Lift Up Your Hearts!

Trust, but Verify -- On Using AI in Our Work

sursumcorda — Fri, 17 Jul 2026 05:32:46 -0400

Trust, but verify.

Wikipedia informs me that President Ronald Reagan's trademark phrase was a Russian proverb (доверяй, но проверяй, or doveryai, no proveryai) taught to him by Suzanne Massie, a scholar of Russian history, who advised him, "The Russians like to talk in proverbs. It would be nice of you to know a few. You are an actor—you can learn them very quickly." Reagan eagerly adopted the phrase and used it frequently, especially when talking about American-Russian negotiations during the Cold War.

Given Reagan's success in dealing with a highly intelligent and well-informed entity that had the potential to do either much good or devastating harm—or both—we should probably heed his advice when negotiating the tangled risks and benefits of Artificial Intelligence.

We can't live, much less prosper, without trust. We are born with the instinct to trust our mothers, and if we live in a healthy home that spreads to include fathers, other family, friends, teachers, doctors, pastors, government officials—our need to trust the world around us goes very high, wide, and deep. To buy an egg from the grocery store requires trusting with our health a long chain of other people responsible for its journey from chicken to plate. That's why we have customs, and rules, and laws, and government inspectors tasked with ensuring that the process works. But quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who will verify that our trust is justified?

We will. We must. The buck stops with us.

Because we cannot verify everything we depend on, and must live as if the world is in the main trustworthy, we must also be alert and aware and never forget that betrayal, whether malicious or unintentional, is always a possibility.

What on earth does this have to do with Artificial Intelligence?

I've been writing frequently about my AI Adventures, and the amazing things I've been able to do with its help. I'm having a happy time on this adventure, but the warning at the bottom of each screen, "Claude is AI and can make mistakes. Please double-check responses" is no joke. I cannot do anything about the mid-level worries ("Is AI going to take over my work and eliminate my job?") and certainly the high-level worries ("Is AI going to take over the world and eliminate humanity?") are above my pay grade. But periodically checking on the accuracy of an answer is within my reach.

Here's a small, recent example.

I've been using Gemini to help me identify places and pictures from our recent trip, and it's no secret I've been impressed. But Gemini indeed "can make mistakes."

I uploaded a photo of Raphael's Portrait of Agnolo Doni that I had taken at the Pitti Palace. Gemini correctly identified it, and provided numerous details, which ironically time and knowledge constraints keep me from verifying. But when it told me that the portrait was hanging in the Uffizi, alarm bells rang. I was certain I'd taken that photo at the Pitti, and by uploading the photos just before and after the painting in question, with their timestamps, I convinced Gemini that the painting was indeed where I said.

How did that happen? Gemini's information was not so much wrong as out of date. For a long time the painting had hung in the Palatine Gallery of the Palazzo Pitti. But at some point it was given special honor at the Uffizi and displayed there together with Raphael's portrait of Doni's wife and Michelangelo's Doni Tondo, which had been commissioned to celebrate their marriage. However, thanks to the big renovation project, Portrait of Agnolo Doni made its way back home, at least for now.

Trust your own experience, and verify regularly.

Eulogy for a Political Opponent

sursumcorda — Tue, 14 Jul 2026 09:23:45 -0400

When God lays his hand on a man, I take mine off. — Thomas H. Benton

This. I'm too moved to comment further.

Gemini Rocks Photo Identification

sursumcorda — Sun, 12 Jul 2026 05:00:35 -0400

I'm coming to think of Artificial Intelligence as a Swiss Army knife: not one tool but many, our job being to discern the one best suited to each particular task. That applies not only to the multitude of tasks a particular Large Language Model can handle, but also to the different LLMs themselves, and the various AI Assistants (such as Copilot and Leo) that they lurk behind. I initially thought I'd pick one particular system and stick with it, but I'm finding that although Claude is now my go-to LLM (and the only one I'm paying for), it's also very handy to be able to get multiple answers from the same prompt, and to draw on the strength of "many counsellors" with different skill sets.

Currently Google's Gemini has moved into position as my second-best sword.

I've already had success working with both Copilot and Claude at the same time in order to harness the particular strengths of each. For my latest project, writing the story of our recent travels, I'm refining the text in Claude, where my preferences are well-known and where we have already established a good working relationship when it comes to proofreading, editing, and writing style. Gemini, having the power of Google's vast image library and search capabilities, has also become a powerful collaborator, helping me to remember the events as told by the photographs we took. Gemini not only identifies locations, buildings, and works of art, but adds much more—so much information about the scene and its history that it functions as a highly intelligent and experienced tour guide.

Without this collaboration—and Claude's gentle nagging, which got me started and keeps me on task—the story of this trip would in all likelihood have joined the many other events in our lives which are languishing in photo files and manila envelopes filled with memorabilia. Our trip to Venice, for example, got as far as to have its own category here, but ground to a halt after a single entry. There's a glimmer of hope that the new collaboration might breathe new life into those dry bones. If I live long enough.

Unexpected Morning Blessing

sursumcorda — Thu, 09 Jul 2026 06:43:33 -0400

It is my habit to walk in the early mornings, taking laps around our pool; they're short, but they add up, and the predawn time is gentle and the coolest part of the day. There's something magical about watching the world gradually become visible, and hearing the morning symphony change from insects and frogs to awakening birds.

Just before 5:30, today added something that brings back a smile even as I write about it. On one of my rounds my eye was caught by a spot of light in the east. That's not unusual, as we see the lights of many planes on their way to or from the Orlando International Airport. But this light was orange.

Moving to where I could better discern what my peripheral vision had picked up, I realized that I had one of the best views ever of a launch from Cape Canaveral. The rocket was high in the sky by the time the sight cleared our roof, but it had been launched at an unusually good angle, coming nearly straight toward us. As I determined later, it was the Starlink 10-42 mission, the record-breaking 36th flight for this particular booster.

The orange plume in the clear, dark sky was stunning, and I watched until it winked out at MECO (Main Engine Cutoff).

When Stereotypes Meet Reality

sursumcorda — Tue, 07 Jul 2026 06:30:42 -0400

Although we occasionally checked in with the home front while we were overseas, for three weeks we had very little exposure to news headlines and social media. I'm not saying that was a bad thing, but it meant we were met with some surprises when we returned home. One very encouraging surprise was that the Internet had been flooded with reports and stories from international visitors who had come to the United States on the occasion of the World Cup and had had their stereotypes of America and Americans overwhelmed by reality.

For the last 20 years or so I have experienced a lot more foreign travel than I ever imagined, and one thing I have noticed is that very few people have any idea of how vast and how diverse America is. Looking at a map of Texas alone, superimposed on a map of Europe, I see that it covers all or part of Denmark, Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, France, Switzerland, Italy, Liechtenstein, Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, Hungary, Slovakia, Czechia, and Poland! That kind of vastness is hard for many Europeans to imagine.

As for culture, even Americans get their impressions of our country from Hollywood and whatever highly-curated news filters their way—how much more so those who don't live here? I've learned the futility of trying to convince Europeans that their conception of America does not reflect the reality of America, but where I failed, the World Cup succeeded. Visitor after visitor reported, with amazement, "Everything I was told about the United States was wrong!" They were astounded by what they found, so different from what they had expected, everything from the flavor of ranch dressing to the kindness and warm welcome they experienced in the Deep South—from the people they had been taught to hate. (Indeed, I had to unlearn that low opinion of the American South myself, having grown up in the Northeast.) Americans, trapped in self-flagellation because we allow our flaws to mask our strengths, need to see our country through such eyes!

Why is this relevant to our trip? Because these happy stories mirror ours, both on this trip and indeed on all the trips we've taken to foreign parts. "Everyone said" that the French, especially Parisians, are rude and hate Americans, but our experience was exactly the opposite. We met one, just one rude cab driver in Paris; everyone else was friendly and kind and patient with my very broken French. In our experience—which can't be the same as someone else's but is the only experience by which we can truly judge—people in Europe, and Japan, and Brazil, and The Gambia are as kind and friendly as people anywhere, and do not universally hate Americans. My greatest surprise on this trip was the respect and even admiration we heard expressed for American leadership; I had expected dismay and contempt. Fear-mongering reports flow both ways across the Atlantic!

But we rarely talked politics, at least not directly; ordinary stories about our own lives and all that we have in common were what everyone delighted in sharing. We spoke with people from all over the U.S., Canada, the U.K., Norway, Sweden, France, Portugal, Zimbabwe, South Africa, the Philippines, Indonesia, Vietnam, Germany, Turkey, and more—and found nearly everyone to be interesting, friendly, polite, kind, and sometimes above-and-beyond helpful.

Not everyone can, or should, take a Mediterranean cruise or travel far to see World Cup soccer in person, but surely the world would be better off if we spent less time listening to stories that make us angry and more time experiencing the humanity of our neighbors.

Happy 250th Birthday, America

sursumcorda — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 20:46:22 -0400

The flag still stands for freedom, and they can't take that away.

You know you're aging as fast as the country when you tell people you were almost a quarter of a century old when America celebrated her 200th birthday, and they say, "Oh, wow...." But I remember celebrating the Bicentennial in Philadelphia, and hearing President Ford speak there.

I approached this post feeling entirely inadequate to write about America's 250th birthday. It demands something more profound, more intense than I can give at the moment, despite my deep feelings. I love our country now more than I ever have, perhaps because never in all my decades as an American have I felt our freedom to be in more danger, and the number of those attempting to take it away—or give it away—to be so overwhelming. But the flag still stands for freedom.

Lee Greenwood's God Bless the USA was from my children's era, not mine, and it doesn't often come to mind when I think about patriotic songs. But the other day I heard it, unexpectedly, and it equally unexpectedly brought tears to my eyes. I paused and stood taller as if I were hearing our national anthem. It's a fitting tribute to a great country.

If tomorrow all the things were gone
I'd worked for all my life
And I had to start again
With just my children and my wife
I'd thank my lucky stars
To be living here today
'Cause the flag still stands for freedom
And they can't take that away

And I'm proud to be an American
Where at least I know I'm free
And I won't forget the men who died
Who gave that right to me
And I'd gladly stand up
Next to you and defend her still today
'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
God bless the USA

From the lakes of Minnesota
To the hills of Tennessee
Across the plains of Texas
From sea to shining sea
From Detroit down to Houston
And New York to L.A
Well there's pride in every American heart
And it's time we stand and say

That I'm proud to be an American
Where at least I know I'm free
And I won't forget the men who died
Who gave that right to me
And I'd gladly stand up
Next to you and defend her still today
'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
God bless the USA

Heat, Part 2

sursumcorda — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 18:04:58 -0400

I'm not unsympathetic to those who are genuinely suffering in the heat. I spent the first 30+ years of my life in the Northeast, where air conditioning was almost unheard of, even in critical care hospitals. The laboratory where I worked in the 1970's only had air conditioning in the computer rooms, and that only because—like art—the machines would not work under conditions that people were expected to endure with patience. Even in Florida, my grandparents' house, like most buildings before the late 20th century, had no air conditioning. (It was, however, intelligently built: two blocks from the ocean, and constructed for maximum cross-ventilation, to take advantage of every breeze.) I know unrelenting heat.

So how did we manage?

Buildings, like my grandparents' house, were built to take the heat into account, with cross-ventilating windows, breezy porches, and shady trees arching over the roofs. Central Florida as it is built now could not exist without the HVAC industry.
House windows were habitually opened as soon as the outside air cooled off at night, which it did most weeks of the year in the Northeast, and closed when the day began to heat up. This practice has a power that I didn't fully appreciate until we moved to Florida, where the nighttime cooling is ofttimes non-existent.
Swimming: in ponds, lakes, pools, and/or the ocean. Plastic kiddie pools and running through the sprinkler helped a lot, too. When we first moved to Florida, we kept the A/C set in the 80's, and spent a lot of time in the pool. That kept us cool, but took a terrible toll on our energy. Once we gave in and brought the inside temperature down to the high 70's, we used the pool less—but got a lot more accomplished.
Another advantage the more northern climes have is that the really unbearable temperatures are only for a short time. When we lived in Rochester, there were usually only two or three weeks in the summer when I was reduced to nursing my baby while immersed in a cool-water bath, and planning excursions based on whether or not the destination was air conditioned. In Florida, sans A/C, that would be the majority of the year.
A few very lucky people had jobs in air conditioned buildings. As for the rest of us: we suffered; we endured; we dialed down our activities to keep our bodies cooler and our minds saner. And we looked forward to the first hints of autumn.

But that was then, and this is now, and now what makes it possible to have a comfortable, productive society is air conditioning. It's no secret that the closest thing the American South has to a secular saint is Willis Carrier. Air conditioning is as critical in the Sun Belt as heating is in the Snow Belt. Having heard people seriously suggest that the cause of France's heat wave is American air conditioning, I can only say, "Come back and talk to me about giving up my A/C after you've lived a winter in your country without heating." Better yet, discover air conditioning for yourself. Even if you only need it for a few weeks out of the year, you'll feel better, and can be pleased with how low your A/C bills are compared with ours, just as we Southerners feel better about our heating bills in winter when we look at yours.

You might also consider investing in public places of respite, as I've seen in various cities here, where people can come in to get warm, or to get cool, depending on the season. As I said in my last post, one can stand a much greater intensity and duration of heat or cold if one can occasionally retreat to a more comfortable situation.

And gelaterias. We all need more gelaterias.

Heat

sursumcorda — Thu, 02 Jul 2026 08:01:23 -0400

Now that we're back from three weeks in the Mediterranean region, people are wondering how we survived Europe's heat wave. The answer is simple: the same way we survive Florida's summers. Nowhere that we went did the temperatures exceed Florida's numbers: high 80's to low 90's were the worst we experienced. That's actual temperature. Having lived more than seven decades with that as my measure of ambient temperature, my brain rebels against the modern "feels like" idea, which always makes me feel more miserable than I am. For what it's worth, the UV Index at its highest in a day was generally 8—like a normal Connecticut summer. In Florida at this time of year that number is routinely 12. I was barely aware of the UV Index until I acquired the dminder app for my phone to help me keep track of the vitamin D my body is making. If I'm wearing shorts and a t-shirt, a 10-minute walk in the midday sun at UVI 12 easily gets me 2000 IUs (and a warning that it's time to go inside). On the UV Index scale, 1-2 is considered Low, 3-5 Moderate, 6-7 High, 8-10 Very High, and 11+ Extreme.

Our first four days were in Florence, and were undeniably hot, because we wanted to make the most of our short time there. Our hotel was convenient to everything we wanted to see, so we walked everywhere and were on the go most of the time the sun was up. (Sane Floridians avoid the midday hours outside if possible. "Mad dogs and Englishmen," you know.) The Mediterranean sun was intense, the humidity was high, the cobbled sidewalks a challenge to walk on, and Florence's many staircases a trial for legs accustomed to flat surfaces. What made this only a minor inconvenience?

This was early in our trip, when we were fresh and eager.
Hats and sunglasses. Generally I hate wearing a hat, but keeping the sun off my face was a necessity.
A Floridian's practiced eye for finding shade. Walk on the shady side of the street. Rest in a shady spot. It makes a significant difference, even when the humidity is high.
Air-conditioned respites. This is huge. As with cold in the winter, one can stand a much greater intensity and duration of heat if one can occasionally retreat to a more comfortable situation. In our case, we spent much of our time walking from one museum to another, and generally recognize that great art survives better in a hospitable climate. So do people, but art refuses to be bullied. The museums were comfortably air conditioned—not the frigid situation one finds in Florida restaurants, for example, which is why I keep a sweatshirt in the car at all times and occasionally pull it out even during the hottest summer days.
We didn't hesitate to adjust our schedule to accommodate our physical needs.
Frequent gelato stops. Never underestimate the importance of this Italian staple.

For the remainder of our trip, we were on a Princess cruise, visiting Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Montenegro. The ship itself was over-airconditioned, but an occasional trip to the blistering sun of the top decks took care of that nicely. And the otherwise-excessive A/C was admittedly glorious upon returning from a long, midday excursion of hiking, under a cloudless sky, through ancient ruins.

Overall, to those who asked us how we managed in Europe's "terrible heat wave," my first thought was always, "What heat wave?"

But I do understand unrelenting heat, as I'll explain in my next post.

Commercial Pilot!

sursumcorda — Wed, 01 Jul 2026 05:34:02 -0400

Our resident pilot-in-training has now obtained his Commercial license! Despite what it sounds like, that doesn't mean you might catch a glimpse of him in the cockpit next time you take a flight. However, he is now eligible to earn money as a pilot—it's the next step in the process. Earning a Commercial license requires more training, new manoeuvers, many more flight hours, and a lot of "book learning," culminating in a written exam, an oral exam, and the nerve-wracking, practical "check ride" flight. We're very proud of him!

P.S. He still makes great desserts, too.

A Small, Symbolic Gesture

sursumcorda — Tue, 30 Jun 2026 04:40:03 -0400

It was a small gesture, but it felt so good.

The government gave us these for free, and they've been stashed in our closet ever since. The last time I used one was ages ago, in order to be able to assure members of our choir that my symptoms were seasonal allergies, not covid. They are now three years past their putative expiration dates, and I needed the space in the closet—and in my mind.

Tossing these boxes into the trash did nothing to undo the harm that was done during the covid era, nor to erase the shame I carry for my own behavior in that time of mass delusion and conformity.

But it still felt really good.