerably larger than anyone had known and included a number of additional houses and cottages that Wilma and Phillip had acquired over the years. Unlike the previous will, however, that had left an equal share of the land to each of Wilma's descendants, the new one protected the entire property, in perpetuity, as part of a land trust that was established for the benefit and use of artists, local residents and even the Fudgies, when summer came to the lower peninsula. As part of the land trust, the dock was to be extended and reinforced and a public boat landing and park were to be built and maintained on the land, again, in perpetuity. Erin and I were named as trustees of the land trust, along with Mr. Sage and Mary, when she came of age. Given Michigan's strict laws around the use of eminent domain for private gain, there was no chance that the McDougals and the county would be able to move forward with their plans to seize the land. The third and final surprise was that Wilma and Phillip had done much better with the sale of their art and with their investments over the years than anyone had thought or expected. In addition to the property that was now in the trust, they had amassed a fortune in the low eight figures. Most of that money was left to manage the land trust, but a not inconsiderable amount was set aside to fund the college education of my brother and sisters and to pay off Erin's considerable student debt from medical school. The will also stipulated that the estate would pay for any costs that Wilma's family had incurred to attend the funeral (with receipts, of course.) Wilma's paintings were left to the public gallery in Grand Rapids and galleries further afield, with a few notable exceptions. Mary was given three paintings of her choice from the collection, that weren't otherwise named in the will. After much thought and consideration, she chose both the first and last works that Wilma had painted, both of which had been hanging in the living room, along with a small study of the house that Wilma kept in her bedroom beside a picture of Phillip and her on their wedding day. Erin was given Phillip's portrait of her as a young woman, and that portrait still hangs above our mantelpiece alongside his portrait of Wilma as a young woman, which she left to me. The only time they left our mantelpiece was when they were featured in a retrospective exhibit of their work at a museum in New York, but the house felt strangely empty when they were gone. Erin's family was furious at the changes in the new will. They threatened to fight it with every resource at their disposal. They tried every dirty trick they could think of, questioning Wilma's mental capacity in the months before her death, fighting the legality of the land trust, and trying to impugn our characters implying that we were gold diggers who wormed our way into Wilma's life to steal the family inheritance. In the end, though, the family's lawyers were no match for Brantford and his firm. When none of their ploys worked, Erin's family and the McDougals turned on each other, and the ensuing lawsuits are still ongoing to this day. I would love to say that that was the end of the McDougals, or that Erin's family came around in the end. Unfortunately, they are still just as terrible as ever. But at least their arrogance and corruption are now far enough away that we can safely ignore them. On a similar note, my mother is still absent from our lives. I don't honestly know if she is even still alive, although I assume that someone would have tried to find her next of kin if she had died. Sometimes, I am charitable and hope that she managed to face her demons and turn what's left of her life around. But most of the time, I am just glad that she is no longer able to hurt the people I love. After things settled down, Alison finished her schooling and became a nurse practitioner, as she had always dreamed of. In her last year of study, while she was doing a clinical practicum at a hospital in Detroit, she met a lovely internist who fell madly in love with her. Luckily for him, his feelings were reciprocated, and they are now married and living in Grand Rapids. They split their holidays between our family and her husband's family in Detroit, and they stay with us for a few weeks each summer. Their son is as thick as thieves with our daughter, and their imagination carries them through endless adventures together. Sharon was successful in her ambition to leave the peninsula and see more of the world. She finished her undergraduate degree in creative writing in Chicago before setting out to see the world, and she is still out there wandering. But she sends us lots of pictures when she gets the chance, and recently, Erin noticed that many of her pictures have the same very attractive woman smiling in the background. I think it was probably a coincidence, but Erin thinks otherwise. I sure hope Erin's right. There is nothing I want more than for my family to find love and happiness. When the spirit moves her to come home to us (with or without her friend), she will be very welcome. Mary spent months grieving her loss, but rather than turning inward, she channeled her emotions into a triptych of paintings that firmly established her as an upcoming talent in the world of art. She lived with us for several years until James proposed, at which point they moved into one of the cottages owned by the trust. Unfortunately, James' family found out that he told Wilma about their plans, and they disowned him. He had a few tough years, but Mary helped him through, and when he turned eighteen, I took him on as an apprentice. He now runs one of my crews. I used to worry that he loved Mary more than she loved him and that the imbalance would lead to heartache. My worries were put to rest when she painted her first portrait. James was her subject, and I have never seen a painting more suffused with love and desire. A few years later, a collector offered her an eye-watering amount of money for it, but she politely declined. As for Lane, well who knows what he will do with his life, but he is carrying a 4.0 GPA, and the world is his oyster. He was sure impressed by the lawyers who rained hellfire down on the McDougals, though, so I suspect that he might be leaning that way in the future. He is also building quite a following as a DJ, combining classics from the 40's and 50's with new beats. He recently started dating a new girl, and she is a real sweetheart. We haven't told her about the day that he met Erin for the first time; yet. But trust me, that time will come. But until it does, Lane is more than happy to keep up with his chores and help out around the house. But what he loves more than anything is to carry his rod out to the end of the dock and fish, while the wind off the lake plays through his hair. And then there is Erin and me. I have to say that things have worked out pretty well for us, in the end. It took less than a year for me to make use of Wilma's last gifts, and Erin and I were married the next summer in the new park down by the dock. Wilma left her house and a few acres of land to Erin, separate from the land trust, and we spent several years fixing it up and expanding it so that my brother and sisters know that there is always a place for them if they need it; for a day, a week, or a lifetime. I am still not the best at taking orders or following instructions; but gentle requests from the woman that I love, sealed with a kiss on my cheek? It turns out that I am more than fine with those. And I am still not always sure what a beautiful doctor sees in a plumber like me. But rather than let my insecurity get the better of me, I have learned to accept my good fortune with a smile. One tradition that we've adopted as our own is that we make time to dance together every Friday night. If we have guests, or family who are home, they know that they will be joining us as well; Wilma's 'no wallflowers' rule is still in full effect. Now that she is old enough, I am teaching our daughter to dance, and her favorite thing in the world is to twirl around the living room in her mommy and daddy's arms. Some nights, when it's just the three of us and our daughter has gone to bed, we let the soft crackle of Wilma's old 45s take us back. We dance together with the lights down low, the music threading through the quiet night like a whisper from the past. And when the music fades, we hold each other close and listen to the voices of those we have loved, as they linger in the wind off the lake. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly. "We thought that our children would grow to love this area over time, like we did. But they never did, and they left as soon as they could get away. My daughter, Samantha, is a retired lawyer and she and her third husband split their time between their loft in Manhattan and their beach house in the Bahamas. My son, Robert, is an oil executive down in Texas. Neither of them has been here in more than a decade, except for Phillip's funeral. "My baby, Max, passed away more than twenty years ago now of cancer. Erin is his granddaughter. She is a pediatrician, and she splits her time between the hospital in Petoskey and the children's hospital down in Grand Rapids. She comes to see me when she can, but she is very busy. My other relatives all live busy lives far away from here. We chose to live here, though, so I can't be too upset that the rest of the family chose to live far away. "But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Crawford? Do you have any children?" "It's just me and my siblings, I'm afraid, and it's been that way for quite some time. My oldest sister, Alison, is 20, and she goes to college at North Central Michigan, in Petoskey. She is planning to become a nurse practitioner. The rest of the gang still lives at home with me. Sharon is 17 now, so she kind of runs the show while I am working; Mary is 15 but going on 30, if you know what I mean; and Lane is the baby of the family at 12." "Where are your parents?" "I don't honestly know. We each have a different father, or at least we think we do. Sharon, Lane, and I have no idea who our fathers are, so there's a chance that we might be full siblings, but I doubt it. My mother never kept the same man around for long. Alison's father has been in and out of jail since before she was born and is currently serving a stint in federal prison. But Mary has it the worst of all of us. "My mother met Mary's dad on a weekend bender in Vegas, and he is a pretty big deal. Rich, famous, the kind of guy you see on TV and the cover of magazines. A real family man, except when it comes to Mary, whom he refuses to even acknowledge. He bought my mom's silence with a lump sum payment and a non-disclosure agreement. That money was supposed to be put in a trust for Mary, but my mom snorted and injected it all in less than a year. Mary has written to her father dozens of times and reached out to him on social media countless more, but he wants nothing to do with his bastard daughter. "As for my mom, she went away for the weekend almost seven years ago now and left me in charge. And I am still in charge, I guess. So, no time for dating or romance for me, and I think that I will be just about done with raising kids by the time that Lane goes off to college." Wilma gave me a look filled with more empathy than I had felt in a long time, maybe ever. "Anyway, I should take a look at your boiler and see what I can do about getting you some heat." I would have called the boiler in Wilma's basement old, but that wouldn't have done it justice. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum of heating and plumbing, and it was hanging on to life by the barest of threads. With only a year to live, however, I wasn't going to recommend to Wilma that she replace the whole system with something more modern and efficient. "I think I can fix your boiler so that it will hold on for another year or two, and I can patch a couple of leaks in the lines to the main radiators as well. One line to a radiator at the back of the house is completely shot, so I will shut that one off and be back to replace it later this week." "What's all that going to cost?" "It's free of charge, Ma'am. You've got enough to look after with your health and all, without having to worry about your heating system. I never had a grandma to spoil, at least not one that I know of, so it would be my pleasure to do this for you." "Please, it's Wilma. And it's a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandchildren, and not the other way around. But your kindness is mighty appreciated, Davis." It took me a couple of hours to shore up the boiler and repair the lines that were still in reasonable condition before I was finished for the day. As I got ready to leave, I found Wilma sitting alone in the living room reading an old paperback. "I'll call you later this week, once the replacement line for your radiator comes in." Wilma got a mischievous smile on her face. "Why, Davis, are you getting fresh with me?" "If I were older and more experienced, I would in an instant. But I hardly think I can compete with the memory of your Phillip." "Too true, too true. Alright young man, well thank you for taking the time to look after a foolish old woman on a cold October night." "I hardly think you're foolish, Wilma, but it's been my pleasure." I didn't get home from Wilma's until well after nine that night, and by the time I pulled into our gravel driveway, I was beat. The dilapidated old yard light mounted on the roof of the garage shone weakly down on the sloppy mix of gravel and mud that was our yard, and I could hear the excited barks of Munchkin, our rescue puppy. He was a mix of German Shepherd and Cane Corso, with some variety of northern dog thrown in, and he was mighty pleased to see me. I'm glad that someone was. I came into our small three-bedroom rental to find Sharon and Lane sitting at the dining room table working on his math homework. I wish that they reacted like Munchkin when they saw me, but Lane just grunted a hello, while Sharon looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Mary is out with the McDougal brothers again. They showed up here a half hour ago, I told her not to go with them, but she wouldn't listen." "The McDougal brothers are assholes," was Lane's addition to the conversation, without even looking up from the table. He wasn't wrong. The oldest McDougall brother, Calum, was a couple of years ahead of me at school and was a bully and a braggart. Two of his three brothers had followed in his esteemed footsteps, while the jury was still out on the youngest, James. "I'm going to go get her. Next time that those boys turn up in our yard, let Munchkin lose on them." "Alright, dinner will be in the oven when you get back. Given 'em hell, Bro." The McDougal brothers lived just outside Pellston in the closest thing to a mansion that you could find in our neck of the woods. Their family owned the largest construction and maintenance company in the area and had most of the Public Works contracts sown up, along with a not inconsiderable portion of the private construction in our region as well. Their parents spent most of their time in Sarasota, Florida, though, and the brothers had free rein while they were gone. As I drove up their long, paved driveway, automatic floodlights came on, illuminating the ostentatious columns that flanked the entrance to their house. I parked in front of the nearest bay of their four-car attached garage while noting that there was another three-car garage further off to the right. I idly wondered who got to park in which garage. Rich people problems, I guess. I walked to the front door and let myself in. From the foyer, I could hear the loud thump of music coming from the back of the house, so I headed that way. As I passed through the kitchen, I nearly bumped into James, who was holding a couple of empty serving bowls. He stopped dead when he saw me, looking nervous, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in their house. Certainly not me, anyway. "Hey James, I am here to get my sister. Where is she?" He hesitated a moment before pointing toward the back of the house. "She's in the game room playing pool with the guys. We didn't force her to come here or anything, if that's what you're worried about." "Maybe that's true, James. But you know she is still a minor, and I am her guardian, so I'm going to fetch her and bring her home." James didn't like the sound of that, but I turned my back on him and followed the music to a large, sunken room at the back of the house, which had an expensive-looking pool table in the middle. The remaining McDougal brothers were either playing pool or smoking up on one of the couches that were scattered around the outside of the room. Calum was presiding over the festivities, while the Pistons game was playing on a wall-mounted TV that was bigger than some movie screens. Despite his family's blue-collar roots, Calum looked like an overgrown frat boy, with his preppy clothes and fifty-dollar haircut. Mary was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, with a McDougal brother on one side and one of their hangers-on on the other. She looked somewhere between uncomfortable and scared, but she gave me a defiant scowl. The music stopped, and everyone looked to Calum and then back at me. There was a nervous tension in the air. "Hi Calum, I'm here for my sister." Calum was now in a bit of a spot; he couldn't just let me come into his home and give him orders without losing face with his brothers and their cronies. But he also knew, or at least suspected, that my sister was underage. And then there was always the Pipe Wrench Incident. That always made people nervous to be around me. "That's not my problem. She told my brother that she wanted to party, so she's here to party. No one forced her to come, and she seems to be having a good time." I wondered if all of Calum's dates looked as scared and uncomfortable as Mary did at that moment when they were having a 'good time'. "Well, since she is still a minor and I'm her guardian, it's a bit of a problem. Or it could be. But I don't want to put a damper on your evening, so I'll just bring Mary home with me and we'll call it a night." Calum looked toward James who had just come back into the room with bowls now filled with potato chips. "Is that true, Limp dick? Did you bring an underage girl home to party with us?" James began to sputter before Calum shook his head in disgust. He pointed over at Mary. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sixteen," he said before turning back to me. "And you. Just get the fuck out of our house." It was a silent drive home. Mary refused to even look at me, staring out the window instead. When we pulled into our yard, Munchkin came running up to greet us, and Mary finally spoke. "You didn't need to embarrass me like that. I'm old enough to make my own choices, you know." "The law says you're still a minor. And you'll always be my sister. Those guys are no good, Mary. You know that." "James is different. He isn't like the rest of them." "Maybe that's true, or maybe not. But you don't hang out in a nest of rattlesnakes, just because there is a garter snake in there with them that you think is cute." After a pause and some continued barking from Munchkin, Mary finally looked over at me. "You're not my dad, you know. You can't tell me what to do." And there it was. It always came down to the same thing with Mary; her father's rejection of her. Over the years, it had undermined her self-esteem and destroyed her self-worth to the point where I wondered if they would ever recover. Unfortunately, I was just smart enough to see the problem, but I had no idea how to fix it. A brother's love can only go so far, I guess. "I know, Mary. I know. But I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I just wish that was enough." We sat in silence for another minute before she replied. "I wish it was too." Chapter 2. It took a couple of days for Mrs. Anderson's new radiator line to arrive, and I gave her a call when I went to pick it up. "Hi, Mrs. And; Wilma. I was just picking up the replacement line for your radiator, and I was wondering if you needed anything else from town, while I'm here. I was going to come by and install the line later this afternoon if that works for you." "That's very kind of you, Davis. Would you mind picking up a few groceries for me? I can send the store a list, so they will be ready for you when you get there." A couple of my calls that day took longer than expected, so it was late in the afternoon again by the time I made it to Wilma's place. The early season snow had mostly melted away, and her yard was now a combination of gravel and thick soupy mud that could swallow a tire as easily as it could swallow a boot. "Thank you for picking the groceries up for me, you're too kind." "It was no trouble at all, especially since I was coming out this way anyway. If you don't mind me asking, how do you usually get them?" "I used to have a young man up the way who would help me with groceries and yard work, and other small things, but now I am pretty much on my own." "What happened to him? Did he move away?" "No, he still lives in the same place that he always has, but I am pretty sure that my family paid him more not to help me than I was paying for his assistance." "What? That seems like a crappy thing for them to do to you." Wilma gave a resigned sigh and then offered me a coffee while she told me her story. "I think I told you the last time you were here, that most of my family has moved on from this place, except my granddaughter Erin. The rest of them already have an agreement in place with a developer, the McDougals, to turn this property into a high-end resort for the Fudgies, so they have someplace to spend their money after visiting Mackinac Island." "Fudgies," was what the locals called the tourists from down south who descended on the upper peninsula in the summer. "If you don't mind me asking, just how much land do you own?" "Well, Phillip and I didn't have much to spend our money on over the years, so we bought up many of the nearby properties when they went up for sale. We ended up with at least a quarter mile of land that fronts onto the lake, without even really trying." I let out a low whistle. "That must be worth a small fortune. I can understand your family's interest." "At first, they didn't care if I stayed in the house after Phillip died. They figured that I would follow soon enough. After a few years, however, they started to get impatient, and it's fair to say that they are now actively encouraging me to leave, by foot, by car, or in a box. They have generously offered to put me out to pasture in a warehouse for the old and infirm, though, to await my impending doom. "With my cancer, their wish is finally going to come true. By this time next year, I will be sipping coffee with Phillip in whatever afterlife we atheists get to enjoy. Actually, who am I kidding? If there is an afterlife for Phillip and me, the first thing I'm going to do when I get there is get on my knees, undo his belt buckle, and then show him just how much I've missed him these past five years. Wilma looked a bit startled as if she had just remembered that I was still there. "I'm sorry, Davis. You probably didn't need to hear that last part. I just miss him so much. I still see him in the trees and along the shore, and I sometimes hear his voice in the wind off the lake." "It's all good, Wilma. I just hope that my brother and sisters get to experience the kind of love that you and Phillip had someday." "What about you, Davis? Don't you deserve to experience that kind of love as well?" "Maybe I deserve it, Wilma, but I don't think I am going to find it. It's been tough; real tough, looking after my family all these years. I have done things that I am not proud of, but that needed to be done. I don't regret them; I would do anything to protect the people I love. But I doubt that anyone would be able to love me, once they found out what I've done." "I think you are selling yourself short, Davis. We are all artists, and we are all worthy of love." With that, Wilma offered to top up my coffee before I started replacing the broken line. As the evening's shadows deepened, I saw her watching me with compassion and concern in her eyes. Once I was finished, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it an empathetic squeeze. "A penny for your thoughts?" I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her. "It's my sister, Mary. I am losing her. She is so hurt and angry that she is beginning to make bad choices, and I don't know how to help her. I've tried to be her brother, parent, and friend, but I'm failing at all three." Wilma offered no judgment, good or bad. She just listened, and when I finished, she spoke. "Bring her over this Sunday around noon. Tell her to wear some old clothes that she doesn't mind getting dirty. You can come too if you would like and bring your little brother to do some fishing, but Mary will be spending her time with me." It wasn't easy convincing Mary to come to Wilma's. If you have spent time dealing with teenage girls, you know that they can be as stubborn as late-season ice on the lake. In the end, I resorted to threats and bribery to get her onboard, but she assured me that she would hate every minute she was there. Lane came with us as well, with the promise that we could spend the afternoon fishing off the end of Wilma's dock. By the time we arrived, Mary was sullenly glued to the passenger seat and wouldn't look up from her phone. Wilma waited a few minutes for Mary, but she stubbornly refused to leave the truck. Eventually, Wilma pulled on her rubber boots and walked over to the truck. She looked up at Mary and started speaking. "There are three things that I know are true. "The first, I've already shared with your brother. We are all artists because we are all worthy of love. But many of us lose our way. We are hurt and abandoned, and we are buried in shame. I was like that for many years. But my husband, Phillip, found me and taught me what it is to be loved. Not just the physical act; although he taught me about that as well; but the certainty that I was seen, known, and cherished. He showed me that I am an artist. You are an artist too. "Second, I am old, I have cancer, and I will die. Not today, and hopefully not tomorrow, but soon. And that is okay; we all die. I have lived a good life. And when I do, I hope that Phillip will be waiting for me with a glass of chilled white wine and his beautiful smile. My art may linger for a while once I am gone but, eventually, it too will be lost. "Third, the world is full of bastards. Your brother tells me that you and he are both bastards. I will tell you a secret that I have shared with very few people; I am a bastard too. "My mother was beautiful but poor. Her parents lost everything during the Great Depression, and she worked as a housemaid for a rich and powerful man to support her family. When she fell pregnant, he put her out on the street and refused to recognize her child, his daughter; me. Because of his rejection, I spent too many years steeped in shame and self-loathing. But eventually, I learned a hard truth; my father was a bastard by choice, while I was a bastard by birth. And those of us who are bastards by birth must never let the bastards by choice win. "Come inside when you're ready. I'm too old and it's too cold for me to stand here waiting for you." With that, Wilma turned and slowly made her way back to the house. Surprisingly, after a minute, Mary followed. When they reached the door, Wilma turned to look back at me. "It's time for you boys to go fishing. There is a warm breeze off the lake that will bring you good luck." Lane and I made our way down the hill to the dock in silence, our fishing rods, ice chest, and tackle box in hand. Unlike a seasonal dock that would be taken out of the lake each fall, Wilma's dock could be used year-round and was built with heavy timbers and steel bracing, so it could withstand the crushing force of the winter's ice. When we reached the dock, we felt the warm wind that Wilma had promised, and we chose our lures and began to cast. After a half hour of fishing, Lane broke the silence. "Do you think it's my fault?" "Do I think what's your fault, Bud?" "That mom left us. That she never came back. Do you think it's my fault?" I sighed as I thought about my answer. "No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, really, maybe not even hers. It's funny though, she brought some amazing people into this world. I wish she could have seen how incredible you and your sisters have turned out. But she made her choice, and that's on her, not you." Lane thought about my answer before he continued. "But you would be better off without me. Sharon would have more time to study for the scholarship she will need to get away from here. I try to be nice to Mary, to make her feel better, but I just seem to make things worse for her as well. And I see how hard you work to keep our family together. I feel like you would all be better off without me. If I weren't here, maybe Mom would come back home." I took a deep breath and tried to push down the anger that threatened to overwhelm me; anger at my mother for abandoning us, anger at myself for never being enough, and anger at a world that would leave my brother feeling like it would be better off if he didn't exist. I felt the wind off the lake as it blew across my face, drying my unshed tears before they were formed. As I was wondering how to unbreak my brother's heart, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through and Lane's fishing rod bent into a deep arc, the tip dancing wildly as a fish fought against the line. "Dad! Help;" The drag clicked furiously as the fish pulled line, as Lane fought to keep his rod tip up. I quickly set my rod aside and braced him, my hands held loosely beside his as he fought to reel in his catch. We worked together for what seemed like an eternity before he finally fought his fish to the side of the dock. I grabbed the net and saw that he had hooked a steelhead trout that was easily two feet long and must have weighed at least eight pounds if not more. It was a wonder the drag held steady, and his line didn't break during the fight. As I scooped up his catch, the steelhead's silver sides shimmered like polished chrome in the fading light, and it was so big that it took up over half the ice chest I had brought along to store our catch. Lane was flushed with excitement at landing such an impressive fish, and I was so proud of him that my heart almost ached. "Nice work, Son." He just looked up at me for a moment before throwing his arms around me in a hug. In the time since our mother left, he had never called me by anything other than my name. I never tried to be his dad; I didn't think I was qualified, but I guess that all of us need someone in our lives who will love us without conditions or end. "Never think that you're a burden on me or the family. Maybe you need a bit more from us right now than you can give back, but that's alright. Because sixty years from now, when I am old and can't wipe my ass anymore, you are going to be paying me back in spades, alright?" With that, we went back to fishing in companionable silence. I pulled in a few smaller ones, but nothing to match Lane's steelhead. A few hours later, the wind had picked up and it was getting colder, so we packed up our equipment and made our way back toward the house. Halfway down the dock, however, a huge gust of wind swept through, and I heard a cry followed by a loud splash. Turning back, I saw that Lane's foot had slipped through a broken slat, and he had fallen off the dock. Without thinking, I dropped the ice box and rods and jumped into the water to help him. When I got him to shore, he couldn't put any weight on his ankle, and any efforts to do so were met with cries of pain. I quickly collected our discarded fishing gear and set it to one side, before helping him to slowly make his way back up the hill. The November chill quickly took hold of us as we walked, plastering our damp clothing to our skin, and we were shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached the house. I knocked but it took a minute for Wilma and Mary to come out from the studio at the back of the house. "I am sorry to cut things short, but Lane had an accident down at the dock and he sprained or maybe even broke his ankle. I am going to have to take him to the hospital in Petoskey to get it looked at before it swells up any further." Wilma looked at me with concern. "Maybe you should hold off at least for a little while. My granddaughter, Erin, the pediatrician, is coming for dinner tonight and should be here any minute. Why don't we let her take a look at it before you head into town? And let's get you out of those clothes; you must be freezing. I still have some of Phillip's things in the closet that might fit you." A few minutes later, I had changed into a pair of comfortable but slightly musty-smelling pants, with a warm sweater over a well-worn collared shirt. I was both taller and wider than Phillip had been, at least in the twilight of his years, so the pants were a bit short, while the sweater was tight across my shoulders. While I changed, Mary and Wilma had set Lane up on the couch with his ankle elevated on some pillows. I helped him change out of his wet clothing and into an old sweatshirt and shorts that fit over his swollen ankle. Once Lane was settled, Wilma and I talked quietly in the kitchen. "It's getting late, and you must be getting hungry, but I don't think I have enough to feed everyone." I thought for a moment. "We may be in luck. Lane caught the biggest steelhead I have ever seen earlier this afternoon, but I left it down by the dock after the accident. If you have a few potatoes and maybe a veg or two, I am sure I can whip something up that would feed us all." Wilma looked at me with a sly smile. "He cooks, he plumbs, and he cares for his family, all while cutting a dashing figure in my late husband's favorite sweater. You, Mr. Crawford, are a catch." "I am not sure about that, Wilma," I replied with a laugh, "But either way, this catch had better go and get our earlier catch, so I can get started on dinner." It took me almost half an hour to collect our fishing gear and bring it back up to the truck. By the time I was done, an older SUV was parked behind my truck, which meant that Erin had arrived. After I loaded the gear, I used the fishing knife and stained plastic cutting board that I kept in a bin under the back seat to clean and filet the steelhead before heading inside. From the doorway, I could see a head of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail sticking up from the far side of the couch, and I heard a calm and melodic voice talking to Lane while Wilma and Mary looked on. I was so lost in that voice that I almost jumped when the latch on the door caught behind me. The head of sandy-blonde hair looked up at the sound, revealing a pair of amber, almost golden eyes. "You must be the father," said that same melodic voice, as those eyes bore their way into my soul. "It's Davis Crawford, and I'm the older brother." "Erin Anderson, nice to meet you. Can you get hold of your parents? We might need to take Lane to the hospital for some X-rays." "No," I replied more harshly than I intended. "No," I tried again, more gently but with an edge to my voice. "Our parents aren't around; I am as close as you're going to get. I am Lane's legal guardian if that helps." There was a slight pause as her amber eyes shifted from surprise to curiosity. "That helps a lot. Why don't you give me 15 minutes or so to take a look at this brave dude's ankle, then we can talk over some options, once I have a better sense of what's going on." "That okay with you, Bud?" I asked as I walked over to the couch. "Yeah, that should be fine," he replied, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. For a moment, I was worried that he might be running a fever, but then I got my first look at Erin, and I understood. Maybe she wasn't classically beautiful like a movie star or swimsuit model, but she was lean and fit, and from what I could see, had more than enough curves in all the right places. It was her face, however, that captured me. She had delicate features accentuated by her high cheekbones, and there was a softness to her expression that spoke of empathy and kindness. Her eyes, though intense, had a warmth that put me instantly at ease. I realized much too late that I had been staring at Erin for an uncomfortably long time while holding the bag of steelhead filets out like some kind of sacrificial offering. While I stood frozen, the look in Erin's beautiful eyes had shifted from curiosity to amusement; I would assume at the fish-carrying simpleton standing in front of her. "Thanks, Dr. Anderson; err, Erin. I appreciate your taking a look at him and; I am going to go cook us up some fish before I make an even bigger ass of myself." Wilma joined me in the kitchen, while Erin continued to assess Lane's injured ankle. We spent the next few minutes dicing the potatoes and veggies and tossing them with some olive oil, salt, and pepper before sprinkling the filets of steelhead with a mixture of herbs. I topped the fish with some slices of a less-than-fresh, but still edible, lemon I found in the fridge, before putting the whole thing in the oven. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly. "We thought that our children would grow to love this area over time, like we did. But they never did, and they left as soon as they could get away. My daughter, Samantha, is a retired lawyer and she and her third husband split their time between their loft in Manhattan and their beach house in the Bahamas. My son, Robert, is an oil executive down in Texas. Neither of them has been here in more than a decade, except for Phillip's funeral. "My baby, Max, passed away more than twenty years ago now of cancer. Erin is his granddaughter. She is a pediatrician, and she splits her time between the hospital in Petoskey and the children's hospital down in Grand Rapids. She comes to see me when she can, but she is very busy. My other relatives all live busy lives far away from here. We chose to live here, though, so I can't be too upset that the rest of the family chose to live far away. "But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Crawford? Do you have any children?" "It's just me and my siblings, I'm afraid, and it's been that way for quite some time. My oldest sister, Alison, is 20, and she goes to college at North Central Michigan, in Petoskey. She is planning to become a nurse practitioner. The rest of the gang still lives at home with me. Sharon is 17 now, so she kind of runs the show while I am working; Mary is 15 but going on 30, if you know what I mean; and Lane is the baby of the family at 12." "Where are your parents?" "I don't honestly know. We each have a different father, or at least we think we do. Sharon, Lane, and I have no idea who our fathers are, so there's a chance that we might be full siblings, but I doubt it. My mother never kept the same man around for long. Alison's father has been in and out of jail since before she was born and is currently serving a stint in federal prison. But Mary has it the worst of all of us. "My mother met Mary's dad on a weekend bender in Vegas, and he is a pretty big deal. Rich, famous, the kind of guy you see on TV and the cover of magazines. A real family man, except when it comes to Mary, whom he refuses to even acknowledge. He bought my mom's silence with a lump sum payment and a non-disclosure agreement. That money was supposed to be put in a trust for Mary, but my mom snorted and injected it all in less than a year. Mary has written to her father dozens of times and reached out to him on social media countless more, but he wants nothing to do with his bastard daughter. "As for my mom, she went away for the weekend almost seven years ago now and left me in charge. And I am still in charge, I guess. So, no time for dating or romance for me, and I think that I will be just about done with raising kids by the time that Lane goes off to college." Wilma gave me a look filled with more empathy than I had felt in a long time, maybe ever. "Anyway, I should take a look at your boiler and see what I can do about getting you some heat." I would have called the boiler in Wilma's basement old, but that wouldn't have done it justice. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum of heating and plumbing, and it was hanging on to life by the barest of threads. With only a year to live, however, I wasn't going to recommend to Wilma that she replace the whole system with something more modern and efficient. "I think I can fix your boiler so that it will hold on for another year or two, and I can patch a couple of leaks in the lines to the main radiators as well. One line to a radiator at the back of the house is completely shot, so I will shut that one off and be back to replace it later this week." "What's all that going to cost?" "It's free of charge, Ma'am. You've got enough to look after with your health and all, without having to worry about your heating system. I never had a grandma to spoil, at least not one that I know of, so it would be my pleasure to do this for you." "Please, it's Wilma. And it's a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandchildren, and not the other way around. But your kindness is mighty appreciated, Davis." It took me a couple of hours to shore up the boiler and repair the lines that were still in reasonable condition before I was finished for the day. As I got ready to leave, I found Wilma sitting alone in the living room reading an old paperback. "I'll call you later this week, once the replacement line for your radiator comes in." Wilma got a mischievous smile on her face. "Why, Davis, are you getting fresh with me?" "If I were older and more experienced, I would in an instant. But I hardly think I can compete with the memory of your Phillip." "Too true, too true. Alright young man, well thank you for taking the time to look after a foolish old woman on a cold October night." "I hardly think you're foolish, Wilma, but it's been my pleasure." I didn't get home from Wilma's until well after nine that night, and by the time I pulled into our gravel driveway, I was beat. The dilapidated old yard light mounted on the roof of the garage shone weakly down on the sloppy mix of gravel and mud that was our yard, and I could hear the excited barks of Munchkin, our rescue puppy. He was a mix of German Shepherd and Cane Corso, with some variety of northern dog thrown in, and he was mighty pleased to see me. I'm glad that someone was. I came into our small three-bedroom rental to find Sharon and Lane sitting at the dining room table working on his math homework. I wish that they reacted like Munchkin when they saw me, but Lane just grunted a hello, while Sharon looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Mary is out with the McDougal brothers again. They showed up here a half hour ago, I told her not to go with them, but she wouldn't listen." "The McDougal brothers are assholes," was Lane's addition to the conversation, without even looking up from the table. He wasn't wrong. The oldest McDougall brother, Calum, was a couple of years ahead of me at school and was a bully and a braggart. Two of his three brothers had followed in his esteemed footsteps, while the jury was still out on the youngest, James. "I'm going to go get her. Next time that those boys turn up in our yard, let Munchkin lose on them." "Alright, dinner will be in the oven when you get back. Given 'em hell, Bro." The McDougal brothers lived just outside Pellston in the closest thing to a mansion that you could find in our neck of the woods. Their family owned the largest construction and maintenance company in the area and had most of the Public Works contracts sown up, along with a not inconsiderable portion of the private construction in our region as well. Their parents spent most of their time in Sarasota, Florida, though, and the brothers had free rein while they were gone. As I drove up their long, paved driveway, automatic floodlights came on, illuminating the ostentatious columns that flanked the entrance to their house. I parked in front of the nearest bay of their four-car attached garage while noting that there was another three-car garage further off to the right. I idly wondered who got to park in which garage. Rich people problems, I guess. I walked to the front door and let myself in. From the foyer, I could hear the loud thump of music coming from the back of the house, so I headed that way. As I passed through the kitchen, I nearly bumped into James, who was holding a couple of empty serving bowls. He stopped dead when he saw me, looking nervous, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in their house. Certainly not me, anyway. "Hey James, I am here to get my sister. Where is she?" He hesitated a moment before pointing toward the back of the house. "She's in the game room playing pool with the guys. We didn't force her to come here or anything, if that's what you're worried about." "Maybe that's true, James. But you know she is still a minor, and I am her guardian, so I'm going to fetch her and bring her home." James didn't like the sound of that, but I turned my back on him and followed the music to a large, sunken room at the back of the house, which had an expensive-looking pool table in the middle. The remaining McDougal brothers were either playing pool or smoking up on one of the couches that were scattered around the outside of the room. Calum was presiding over the festivities, while the Pistons game was playing on a wall-mounted TV that was bigger than some movie screens. Despite his family's blue-collar roots, Calum looked like an overgrown frat boy, with his preppy clothes and fifty-dollar haircut. Mary was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, with a McDougal brother on one side and one of their hangers-on on the other. She looked somewhere between uncomfortable and scared, but she gave me a defiant scowl. The music stopped, and everyone looked to Calum and then back at me. There was a nervous tension in the air. "Hi Calum, I'm here for my sister." Calum was now in a bit of a spot; he couldn't just let me come into his home and give him orders without losing face with his brothers and their cronies. But he also knew, or at least suspected, that my sister was underage. And then there was always the Pipe Wrench Incident. That always made people nervous to be around me. "That's not my problem. She told my brother that she wanted to party, so she's here to party. No one forced her to come, and she seems to be having a good time." I wondered if all of Calum's dates looked as scared and uncomfortable as Mary did at that moment when they were having a 'good time'. "Well, since she is still a minor and I'm her guardian, it's a bit of a problem. Or it could be. But I don't want to put a damper on your evening, so I'll just bring Mary home with me and we'll call it a night." Calum looked toward James who had just come back into the room with bowls now filled with potato chips. "Is that true, Limp dick? Did you bring an underage girl home to party with us?" James began to sputter before Calum shook his head in disgust. He pointed over at Mary. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sixteen," he said before turning back to me. "And you. Just get the fuck out of our house." It was a silent drive home. Mary refused to even look at me, staring out the window instead. When we pulled into our yard, Munchkin came running up to greet us, and Mary finally spoke. "You didn't need to embarrass me like that. I'm old enough to make my own choices, you know." "The law says you're still a minor. And you'll always be my sister. Those guys are no good, Mary. You know that." "James is different. He isn't like the rest of them." "Maybe that's true, or maybe not. But you don't hang out in a nest of rattlesnakes, just because there is a garter snake in there with them that you think is cute." After a pause and some continued barking from Munchkin, Mary finally looked over at me. "You're not my dad, you know. You can't tell me what to do." And there it was. It always came down to the same thing with Mary; her father's rejection of her. Over the years, it had undermined her self-esteem and destroyed her self-worth to the point where I wondered if they would ever recover. Unfortunately, I was just smart enough to see the problem, but I had no idea how to fix it. A brother's love can only go so far, I guess. "I know, Mary. I know. But I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I just wish that was enough." We sat in silence for another minute before she replied. "I wish it was too." Chapter 2. It took a couple of days for Mrs. Anderson's new radiator line to arrive, and I gave her a call when I went to pick it up. "Hi, Mrs. And; Wilma. I was just picking up the replacement line for your radiator, and I was wondering if you needed anything else from town, while I'm here. I was going to come by and install the line later this afternoon if that works for you." "That's very kind of you, Davis. Would you mind picking up a few groceries for me? I can send the store a list, so they will be ready for you when you get there." A couple of my calls that day took longer than expected, so it was late in the afternoon again by the time I made it to Wilma's place. The early season snow had mostly melted away, and her yard was now a combination of gravel and thick soupy mud that could swallow a tire as easily as it could swallow a boot. "Thank you for picking the groceries up for me, you're too kind." "It was no trouble at all, especially since I was coming out this way anyway. If you don't mind me asking, how do you usually get them?" "I used to have a young man up the way who would help me with groceries and yard work, and other small things, but now I am pretty much on my own." "What happened to him? Did he move away?" "No, he still lives in the same place that he always has, but I am pretty sure that my family paid him more not to help me than I was paying for his assistance." "What? That seems like a crappy thing for them to do to you." Wilma gave a resigned sigh and then offered me a coffee while she told me her story. "I think I told you the last time you were here, that most of my family has moved on from this place, except my granddaughter Erin. The rest of them already have an agreement in place with a developer, the McDougals, to turn this property into a high-end resort for the Fudgies, so they have someplace to spend their money after visiting Mackinac Island." "Fudgies," was what the locals called the tourists from down south who descended on the upper peninsula in the summer. "If you don't mind me asking, just how much land do you own?" "Well, Phillip and I didn't have much to spend our money on over the years, so we bought up many of the nearby properties when they went up for sale. We ended up with at least a quarter mile of land that fronts onto the lake, without even really trying." I let out a low whistle. "That must be worth a small fortune. I can understand your family's interest." "At first, they didn't care if I stayed in the house after Phillip died. They figured that I would follow soon enough. After a few years, however, they started to get impatient, and it's fair to say that they are now actively encouraging me to leave, by foot, by car, or in a box. They have generously offered to put me out to pasture in a warehouse for the old and infirm, though, to await my impending doom. "With my cancer, their wish is finally going to come true. By this time next year, I will be sipping coffee with Phillip in whatever afterlife we atheists get to enjoy. Actually, who am I kidding? If there is an afterlife for Phillip and me, the first thing I'm going to do when I get there is get on my knees, undo his belt buckle, and then show him just how much I've missed him these past five years. Wilma looked a bit startled as if she had just remembered that I was still there. "I'm sorry, Davis. You probably didn't need to hear that last part. I just miss him so much. I still see him in the trees and along the shore, and I sometimes hear his voice in the wind off the lake." "It's all good, Wilma. I just hope that my brother and sisters get to experience the kind of love that you and Phillip had someday." "What about you, Davis? Don't you deserve to experience that kind of love as well?" "Maybe I deserve it, Wilma, but I don't think I am going to find it. It's been tough; real tough, looking after my family all these years. I have done things that I am not proud of, but that needed to be done. I don't regret them; I would do anything to protect the people I love. But I doubt that anyone would be able to love me, once they found out what I've done." "I think you are selling yourself short, Davis. We are all artists, and we are all worthy of love." With that, Wilma offered to top up my coffee before I started replacing the broken line. As the evening's shadows deepened, I saw her watching me with compassion and concern in her eyes. Once I was finished, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it an empathetic squeeze. "A penny for your thoughts?" I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her. "It's my sister, Mary. I am losing her. She is so hurt and angry that she is beginning to make bad choices, and I don't know how to help her. I've tried to be her brother, parent, and friend, but I'm failing at all three." Wilma offered no judgment, good or bad. She just listened, and when I finished, she spoke. "Bring her over this Sunday around noon. Tell her to wear some old clothes that she doesn't mind getting dirty. You can come too if you would like and bring your little brother to do some fishing, but Mary will be spending her time with me." It wasn't easy convincing Mary to come to Wilma's. If you have spent time dealing with teenage girls, you know that they can be as stubborn as late-season ice on the lake. In the end, I resorted to threats and bribery to get her onboard, but she assured me that she would hate every minute she was there. Lane came with us as well, with the promise that we could spend the afternoon fishing off the end of Wilma's dock. By the time we arrived, Mary was sullenly glued to the passenger seat and wouldn't look up from her phone. Wilma waited a few minutes for Mary, but she stubbornly refused to leave the truck. Eventually, Wilma pulled on her rubber boots and walked over to the truck. She looked up at Mary and started speaking. "There are three things that I know are true. "The first, I've already shared with your brother. We are all artists because we are all worthy of love. But many of us lose our way. We are hurt and abandoned, and we are buried in shame. I was like that for many years. But my husband, Phillip, found me and taught me what it is to be loved. Not just the physical act; although he taught me about that as well; but the certainty that I was seen, known, and cherished. He showed me that I am an artist. You are an artist too. "Second, I am old, I have cancer, and I will die. Not today, and hopefully not tomorrow, but soon. And that is okay; we all die. I have lived a good life. And when I do, I hope that Phillip will be waiting for me with a glass of chilled white wine and his beautiful smile. My art may linger for a while once I am gone but, eventually, it too will be lost. "Third, the world is full of bastards. Your brother tells me that you and he are both bastards. I will tell you a secret that I have shared with very few people; I am a bastard too. "My mother was beautiful but poor. Her parents lost everything during the Great Depression, and she worked as a housemaid for a rich and powerful man to support her family. When she fell pregnant, he put her out on the street and refused to recognize her child, his daughter; me. Because of his rejection, I spent too many years steeped in shame and self-loathing. But eventually, I learned a hard truth; my father was a bastard by choice, while I was a bastard by birth. And those of us who are bastards by birth must never let the bastards by choice win. "Come inside when you're ready. I'm too old and it's too cold for me to stand here waiting for you." With that, Wilma turned and slowly made her way back to the house. Surprisingly, after a minute, Mary followed. When they reached the door, Wilma turned to look back at me. "It's time for you boys to go fishing. There is a warm breeze off the lake that will bring you good luck." Lane and I made our way down the hill to the dock in silence, our fishing rods, ice chest, and tackle box in hand. Unlike a seasonal dock that would be taken out of the lake each fall, Wilma's dock could be used year-round and was built with heavy timbers and steel bracing, so it could withstand the crushing force of the winter's ice. When we reached the dock, we felt the warm wind that Wilma had promised, and we chose our lures and began to cast. After a half hour of fishing, Lane broke the silence. "Do you think it's my fault?" "Do I think what's your fault, Bud?" "That mom left us. That she never came back. Do you think it's my fault?" I sighed as I thought about my answer. "No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, really, maybe not even hers. It's funny though, she brought some amazing people into this world. I wish she could have seen how incredible you and your sisters have turned out. But she made her choice, and that's on her, not you." Lane thought about my answer before he continued. "But you would be better off without me. Sharon would have more time to study for the scholarship she will need to get away from here. I try to be nice to Mary, to make her feel better, but I just seem to make things worse for her as well. And I see how hard you work to keep our family together. I feel like you would all be better off without me. If I weren't here, maybe Mom would come back home." I took a deep breath and tried to push down the anger that threatened to overwhelm me; anger at my mother for abandoning us, anger at myself for never being enough, and anger at a world that would leave my brother feeling like it would be better off if he didn't exist. I felt the wind off the lake as it blew across my face, drying my unshed tears before they were formed. As I was wondering how to unbreak my brother's heart, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through and Lane's fishing rod bent into a deep arc, the tip dancing wildly as a fish fought against the line. "Dad! Help;" The drag clicked furiously as the fish pulled line, as Lane fought to keep his rod tip up. I quickly set my rod aside and braced him, my hands held loosely beside his as he fought to reel in his catch. We worked together for what seemed like an eternity before he finally fought his fish to the side of the dock. I grabbed the net and saw that he had hooked a steelhead trout that was easily two feet long and must have weighed at least eight pounds if not more. It was a wonder the drag held steady, and his line didn't break during the fight. As I scooped up his catch, the steelhead's silver sides shimmered like polished chrome in the fading light, and it was so big that it took up over half the ice chest I had brought along to store our catch. Lane was flushed with excitement at landing such an impressive fish, and I was so proud of him that my heart almost ached. "Nice work, Son." He just looked up at me for a moment before throwing his arms around me in a hug. In the time since our mother left, he had never called me by anything other than my name. I never tried to be his dad; I didn't think I was qualified, but I guess that all of us need someone in our lives who will love us without conditions or end. "Never think that you're a burden on me or the family. Maybe you need a bit more from us right now than you can give back, but that's alright. Because sixty years from now, when I am old and can't wipe my ass anymore, you are going to be paying me back in spades, alright?" With that, we went back to fishing in companionable silence. I pulled in a few smaller ones, but nothing to match Lane's steelhead. A few hours later, the wind had picked up and it was getting colder, so we packed up our equipment and made our way back toward the house. Halfway down the dock, however, a huge gust of wind swept through, and I heard a cry followed by a loud splash. Turning back, I saw that Lane's foot had slipped through a broken slat, and he had fallen off the dock. Without thinking, I dropped the ice box and rods and jumped into the water to help him. When I got him to shore, he couldn't put any weight on his ankle, and any efforts to do so were met with cries of pain. I quickly collected our discarded fishing gear and set it to one side, before helping him to slowly make his way back up the hill. The November chill quickly took hold of us as we walked, plastering our damp clothing to our skin, and we were shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached the house. I knocked but it took a minute for Wilma and Mary to come out from the studio at the back of the house. "I am sorry to cut things short, but Lane had an accident down at the dock and he sprained or maybe even broke his ankle. I am going to have to take him to the hospital in Petoskey to get it looked at before it swells up any further." Wilma looked at me with concern. "Maybe you should hold off at least for a little while. My granddaughter, Erin, the pediatrician, is coming for dinner tonight and should be here any minute. Why don't we let her take a look at it before you head into town? And let's get you out of those clothes; you must be freezing. I still have some of Phillip's things in the closet that might fit you." A few minutes later, I had changed into a pair of comfortable but slightly musty-smelling pants, with a warm sweater over a well-worn collared shirt. I was both taller and wider than Phillip had been, at least in the twilight of his years, so the pants were a bit short, while the sweater was tight across my shoulders. While I changed, Mary and Wilma had set Lane up on the couch with his ankle elevated on some pillows. I helped him change out of his wet clothing and into an old sweatshirt and shorts that fit over his swollen ankle. Once Lane was settled, Wilma and I talked quietly in the kitchen. "It's getting late, and you must be getting hungry, but I don't think I have enough to feed everyone." I thought for a moment. "We may be in luck. Lane caught the biggest steelhead I have ever seen earlier this afternoon, but I left it down by the dock after the accident. If you have a few potatoes and maybe a veg or two, I am sure I can whip something up that would feed us all." Wilma looked at me with a sly smile. "He cooks, he plumbs, and he cares for his family, all while cutting a dashing figure in my late husband's favorite sweater. You, Mr. Crawford, are a catch." "I am not sure about that, Wilma," I replied with a laugh, "But either way, this catch had better go and get our earlier catch, so I can get started on dinner." It took me almost half an hour to collect our fishing gear and bring it back up to the truck. By the time I was done, an older SUV was parked behind my truck, which meant that Erin had arrived. After I loaded the gear, I used the fishing knife and stained plastic cutting board that I kept in a bin under the back seat to clean and filet the steelhead before heading inside. From the doorway, I could see a head of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail sticking up from the far side of the couch, and I heard a calm and melodic voice talking to Lane while Wilma and Mary looked on. I was so lost in that voice that I almost jumped when the latch on the door caught behind me. The head of sandy-blonde hair looked up at the sound, revealing a pair of amber, almost golden eyes. "You must be the father," said that same melodic voice, as those eyes bore their way into my soul. "It's Davis Crawford, and I'm the older brother." "Erin Anderson, nice to meet you. Can you get hold of your parents? We might need to take Lane to the hospital for some X-rays." "No," I replied more harshly than I intended. "No," I tried again, more gently but with an edge to my voice. "Our parents aren't around; I am as close as you're going to get. I am Lane's legal guardian if that helps." There was a slight pause as her amber eyes shifted from surprise to curiosity. "That helps a lot. Why don't you give me 15 minutes or so to take a look at this brave dude's ankle, then we can talk over some options, once I have a better sense of what's going on." "That okay with you, Bud?" I asked as I walked over to the couch. "Yeah, that should be fine," he replied, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. For a moment, I was worried that he might be running a fever, but then I got my first look at Erin, and I understood. Maybe she wasn't classically beautiful like a movie star or swimsuit model, but she was lean and fit, and from what I could see, had more than enough curves in all the right places. It was her face, however, that captured me. She had delicate features accentuated by her high cheekbones, and there was a softness to her expression that spoke of empathy and kindness. Her eyes, though intense, had a warmth that put me instantly at ease. I realized much too late that I had been staring at Erin for an uncomfortably long time while holding the bag of steelhead filets out like some kind of sacrificial offering. While I stood frozen, the look in Erin's beautiful eyes had shifted from curiosity to amusement; I would assume at the fish-carrying simpleton standing in front of her. "Thanks, Dr. Anderson; err, Erin. I appreciate your taking a look at him and; I am going to go cook us up some fish before I make an even bigger ass of myself." Wilma joined me in the kitchen, while Erin continued to assess Lane's injured ankle. We spent the next few minutes dicing the potatoes and veggies and tossing them with some olive oil, salt, and pepper before sprinkling the filets of steelhead with a mixture of herbs. I topped the fish with some slices of a less-than-fresh, but still edible, lemon I found in the fridge, before putting the whole thing in the oven. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

A utilização de inteligência artificial (IA) pelos alunos não é o problema principal, mas sim um sintoma de um sistema educativo que prioriza a acumulação de pontos e notas em vez da aprendizagem. O autor sugere que o cérebro humano procura inerentemente o caminho de menor esforço, e se o objetivo do aluno é apenas obter uma boa nota, a IA se torna a ferramenta mais eficiente. Para reorientar o foco para a aprendizagem, o artigo propõe várias estratégias práticas para professores, como a utilização de "learning memos" anexados aos trabalhos, a redefinição das avaliações para clarificar os níveis de compreensão e a integração de reflexões intencionais sobre a aprendizagem. O texto também aborda a "Lei de Goodhart", explicando que quando a nota se torna o alvo, deixa de ser uma medida válida da aprendizagem, e defende a priorização de conversas focadas no crescimento para reforçar que o objetivo principal é a evolução académica. O autor conclui que, dado que a IA não irá desaparecer, a solução reside em abordar a questão fundamental dos objetivos dos estudantes.

A utilização de inteligência artificial (IA) pelos alunos não é o problema principal, mas sim um sintoma de um sistema educativo que prioriza a acumulação de pontos e notas em vez da aprendizagem. O autor sugere que o cérebro humano procura inerentemente o caminho de menor esforço, e se o objetivo do aluno é apenas obter uma boa nota, a IA se torna a ferramenta mais eficiente. Para reorientar o foco para a aprendizagem, o artigo propõe várias estratégias práticas para professores, como a utilização de "learning memos" anexados aos trabalhos, a redefinição das avaliações para clarificar os níveis de compreensão e a integração de reflexões intencionais sobre a aprendizagem. O texto também aborda a "Lei de Goodhart", explicando que quando a nota se torna o alvo, deixa de ser uma medida válida da aprendizagem, e defende a priorização de conversas focadas no crescimento para reforçar que o objetivo principal é a evolução académica. O autor conclui que, dado que a IA não irá desaparecer, a solução reside em abordar a questão fundamental dos objetivos dos estudantes.

Russ Fradin sold his first company for $300M. He's back in the arena with Larridin, helping companies measure just how successful their AI actually is.In this episode, Russ sits down with a16z General Partner Alex Rampell to reveal why the measurement infrastructure that unlocked internet advertising's trillion-dollar boom is exactly what's missing from AI, why your most productive employees are hiding their AI usage from management, and the uncomfortable truth that companies desperately buying AI tools have no idea whether anyone's actually using them. The same playbook that built comScore into a billion-dollar measurement empire now determines which AI companies survive the coming shakeout.Timecodes: 0:00 — Introduction 2:15 — Early Career, Ad Tech, and Web 1.03:09 — Attribution Problems in Ad Tech & AI4:30 — Building Measurement Infrastructure6:49 — Software Eating Labor: Productivity Shifts8:51 — The Challenge of Measuring AI ROI14:54 — The Productivity Baseline Problem18:46 — Defining and Measuring Productivity21:27 — Goodhart's Law & the Pitfalls of Metrics22:41 — The Harvey Example: Usage vs. Value25:18 — Surveys vs. Behavioral Data28:38 — Interdepartmental Responsiveness & Real-World Metrics31:00 — Enterprise AI Adoption: What the Data Shows33:59 — Employee Anxiety & Training Gaps38:31 — The Nexus Product & Safe AI Usage42:08 — The Future of Work: Job Loss or Job Creation?44:40 — The Competitive Advantage of AI53:45 — The Product Marketing Problem in AI55:00 — The Importance of Specific Use CasesResources:Follow Russ Fradin on X: https://x.com/rfradinFollow Alex Rampell on X: https://x.com/arampell Stay Updated:If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to like, subscribe, and share with your friends!Find a16z on X: https://x.com/a16zFind a16z on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/a16zListen to the a16z Podcast on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/5bC65RDvs3oxnLyqqvkUYXListen to the a16z Podcast on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/a16z-podcast/id842818711Follow our host: https://x.com/eriktorenbergPlease note that the content here is for informational purposes only; should NOT be taken as legal, business, tax, or investment advice or be used to evaluate any investment or security; and is not directed at any investors or potential investors in any a16z fund. a16z and its affiliates may maintain investments in the companies discussed. For more details please see http://a16z.com/disclosures. Stay Updated:Find a16z on XFind a16z on LinkedInListen to the a16z Podcast on SpotifyListen to the a16z Podcast on Apple PodcastsFollow our host: https://twitter.com/eriktorenberg Please note that the content here is for informational purposes only; should NOT be taken as legal, business, tax, or investment advice or be used to evaluate any investment or security; and is not directed at any investors or potential investors in any a16z fund. a16z and its affiliates may maintain investments in the companies discussed. For more details please see a16z.com/disclosures. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Ever wonder why some founders exit with clarity and calm while others get trapped by their own success? We sit down with M&A advisor Brian Goodhart of Capstone Strategic to unpack the real mechanics of selling a mid-market business—what buyers actually value, how timing and structure shape outcomes, and why “someday” is a dangerously vague plan. If your company is your largest asset, this conversation helps you protect it.We go deep on the difference between owning a job and owning a transferable business, the quiet power of clean financials, and building a leadership bench that can run without you. Brian lays out a simple three-phase process—planning and preparation, outreach and engagement, and deal advisory to close—that keeps confidentiality tight, aligns buyer conversations with your priorities, and reduces surprises in diligence. We also break down the “selling equation,” a mix of price, terms, post-close involvement, timing, operational changes, and the personal X-factors that matter to you. Define these early and you invite offers that fit, not just numbers that flatter.Founder fatigue is real, and naming it can save value. We talk openly about burnout, why starting early creates options, and how knowing your “enough” number guides smarter deal structures—from taking some chips off the table to rolling equity for upside. The twist? Preparing to sell often makes the business stronger and more enjoyable, so you may choose not to transact at all. That's the point: optionality. If you want a sale on your terms, or simply a company that runs better now, this is your roadmap.If this resonates, follow and share the show, and leave a review with the one question you still have about selling your business. Your question might shape a future episode.-----About Our Guest:Brian GoodhartCapstone Strategic, Director, M&A Advisory Services8521 Leesburg Pike, Suite 230, Vienna VA 22182bgoodhart@gmail.com717-372-2403www.capstonestrategic.comAs Director of Capstone's M&A Advisory Services, Brian is a proven Growth Engineer experienced in conducting middle-market transactions on both the buy and sell sides. He works side-by-side with clients throughout the deal making process.LinkedIn | Email | WebsiteHear Past episodes of the Way2Wealth Podcast!https://theway2wealth.com Learn more about our Host, Scott Ford, Managing Director, Partner & Wealth Advisorhttps://www.carsonwealth.com/team-members/scott-ford/ Investment advisory services offered through CWM LLC, an SEC-registered investment advisor. Carson Partners, a division of CWM LLC, is a nationwide partnership of advisors. The opinions voiced in the Way to Wealth with Scott Ford are for general information only and are not intended to provide specific advice or recommendations for an individual. Past performance is no guarantee of future results. All indices are unmanaged and may not be invested into directly. Investing involves risk, including possible loss of principal. No strategy assures success or protects against loss. To determine what may be appropriate for you, consult with your attorney, accountant, financial or tax advisor prior to investing. Guests on Way to Wealth are not affiliated with CWM, LLC. Legado Family is not affiliated with CWM LLC. Carson Wealth 19833 Leitersburg Pike, Suite 1, Hagerstown, Maryland, 21742.

Rob Wilson is a performance educator with over twenty years of experience helping people build durable, high-functioning bodies and minds. He joins us on The Ready State Podcast to unpack the uncomfortable truth about performance: it's not free. In this powerful conversation with Kelly and Juliet Starrett, Rob dives into the real price of pushing your limits, why sleep is non-negotiable, and how to reframe “selfish” self-care as the foundation for showing up better in every area of life. Together, they tackle burnout, aging, and what it takes to sustain health and high output in a world that rewards constant hustle.What You'll Learn in This EpisodeThe three waves of fitness, and why Rob Wilson's book represents the vanguard of the third wave.The problem with the democratization of health metrics like Heart Rate Variability (HRV) if you don't know how to interpret the data or take action.The story behind the "Check Engine Light" metaphor, which helps high performers prioritize what to address and what to ignore.Why the phrase "self-care" often fails with service-oriented and high-performing individuals and the analogy used instead.The "Cobra Effect" or Goodhart's Law, and how chasing a metric like a high HRV can lead to misleading and useless outcomes.How to stop the "medical cascade" and apply an experimental framework (test/retest) to chronic, nagging pain and everyday health issues.The true cost of high performance and the crucial need for a "cost mitigation strategy" to avoid burnout.Why context matters more than perfect protocols, and how to create a personal longevity dashboard for continuous adaptation.For more info, follow Rob on Instagram and definitely pick up a copy of his new book, Check Engine Light: Tuning Your Body and Mind to Achieve Performance Longevity.Key Highlights: (00:00) - Intro(00:48) - Check Engine Light Book Overview(06:49) - Check Engine Light Metaphor Explained(14:06) - Importance of Check Engine Light for Everyone(17:49) - Inputs and Outputs in Life(20:37) - One Size Fits All Approach: Myth or Reality?(25:25) - Identifying What Matters Most to You(27:28) - Performance Costs: Understanding Trade-offs(29:27) - Recommended Supplements for Health(32:55) - LMNT: Importance of Hydration Explained(37:10) - Resistance: Creativity's Universal Challenge(39:48) - Becoming Reasonable: A Personal Journey(45:18) - Heart Rate Variability (HRV): Benefits Explained(47:15) - Using Tracking Devices Mindfully(49:57) - The Cobra Effect: Understanding Consequences(57:55) - Setting Up Environments for Success(1:00:20) - Changes Since Writing the Book(1:03:14) - What's Next for Rob: Future Plans(1:04:30) - Finding Rob: Where to ConnectSponsorsThis episode of The Ready State Podcast is brought to you by LMNT and Momentous. 

Are we failing to understand the exponential, again?My guest is Julian Schrittwieser (top AI researcher at Anthropic; previously Google DeepMind on AlphaGo Zero & MuZero). We unpack his viral post (“Failing to Understand the Exponential, again”) and what it looks like when task length doubles every 3–4 months—pointing to AI agents that can work a full day autonomously by 2026 and expert-level breadth by 2027. We talk about the original Move 37 moment and whether today's AI models can spark alien insights in code, math, and science—including Julian's timeline for when AI could produce Nobel-level breakthroughs.We go deep on the recipe of the moment—pre-training + RL—why it took time to combine them, what “RL from scratch” gets right and wrong, and how implicit world models show up in LLM agents. Julian explains the current rewards frontier (human prefs, rubrics, RLVR, process rewards), what we know about compute & scaling for RL, and why most builders should start with tools + prompts before considering RL-as-a-service. We also cover evals & Goodhart's law (e.g., GDP-Val vs real usage), the latest in mechanistic interpretability (think “Golden Gate Claude”), and how safety & alignment actually surface in Anthropic's launch process.Finally, we zoom out: what 10× knowledge-work productivity could unlock across medicine, energy, and materials, how jobs adapt (complementarity over 1-for-1 replacement), and why the near term is likely a smooth ramp—fast, but not a discontinuity.Julian SchrittwieserBlog - https://www.julian.acX/Twitter - https://x.com/mononofuViral post: Failing to understand the exponential, again (9/27/2025)AnthropicWebsite - https://www.anthropic.comX/Twitter - https://x.com/anthropicaiMatt Turck (Managing Director)Blog - https://www.mattturck.comLinkedIn - https://www.linkedin.com/in/turck/X/Twitter - https://twitter.com/mattturckFIRSTMARKWebsite - https://firstmark.comX/Twitter - https://twitter.com/FirstMarkCap(00:00) Cold open — “We're not seeing any slowdown.”(00:32) Intro — who Julian is & what we cover(01:09) The “exponential” from inside frontier labs(04:46) 2026–2027: agents that work a full day; expert-level breadth(08:58) Benchmarks vs reality: long-horizon work, GDP-Val, user value(10:26) Move 37 — what actually happened and why it mattered(13:55) Novel science: AlphaCode/AlphaTensor → when does AI earn a Nobel?(16:25) Discontinuity vs smooth progress (and warning signs)(19:08) Does pre-training + RL get us there? (AGI debates aside)(20:55) Sutton's “RL from scratch”? Julian's take(23:03) Julian's path: Google → DeepMind → Anthropic(26:45) AlphaGo (learn + search) in plain English(30:16) AlphaGo Zero (no human data)(31:00) AlphaZero (one algorithm: Go, chess, shogi)(31:46) MuZero (planning with a learned world model)(33:23) Lessons for today's agents: search + learning at scale(34:57) Do LLMs already have implicit world models?(39:02) Why RL on LLMs took time (stability, feedback loops)(41:43) Compute & scaling for RL — what we see so far(42:35) Rewards frontier: human prefs, rubrics, RLVR, process rewards(44:36) RL training data & the “flywheel” (and why quality matters)(48:02) RL & Agents 101 — why RL unlocks robustness(50:51) Should builders use RL-as-a-service? Or just tools + prompts?(52:18) What's missing for dependable agents (capability vs engineering)(53:51) Evals & Goodhart — internal vs external benchmarks(57:35) Mechanistic interpretability & “Golden Gate Claude”(1:00:03) Safety & alignment at Anthropic — how it shows up in practice(1:03:48) Jobs: human–AI complementarity (comparative advantage)(1:06:33) Inequality, policy, and the case for 10× productivity → abundance(1:09:24) Closing thoughts

Chasing numbers can actually destroy what made your business great. In this episode, Dan and Ian unpack Goodhart's Law — the idea that once a measure becomes a target, it stops being useful — and how founders accidentally turn smart goals into bad incentives. Plus, you'll hear six ways to build healthier systems, lead better, and stop metrics from running your company off the rails. LINKS Share your thoughts about the podcast (takes 2 mins) (https://getperspective.ai/interview/tmba-feedback) This week's sponsor: SPP.co “Your billing, onboarding & projects in one client portal” (https://spp.co/) This week's sponsor: Smash Digital “Scale your organic traffic with future-proof strategies” (https://smashdigital.com/) Connect with 6-, 7- & 8-figure founders in person and online (https://dynamitecircle.com/) Hang out exclusively with 7+ figure founders and join us in NYC this December (https://dynamitecircle.com/dc-black) 22 FREE business resources for location-independent entrepreneurs (https://tropicalmba.com/resources) CHAPTERS (00:01:16) The Hair-Dye Economy & Durable Businesses (00:03:38) The Problem with Metrics (00:07:44) Fix #1: Revisit Your Brand Promise (00:09:12) Fix #2: Determine a Countervailing Metric (00:12:17) Fix #3: Combine Input and Output Metrics (00:13:12) Fix #4: Refresh Metrics Every 90 Days (00:14:39) Fix #5: Pulse Discipline (00:16:05) Fix #6: The Leadership Lens (00:20:00) The Alt Business School (00:25:42) When a Job Post Becomes a Marketing Hack CONNECT: Dan@tropicalmba.com Ian@tropicalmba.com Past guests on TMBA include Cal Newport, David Heinemeier Hannson, Seth Godin, Ricardo Semler, Noah Kagan, Rob Walling, Jay Clouse, Einar Vollset, Sam Dogan, Gino Wickam, James Clear, Jodie Cook, Mark Webster, Steph Smith, Taylor Pearson, Justin Tan, Matt Gartland, Ayman Al-Abdullah, Lucy Bella. PLAYLIST: Wealth Without a 7-Figure Exit: 5 Steps (https://tropicalmba.com/episodes/wealth-without-7-figure-exit) How to Instantly Improve Your Lead Pipeline by 20-50% (https://tropicalmba.com/episodes/improve-your-lead-pipeline) Growth vs. Optimization — 90% of Growth Comes from 10% of Activities? (https://tropicalmba.com/episodes/growth-vs-optimization)

Episode Show NotesSummaryIn this episode, Dr. Chris Brown sits down with customer experience pioneer Annette Franz, author of Customer Understanding, Built to Win, and her latest book, Employee Understanding. Annette shares her journey from JD Power to becoming one of the leading voices on connecting employee experience, customer experience, and business outcomes. Together they explore the blind spots leaders have around culture, the three-pillar framework for employee understanding, and why listening—not surveys alone—is the foundation of sustainable success.From the “Sunday Scaries Test” to the dangers of gaming metrics like NPS, this conversation is packed with practical insights for leaders who want to design people-centric cultures that drive performance.Key TakeawaysEmployee experience is business critical: Without empowered employees, customer experience and business outcomes suffer.Culture is the shadow of the leader: Leaders shape or allow the culture—there is no middle ground.Three-pillar framework: Culture alignment, employee insights, and leadership empathy are the keys to designing great workplaces.Beware of “lipstick on a pig” fixes: Solve root causes, not symptoms, through service blueprinting and systemic problem-solving.Metrics can mislead: Chasing scores like NPS often backfires; focus on genuine experience improvements.Listen beyond surveys: Stay interviews, roundtables, and employee advisory boards are underused but powerful tools.Modernize or fossilize: Leaders must evolve their practices—or risk irrelevance.Memorable Sound Bites“You get the culture you design—or the one you allow.”“Culture is truly the shadow of the leader.”“Stop asking in exit interviews why people left. Ask in stay interviews why they're still here.”“When leaders beg for scores, you're moving the metric—not the experience.”“If employees feel unsafe to speak up, all you'll hear is crickets.”“Modernize or fossilize—that's the choice facing today's CEOs.”Chapters00:00 – Introduction: Annette's early career at JD Power and the origins of her CX journey.03:00 – Employee Blind Spots: Why leaders still struggle to connect employee experience with business performance.05:40 – The Sunday Scaries Test: How workplace culture impacts employees before Monday even begins.07:15 – Culture & Leadership: Why culture rests squarely on the shoulders of leaders.11:40 – The Three Pillars: Culture alignment, employee insights, and empathy in action.16:20 – Personas & Empathy: Bringing customers and employees to life inside organizations.21:30 – Connecting to Business Outcomes: Linking journey mapping and feedback to measurable ROI.27:20 – Goodhart's Law & Metrics: How chasing numbers distorts reality.31:20 – Yes Madam Case Study: What not to do with employee feedback.35:20 – Lipstick on a Pig: Why surface fixes fail without root cause analysis.37:50 – Listening Beyond Surveys: Stay interviews, listening tours, and employee advisory boards.42:00 – Modernize or Fossilize: Annette's open letter to CEOs.43:30 – AI & Human Connection: Where technology fits—and where it doesn't.46:40 – Delta Airlines Example: A model of connecting culture, employees, and customers.48:30 – Closing Thoughts: Where to find Annette's work and resources.

Caron Treatment Centers' Erin Goodhart answers questions about programs to prevent substance use disorders, explains the term “brain health,” and how treatment for teenagers is significantly different than care provided to adults. Podcast Disclaimer The Parent-to-Parent Podcasts are provided as a service to you from other parents and do not represent professional clinical advice. The views and opinions expressed in the Parent-to-Parent Podcasts are not necessarily those of Caron or its affiliates. Nothing contained in the Parent-to-Parent Podcasts is intended to be instructional for clinical diagnosis or treatment. The information should not be considered complete, nor should it be relied on to suggest a course of treatment for a particular individual. It should not be used in place of a visit, call, consultation or the advice of your physician or other qualified health care provider. You should never disregard clinical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have heard or read in the Parent-to-Parent Podcasts. Caron and its affiliates are neither responsible nor liable for any direct, indirect, incidental, consequential, special, exemplary, punitive, or other damages arising out of or relating in any way to the Parent-to-Parent Podcasts, content or information contained therein or any hyperlinked website. Your sole remedy for dissatisfaction with the Parent-to-Parent Podcasts, content or information contained therein, and/or hyperlinked websites is to stop using the Parent-to-Parent Podcasts or hyperlinked websites. Please be advised that the Parent-to-Parent Podcasts may be protected by federal and international copyright or other laws, and your right to reprint, republish, modify, reproduce, or distribute the Parent-to-Parent Podcasts may be limited accordingly.

TL;DR Most “AGI ban” proposals define AGI by outcome: whatever potentially leads to human extinction. That's legally insufficient: regulation has to act before harm occurs, not after. Strict liability is essential. High-stakes domains (health & safety, product liability, export controls) already impose liability for risky precursor states, not outcomes or intent. AGI regulation must do the same. Fuzzy definitions won't work here. Courts can tolerate ambiguity in ordinary crimes because errors aren't civilisation-ending and penalties bite. An AGI ban will likely follow the EU AI Act model (civil fines, ex post enforcement), which companies can Goodhart around. We cannot afford an “80% avoided” ban. Define crisp thresholds. Nuclear treaties succeeded by banning concrete precursors (zero-yield tests, 8kg plutonium, 25kg HEU, 500kg/300km delivery systems), not by banning “extinction-risk weapons.” AGI bans need analogous thresholds: capabilities like autonomous replication, scalable resource acquisition, and systematic deception. Bring lawyers in. If this [...] ---Outline:(00:12) TL;DR(02:07) Why outcome-based AGI bans proposals don't work(03:52) The luxury of defining the thing ex post(05:43) Actually defining the thing we want to ban(08:06) Credible bans depend on bright lines(08:44) Learning from nuclear treatiesThe original text contained 2 footnotes which were omitted from this narration. --- First published: September 20th, 2025 Source: https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/agBMC6BfCbQ29qABF/the-problem-with-defining-an-agi-ban-by-outcome-a-lawyer-s --- Narrated by TYPE III AUDIO.

ASHP's senior education director, Cindy Von Heeringen is joined by Angela Goodhart, associate professor of Clinical Pharmacy and Family Medicine at West Virginia University, as she discusses her upcoming Midyear sessions that focuses on key components for a successful residency interview and defining characteristics and values of the different generations.  The information presented during the podcast reflects solely the opinions of the presenter. The information and materials are not, and are not intended as, a comprehensive source of drug information on this topic. The contents of the podcast have not been reviewed by ASHP, and should neither be interpreted as the official policies of ASHP, nor an endorsement of any product(s), nor should they be considered as a substitute for the professional judgment of the pharmacist or physician.

Subscribe to Nicholas Gruen's Substack - https://nicholasgruen.substack.com/I joined the Australian economist Nicholas Gruen recently in his Melbourne home to host his first 'long-form' podcast (although I'm not sure at what hour it goes from short to long)At the core of Gruen's worldview is the “un-seriousness” he levels at Australian politics, the media landscape, institutions and in a word... bureaucracies.From his creation of the HALE Index to his decades inside Australia's public institutions, Nicholas continuously challenges orthodox thinking.The podcast covers the (in my opinion) radical yet (Nicholas's opinion) ancient idea of citizens' juries as a second pillar of representation, the reasons bold policy rarely survives bureaucratic reality, and how lessons from the Toyota production system could help governments actually listen to people at the bottom of the hierarchy.Along the way, Gruen takes us from Australia's superannuation system to pokies, from the mental health crisis to the subtle erosion of public-spiritedness inside organisations. To be specific, these are all the topics covered in this chat.The HALE Index of Well-being – Why GDP misses the mark, how HALE works, and what it reveals about Australia's progress.Measuring What Matters – The limits of subjective well-being metrics, correlations between indicators, and why faux indexes mislead policymakers.Indigenous Policy Contradictions – The tension between material “gap closing” and self-determination, and why policy rarely confronts it.Citizens' Juries & Political Reform – Introducing random selection into governance and how it could act as a check on elected officials.Goodhart's Law in Action – How turning measures into targets corrupts them, and the problem of gaming metrics in education and beyond.Internal vs External Goods – Alasdair MacIntyre's framework and its relevance to public service, corporate culture, and motivation.Institutional Stagnation – Why promising initiatives stall, and how bottom-up programs could scale without being crushed by bureaucracy.Toyota Production System Lessons – Building respect for frontline workers into systems and how it transforms performance.Australia's Superannuation System – Strengths, inefficiencies, unfair taxation, and misaligned regulation of self-managed super funds.Compulsory Voting & Preferential Systems – How they shape Australia's political centre and guard against extreme populism.Universities Today – The shift from idea-driven discourse to metric-chasing careerism, especially in economics.Trade-offs vs Synergies – Why economics often overemphasises trade-offs, and examples of where quality and cost improve together.Timestamps00:00 Introduction to Nicholas Gruen05:41 The Limitations of GDP as a Measure11:08 Inequality and Its Impact on Well-being16:45 The Role of Metrics in Policy Making22:10 The Importance of Community Engagement41:48 Connecting Education to the Real World47:24 Learning from Toyota's Success56:52 The Flaws in Superannuation System01:02:55 Reforming Auditing Practices01:11:39 The Shift in University Education01:20:59 Divergent Perspectives in Economics01:32:49 Rethinking Representation in Democracy01:48:25 The Role of Elite Consensus in Political Change02:07:58 Understanding Domestic Violence in Indigenous Communities02:21:55 The Role of New Media in Political Discourse02:26:38 The Impact of Gambling on Australian Society02:36:08 The Nature of Optimism and Serendipity in Life

Grip strength is a powerful predictor of longevity, linked to lower risks of cancer, heart disease, and all-cause mortality. Jain discusses Goodhart's Law and suggests a holistic approach to health, incorporating compound weightlifting, cardio, mobility exercises, and other health measures like waist-to-hip ratio, HbA1c, and lipids. The key takeaway is that grip strength is a side effect of a healthy, active lifestyle, not the cause of longevity. Get full access to Evolving with Nita Jain at www.nitajain.com/subscribe

Goodhart, David www.deutschlandfunkkultur.de, Studio 9

This episode focuses again on the fundamental principle that your systems are perfectly designed for the outcomes you are experiencing, regardless of whether those systems were intentionally or accidentally created.Here are the key takeaways from the episode:Uncover how your systems, whether intentionally or accidentally designed, are perfectly configured for the outcomes you experience. The implication of design means choices have been made in setting up a system, but your intent is less important than the actual outcomes produced.Learn why your intent is less important than the actual outcomes when evaluating your systems. If your intent was the sole factor, everyone would achieve their desired results. Instead, systems should be judged by the outcomes they generate.Discover the concept of "accidental design," where unseen factors influence system behaviour. This can be inspired by Goodhart's law, where a measure becomes a target and changes behaviour, or by environmental factors, such as how your workspace impacts your thinking and heart rate.Explore how "invisible systems" – the unexamined rules and assumptions that govern your daily life – profoundly influence your actions and results. These are forces changing your behaviour that you likely haven't evaluated, such as automatically accepting all meeting invites.Understand that human behaviour, including your own, can be an outcome of your systems. This perspective offers the highest leverage opportunity for change, as modifying the underlying system is more effective than relying on temporary motivation or addressing knowledge gaps in isolation.Realise that system boundaries are often arbitrary, and a system's design must account for all factors influencing its outcomes. For example, a quality assurance system cannot be considered good if it fails due to a "talent" issue; the talent pool and hiring procedures are part of the overall system affecting the outcome. Ignoring such factors because they fall outside perceived boundaries of responsibility can lead to irreducible or expensive risks.You are encouraged to investigate the invisible parts of your systems and write down the assumed rules that govern your life, even if you haven't evaluated their truth or helpfulness.

Send us a textThe price system solves a profound coordination problem by communicating dispersed knowledge that no central planner could ever fully access or comprehend. We explore Hayek's insight about how prices serve as both information and incentives, allowing self-interested actions to inadvertently benefit society.• The "knowledge problem" – why information needed for economic decisions is dispersed among millions of individuals• Tale of two farmers – how profit-seeking Mo unknowingly serves society better than altruistic Al• Markets generate information through commercial processes that otherwise wouldn't exist• Goodhart's Law – when measures become targets, they cease to be good measures• Soviet planning failures – absurd outcomes like factories producing single giant nails to meet weight quotas• Recycling pennies – potential approaches as the US phases out penny productionMentioned in the podcast:FA Hayek, "Use of Knowledge in Society" (AER, 1945) Michael Munger, Socialist Generation Debate"Goodhart's Law""What Do Prices Know That You Don't?"Ross Kaminsky, of KOA:iHeart RadioSegments with RossRoss on X (@rossputin)My Duke colleague Bruce Caldwell, on the intellectual history of Hayek's 1945 AER paperBook'o'da'week! Three suggestions (but mostly Red Plenty!)Paul Craig Roberts' "Alienation and the Soviet Economy" Alec Nove's "The Economics of Feasible Socialism"Francis Spufford's "Red Plenty"If you have questions or comments, or want to suggest a future topic, email the show at taitc.email@gmail.com ! You can follow Mike Munger on Twitter at @mungowitz

June 25th: Good Hart Murders (1968) A vacation is the perfect opportunity for rest and relaxation. Maybe even some time with the family you love. It's not a time where one would expect to be the victim of a horrific crime. On June 25th 1968 a family became the target of a dangerous individual while staying in their vacation cabin. A case that, at least officially, remains unsolved. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Stormy Kromer Ride Recap — Motorcycle Touring the Michigan Upper Peninsula (UP)Welcome to Episode 072 of the Best Motorcycle Roads Podcast — a full ride report from our 1,640-mile trip through the scenic, wild, and pasty-filled Upper Peninsula of Michigan. This isn't your average motorcycle vlog. We're talking route pivots, factory tours, small-town surprises, and the kind of food coma only five pasties in one day can deliver.Ride Recap Highlights:✅ How we used ChatGPT to dodge four days of rain by flipping our route direction last-minute✅ Real talk on group hotel booking chaos (and how to avoid it)✅ What makes Minocqua, Wisconsin worth a stop — ski shows, lakeside bars, and a one-pound ice cream cone✅ The Stormy Kromer factory tour in Ironwood — led by the owner himself, Bob Jacquart✅ Michigan's most iconic motorcycle routes including M-119 (Tunnel of Trees)✅ Pasty showdown: Joe's vs. Ragus vs. Krupp's vs. Roy's vs. Iron Town — and the bakery that stole the show✅ Glass-bottom boat tour over Great Lakes shipwrecks✅ The story of the Edmund Fitzgerald at the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum✅ Taco Bell Cinnabon Balls, Lou Malnati's pizza, and other guilty pleasuresStormy Kromer Hat Giveaway:We're giving away a limited-edition Stormy Kromer trucker hat! To enter:

In this episode, Abi Noda is joined by Laura Tacho, CTO at DX, engineering leadership coach, and creator of the Core 4 framework. They explore how engineering organizations can avoid common pitfalls when adopting metrics frameworks like SPACE, DORA, and Core 4.Laura shares a practical guide to getting started with Core 4—beginning with controllable input metrics that teams can actually influence. The conversation touches on Goodhart's Law, why focusing too much on output metrics can lead to data distortion, and how leaders can build a culture of continuous improvement rooted in meaningful measurement.Where to find Laura Tacho: • LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/lauratacho/• Website: https://lauratacho.com/Where to find Abi Noda:• LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/abinoda In this episode, we cover:(00:00) Intro: Improving systems, not distorting data(02:20) Goal setting with the new Core 4 framework(08:01) A quick primer on Goodhart's law(10:02) Input vs. output metrics—and why targeting outputs is problematic(13:38) A health analogy demonstrating input vs. output(17:03) A look at how the key input metrics in Core 4 drive output metrics (24:08) How to counteract gamification (28:24) How to get developer buy-in(30:48) The number of metrics to focus on (32:44) Helping leadership and teams connect the dots to how input goals drive output(35:20) Demonstrating business impact (38:10) Best practices for goal settingReferenced:DX Core 4 Productivity FrameworkEngineering Enablement PodcastDORA's software delivery metrics: the four keysThe SPACE of Developer Productivity: There's more to it than you thinkDevEx: What Actually Drives ProductivityDORA, SPACE, and DevEx: Which framework should you use?Goodhart's law Nicole Forsgren - Microsoft | LinkedInCampbell's law Introducing Core 4: The best way to measure and improve your product velocityDX Core 4: Framework overview, key design principles, and practical applicationsDX Core 4: 2024 benchmarks - by Abi Noda

In this episode, we dive into the most controversial takesfrom our podcast guests. Inspired by a brilliant question from Meb Faber(thanks, Meb!), we've compiled insights from top financial minds to explorebeliefs that challenge conventional wisdom. From debunking dividend hype toreimagining the role of options and AI in investing, this episode is packedwith thought-provoking perspectives. Main Topics Covered: - Meb Faber challenges the obsession with dividends - Mike Green introduces Goodhart's Law to investing,suggesting that once a metric is tracked, its effectiveness diminishes. - Jim Paulsen downplays the importance of monetary policyand valuation, emphasizing Main Street sentiment over Wall Street metrics. - Ben Carlson defends retail investors, claiming they'rebetter behaved than ever thanks to modern tools and advice. - Dan Rasmussen disputes the predictability of growth,asserting past financials reveal little about a company's future. - Lindsay Bell and Shannon Saccocia advocate for learningthrough failure and a forward-looking, futurist mindset in investing. - Cem Karsan flips the script, arguing options are the trueunderlying asset, not derivatives. - Andrew Beer champions simplicity over complexity, citingthe success of straightforward hedge fund bets. - Jason Buck questions the existence of long-term alpha,favoring a diversified, rebalanced approach. - Ian Cassel challenges the low-turnover mantra, suggestinghigh turnover can work. - Scott McBride dismisses the need for catalysts in valueinvesting, focusing on valuation and governance. - Larry Swedroe critiques low-volatility strategies, arguingthey only shine when paired with value. - Kris Sidial highlights the importance of trading psyche, aview often dismissed by quant-driven peers. - Kai Wu predicts AI will enhance, not replace, financialjobs by handling rote tasks and freeing humans for creativity. - Doug Clinton forecasts a multi-trillion-dollar AI-poweredasset management industry within a decade. - Meb Faber (again!) flips the narrative on internationalinvesting, showing it's a winner for 49 out of 50 countries.

Prof. Jakob Foerster, a leading AI researcher at Oxford University and Meta, and Chris Lu, a researcher at OpenAI -- they explain how AI is moving beyond just mimicking human behaviour to creating truly intelligent agents that can learn and solve problems on their own. Foerster champions open-source AI for responsible, decentralised development. He addresses AI scaling, goal misalignment (Goodhart's Law), and the need for holistic alignment, offering a quick look at the future of AI and how to guide it.SPONSOR MESSAGES:***CentML offers competitive pricing for GenAI model deployment, with flexible options to suit a wide range of models, from small to large-scale deployments. Check out their super fast DeepSeek R1 hosting!https://centml.ai/pricing/Tufa AI Labs is a brand new research lab in Zurich started by Benjamin Crouzier focussed on o-series style reasoning and AGI. They are hiring a Chief Engineer and ML engineers. Events in Zurich. Goto https://tufalabs.ai/***TRANSCRIPT/REFS:https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/yqjszhntfr00bhjh6t565/JAKOB.pdf?rlkey=scvny4bnwj8th42fjv8zsfu2y&dl=0 Prof. Jakob Foersterhttps://x.com/j_foersthttps://www.jakobfoerster.com/University of Oxford Profile: https://eng.ox.ac.uk/people/jakob-foerster/Chris Lu:https://chrislu.page/TOC1. GPU Acceleration and Training Infrastructure [00:00:00] 1.1 ARC Challenge Criticism and FLAIR Lab Overview [00:01:25] 1.2 GPU Acceleration and Hardware Lottery in RL [00:05:50] 1.3 Data Wall Challenges and Simulation-Based Solutions [00:08:40] 1.4 JAX Implementation and Technical Acceleration2. Learning Frameworks and Policy Optimization [00:14:18] 2.1 Evolution of RL Algorithms and Mirror Learning Framework [00:15:25] 2.2 Meta-Learning and Policy Optimization Algorithms [00:21:47] 2.3 Language Models and Benchmark Challenges [00:28:15] 2.4 Creativity and Meta-Learning in AI Systems3. Multi-Agent Systems and Decentralization [00:31:24] 3.1 Multi-Agent Systems and Emergent Intelligence [00:38:35] 3.2 Swarm Intelligence vs Monolithic AGI Systems [00:42:44] 3.3 Democratic Control and Decentralization of AI Development [00:46:14] 3.4 Open Source AI and Alignment Challenges [00:49:31] 3.5 Collaborative Models for AI DevelopmentREFS[[00:00:05] ARC Benchmark, Chollethttps://github.com/fchollet/ARC-AGI[00:03:05] DRL Doesn't Work, Irpanhttps://www.alexirpan.com/2018/02/14/rl-hard.html[00:05:55] AI Training Data, Data Provenance Initiativehttps://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/19/technology/ai-data-restrictions.html[00:06:10] JaxMARL, Foerster et al.https://arxiv.org/html/2311.10090v5[00:08:50] M-FOS, Lu et al.https://arxiv.org/abs/2205.01447[00:09:45] JAX Library, Google Researchhttps://github.com/jax-ml/jax[00:12:10] Kinetix, Mike and Michaelhttps://arxiv.org/abs/2410.23208[00:12:45] Genie 2, DeepMindhttps://deepmind.google/discover/blog/genie-2-a-large-scale-foundation-world-model/[00:14:42] Mirror Learning, Grudzien, Kuba et al.https://arxiv.org/abs/2208.01682[00:16:30] Discovered Policy Optimisation, Lu et al.https://arxiv.org/abs/2210.05639[00:24:10] Goodhart's Law, Goodharthttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goodhart%27s_law[00:25:15] LLM ARChitect, Franzen et al.https://github.com/da-fr/arc-prize-2024/blob/main/the_architects.pdf[00:28:55] AlphaGo, Silver et al.https://arxiv.org/pdf/1712.01815.pdf[00:30:10] Meta-learning, Lu, Towers, Foersterhttps://direct.mit.edu/isal/proceedings-pdf/isal2023/35/67/2354943/isal_a_00674.pdf[00:31:30] Emergence of Pragmatics, Yuan et al.https://arxiv.org/abs/2001.07752[00:34:30] AI Safety, Amodei et al.https://arxiv.org/abs/1606.06565[00:35:45] Intentional Stance, Dennetthttps://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ethics-ai/[00:39:25] Multi-Agent RL, Zhou et al.https://arxiv.org/pdf/2305.10091[00:41:00] Open Source Generative AI, Foerster et al.https://arxiv.org/abs/2405.08597

Tobi Lütke is the founder and CEO of Shopify, a $130 billion business that powers over 10% of all U.S. e-commerce. Starting as a snowboard shop in 2004, Shopify has become the leading commerce platform by consistently approaching problems differently. Tobi remains deeply technical, frequently coding alongside his team, and is known for his unique approach to leadership, product development, and company building. In our conversation, we discuss:• Why complexity kills entrepreneurship• How to develop and leverage your unique talent stack• How specifically Tobi approaches thinking from first principles• The importance of focusing on unquantifiable qualities like joy and delight• Why Tobi works backward from a 100-year vision• Why metrics should support decisions, not make them• The power of following your curiosity• What Tobi believes it takes to be a great product leader• Much more—Brought to you by:• Sinch—Build messaging, email, and calling into your product• Liveblocks—Ready-made collaborative features to drop into your product• Loom—The easiest screen recorder you'll ever use—Find the transcript at: https://www.lennysnewsletter.com/p/tobi-lutkes-leadership-playbook—Where to find Tobi Lütke:• X: https://x.com/tobi• LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/tobiaslutke/• Website: https://tobi.lutke.com/—Where to find Lenny:• Newsletter: https://www.lennysnewsletter.com• X: https://twitter.com/lennysan• LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/lennyrachitsky/—In this episode, we cover:(00:00) Welcome and introduction(04:17) The Tobi tornado(07:10) Maximizing human potential(11:05) Education and personal growth(16:47) Operating without KPIs(25:00) First-principles thinking(40:04) Remote work(45:59) Why Tobi never stopped coding(54:46) Embracing disagreement(01:01:27) The 100-year vision(01:09:29) Balancing tactics and positioning(01:17:15) Encouraging entrepreneurship(01:19:34) The power of good UX(01:28:42) The talent stack and unique opportunities(01:34:30) The role of passion in product development(01:36:39) Final thoughts and farewell—Referenced:• How Shopify builds a high-intensity culture | Farhan Thawar (VP and Head of Eng): https://www.lennysnewsletter.com/p/how-shopify-builds-a-high-intensity-culture-farhan-thawar• Breaking the rules of growth: Why Shopify bans KPIs, optimizes for churn, prioritizes intuition, and builds toward a 100-year vision | Archie Abrams (VP Product, Head of Growth at Shopify): https://www.lennysnewsletter.com/p/shopifys-growth-archie-abrams• The ultimate guide to performance marketing | Timothy Davis (Shopify): https://www.lennysnewsletter.com/p/performance-marketing-timothy-davis• Brandon Chu on building product at Shopify, how writing changed the trajectory of his career, the habits that make you a great PM, pros and cons of being a platform PM, how Shopify got through Covid: https://www.lennysnewsletter.com/p/brandon-chu-on-what-its-like-to-build• IRC: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IRC• Goodhart's law: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goodhart%27s_law• Glen Coates on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/glcoates/• How Shopify builds product: https://www.lennysnewsletter.com/p/how-shopify-builds-product• The Last Dance on Netflix: https://www.netflix.com/title/80203144• Autoregressive Models for Natural Language Processing: https://medium.com/@zaiinn440/autoregressive-models-for-natural-language-processing-b95e5f933e1f• Archimedean property: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archimedean_property• Tabula rasa: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tabula_rasa• Daniel Weinand on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/danielweinand/• World of Warcraft: https://worldofwarcraft.blizzard.com• Harley Finkelstein on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/harleyf/• Monorepo: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monorepo• The Sarbanes Oxley Act: https://sarbanes-oxley-act.com/• Shopify builds Shopify Balance with Stripe to give small businesses an easier way to manage money: https://stripe.com/customers/shopify• Stanford marshmallow experiment: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanford_marshmallow_experiment• Brian Armstrong on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/barmstrong/• We are the Web: https://link.wired.com/public/32945405—Recommended books:• Finite and Infinite Games: https://www.amazon.com/Finite-Infinite-Games-James-Carse/dp/1476731713• The Infinite Game: https://www.amazon.com/Infinite-Game-Simon-Sinek/dp/073521350X/—Production and marketing by https://penname.co/. For inquiries about sponsoring the podcast, email podcast@lennyrachitsky.com.—Lenny may be an investor in the companies discussed. Get full access to Lenny's Newsletter at www.lennysnewsletter.com/subscribe

Join Monte & The Pharaoh as they sit down with the fascinating Joel Goodhart in this exclusive interview. Discover the stories, insights, and behind-the-scenes moments that have shaped Joel incredible journey. From career highlights to personal reflections, this conversation is one you won't want to miss! #MonteAndThePharaoh #JPelGoodhart #ExclusiveInterview #ProWrestling #WrestlingLegends #BehindTheScenes #WrestlingPodcast

In this episode, Jeffrey discusses Goodhart's Law Each week, Jeffrey will be sharing his knowledge on Service Delivery (Mondays) and Service Management (Thursdays). Jeffrey is the founder of Service Management Leadership, an IT consulting firm specializing in Service Management, Asset Management, CIO Advisory, and Business Continuity services.  The firm's website is www.servicemanagement.us.   Jeffrey has been in the industry for 30 years and brings a practical perspective to the discussions. He is an accomplished author with seven acclaimed books in the subject area and a popular YouTube channel with approximately 1,500 videos on various topics.  Also, please follow the Service Management Leadership LinkedIn page.

Send us a textKicking Off 2025: Growth Strategies & Innovations in Mobile Coffee Catering with Justin GoodhartIn this first episode of 2025, we welcome Justin Goodhart, founder of Goodhart Coffee and co-founder of Flash Quotes, to the podcast. Justin, a multi-seven-figure coffee revolutionary, shares his inspiring journey from launching his mobile coffee catering startup in 2017 to managing 44 coffee carts and serving over 3000 events by 2024. We discuss key growth strategies, the importance of mindset in entrepreneurship, and the critical role of mentorship. Justin also dives deep into the operational efficiencies brought by his innovative software, Flashquotes, and gives actionable advice on optimizing lead capture, client communication, and automation to scale a mobile beverage business. This episode is packed with valuable insights for both new and seasoned mobile beverage entrepreneurs.CHECK OUT FLASHQUOTEShttps://flashquotes.com/mbpCHECK OUT GOODHART COFFEEhttps://goodhartcoffeecatering.com/JOIN THE MOBILE BAR ACADEMYhttps://mobilebevpros.com/join-mobile-bar-academy/WORK WITH SARAHhttps://mobilebevpros.com/coaching/JOIN OUR FREE FACEBOOK GROUPhttps://www.facebook.com/groups/mbpgroupCONNECT ON INSTAGRAMhttps://www.instagram.com/mobilebevprosFREE MASTERCLASS FOR MOBILE BARSwww.mobilebevpros.com/masterclass

About the Episode:Jonathan Goodman is the creator of the Personal Trainer Development Center ($35M+ rev) and host of the popular Obvious Choice podcast, a top podcast for coaches, entrepreneurs, and small business owners.Jonathan's been featured in most major business and fitness publications including Men's Health, Forbes, Entrepreneur, Robb Report, Inc., and many more. Over 200,000 coaches and small business owners in more than 120 countries have purchased business development materials from him.In this episode of "Uploading...," Jonathan shares insights from his journey of building a multimillion-dollar fitness business through strategic content creation. He discusses key concepts like understanding audience needs, developing scalable systems, and focusing on meaningful metrics for long-term success.Today, we'll cover:- Jonathan's transformative journey from personal trainer to successful online entrepreneur- The key principles for creating impactful, business-focused content that resonates with your audience- How to develop a range of offerings that serve your audience at different stages of their journey- Adopting a balanced, seasonal approach to work and life for long-term success and fulfillment- Powerful, timeless lessons from Jonathan's new book, The Obvious Choice, on mastering the game of business and lifeWhat You'll Learn1. Content Creation and Business Success2. Understanding Human Behavior vs Chasing Trends3. Goodhart's Law and Social Media Metrics4. Jonathan's Life and Business Philosophy5. Business Structure and Offerings6. Client Management and Online Income Growth7. Viral Content vs Content that ConvertsTimestamps00:00 From working as a personal trainer to a $7M per year business04:20 Jonathan's new book, The Obvious Choice; the parade problem07:01 First steps to start growing an audience online13:34 Personal Trainer Development Center's first online course14:57 How to create a scalable system and avoid the trap of false economies19:57 Thinking of content as a long-term savings account24:11 Goodhart's law: when the metric becomes the goal, it ceases to be a good metric28:00 Building businesses in seasons; balancing personal life and work33:12 The four arms of Jonathan's business36:53 Broader community vs high ticket offers; choosing customers wiselyLikes vs Business Impact: “It's easy to be rich with likes and poor with dollars because what feeds the ego is what's bad for the wallet… I have lots of posts that have 10, 20, 30, 40, 100,000 likes. I also have posts that have less than a thousand likes. And I can tell you that the posts with less than a thousand likes drive more business than the posts with 30 or 40,000. Now, does that mean that neither is valuable? I believe that we need three types of content. I believe that we need viral, value, and depth-based content.” — Jonathan Goodman, 00:25:59 → 00:27:08Content as a Savings Account: “Most of the time, everything that's working for you will be bubbling underneath the surface, invisible to the eye. You don't know when that inflection point is going to hit… You have to think of content as a savings account and you have to think of content as a way to primarily nurture and convert people and leads that are generated elsewhere.” — Jonathan Goodman, 00:21:10 → 00:21:56Show notes powered by Castmagic---Have any questions about the show or topics you'd like us to explore further?Shoot us a DM; we'd love to hear from you.Want the weekly TL;DR of tips delivered to your mailbox?Check out our newsletter here.Follow us for content, clips, giveaways, & updates!Castmagic InstagramCastmagic TwitterCastmagic LinkedIn  ---Blaine Bolus - Co-Founder of CastmagicRamon Berrios - Co-Founder of CastmagicJonathan Goodman - Founder of Personal Trainer Development Center

Goodhart's Law says: when a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure. But if that's true, how should we measure our philosophical progress? In this episode, Michael Tremblay wrestles with this question.***Download the Stoa app (free): https://stoameditation.com/podFor those who find the app valuable but face financial constraints, email us for a free account.Listen to more episodes and learn more here: https://stoameditation.com/blog/stoa-conversations/Thanks to Michael Levy for graciously letting us use his music: https://ancientlyre.com/

So many talk about New Year's resolutions. It would appear that somehow that became the norm. However if you look at the statistics, you would see that New Year's resolutions don't work for most. We think there is a better way. Resolutions are a real pain, but New Year's themes are a real gain. We will talk about more differences between Yearly themes and New Year's resolutions and show you how to get one for yourself. Links:Emma Ward's WHAT'S YOUR WORD OR THEME OF THE YEAR https://www.emma-ward.com/goal-getter/whats-your-word-theme-of-the-year#:~:text=The%20idea%20is%20that%20you,a%20value%20or%20a%20feeling Goodhart photography's HOW TO CHOOSE A WORD OF THE YEAR THAT WORKS https://goodhartphotographyva.com/how-to-choose-a-word-of-the-year/ If you would like help developing or creating your yearly theme email us at podcast@HappyLife.Studio or leave a voicemail on our Yo Stevo hotline (425) 200-HAYS (4297) Contact usLinktree: www.Linktr.ee/HappyLifeStudiosEmail: Podcast@HappyLife.StudioYo Stevo Hotline: (425) 200-HAYS (4297)Webpage: www.HappyLife.lol YouTube: www.YouTube.com/StevoHaysLinkedin: www.linkedin.com/in/steve-hays-b6b1186b/TikTok: www.tiktok.com/@happylifestudiosFacebook: www.Facebook.com/HappyLifeStudios Instagram: www.Instagram.com/HappyLife_Studios Twitter: www.x.com/stevehays If you would like to help us spread the HappyPayPal: www.PayPal.me/StevoHaysCash App: $HappyLifeStudiosZelle: StevoHays@gmail.comVenmo: @StevoHaysBuy Me A Coffee: buymeacoffee.com/HappyLifeStudioCheck: Payable to Hays Ministries or Steve Hays and send to 27240 213th Place S.E. Maple Valley, WA 98038

AI professor Jeff Clune ruminates on open-ended evolutionary algorithms—systems designed to generate novel and interesting outcomes forever. Drawing inspiration from nature's boundless creativity, Clune and his collaborators aim to build “Darwin Complete” search spaces, where any computable environment can be simulated. By harnessing the power of large language models and reinforcement learning, these AI agents continuously develop new skills, explore uncharted domains, and even cooperate with one another in complex tasks. SPONSOR MESSAGES: *** CentML offers competitive pricing for GenAI model deployment, with flexible options to suit a wide range of models, from small to large-scale deployments. https://centml.ai/pricing/ Tufa AI Labs is a brand new research lab in Zurich started by Benjamin Crouzier focussed on reasoning and AGI. Are you interested in working on reasoning, or getting involved in their events? They are hosting an event in Zurich on January 9th with the ARChitects, join if you can. Goto https://tufalabs.ai/ *** A central theme throughout Clune's work is “interestingness”: an elusive quality that nudges AI agents toward genuinely original discoveries. Rather than rely on narrowly defined metrics—which often fail due to Goodhart's Law—Clune employs language models to serve as proxies for human judgment. In doing so, he ensures that “interesting” always reflects authentic novelty, opening the door to unending innovation. Yet with these extraordinary possibilities come equally significant risks. Clune says we need AI safety measures—particularly as the technology matures into powerful, open-ended forms. Potential pitfalls include agents inadvertently causing harm or malicious actors subverting AI's capabilities for destructive ends. To mitigate this, Clune advocates for prudent governance involving democratic coalitions, regulation of cutting-edge models, and global alignment protocols. Jeff Clune: https://x.com/jeffclune http://jeffclune.com/ (Interviewer: Tim Scarfe) TOC: 1. Introduction [00:00:00] 1.1 Overview and Opening Thoughts 2. Sponsorship [00:03:00] 2.1 TufaAI Labs and CentML 3. Evolutionary AI Foundations [00:04:12] 3.1 Open-Ended Algorithm Development and Abstraction Approaches [00:07:56] 3.2 Novel Intelligence Forms and Serendipitous Discovery [00:11:46] 3.3 Frontier Models and the 'Interestingness' Problem [00:30:36] 3.4 Darwin Complete Systems and Evolutionary Search Spaces 4. System Architecture and Learning [00:37:35] 4.1 Code Generation vs Neural Networks Comparison [00:41:04] 4.2 Thought Cloning and Behavioral Learning Systems [00:47:00] 4.3 Language Emergence in AI Systems [00:50:23] 4.4 AI Interpretability and Safety Monitoring Techniques 5. AI Safety and Governance [00:53:56] 5.1 Language Model Consistency and Belief Systems [00:57:00] 5.2 AI Safety Challenges and Alignment Limitations [01:02:07] 5.3 Open Source AI Development and Value Alignment [01:08:19] 5.4 Global AI Governance and Development Control 6. Advanced AI Systems and Evolution [01:16:55] 6.1 Agent Systems and Performance Evaluation [01:22:45] 6.2 Continuous Learning Challenges and In-Context Solutions [01:26:46] 6.3 Evolution Algorithms and Environment Generation [01:35:36] 6.4 Evolutionary Biology Insights and Experiments [01:48:08] 6.5 Personal Journey from Philosophy to AI Research Shownotes: We craft detailed show notes for each episode with high quality transcript and references and best parts bolded. https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/fz43pdoc5wq5jh7vsnujl/JEFFCLUNE.pdf?rlkey=uu0e70ix9zo6g5xn6amykffpm&st=k2scxteu&dl=0

Jim talks with Kristian Rönn, co-founder of the carbon accounting tech company Normative, about his book The Darwinian Trap: The Hidden Evolutionary Forces That Explain Our World (and Threaten Our Future). They discuss Darwinian traps & demons, the parable of Picher, Oklahoma, the "cost of doing business" mentality, beauty filter arms races, perverse incentives in science, Goodhart's law, how nature deals with defection vs cooperation, kamikaze mutants, pandas as evolutionary dead ends, close calls with nuclear weapons, engineered pathogens, AI risk, radical transparency at the nation-state level, reputation systems, types of reciprocity, distributed reputation marketplaces, developing Darwinian demon literacy, local change, and much more. Episode Transcript The Darwinian Trap: The Hidden Evolutionary Forces That Explain Our World (and Threaten Our Future), by Kristian Rönn "Five Rules for Cooperation," by Martin Nowak "The Vulnerable World Hypothesis," by Nick Bostrom Kristian Rönn is a founder, author, and global governance advocate. He pioneered cloud-based carbon accounting by founding Normative, a platform that helps thousands of companies achieve net-zero emissions. A proponent of effective altruism, Kristian advocates for prioritizing the wellbeing of Earth's inhabitants as the key metric for progress. Before Normative, he worked at Oxford's Future of Humanity Institute, focusing on global catastrophic risks and AI. He has contributed to numerous global standards, legislation, and resolutions on climate and AI governance.

Karthiga Seturaj: The Right And The Wrong Metrics For Agile Teams Read the full Show Notes and search through the world's largest audio library on Scrum directly on the Scrum Master Toolbox Podcast website: http://bit.ly/SMTP_ShowNotes. Karthiga shares a team story where metrics like Flow Efficiency were implemented to improve understanding of work processes. Despite leadership support and training, the team became overly focused on “making metrics look good,” reflecting Goodhart's Law. This led to discussions on aligning the purpose of metrics with improving workflows, not chasing numbers. Self-reflection Question: Are your team's metrics driving the right behaviors and outcomes? Featured Book of the Week: Project to Product by Mik Kersten Karthiga recommends Project to Product: How to Survive and Thrive in the Age of Digital Disruption with the Flow Framework for its introduction to the Flow Framework and its impact on understanding value stream management. This book transformed her approach to metrics, highlighting bottlenecks and improving flow efficiency. She particularly appreciated its simplicity and practical application in bridging business and technical team gaps. [The Scrum Master Toolbox Podcast Recommends]

Live, Thursday nights at 7:30PM ET on vocnation.com, it's WCW Retro! Join WCW's Stro Maestro for a special look back at all things professional wrestling, including WWE, NXT, AEW, and … a look back at WCW! Howard Morgan is at the reigns and taking your calls. This week: The crew welcomes Tri-State Wrestling Alliance founder Joel Goodhart, among other surprises, ahead of May 2025's One and Done show. Call into any live VOC Nation program by visiting callvoc.com! VOC Nation takes you behind the scenes of your favorite moments in pro wrestling history. Notable show hosts include legendary pro wrestling journalist Bill Apter, former WWE/TNA star Shelly Martinez, former WWE and AWA broadcaster Ken Resnick, former WCW performer The Maestro, former TNA Impact talent Wes Brisco, Pro Wrestling Illustrated's Brady Hicks, independent pro wrestling and Fireball Run star Sassy Stephie, and more! Since 2010, VOC Nation has brought listeners into the minds of the biggest stars in pro wrestling and entertainment. Subscribe to the podcasts for free on most major directories, and visit vocnation.com for live programming. Subscribe to premium - only $3/mo - for commercial full commercial free audio and video episodes. Exclusive access to 50 years of Bill Apter's interview archives is available for a nominal charge. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

In this episode, Bill welcomes Will Goodhart, Chief Executive of CFA UK, for a reflective discussion on leadership, professional evolution, and the challenges of addressing sustainability in finance. Will shares insights from his two-decade-long tenure, including his journey from journalism to leading one of the most respected professional bodies in finance. The conversation dives into the importance of serving end investors, the role of professional bodies in fostering ethical and technical competence, and the urgency of addressing climate change. Listen in!

Live, Tuesday nights at 7:30PM ET on vocnation.com, it's IN THE ROOM! ITR features topics introduced by the panel, your calls, PWI's Brady Hicks, and WCW's Maestro. This week, Brady Hicks is joined by legendary promoter Joel Goodhart as he talks about his One and Done show in May, and reflects on the Tri-State Wrestling Alliance. Call in to any live show on VOC Nation by visiting http://callvoc.com! Full Video Episode Available for only $3/mo at www.vocnation.com! Subscribers also get commercial free audio and video of Wrestling with History featuring Bill Apter and Ken Resnick, In the Room featuring PWI's Brady Hicks and former WCW Star the Maestro, No BS with The Bull Manny Fernandez, and more! VOC Nation takes you behind the scenes of your favorite moments in pro wrestling history. Notable show hosts include legendary pro wrestling journalist Bill Apter, former WWE/TNA star Shelly Martinez, former WWE and AWA broadcaster Ken Resnick, former WCW performer The Maestro, former TNA Impact talent Wes Brisco, Pro Wrestling Illustrated's Brady Hicks, independent pro wrestling and Fireball Run star Sassy Stephie, and more! Since 2010, VOC Nation has brought listeners into the minds of the biggest stars in pro wrestling and entertainment. Subscribe to the podcasts for free on most major directories, and visit http://vocnation.com for live programming. Subscribe to premium - only $3/mo - for commercial full commercial free audio and video episodes. Exclusive access to 50 years of Bill Apter's interview archives is available for a nominal charge. Learn more about your ad choices. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Miguel Herdade trabalha em inovação social, gestão de organizações sem fins lucrativos, e implementação de políticas públicas, com especial interesse por desigualdades, educação e integração social. Radicado em Londres há vários anos, fundou e dirigiu organizações sem fins lucrativos em Portugal e no Reino Unido. No RU, foi Director Associado no Ambition Institute e “governador” de uma escola primária. Em Portugal, foi co-fundador e Director na Orquestra Sem Fronteiras, co-fundador e Diretor Executivo da Academia do Johnson e foi assistente na Nova SBE. É membro (independente) do Grupo de Reflexão Sobre o Futuro de Portugal junto do Presidente da República e cronista na revista SÁBADO. -> Apoie este podcast e faça parte da comunidade de mecenas do 45 Graus em: 45grauspodcast.com -> Deixe o seu email aqui para ser informado(a) do próximo Curso de Pensamento Crítico [a anunciar em breve]. _______________ Índice: (0:00) Introdução (3:58) Retrato dos portugueses a nível de escolaridade. | Expulsão dos Jesuítas pelo Marquês de Pombal. (20:17) A proeza de Portugal ter conseguido aumentar, ao mesmo tempo, a quantidade e qualidade do ensino.  (28:03) Evolução dos rankings PISA: problema da falta de professores e impacto da Pandemia (34:28) Quando Portugal é capaz de ter boas políticas públicas — e como aprender com isso | Somos o país do Mundo em que menos crianças passam fome na escola (dados: OECD, PISA 2022 Database, Tables I.B1.4.46) e dos que têm refeições com maior qualidade nutricional (fonte: O'Connell, R. and Brannen, J. 2021. Families and Food in Hard Times: European comparative research. London: UCL) (41:25) Quem são os heróis não celebrados desta revolução no ensino? | Números do ensino profissional (45:48) O lado bom dos exames -- e como exigência é boa para as crianças mais pobres | Cultura de desrespeito pelos dados entre os decisores políticos  (53:43) O lado mau dos exames | cognitive load theory | Lei de Goodhart (1:04:51) A importância subvalorizada do ensino Pré-escolar | Curva de Heckman | Impacto da pobreza equivalente a QI | Polémica nos Açores: filhos de desempregados discriminados no acesso às creches gratuitas | Dados OCDE. em Portugal, cash benefits vão sobretudo para quem ganha mais (tabela 6.12) | Porque o Reino Unido decidiu aumentar propinas e criar bolsas generosas (1:16:19) Porque é que as mães são mais importantes do que os pais para os resultados escolares dos filhos? | Estudo do convidado sobre a pandemia (em co-autoria) (1:17:42) O problema do crescente fosso nas notas entre rapazes e raparigas | John Locke e a educação das raparigas | Problemas identitários | Desigualdade | Livro: The Spirit Level: Why More Equal Societies Almost Always Do Better, de Richard G. Wilkinson e Kate Pickett (1:28:08) Ensino pre-escolar | Ras Chetty - estudo sobre amigos no Facebook (1:38:22) Como dar mais condições aos professores? Livros recomendados: Hillbilly Elegy, de J.D. Vance | Regresso a Reims, de Didier Eribon | Trilogia de Copenhaga, de Tove Ditlevsen | Submissão, de Michel Houellebecq ______________ Esta conversa foi editada por: Hugo Oliveira  

This week we're joined again by Chris "The Villain" Paines!  In this episode, Chris explains the two "dials" that coaches and students can use to modulate their training: complexity and intensity.Follow Chris on Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/chrisvillainbjjSubscribe to Chris' YouTube Channel:https://www.youtube.com/c/ChrisPainesBJJBuy Chris' instructionals on BJJ Fanatics:https://bjjfanatics.com/collections/instructional-videos/fighter_chris-painesCheck out InTheory BJJ on Patreon:https://www.patreon.com/intheorybjjResources discussed in this episode:How to Defend Everything with Chris Paines — YouTubehttps://youtu.be/BWitv9AKoNUEp. 155: Concepts Over Techniques, feat. Chris Paineshttps://bjj.plus/155Terry Tate: Office Linebackerhttps://youtu.be/RzToNo7A-94Mental models discussed in this episode:Gamificationhttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/gamification/Respect Reople, Not Positionshttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/respect-people-not-positions/Return on Investmenthttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/return-on-investment/Position Over Submissionhttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/position-over-submission/Inversionhttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/inversion/External Cueshttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/external-cues/Concepts Over Techniqueshttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/concepts-over-techniques/Goodhart's Lawhttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/goodharts-law/Survivorship Biashttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/survivorship-bias/Don't forget to check out BJJ Mental Models Premium!If you love the podcast, you'll definitely love our premium membership offerings. The podcast is truly just the tip of the iceberg – the next steps on your journey are joining our community, downloading our strategy courseware, and working with us to optimize your game.  We do all this through memberships that come in at a fraction of the cost of a single private.Sign up here for a free trial:https://bjjmentalmodels.com/Need more BJJ Mental Models?Get tips, tricks, and breakthrough insights from our newsletter:https://bjjmentalmodels.com/newsletter/Get nitty-gritty details on our mental models from the full database:https://bjjmentalmodels.com/database/Follow us on social:https://facebook.com/bjjmentalmodels/https://instagram.com/bjjmentalmodels/Music by Enterprize:https://enterprize.bandcamp.com/

Join us for an exclusive interview with Joel Goodhart, where we delve deep into the secrets that have shaped his remarkable journey of Tristate Wrestling Alliance. In this candid conversation, Joel reveals insights into his career, personal challenges, and the lessons he's learned along the way.Joel also breaks a lot of news on the regrading a TWA Reunion Show: One & Done. Tickets go on Sale October 5th as Joel confirms a few guests on air! Goodhart also discusses a book that he as coming out as well.Joel tells a lot of stories about wrestlers such as, Owen Hart, The Blue Meanie, Bruno and Davis Sammartino, Cactus Jack, The Sandman, Sabu, Luna Vachon and many more! Whether you're a fan or simply curious about his story, this interview promises to uncover the truths behind his success and the strategies he employed to overcome obstacles. Don't miss out on this opportunity to gain inspiration and knowledge from one of the industry's most intriguing figures. Make sure to like, subscribe, and hit the notification bell for more insightful content!#TWA #wrestlinglegends #oldschoolwrestling #ecw #wwe #owenhart #mrmcmahon #vincemcmahon #paulheyman #pauledangerously #thesandman #brunosammartino #reunionshowSupport this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/perchedonthetoprope/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

It's really tempting to count things like credit hours, publications, or grants. Julia and Jonathan talk about some of the disadvantages of counting, including missing out on "hard-to-count" activities that may be important to us, and how to push the needle in our own thinking or evaluations to fight against easy answers. How do we consider the important aspects of helping students in our offices, deep thinking, or playing with Legos? Theme music courtesy of The Bobby Dazzlers (https://thebobbydazzlers.bandcamp.com)

Send us a textThe Podcast: Bob Smith - the former managing editor of Pro Wrestling Illustrated and longtime wrestling writer - continues his unique nostalgia podcast by offering perspectives that fans can't get anywhere else. This time, Smith goes deep into his past...The Guest: And welcome the founder of the now-legendary Tri-State Wrestling Alliance, Joel Goodhart. This conversation marks the first time that Smith and Goodhart have spoken since 1991 - and the innovative former promoter holds nothing back, offering details about the heights of TWA, the superstars that worked there, the decision to close the company - and offers details on a huge event booked for Philadelphia early next year!Buzzsprout - Let's get your podcast launched!Start for FREEDisclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.Support the showContact us at outdatedwrestling@gmail.com!

This week we're joined again by Adam Medlock!  Adam is a Braulio Estima black belt and a lead educator from the UK.  In this episode, Adam discusses the challenges of student assessment, or how Jiu-Jitsu coaches can measure student progress and the effectiveness of the curriculum.  Key points include the introduction of the TLA cycle (Teaching, Learning, and Assessment) and the concept of cumulative disfluency, alongside a critique of one-size-fits-all curricula and seminar-style teaching.Resources discussed in this episode:Inside the Black Box: Assessment for Learning in the Classroom, by Paul Black et al.https://bit.ly/4dUdqqGInside the Black Box: Raising Standards Through Classroom Assessment, by Dylan Wiliam & Paul Blackhttps://kappanonline.org/inside-the-black-box-raising-standards-through-classroom-assessment/Kolb's Cycle of Reflective Practice — University of Hullhttps://libguides.hull.ac.uk/reflectivewriting/kolbTeach Like a Champion, by Doug Lemovhttps://teachlikeachampion.org/books/The Art of Learning, by Josh Waitzkinhttps://www.joshwaitzkin.com/the-art-of-learningMental models discussed in this episode:Cognitive Loadhttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/cognitive-load/Goodhart's Lawhttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/goodharts-law/Feedback Loophttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/feedback-loop/Teach to Learnhttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/teach-to-learn/Psychological Safetyhttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/psychological-safety/Making Smaller Circleshttps://bjjmentalmodels.com/making-smaller-circles/Don't forget to check out BJJ Mental Models Premium!If you love the podcast, you'll definitely love our premium membership offerings. The podcast is truly just the tip of the iceberg – the next steps on your journey are joining our community, downloading our strategy courseware, and working with us to optimize your game.  We do all this through memberships that come in at a fraction of the cost of a single private.Sign up here for a free trial:https://bjjmentalmodels.com/Need more BJJ Mental Models?Get tips, tricks, and breakthrough insights from our newsletter:https://bjjmentalmodels.com/newsletter/Get nitty-gritty details on our mental models from the full database:https://bjjmentalmodels.com/database/Follow us on social:https://facebook.com/bjjmentalmodels/https://instagram.com/bjjmentalmodels/Music by Enterprize:https://enterprize.bandcamp.com/

McAlvany Weekly Commentary Charles Goodhart’s Central Bank Experience Leans Towards Gold Greg Weldon Is A Current Gold Bull Analyst Jeffrey Christian Sees Gold Higher The post Goodhart, Weldon, & Christian All Gold Bulls appeared first on McAlvany Weekly Commentary.

This week on Who Killed...?, I dive into the mysterious case of the Robison family, also known as the Good Hart murders, in Northern Michigan. Join me as we explore the idyllic setting of northern Michigan and invite listeners to draw their own conclusions on who may have been responsible for this tragic event. The prime suspect in the Robison family murders, Joe Scolaro, was a former business partner of Richard Robison. Scolaro's suspicious behavior, financial motives, and connections to the crime scene made him a compelling suspect. Despite failing polygraph tests and having incriminating evidence against him, Scolaro was never officially charged. His mysterious suicide added another layer of complexity to the case. "So who would want to murder a family? Was it a crime of opportunity? That was a theory, but again, since this house was so secluded, that almost throws that theory right out the window. How could someone bludgeon a child to death, let alone after they had already killed most everyone else with a gun? So what was the significance of this overkill?" OG Air Date: 7/11/19 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The smell was overwhelming on that July day in 1968 as Monnie Bliss approached the cabin that his father Chauncey had built years earlier near the community of Good Hart, on the Lower Peninsula of Michigan's Northwest Coast. And the murders that ended up being discovered in the strange cabin in the woods would be a mystery that has yet to solved.Check out our updated website and sign up for our newsletter at AmericanHauntingsPodcast.comWant an episode every week, plus other awesome perks and discounts? Check out our Patreon pageFind out merch at AmericanHauntingsClothing.comFollow us on Twitter @AmerHauntsPod, @TroyTaylor13, @CodyBeckSTLFollow us on Instagram @AmericanHauntingsPodcast, @TroyTaylorgram, @CodyBeckSTLThis episode was written by Troy TaylorProduced and edited by Cody BeckOur Sponsors:* Check out Rosetta Stone and use my code TODAY for a great deal: https://www.rosettastone.com/* Check out undefined and use my code HAUNTINGS for a great deal: undefinedSupport this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/american-hauntings-podcast/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy