Engineers… I do not think I have enough periods to show an adequate pause behind their title. I have reservations toward the younger generations which have chosen this path, and revere their predecessors. Raised by an engineer, I have a few crazy fun memories. Most memorable is a summer’s day my father returned from work with this crazy gleam in his eyes and a giddiness often reserved for children. He had received blueprints in a heavy-wall cardboard tube which was now going to become a black-powder cannon. My father loved showing me his trade and often gave advice and words of wisdom for me to use. This particular day was one of those days. He kept it simple enough to follow along, and unbeknownst to me, we kept just enough black powder laying around the garage for such moments. Apparently you keep black powder and wicks behind the Ham radio console connected to the 40′ radio tower build into the garage; completely normal engineer things… He cut a tight fitting wood plug and screwed it firmly into place, drilled a wick hole and held this 6′ tube upright full of pride at the contraption he just made. Everything worked as it should and no injuries occurred. Only an assortment of baseballs were sacrificed to the tube. The older generation of slide-ruler engineers which sent us to space and back were a bunch of crazy, creative, brilliant people, and you have my respect.