There is discussion on CQ Magazine's Facebook page concerning the incorporation of other electronic fields into the world of amateur radio.  The conversation can be found here.  Some people feel that amateur radio is a hobby that should almost solely be focused on radio.  Others feel there is plenty of room for other interests, and if nothing else, new enthusiasts might be drawn into the radio hobby through those interests.

I've touched on this topic a bit in some of the posts on my regular blog.

Here's how I see things.

First, ham radios numbers have changed.  Most people will tell you that the number of licensed amateur radio operators had decreased over the years.  I am having trouble finding those statistics.  Sometimes I wonder if people notice the number of active operators has decreased, while the actual number of operators hasn't changed to match perception.  As operators pass on, licenses forfeited from disuse, and new operators come into the hobby, the number of hams in the US will always change.  Right now, there are 58,800 more hams in 2010 then there were about the same time in 2004.

The biggest change seems to be in age.  It's hard to find actual age numbers, but the average age of amateur radio operators appear to be in their 40s.  CQ Magazine recently did a survey of their "fans" on Facebook and found the average age was 45.  Granted, this is Facebook we're talking about, but still, amateur radio operators are not the major demographic of Facebook, and yet of 3500 hams connected to CQ Magazine on Facebook, the average age is about 20-30 years older than the average Facebook user's age.  As the older generations shrink in population, the hams who joined the hobby within the last 20 years are now between their 30s and 50s.  This makes for a younger mix of people.

Technology has changed.  I can't give you actual "figures" on how things have changed, but 20 years ago some of the radio technologies we use today were cutting edge.  Digital modes are commonplace now.  Computer integration is still in it's early stages, but worlds apart from how lightly computers were used in the radio hobby in the 1990s.

With everything changing, and a lot of change with similar technologies outside of amateur radio, you would imagine radio on the cutting edge of discovery more now than ever.

But it's not.

Amateur radio has it's cutting edge, for sure.  But compared to the rest of the electronic world, cutting edge in amateur radio often seems like child's play.

The things that the commercial wireless telecommunications world are wolds apart from amateur radio, even though both utilize some of the same basic practices of radio technology.  Amateur radio doesn't influence commercial cell phones - cell phones influence and change radio, instead.

For instance, who really needs a radio phone patch these days, given the dominance of the cell phone industry?  I recall using radios that seem archaic to today's standards, which often feel more like phone components than radio rigs.  A new radio today is much more user-friendly, consumer-friendly, and feature-rich - all due to changes in electronics, which are primarily led by the cell phone industry.

With all this in mind, one might wonder what robotics, computers, and other electronics have to do with amateur radio.  Some will even tell you they have no part in the world of radio.  I feel otherwise.

I believe that radio communications will always be the primary function of the radio hobby.  But excluding other technologies because they are not inherently radio-related is a very short-sighted mistake.

Where would modern digital radio communications be without the computer?  It would barely exist.

Who's to say there's no room in radio for robotics, especially when they're using radio technologies to communicate?  Who's to say that you can't use the Internet to make a radio connection, when it does such a wonderful job of supplementing the radio hobby in so many ways?  Why can't radio be supplemented by various technologies, instead of dwindling in disuse from exclusion from the rest of the technological hobbies?

It seems to me that amateur radio could use some new "methods" of communication.  And they could certainly use the people brought in by inclusion of other hobbies.  I, myself, was brought in by an extensive computing and BBSing hobby.  At some point, amateur radio was a logical addition to what I was already interested in.

Here's the biggest reason, as I see it, to include other technologies: innovation.

I was inactive in amateur radio for about ten years.  And in those ten years, I've seen a lot of change.  But I've also seen how the hobby has lagged behind the technological edge.  This week I've been playing with APRS - a cutting-edge technology now as it was ten years ago.  However, you would imagine that dozens of new APRS and generic mapping software would have become available.  You would expect to see a pretty modern system being used as the technology has progressed.  In reality, the software used is archaic.  The hardware used is even more ancient.  How many computers still have serial connections on them since the advent of USB ten years ago?  Despite this, most ham radio hardware, if it even has a computer connection, use really old RS-232 serial cable technology rather than the now old standard of USB connectivity.

Perhaps a little infusion of new technology will bring us more capable radios, more integration with computers, and new formats to try our hands at.  I'm shocked that we're many, many years behind the world of cell phones when all that's inside the cell phone is a more sophisticated radio device and a miniature computing system.  Like ham radio, a cell phone has telephony, digital services, and station-to-station relay.  And yet, your average amateur radio isn't much more advanced than they were a decade ago.

So, in my opinion, the more we can bring to the hobby, the better off it will be.  Don't be so worried about losing sight of radio communications, and be more cognizant of the possibilities with an infusion of new tech.

If you want to regain that cutting edge technology, and if you'd like to see new operators on the air, give other technologies a chance to show how they can fit in with amateur radio.

Remember, we are a hobby of inclusion, nor exclusion.

I don't often get upset about something.  In the past, I've been upset about the State of Utah's liquor laws, and all the new laws they decided to enact these past few years to keep people kids from drinking (which hasn't actually done anything).  I recently got upset when I learned that Utah Highway Patrol was sending officers to watch for Utahns buying fireworks and liquor over the border in Wyoming, then radioing the plates and car description to officers sitting back on the Utah side of the border.  This one goes back home to North Carolina, and really bothers me.

Years ago, when I bought a house in Knightdale, I did everything I could to avoid the restrictive covenants 0f homeowner's associations.  You don't see HOAs in Utah all too much, probably because houses are just plopped down on streets instead of having subdivisions built.  A lot of it might also be due to different notions of what a "neighborhood" means in Utah.  But in North Carolina, Homeowner's Associations, with Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions (CC&Rs) are commonplace and difficult to avoid.

Basically, in an ideal homeowner's association group, the organization is intended to maintain stability within the neighborhood.  This stability is a consistent appearance to protect every neighbor's property investment.  Ideally, the HOA keeps someone from neglecting their yard, filling it with junk, or keeping run down cars from accumulating.   The down side is someone living in the neighborhood may not have a choice in the color of their mailbox, the trees in their yard, or the paint on the house.  These are minor issues in most cases.  For me, avoiding CC&Rs was so I could maintain a ham radio antenna.  In the end, I was lucky to buy a house without an association.  My close friend Richard, however, was not as fortunate as I was.

Richard lives in Mingo Creek subdivision in Knightdale, North Carolina, which was a nice neighborhood that I might have purchased a home in, if not for the restrictive covenants.  Richard and Colleen have been living there for about four years.  I always liked that neighborhood.  But now, I feel sorry for them.

Their HOA is a joke.  The management company, Fred Smith Homes, has the majority representation on the HOA board.  There are five seats, two of which are residents of the neighborhood, three of which are appointed employees of the business that manages the HOA dues which are intended to help maintain the neighborhood and the HOA organization.  Normally, the management company holds one seat, not the majority.  Usually, the neighbors are the ones in charge.  It's funny to think of all the people who complain about their neighbors dictating how their property looks.  Trust me it could be worse.  It could be what the neighbors of Mingo Creek are dealing with.

Because the management company holds the majority of the seats in the neighborhood, and not the residents, the company calls all the shots.  In fact, a majority gets to call an HOA meeting.  Or in the case of Mingo Creek, the management company gets to reject and cancel any meeting between them and the residents paying them money.

It gets worse.

On top of improper representation, the residents are being strong armed in the same way a mob "protects" the members of a community by charging them money not to break their legs.  In this case, however, the employees of the management company are citing residents for infractions to their Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions to a severe degree.  One neighbor was cited for having her trash cans within visual site of her own driveway and not concealed in the back yard.  The woman is handicapped and struggles to move her trashcans to the curb each week, and now she's being harassed for having them within site of her garage - not the street, mind you, but at the end of the driveway nearest the house.

Another resident was fined for not powerwashing their house to "their" standards.

Neighbors are cited if grass touches the tires of their cars - even an inch is a violation, in their eyes.

And if you want to challenge a citation, you have to visit their office at a specific time and date - 30 miles away.

The two residents actually on the association board are shut out of any "meetings" about their own neighborhood.

In my opinion, this is the HOA gone wrong.  This is my worst nightmare come true.  While I completely disagree with the "god complex" most HOAs foster, I've never heard of the management and maintenance company taking over the way theirs has.

And on top of all this, if you live in the neighborhood, you pay $33 a month for this kind of treatment.  $48 if you're late on your payment.  And they can take your house through liens if you refuse.

Seriously, these people are just a short step away from the mob.

I feel so bad for the residents of Mingo Creek.

I hope they organize and fight this to the end.  They don't deserve this kind of treatment.  For my part, Mingo Creek residents, you have my complete support.  I wish you the best!

 

I passed the exam!

When I started my interest in amateur radio, there were six different classes of licenses, and I started out at one of the lowest.  Over the years, my license became the lowest of three.  Now I'm in the second class, with only one more left to master.

I'm very happy with myself.  The test was easier than I thought.  I actually scored better on this test than I had in a month of practicing: 91.4%, or 32 correct out of 35 questions.  It was very rewarding.

After accomplishing what I'd set out to do, they asked if I wanted to test for the next level.  It wouldn't cost any more, so I did.  If I had correctly answered another 19 questions I would have passed (the next level has 50 questions).  But it was nice to leave with what I'd gone in for.

The best part is, I accomplished a task, I completed a goal.  If I can do one thing, I can do others.  And I really needed to prove that to myself.

And a month from now, I hope to be sitting in the same room passing the last exam.

Back to the practice tests...

In less than four hours I will be sitting in the J. Reuben Clark Building on the BYU campus taking a test to advance my amateur radio license.  There's a chance my beard might make it beyond the invisibility filter my crutches will bring.

This is the test I spoke of about a month ago.

I've been studying, on and off, for more than a month.  Honestly, I was able to learn a lot, but there's still much that I don't understand.  There isn't a good online resource for someone wanting to know why the answers are what they are, but loads of sites to tell you how to answer the question.

When I took my first amateur radio exam in October of 1995, there were two parts to the test.  I passed the first one, but failed the second one.  A month later, I passed the second one.  In both cases, I passed off of memorization.  I fear that if I pass this test, it will again be due to memorization.  I pass most of my practice exams online - barely.

All this studying and testing brings me back to a realization I had a couple months ago when I got back into the hobby.

I barely picked up a microphone in about ten years.  With all the advancements we've seen in wireless phones, computers, and technology, I expected to be blown away by all the advancements in amateur radio.  But I wasn't.

While much of ham radio has seen advancement, it wasn't the degree of advancement I expected.  When I put down my microphone around 2000, my cell phone was bigger than my portable ham radio unit.  Today, my cell phone is large only due to it's capability as a smartphone, and radios don't look or function all that differently than they did a decade ago.

Today, I should be able to find a device that doubles as a  miniature computer, works wirelessly with other devices, gives me smartphone-like capabilities with different applications, and allow me to plug in different hardware to accomplish multiple tasks.  A few radios come close to a shadow of this dream, but nothing really hits the mark.  I'm simply disappointed that amateur radio technology is nowhere near what my cell phone is - and they both work on very similar technologies.

So why, with my apparent disappointment, would I bother to take a test giving me the ability (despite the lack of equipment) to do more?

For two major reasons:

First, I set out to do this.  I am determined to start, continue, and complete something.  Especially while I'm stuck at home on disability, drugged up half the time, and in pain.  Especially now.  I have a lifetime of incomplete tasks.  This was one I wanted to complete fifteen years ago.  This is something within my grasp, something which I can show to myself and the world that I actually can accomplish something for myself.  If I can finish this, I can finish other things.

Second, I still enjoy amateur radio.  I wish the hobby were a little different.  The hams in Utah aren't as conversational as people were in North Carolina.  Perhaps I haven't met the right people yet.  Or perhaps I had friends in North Carolina that brought me together with the people I liked talking to.  I really wish I had a local radio friend with similar interests to "hang out" with.  But the real point is, I want to take this test to be a part of change for amateur radio.  If I have to be ambitious and start my own club to do it, I will.  If I have to find the most imaginative possibilities for amateur radio, I will seek them out and discover them.  I am determined to make it interesting to me, and to those around me.  Radio can continue to be an old man's tinkering, or it can become an everyman's enjoyment.

And that is why,in four hours, I will take the test.  I feel like I'm going against the odds here, but I will make the effort.  If I fail, I will try again.  If I pass, I will move forward.

There is one more level above the one I'm testing for tonight.  There's the effort to modernize the notion of amateur radio.  There's the indiscriminating nature of the hobby to bring in all walks of people, regardless of color, race, background, education, ability, and religion - something radio operators in Utah seem to have neglected.  And on top of that, I have my most powerful skill at my disposal: my voice, both audibly and written  - a voice that will make an effort to call for change where needed.

I may not understand all of the technology, but I understand that it takes all types to move the hobby forward.  My role will be that of the voice.

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There's an important part of my family that seems to rarely make its way into my blog posts.  These family members are always present, though rarely the subject of my recollections, stories, and comments on life.  They sometimes cause a bit of tension in my house, but when they look at you, your heart melts away with the tension.  Family sticks with you in life, and these members exemplify that.

I just wish they could let themselves out when they need to relieve themselves.

I have a long history of pets in my life.  Most of that history brings a smile to my face.  Some of it does not.  But their influence on my life is almost as prevalent as my parents, brother, children, or wife.

The earliest pet I can remember was a grandparent's dog, I believe my mother's parents' pet.  It was black.  The only thing I really remember was the night it died, when my father and someone else had to go out and bury it.

The next per I know of was Precious, a somewhat shaggy and curly grey-haired mixed breed.  She had been in the family for all of my earliest years.  Admittedly, I didn't pay much attention to the dog at times, but it was still a part of my every day world.  She passed away from old age not long after we moved from New York to North Carolina.  I came home one day to find her dead on the kitchen floor.  I was devastated.

Another pet we'd had when I was very young, also in New York, was Fizzgig.  He was an orange tabby cat.  I remember one Christmas when we'd wrapped a cat toy for Christmas and put it under the tree.  There was catnip on it, and he zeroed right in on the gift, opening it quickly.  He used to be rambunctious and playful.  He got hit by a car while trying to cross US Route 9, which our neighborhood was off of.  His impact was enough for me to use his name once more on a future pet, as well as a common password in the mid-90s.

The last pet from New York was Bon-Bon.  She was a black and white cat, which we'd gotten not long after Fizzgig died.  I remember picking her over another cat at a shelter, her being my choice because the other was lacking a tail.  I thought something was wrong with the other cat.  Now, I know it might have been a manx cat.  Or it could have been in an accident.  I'll never know, because Bon-Bon became a familiar sight in my home, and lived for a very, very long time.

In North Carolina, we'd acquired a cat while visiting cousins in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.  My brother had decided his name was Boots or something, because his body was dark grey with white feet.  I'd called him Cat, or KiKi.  I used to lay him down in my lap and play with him for long periods of time.  As he grew, he'd often play roughly with me, though he rarely went to far.  Others in the family, on the other hand, got torn to shreds by him, namely my mom.  In his time, I seemed to become immune to the oils in his claws, which usually cause the skin to bump up.  But at the same time, he knew how much I could take before bleeding.  He had the oddest meow, which was more of a two-syllable call, and occasionally made a sound that sounded like my name when he was looking for me.  In the end, though, he was a bit of  a loner, and after I moved out he didn't seem to recognize me all too much.  When he died, he acted like a lonely and somewhat bitter old man who wanted nothing to do with me.

Sometime in my teenage years, my brother and I both got a couple hamsters.  My two were males, and I named them Fizzgig and Einstein.  Fizzgig was aggressive, and Einstein was reclusive.  Fizzgig used to test the joints and doors on my habbitrail.  Einstein used to pack food in the exercise wheel and then decide to run in it.  While they cohabitated, I learned about the tendency of animals enclosed in the same space for a long period of time to have homosexual encounters, which explained part of the noises going on during the night.  The rest of the night, they'd clank on doors, scrape at floors, and spin wheels.  I'd hit the top of the habbitrail to get them to stop, which only pissed off Fizzgig and made him more aggressive.

One summer, we went on vacation for a week.  I'd put the cage in a room on the third floor, which we didn't use much.  I put a book on top of the lid, which was the only way I kept them from eventually opening the door at the top.  In the worst case, I rationalized, they'd be stuck in the room and I could track them down if they got out.  Somehow, while I was gone, they managed to knock the book down, open the door, and climb out.  During the week, Einstein got wedged between the baseboard and the back of a bed, and couldn't get out.  Fizzgig apparently figured Einstein would make a better meal than a roommate, and acted on that impulse.  After finding them, I buried Einstein next to Precious the dog, and captured Fizzgig.  He was never the same, and would never let me get close again.  That psycho hamster lived for almost another two years before dying of old age.

My parents once adopted a cocker spaniel named Sassy.  She loved ice cream and refused to step on grass, usually walking way out of her way to take care of her business out by the street.  She died after a couple years, apparently after finding anti-freeze sitting out in the garage.

A raggedy, stray orange tabby adopted us once.  At first, we tried to scare it away.  In time, it was apparent that the cat had no where to go.  We let it live outside for a while, and eventually it found itself inside.  T.C. became the poster example of lap cat, and decided my dad made the best lap.  The cat was so fond of laps that it would often hang onto your stomach or chest well after you'd gotten up.  He wasn't always welcomed by the other animals, but in time he was tolerated.  In time, he also left us.

Just before moving out of my parent's house, my ex-wife and I purchased a Siberian husky, which we named Sam.  Sam was a handful, and then some.  A few years later, at his full-size, he'd hear grubs under the grass and turn my yard into a mine field looking to snack on them.  He often caught rabbits and birds in the yard.  He was very hard to keep contained, being able to climb chainlink fences.  When he occasionally got loose from the heavy rope we had to tie him down with, it would take hours to get him back.  Eventually, he started trying to kill cats and other animals in the neighborhood, and scared many of the kids in the area.  One night, just before moving to Utah, he escaped and attacked a neighbor's dog.  I ended up having to file with my homeowner's insurance to pay for the medical bills.  We eventually realized his best chanced were with a place for huskies, and had the pound remove him.  It was a hard decision to make, but probably the right one.

Around the same time, I'd inherited a dog from my cousin Colleen and her husband (my close friend), Richard.  The dog was a girl named Buttons.  She was hyperactive, but very loving.  She enjoyed being around Sam, but wasn't enough to keep his interested from jumping the fence.  We had to leave her with our next-door neighbor when we moved to Utah, as we'd have no place to keep her.  The last time I saw her, she was still happy with her new owner.

In North Carolina, we'd also adopted two cats, Abby and Grace.  Abby came first, part of a litter from Colleen and Richard.  Later, I couldn't resist the runt of a litter outside of Walmart, which was Grace.  I'd attached to Abby the most, much more than I'd attached to an animal in years.  Grace was, and still is, a very scared cat who rarely interacts with her own owners.  Abby was hit by a car in late 2006.  It was a hard thing for me, partially because it was after my first marriage fell apart, but also because she was my favorite of the cats in Utah.  It was also very difficult leaving her body behind when we moved from that house.  Grace is still with us.

We discovered a black kitten outside my daughter's preschool, during the summer of 2005.  Naturally, we took him home, naming him Boo.  Boo has the tendency of finding homes that will think he's a stray, even causing a former neighbor to adopt him for a short time.  After keeping him, I discovered he was a Bombay breed, which is not your average tabby.  Someone must have lost him, which doesn't surprise me, seeing as how he's followed us on mile-long walks before.  Boo is still with us.

In early 2005, my ex-wife decided to get a dog from the pound.  The dog was a Lhasa Apso, a Tibettan breed.  I suggested the name Harvey, which stuck.  He's been with me through it all, even though he and I didn't get along well.  In 2007, he adopted Jill as his new owner, which worked out well a year later when she moved in and we got married.  He and I have had our ins and outs, but he's been loyal to the family for some time.  He's now a regular in my bed, which I don't always enjoy, but he loves the family and he's about as much a part of it as I am.

Today, I was thinking about all the pets in my life.  Some of the best and worst times of my life can be traced to my pets.  Even more so, some of my best and worst personality traits can be traced back to events involving my pets.

The death of Precious effected me so much that I never really attached to a dog again.  Even Harvey, who is the closest dog I've been to in all my life, would find himself at arm's length because of the death of my childhood dog.

The eventual deaths of some of my cats have led me to distance myself from the cats that follow them.

And worst of all, I've even questioned my own ability to love a human being based on my inability to love an animal, even though I know the love an animal can bring into your life quite well.  I think I know the pain of the loss of a loved animal all too well, too, which leads me to doubt love entirely, even when love lays next to me in the bed or sleeps across the hall.

It amazes me how much of my life has been wrapped up in a pet.  It amazed me more how much I have detested - on occasion - that power within my life.  And it amazes me the most that I could doubt my own ability to love, pet, spouse, child, or otherwise, simply because I don't connect with a particular creature.

I can only begin to see the fibers of my life and how they influence everything else, all the way to my present-day personality.

Pets are my past, my present, and my future.  Maybe it's time to get past the loss over the years and allow myself to love them today.

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Everyone seems to go through a time in their lives when they feel invisible.  Kids often feel this, as they are invisible to adults.  Sometimes children feel invisible within a family, even past childhood.  Some may even feel invisible at work, often a product of their own diligent work ethic overriding their need to mingle and socialize.  While I've felt each of these in my lifetime, the invisibility I suffer from is much more frustrating, and infinitely more degrading.

I haven't publicly made much of a fuss about the situation with my foot.  Let me officially say that it's relatively serious, and I'm lucky to have caught it before more damage was done (though I could have worried about it sooner).

As such, I've had to resort to various forms of movement when leaving the house.  Normally, that means I use my crutches.  When I go to a big enough store, I'm lucky to be able to find a motorized scooter.  Smaller stores mean I'll be suffering from severe foot pain in my GOOD foot when I'm done.  Visiting someone's house is manageable, as long as I can sit down quickly.  Anything else and I basically plant myself in a chair and try not to move unless necessary.

I seem to get questions from just about anybody asking what happened to me.  With as much attention on my foot, you would imagine that people would see me moving around.  Unfortunately, most people don't want to look.

My invisibility is most evident when I'm in a motorized scooter at the store.  People won't look at me.  People will hit me with their cart.  People will stop in the middle of an aisle with me right on their ass.  I'm treated like I don't exist.  To them, I'm invisible.

In fact, the only looks I get seem to be from the few people who can't believe a younger man, not suffering from severe obesity, needs to be on a scooter.  I may not be invisible to them, but their accusing glare makes me wish they'd ignore me the way most others seem to.

You might think I'm overreacting.  I invite anyone to accompany me on a shopping trip, or better yet, try it yourself.  You may be amazed by how entirely ignorant people are of your existence.

The invisibility isn't limited to scooters.  I'm invisible on my crutches, too.  Just today, Jill and I went to a movie.  We waited until the theater was nearly empty before leaving.  Near the hallway out of the actual theater, a group of five people stood in my way.  Jill walked on ahead of me a little, walking by them with normal clearance.  I need more than normal clearance with my crutches.  They stood there, unmoving, even looking at me.  I stood there a moment, waiting.  When they didn't move, I had to crutch sideways to get by them.  This happens to me a lot, too.

This past week, I finally asked for a handicap parking tag.  For almost two months, we've parked halfway down the row of parking spaces.  As I painfully crutch to the door, I constantly pass people who seem to bound out of their vehicle and gleefully walk to the door with much more ease than I have.

The last time Jill and I went shopping, she gave the shopping cart a nudge across the lane to the return stall, where I was getting out of the scooter.  The cart caught me a little off-guard, and I stumbled while directing the cart into the correct spot.  A woman I had just witnessed parking in a handicap stall just happened to have walked to the cart return, laughs at my situation, and tells me (tongue in cheek) I shouldn't be such an invalid.  SHE WALKED TO ME AND AWAY FROM ME JUST FINE.

So, with my new-found ability to park closer and save myself some pain and frustration, you'd think I'd find people who are more considerate of handicapped spots.  They aren't.  People who obviously do fine without the permit seem to be the majority of handicap space users.  Of the rest who aren't legitimately using their permit, you find a handful of people who don't display a tag and walk just fine, or people who don't bother with the permit at all and park in that space anyway.

The other day we took the family to Costco to grab a few things we needed.  I had the rare opportunity to sit in a wheelchair at the store, which was nice.  But still, little consideration for the big guy in the wheelchair.  I might as well have been half my size, given the way people seemed to notice me.

I'm really sick of it.  Time after time I seem to be treated as if I'm not - or shouldn't be - there.

I don't feel like there's anything karmic going on here.  I usually see people in wheelchairs, little people, and people with disabilities as people, too.  No, I'm not suffering through this because I'm a jerk like many others, I think I'm simply more observant of the fact that many people in my area just don't give a crap about a person who needs a little extra help to get things done.  If I weren't a keen observer, and was not experiencing it from this level, I might not have noticed as much.  Sure, I've seen people in wheelchairs get snuffed at doors entering stores.  But this is above and beyond.

I'm not invisible, damnit, and you've got me close to hitting you with a scooter when you stop suddenly or follow me too closely.  Maybe then you'd see me.  Maybe a crutch to the foot will help you care.

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