Ned Notes


Being a Geek Dad: Cool Projects with My Kids

updated posting on

Inspired by the Steampunk Workshop, I undertook the grand adventure of modding my flat monitor in the Victorian industrialist style. My rationale was not merely that steampunk is the cool meme du jour, but also because the monitor was a distinctly beige oddity in a vast wood-paneled family library full of gilt-edged books on Milton, Dante, Plato and other luminaries of earlier eras.

I did one of my graduate degrees in English, and another in philosophy -- so although I do have a few shelves of computerese books, most of my rather extensive library is focused more on literary pursuits and Victorian-era poetry. This being the case, it only made sense to create a difference-engine type environment for the computing activities I undertake in such a rarified bookish-infused air. When all of your decorations could have been in any home from the 1700s up to the early 1900s (with the exception of electric lights instead of gas lamps), it only makes sense to ensure that your computer fits the same era. I guess I should get going on building a genuine gas lamp to illuminate my late night scholarly pursuits...

But let's talk about the act of modding the monitor. Here were the steps I followed:

  1. Dissasembly: Take apart the entire monitor, starting with the base. Unscrew the case carefully, as the screen is quite fragile.
  2. Disguise: Spraypainted existing pieces of monitor black and bronze (a la Jake's mod)
  3. Decoration: Took galvinized wood connectors from ye old hardware store -- which look rather mechanical in derivation, even though they do not have the cogs and wheels one might prefer -- and spraypainted them bronze. These have the added benefit of being highly durable. Here's a representative sampling of similar pieces
  4. Device: Fit (now "brassified") machine-like casings together with nice tight brass screws to create an alternative case It's actually hard to find good brass screws, so here's a listing for good brass pieces
  5. More Dissasembly: Sawed apart old case, so that new brass case piecings can fit over the top, and allow access to the monitor contorls
  6. Test: It goes without saying that one must constantly test fit and check the fittings of the various pieces. The testing phase is usually the most difficult for me... thus, I post it here as a caution to others who may follow.
  7. Connect: Screw new brass case to the outside of the old case, throwing away pieces no longer necessary. (Admittedly, I also used one of those new-fangled glue guns to help me connect all the pieces I wanted connected)
  8. Base: Mod the base by covering with screen that has been spraypainted bronze, and so that the "new" black base shows through the screen
  9. Details: The (beige) controls now being visible, I also created a bronze screen over the top of them to conceal. Worked well.
  10. Re-Assembly: Carefully screwed together the old pieces of the case and the new brass case. Carefully put the screen back in the now-modified case, attaching with brass screws, of course. Connected the power, turned on the monitor and voila!

Nota Bene: I had a wonderful old vacuum-tube Zenith wireless (radio) that I had recently disassembled, and I had hoped to use the vacuum tubes and many of the other components on the base. However, after I fit the newly brass 'n black monitor together, I found that they seemed an unnecessary adornment. In short, I didn't need them... unless I could actually get the vacuum tubes wired, so that they'd light up, on command. Functional vacuum tubes (or hell, tesla coils!) would be really damn cool.

I'll post a few more photos of my in-process workshop routine and the final outcome of the project, but for now, here's the final output. Of course, I'm working on a alternative Seattle steam-punk novel, and now I have the work environment to inspire me on a day-to-day basis. As I start to finish up chapters, I'll post my steampunk meanderings over in my writings section.

We launched a model rocket this last weekend. It was a blast! (sorry, I couldn't resist) The kids really enjoyed watching me put together the rocket, and I encouraged them to decorate the rocket as they wished. I tried to explain the basic chemistry, but they lost interest quickly. So I just focused them on how cool it would be when the rocket took off into the sky, and how the parachute would open and allow it to float down safely.

The funny thing is that the ignitor didn't work. And this is where it got really creative -- I needed to find a spark to ignite the engine. But by the time I realized that the store-bought battery-powered ignitor wouldn't work, I had a yardful of kids waiting for the model rocket to take off. A dozen kids getting more and more impatient.

With all the kids there, I couldn't run to the store and get a new ignitor. I couldn't just light a fire under the damn rocket (too dangerous, especially with all these nervous nelly parents around). So here's the hack: I grabbed an old cell phone power cord, chopped the end off, and connected it to the rocket, and plugged the damn thing in. Of course, it immediately took off, with all the electricity flowing in there. The experience of the weak ignitor though compelled me to design my own much-cooler rocket ignition station, which would first light up a bulb (a red one, preferably), and then a lever to push down to complete the circuit -- so there would be an ignition switch. It would be even cooler if I could hand-roll a capacitor coil and have a kid pedal a bicycle to build up sufficient charge to get the rocket off the ground. Anyway, as soon as I'm done with my design, I'll post the thing here ;-)

In related news, this rocket launcher hack is amazingly awesome!

Cross-posted to projects for a dad: I think that Kevin Kelly really put his finger on something when he talks about the models we provide for our children. After all, whatever my children see me doing is what they feel is "normal", or "expected" for an adult. So if I'm writing and performing drama or if I'm carving pumpkins or spending time coding on the computer, my kids on some subliminal level will feel this is a "cool" adult activity.

Science fiction author Neal Stephenson mentioned this first to Kelly when he note an unfinished kayak under a tarp. He said he was slowly working on it, in part to mentor his kids, even though they did no work on the boat, nor express the least bit of interest in this project. None-the-less he continued puttering on the undertaking while they were home. Stephenson said when he was a kid, his dad was constantly tinkering on some garage project or another, and despite Neal's complete indifference for any of his dad's enthusiasms at the time, he was influenced by this embedded tinkering. It was part of the family scene, part of his household, like mealtime style, or the pattern of interactions between siblings. Later on when Neal did attempt to make stuff on his own, the pattern was right at hand. It felt comfortable, easy. Without having to try very hard, he knew how to be a nerd.

So as Kevin Kelly notes, Neal continued the tradition in the faith that while his kids showed no outward enthusiasm for his weekend projects, and didn't pick up a tool to help, they were being trained and coached in a subterranean way.

I got to meet Tim O'Reilly in person recently -- great, interesting person, really seems to be engaged and focused when he meets each and every person. I shanghied him after one of his presentations at Graphing Social Patterns, and had a few minutes to chat about social media and data points.

One of his most recent successes that I absolutely adore is the concept that geeks like to make stuff in general -- not just computer code. Examples of this phenomena include Craft magazine and Make Magazine. Fellow geeks-like parents of the world, let me tell you now, this magazine is your friend!

After seeing this, I really want to build a human-powered car:


Reaching Me: Ned Hayes · Seattle WA · 206.321.7981 · ned AT nednotes.com