Read Online Kicking the Can by Scott C. Glennie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Scott C. Glennie
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policy. What bothered Lowsley the most was the fact that his arguments, reasoning, and research were not inferior to Schuler’s. Lowsley’s professional pride had been damaged because Schuler had unfairly controlled the medium of the exchange. The Harvard PhD had used his extensive academic and industry resources to put a muzzle on the unknown PhD from Oregon. Lowsley’s legs had been cut out from underneath him before he could challenge Schuler’s health care economics dogma, and that didn’t sit well with him. To add insult to injury, Schuler’s arrogance made theone-sided affront on Lowsley personal by questioning his IQ and the quality of his education.
It was time for Lowsley to quit licking his wounds and focus on what was really important in life, his family. Thanksgiving holiday at the beach was a Lowsley family tradition. This year Kathy, Lowsley’s soul mate, booked the Cottages at Otter Rock for their four-day retreat. It offered quaint accommodations with a full kitchen, gas fireplace, and two bedrooms. Their unit was oceanfront. The resort complex was perched seventy feet above the ocean break, nestled in forty-five acres of forest. Previous guests had spotted whales, sea lions, and eagles from the capacious deck overlooking the Pacific. Otter Rock was known for the best tide pools on the Oregon coast.
They drove along State Highway 20 until they hit Oregon Coast Highway 101. Lowsley smiled as he read the signs along the way. His father had been one of the first executives to realize timber was a renewable resource and had advocated a longer-term approach to resource management. Today, his wisdom was visible all around them. The forest products company Lowsley’s dad retired from had started replantings decades ago to reclaim the devastation of clear-cutting that decimated much of the private forested land in Oregon. Those plantings were now mature.
“You reap what you sow” was what his dad had told him. He had been a pioneer in the industry, proving that hard work, ingenuity, and emotional intelligence, not pedigree, dictated how far a person could go in the world.
Lowsley looked in his rearview mirror. Will and Martha, their two children, ages six and ten, were in the back seat reading. Molly, a nine-year-old cocker spaniel was curled up on the floor beneath their feet, nose to tail, in her oversized stuffed pillow that became her bed on family trips. Kathy was holding his hand reading a magazine.
Human nature is such that you want what you don’t have,
Lowsley thought. Looking around him, Lowsley realized there was nothing he could ever want that would take the place of what he already had—an amazing family who loved him and the beauty and lifestyle only the Pacific Northwest could offer. He braked to a stop and flipped on the left turn signal.
“Look out, Otter Rock, here we come!”
31
R akesh Gupta drained his second Rock Star energy drink and tossed it into a trash receptacle. The line to the Iron Maiden concert in Bangalore, India, was finally starting to move—heavy metal ear candy was less than an hour away. He gave final instructions to his best friend Nadir. Chaitan, his date, and their other friends would hang back until they were cleared. They were all subject to a routine search prior to concert admission. When he reached the front of the line, Nadir handed him the backpack, and he set it on the table, unclipping the flap and opening the ridged plastic container used to protect the sensitive electronics. He also removed a letter printed on Massachusetts Institute of Technology letterhead from his pocket.
The sound receptor was made from a highly conductible metal composite membrane, a tenth the thickness of aluminum foil, stretched taut inside a hexagonal-shaped metal hoop. The whole thing measured about the size of a dinner plate and resembled an electrified drum head. It had hand holds made out of insulating rubber. The outer edge of the membrane was hemmed with microwire,
It was time for Lowsley to quit licking his wounds and focus on what was really important in life, his family. Thanksgiving holiday at the beach was a Lowsley family tradition. This year Kathy, Lowsley’s soul mate, booked the Cottages at Otter Rock for their four-day retreat. It offered quaint accommodations with a full kitchen, gas fireplace, and two bedrooms. Their unit was oceanfront. The resort complex was perched seventy feet above the ocean break, nestled in forty-five acres of forest. Previous guests had spotted whales, sea lions, and eagles from the capacious deck overlooking the Pacific. Otter Rock was known for the best tide pools on the Oregon coast.
They drove along State Highway 20 until they hit Oregon Coast Highway 101. Lowsley smiled as he read the signs along the way. His father had been one of the first executives to realize timber was a renewable resource and had advocated a longer-term approach to resource management. Today, his wisdom was visible all around them. The forest products company Lowsley’s dad retired from had started replantings decades ago to reclaim the devastation of clear-cutting that decimated much of the private forested land in Oregon. Those plantings were now mature.
“You reap what you sow” was what his dad had told him. He had been a pioneer in the industry, proving that hard work, ingenuity, and emotional intelligence, not pedigree, dictated how far a person could go in the world.
Lowsley looked in his rearview mirror. Will and Martha, their two children, ages six and ten, were in the back seat reading. Molly, a nine-year-old cocker spaniel was curled up on the floor beneath their feet, nose to tail, in her oversized stuffed pillow that became her bed on family trips. Kathy was holding his hand reading a magazine.
Human nature is such that you want what you don’t have,
Lowsley thought. Looking around him, Lowsley realized there was nothing he could ever want that would take the place of what he already had—an amazing family who loved him and the beauty and lifestyle only the Pacific Northwest could offer. He braked to a stop and flipped on the left turn signal.
“Look out, Otter Rock, here we come!”
31
R akesh Gupta drained his second Rock Star energy drink and tossed it into a trash receptacle. The line to the Iron Maiden concert in Bangalore, India, was finally starting to move—heavy metal ear candy was less than an hour away. He gave final instructions to his best friend Nadir. Chaitan, his date, and their other friends would hang back until they were cleared. They were all subject to a routine search prior to concert admission. When he reached the front of the line, Nadir handed him the backpack, and he set it on the table, unclipping the flap and opening the ridged plastic container used to protect the sensitive electronics. He also removed a letter printed on Massachusetts Institute of Technology letterhead from his pocket.
The sound receptor was made from a highly conductible metal composite membrane, a tenth the thickness of aluminum foil, stretched taut inside a hexagonal-shaped metal hoop. The whole thing measured about the size of a dinner plate and resembled an electrified drum head. It had hand holds made out of insulating rubber. The outer edge of the membrane was hemmed with microwire,
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