Who the Heck?

Wouldn’t it be great if there were more about me here?

Unfortunately I hate writing about myself. If you would like to submit your version of “About Me” for me, I might add it here.

The first entry has arrived. Please enjoy this very nice piece of work about my life by the venerable Dane Tate:

Dave Minor…how do I describe the guy who replaced me at one of my jobs? First off, he had some mighty big shoes to fill, but come to think of it, Dave has pretty big feet. Of course, this was over ten years ago, so they may have shrunk some since then.

Dave is an audio engineering marvel, without question. For example, we were working together at a bluegrass festival once and he manned the board for me while I went off for a hot dog. When I came back, Dave had his feet propped up on the console, all the faders were maxed out (if my memory serves me), and he was asleep. I had expected things to be really shaped up, because, after all, Dave had hired me to help him.

Dave has made several claims to being a pilot, but I’ve never seen any real evidence of this. A while back I made him some extension cables for his aircraft’s intercom system (for the kids in the back seat). We decided, since he needed them in time for a trip, that he would fly over to Oklahoma, pick them up, and go to Braum’s so he could stock up on ice cream. He never came, and I ended up sending the cables in the mail. I don’t know whether to fully trust him or not. I know that requesting and paying for a custom cable with ends on it that fit nothing other than an aircraft intercom might lead one to believe that he really does fly an airplane. However, the bit about flying to the next state in order to pick up a particular brand of ice cream sounds pretty authentically like what most pilots I know would use as an excuse to fly, so I guess he really does.

Moving on to the topic of pizza, I can assure you that this is a man with experience. On my first trip to Chicago, I called up Dave for some logistical assistance, because he lived there at the time. So the first evening he meets me on the sidewalk half way between Michigan Avenue and State Street, the way a couple of drug dealers might meet, and we go on a two or three mile hike into the depths of the underworld till we come to this hole of a place where I kept expecting some kind of mafia event to take place. However, the pizza was positively above reproach, and was, in fact, some of the finest pizza ever mentioned.

I must also say that Dave has bailed me out of a significant quantity of computer issues. I don’t know how a young man, working out of his house with two or three screaming offspring in his lap, can manage his own computing troubles, much less those of a computer illiterate like myself clear over in the next state. But somehow he can and does on a routine basis. And apparently, he considers this a good way to earn a living.

Well, I figure that about sums up everything you could possibly want to know about Dave Minor. Any aspects of his character that appear to have been overlooked in the above statements are most likely of no importance. Now, about his family – that being Sarah and the children – I can’t say too much. They seem all right on the surface. But concerning David’s brother Scott, now that’s another manner, and you and I will have to speak privately about that.