2017-02-19 FUJISAWA, JAPAN -- We visited Noriko's parents in Fujisawa city.

We scrapped our plans to walk Enoshima due to unexpectedly cold winds. The weather forecast has been consistently unreliable the last several days!


Surfers waiting to ride the big waves, just like the Hokusai woodblock prints.


We prayed for our parents' health at a seaside Shinto shrine.


We chatted over sashimi.



Night waves and Mt Fuji.


Pizza and paella at the Red Lobster restaurant.


Cushy ride on the Odakyu Romance express.

2014-02-09 SAPPORO, JAPAN -- I have been reticent because I have been in shock. I am stunned and paralyzed because my close friend Bruce Lowerre died in an airplane accident.



Bruce and I met at work. The research institute we worked for is known for inventing the computer mouse (I knew Dave Engelbart -- his wife told me how she renamed the turtle the mouse). The research team that Bruce and I belonged to later developed SIRI, the speech recognition software used in Apple products.

Bruce was a decorated researcher. His invention (the beam search algorithm) is still taught in computer science classes today.

He started his career in chemistry (his first BS was in that area), but became enthralled with computers when, as an undergraduate student, he was hired by a local bank to write computer software. CMU initially rejected Bruce’s application for graduate studies in computer science because CMU believed solid training in logic was necessary. So Bruce earned a BS in mathematics (in the 1970s, computer science was not taught at the undergraduate level), went to CMU, studied under Raj Reddy, invented the beam search algorithm, and earned his PhD.

Bruce was clever with his hands. He brought his home-made telescope to his honeymoon. He flew radio-controlled blimps at HP labs, his workplace at the time. He built toys for children of his friends.

Bruce loved what he called bar room music. He often played the piano for Noriko and me.

But his most serious love was aviation. He earned his private pilot license in 35 hours (the legal minimum allowed), and continued with his instrument rating, commercial pilot license, and flight instructor certificate. I was one of his students. Through Bruce I learned the fascination of floatplanes. I earned my private pilot, single-engine sea at Dave Wiley’s seaplane base. Bruce had almost 2000 hours of flight time. I had much less, but at one point had more floatplane time than him. Bruce and I flew floatplanes together in Florida and Washington.






As a young man, Bruce had become infatuated by the Spencer AIrCar, a wooden amphibious airplane with a boat-shaped hull and retractable wheels. Bruce resolved to build one himself. He obtained the plans for the aircraft, and bought or fabricated parts. On many occasions, I watched him working on his airplane, and sometimes handed him tools or parts. I never helped with the actual construction though, because I knew he wanted to claim he had built it all by himself.



After many years, his airplane began to take shape. Noriko and I rode in the airplane on the ground (we enjoyed a high-speed taxi up and down the runway) but we never flew in it, because federal regulations require that experimental airplanes first be flown for at least 40 flight hours with no passengers, in order to test for safety.

It was during this period of testing that Bruce was killed.

In late September 2013, two days before his fatal flight, I called him in Florida from Oregon. He told me of his intention to fly to Lake Okeechobee that weekend, partly to observe issues with the exhaust manifold. The engine had either been running hotter than it was supposed to, or the exhaust manifold was unable to handle normally expected temperatures. I wished him well, and promised to visit him as soon as he could take passengers.

I did not learn of his death until after New Year’s. A Christmas card from Bruce's sister Edith told me the terrible news. Dazed, I read various news articles, a preliminary report from the NTSB, and a closed online forum for builders of the Spencer AirCar.

I had been worried because he hadn't replied to my email nor phone calls. I kept leaving messages on his voicemail. This was not the first time Bruce was incommunicado, however. There were times when he was offline for months on end, usually due to networking problems with his internet provider. I was however concerned enough to dig up Edith's mailing address (she doesn't use email) and had planned on writing her.

I am crestfallen with the death of my friend. When Dave Wiley died in the floatplane that I had been trained in, I essentially stopped flying. With Bruce gone, I may never fly again, even to renew my license (I need to fly with an instructor and pass a knowledge and skill test every 2 years). The cockpit would remind me of the friends I lost.

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Below are pictures from September 2011, the last time we visited Bruce in Florida.

At his hangar, Bruce shows me an airplane ride machine he is building for his great-nephew and great-niece. A leaf blower gives children the sensation of flying.


Bruce and I mess with the engine cowling. The propeller of the Spencer AirCar faces rearward.


Bruce takes Noriko and me on a high-speed taxi ride.


The Spencer AirCar has dual controls, but the right seat pilot almost never flies the airplane.


We did about 60 knots (about 70 mph) on the runway.

Video of the high-speed taxi. 110906_high_speed_taxi_3

Friends unconditionally embrace their friends’ passions.


Bruce signs me off for my biennial flight review. We flew a different airplane (a Cessna 150) for my review.



Bruce, Edith, Noriko and I dined richly every day. This is the Big Bear Brewery.


We lost Emily (Bruce’s wife, 2nd from left) and her mom Agnes (far left) several years ago. Now Bruce. We miss you so.


Noriko believes that Bruce and Emily are now happy. I hope so too. But at this moment I am inconsolable.

2012-09-27 LINCOLN CITY, OREGON -- Sirokuro (my dog) told me rules he lives by.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.
All the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face can be pure ecstasy.
When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
When it’s in your best interest, practice obedience.
Let others know when they’ve invaded your territory.
Take naps and stretch before rising.
Run, romp and play daily.
Eat with gusto and enthusiasm.
Be loyal.
Never pretend to be something you’re not.
If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.
When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.
Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
On hot days, drink lots of water and lay under a shady tree.
When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
No matter how often you’re scolded, don’t buy into the guilt thing and pout, run right back and make friend.
Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

(These rules has appeared in various forms over the years. The original author is unknown.)

2012-09-15 HILLSBORO, OREGON -- Gavo (my former PhD advisor), Noriko (Gavo’s wife and pianist) and us visited the Rice Northwest Museum of Rocks and Minerals.

Gavo is a rockhound (a person interested in finding or collecting minerals, rocks, and fossils). 3 days ago, Gavo had bought a double thunderegg (2 geodes fused together) for $26 at a rock store in Pioneer Square. The double thunderegg had been cut open in half and polished.

We were astounded to find the second half of that very same double thunderegg on display at the Rice museum. What a coincidence that a hobbyist’s specimen bought recently matched a specimen that must have been catalogued and displayed some time ago!

The pictures below show the 2 specimens, with the picture of Gavo’s specimen flipped to ease visual comparison. Note that 2 halves of thundereggs never perfectly match because the cutting process removes material having the thickness of the cutting blade from between the 2 halves.

This double thunderegg came from what is now Richardson’s agate beds located near the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument. Gavo and I bought thundereggs that Richard Rice himself collected at the same site.