Oskar Schindler & my persistent feelings of failure

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I always feel as summer winds down an odd kinship with Oskar Schindler.

Remember him?

He was the German industrialist who cleverly — and at grave risk to his own life — saved more than 1,200 doomed Jews from the Holocaust.

The connection seems pretty thin, I admit.

He did so much and was justifiably memorialized in what you could argue was Stephen Spielberg’s finest film, “Schindler’s List,” from 1993.

It feels like I have done nothing.

And that’s where Schindler and I become one.

To me, the most indelible part of the movie is the end when Schindler falls to pieces in the devastating belief he’d not done enough.

He looks disdainfully at a gold ring and says it could have saved another life. His fancy watch disgusts him; it could have saved a family. He is revolted by the Mercedes-Benz in the driveway.

How many more souls could that have saved?

It’s because of Schindler I always feel anyone who dies satisfied dies having not done enough.

To bust that analogy clear down to atomic levels, I believe I wasted an entire summer.

I did not do enough.

I feel this way, of course, in particular with the kids. They’re 14 and 9.

They won’t be that ever again.

I’ve scoffed at maudlin friends who say they suffer from empty nest syndrome.

I tell them I look forward to a day when I can watch what I want, eat what I want, and do it all wearing shabbily comfortable clothes that would cause my loved ones to roll their eyes in fashionable distress.

But when summer days begin to dwindle and we’re fully geared up to start school as we will on Monday, I become wistful for lost time.

I wasted so much of it.

Did I devote enough hours to the needs of our children? Did I by being their daddy do anything to enrich their lives or their memories of this summer?

I feel like a failure.

It’s not like I was working all the time.

As you may have heard — and I’m sure you did, it’s what this blog is all about — I don’t work.

Unlike most of the rest of the civilized world, I am untethered by occupational concerns.

I try and keep busy. I have a bunch of events booked for the fall and am anticipating a fruitful time.

But I have nothing to show for the summer.

A guy like me with so much free time on his hands should be fluent in French, Spanish, Mandarin, Latin and those made-up languages you hear on the floors of the Star Trek conventions.

Instead, I’m fluent in “Seinfeld” catchphrases.

With all the time I have on my hands, I should be a scratch golfer, a skilled ice carver or a baseball fantasy league savant.

I should be a volunteer fire fighter or do busy work at some senior center, a place full of dear people who ache all day to see just one friendly face.

I wasted my summer.

Have I wasted my life?

I sometimes feel I have offended God and mankind by doing so little with my life.

That’s not me.

That line is a paraphrase of what are purported to be the last words of Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519).

Maybe the most insightful man in human history died convinced he was a failure.

Yeah, just what did he do?

Oh, yeah, he painted the Mona Lisa, conceptualized the first flying machines, armored fighting vehicles, contributed to ground-breaking innovations in surgery, manufacturing and is remembered as maybe the most brilliant human being who ever lived.

I wonder if his office was above a friendly tavern.

I guess what I’m tying to say is if these two giants died feeling like failures, it’s okay if sometimes you and I do, too.

Every now and then we’re all going to feel like monumental failures.

At least we all have monumental company.

Related . . .

Daughter, 4, thinks Dad works too much

Marching on Gettysburg with daughter, 12

My career advice: Don’t be like me!

Vacation recycling near impossible

Hollywood’s best year ever? 1993

I am becoming left handed

"Jurassic World" & how dino breeding will end human hunger

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I’m convinced mankind will end world hunger when we begin to successfully breed dinosaurs.

Do you have any idea how many quarter-pound dino burgers comprise your typical 7.5 ton Tyrannosaurus Rex? I don’t know if the number bajillion is real, but it’s bound to be something like a bajillion.

As you can tell, I’m excited about the Friday opening of “Jurassic World.”

I wasn’t a huge fan of the series, especially the weakling sequels, but I did enjoy the original and recently had fun showing it to Josie, 14. Now, she’s really into it. So it should be a spectacular day at the movies.

It had better be.

The hype is huge, but Spielberg blockbusters aren’t quite the sure thing they used to be. I enjoyed “Lincoln,” but understand why my so many did not. The reason why is it shouldn’t have even been called “Lincoln.”

It should have been called “Congress.”

It was too much about process and not enough about maybe our greatest American. It was committees, filibusters and procedure.

Know what would have made it more entertaining?

A dinosaur!

General Grant: “President Lincoln, I have bad news.”

A. Lincoln: “What is it?”

Grant: “Our proud Union troops were on their way to victory at Gettysburg, then that accursed dinosaur came out of the Peach Orchard and ate General Meade and 200 of his men. Now Lee and his rebels are preparing a clam bake near Cape Cod.”

Lincoln: “Damn. I never thought Meade would have been all that tasty. Oh, well. I need some escapist fare. “Our American Cousin” is playing down at Ford’s Theater. Do you happen to know how it scored on RottenTomatoes.com?”

I’m already monitoring Rotten Tomatoes to see how “Jurassic World” it is being reviewed. Nothing yet, but if the movie doesn’t top out above 90 percent, I’m going to be disappointed.

I’m hoping it’s a movie we can all enjoy — fun for the whole family!

And I do hope the movie includes a snippet of some tailgaters barbecuing a dinosaur.

Like a beer can chicken!

I’m serious about solving world hunger through safe and prudent dinosaur breeding. I would think just one Volkswagen-sized sauropod egg would provide enough omelet ingredient to brunch all of Des Moines.

Wing nights are popular at taverns around the country. Imagine the rush of diners who’d line up for Pterodactyl Wing Nite. These wings range from between 9- and 20-feet long. It’d be like me and my family heading to The Pond on Tuesday wing nite and being served a meat canoe.

I like to think of all the jobs created by the spinoff industries related to dinosaur farming.

The first dinosaur butcher shoppe — and you’d have to spell it “shoppe” to give it that Old Jurassic World flavor — would be the size of those 50-story Vertical Assembly Buildings NASA used to construct the space shuttles.

Like prudent butchers of things like beef and hog, no part of the beast would be wasted. The skin could be used to for haute fashion accessories.

Call it UP-Scale!

Innovative developers would begin offering trendy bone homes.

What could go wrong?

Well, being a fair-minded observer, let me tell you.

First of all, anyone is interested in breeding dinosaurs had better put a whole lot of thought into feeding dinosaurs.

If a dinosaur stomach growls in Atlanta, you can pretty much bet they’ll hear it in Macon. And when you’re typical dinosaur wants food, it wants it right away. It’s not going to settle for another bowl of bread sticks.

The other concern is if we humans are going to eat dinosaur, we have to be particular about what dinosaurs eat.

You’re going to have to feed it something healthy — and there are only so many vegetarians in the world.

Despite these problems, I remain convinced either way breeding dinosaurs will eliminate hunger among humans.

Introduce enough hungry dinosaurs into the world and sooner or later there won’t be any more hungry humans.

Related . . .

Dino diets a gas, gas, gas

End World Hunger! Be an airhead!

Dining on dinos to end world hunger

Wingin’ it at The Pond

Marching on Gettysburg with daughter, 12

Steve Jobs: American iCon

The still-glowing reaction to the retirement of Steve Jobs highlights what’s wrong with American entrepreneurship these days. Everyone said he’s a genius, our most creative thinker, a brilliant tactical leader.

What went unmentioned is Jobs should go down as one of America’s most colossal disappointments.

And that’s by even his own standard.

Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak: “He was always thinking about those great people that drove humanity to a higher level. People like Shakespeare, you know, like Isaac Newton.”

Sorry. His contributions are more in line with the recently deceased Elliot Handler who died July 21 in Los Angeles. He was 95.

Never heard of him? He was the founder of Mattel who invented Barbie, Ken and Hot Wheels.

He was a toymaker.

That’s all Jobs is.

He devoted much of the last 15 years figuring out nifty ways we could increase the number of songs we carry around in our pockets.

Just about every word I’ve written since 1998 has been on a Mac computer. I love Apple. I love my iPod. I’ve had an iPhone for less than a year and whenever I have any problem my first thought is, “How can what’s in my pocket solve this?”

Much of the world shares my mania for this. That’s why Apple now has more money in the bank ($75 billion) than the U.S. federal government, ($73 billion).

That’s why for the last 10 years I kept thinking, “Okay, now’s the time to take some of that money and some of that genius, put away the toys, and go to work on solving some of the world’s most pressing problems.”

A man like Jobs and his team -- and they all call themselves “geniuses” and have the t-shirts to back the boast -- shouldn’t be devoting their lives to improving the interface for games like Angry Birds.

If he truly aspired to greatness, he could have walked into a board meeting and said, “Okay, the technology behind the internal combustion engine is 160 years old, it consumes dirty fossil fuels that cost nearly $4 a gallon. We’re taking the next six months to invent a green iEngine that converts leaves and weeds into ozone that’ll float up into the atmosphere where it belongs. I want 10 ideas on my desk by noon tomorrow.”

He’d make a tidy profit on that, for sure. Or he could act like a truly great man and give it away for free.

Sound farfetched? Too socialistic?

Jonas Salk (1914-1995) devoted years of his life to creating a vaccine to wipe out polio, the most terrifying disease known to man. It could have made him a spectacular fortune. Instead, he gave it away.

For free.

“There is no patent,” he said in response to a question at a nationally televised press conference. “Could you patent the sun?”

Now, that’s a truly great man. A Pittsburgher, too. Like me.

Jobs’s health is a mysterious but clearly difficult situation for him. Certainly, he’s already faced thoughts of his own mortality.

Great men at the end think they haven’t done nearly enough.

It happens to famous artists, philosophers, scientists, musicians, architects, inventors and to the magnificent Renaissance man who was all those things rolled into one.

“I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.”

Those were the last words of Leonard da Vinci.

To me the most compelling example of this poignancy was detailed in Stephen Spielberg’s 1993 film, “Schindler’s List.” It’s almost too heartbreaking for me to watch again.

Oskar Schindler risked his life to deceive the Nazis that Jews at his factory were essential to the war effort. He saved over 1,100 innocents from certain doom.

Yet, at the end the film shows him wallowing in despair over what he did not do. His wristwatch, he said, could have spared two more; his car perhaps a dozen.

These were great men with humanity’s best interests in their hearts.

Do not dare include Jobs among that list.

He was smart guy who made a lot of money giving us the moronic diversions we crave.

The world’s going to hell.

Thanks to Steve Jobs, at least we’ll all be groovin’ when we get there.