Robert A. Black, Mathematical Storyteller

I've had a number of different blog post ideas cross my mind this past week or so, on various subjects related to the Trumpocalypse. Russian interference, racism, authoritarianism, white privilege, deception, inequality... the list goes on and on, to the point where you get tired just thinking about it. Even this post, where I'm telling you about how crazy and unsettle I've felt trying to write about these times, has gone through multiple versions. But it all comes back to something I realized while hiking last Saturday. I've realized it before, but it seems I need regular reminders. I was hiking back up Sisar Canyon and the Red Reef Trail, toward Topatopa Bluff. It was the same hike I'd done two weeks earlier, but it had been cloudy on my first trip and I hadn't been able to see the face of the bluff at all. This time, the bluff was in full view - and what a view it was - but the hot sun really wore me out. After five miles of climbing the six-mil

There are a lot of times in my day-job world when I feel like I've had a hat placed on my head, that only other people can see. A hat that looks like this: I didn't put it on, and I'm not even aware of it, but everyone who looks at me sees it, and especially sees the pointing finger. I'm the Quality Manager, so I must be out to get them. If I'm talking to them, I must be after them, about to get them in trouble. Right? It comes with the territory, I'm afraid. I just deal with it. The truth is that I almost never ask about something in order to place blame. I'm much more concerned with getting problems fixed. Trying to place blame just wastes time, energy and resources. One of the hardest things about dealing with the Trumpocalypse is how often it feels like I've got the finger-pointing hat on when I try to talk to people about certain issues. I felt that way on my trip to Texas and Indiana right after Thanksgiving, as I went among people

Over the course of three hikes into the Topatopa Range outside Ojai, I've discovered that the toughest part of hiking these mountains is getting to them . If you have a four-wheel-drive vehicle and can get National Park Service to let you through the gate onto Nordhoff Ridge Road, visiting the peaks is easy. You can do several of them in a day. But everyone else has to hike up several miles of canyon - which can be nice, but it takes a lot of time and can really wear you out. Back in April , I made my first trek into the area, going up Nordhoff Peak. Then last month , I hiked up Chief Peak, which was longer and tougher than I expected, but that was a good thing. It prepared me for the main event - Topatopa Bluff, a massive mountain with large, prominent rock outcrops, visible from thirty miles away in Oxnard where I work. I've looked at Topatopa on my lunchtime walks for years, and I've been thinking about hiking it since last spring. But it's a tough challenge

One of my favorite stories about my mother is something you might not expect. She was the "math coach" at my school when I was there, which meant she chose the students who would go to all the various math competitions. My senior year, she had more students interested in the annual contest at Terre Haute's Rose-Hulman Institute of Technology than there were slots available, and so she decided to give us all a test to see who got to go. I assumed that since I was her son, I'd get preferential treatment, and so I didn't take the test seriously. As a result, I made some silly mistakes and scored below several of the other students. And yes, my mom left me at home. Naturally, I wasn't very happy about that at the time, but now that I'm older and wiser, I think it was one of her best parenting moments. She taught me to check my privilege - not in those words, of course, because people didn't say that in the early 1980s. But she reminded me that I&#