John Pokoski's Sabbatical - Life After Chairmanship

I thought the reader might be unsure of the meaning of "sabbatical year", so I'll repeat Webster's definition: a) Jewish Antiq. Every seventh year in which the Israelites were commanded to suffer their fields to lie without tillage. b) A leave of absence granted every seventh year, as to a college professor, for rest, travel, or research. I think the second definition best applies to me.

Since coming to UNH in 1967 I had taken only one sabbatical, in 1977. Although it was quite rewarding intellectually and professionally, various circumstances prevented me from taking another until 1995. I had just completed a nine year term as department chairman, and felt the need to recharge my psyche and my technical expertise. I made arrangements to spend a semester at the University of Arizona (Tucson) for a variety of reasons. It has a prestigious electrical engineering faculty, especially in computer engineering. I would be 3000 miles away from the UNH-ECE office, rather than right next door. This would, I thought, insolate me from the day-to-day departmental activities and problems. (I was almost right, but I forgot about Email.) Glen Gerhard, formerly a professor here, is associate department chair at UA, and was kind enough to facilitate my visit, including a desk, PC, library privileges, secretarial help, etc. Last but not least, I like the Sonoran desert, having gotten my Master's degree at Arizona State (Tempe) in a previous life. Incidentally, the winter temperatures in Tucson range from 50 to 80 degrees.

We needed a good car for the trip, and I always wanted to go four-wheeling in the desert, so we bought a Ford Explorer. (I had to swallow hard. It cost the same as my house did in 1967.) We left on December 26, taking a southern route. We visited my son Andy in Georgia, Elvis in Memphis, kept the windows rolled up as we passed through Whitewater country in Arkansas, visited my son Joe in Oklahoma, drove through west Texas in an ice storm (the ice on the cactus was beautiful - the anti-lock brakes even more beautiful), walked though Carlsbad Caverns (do it someday!), went Tex-Mex in El Paso/Juarez, stayed in Deming, NM where I met a 70 year old Rockhound whose property I cross when I go fishing in Lake Wentworth, (his foot was in a cast - he broke his ankle a mile up in the mountains by himself, laced his boot tight, and walked out - New Hampshiremen are tough.). We passed through Billy the Kid country and arrived in Tucson on January 8^th.

Glen had sent us much housing info, and after seeing the tourist season prices, we decided to go cheap. We got a "studio apartment" about 1 1/4 miles from UA for $300/month including utilities and a pool. It was a minor shock when we first saw it, as it was slightly smaller than my UNH office. It wasn't the worst of neighborhoods, but not the best either. I always parked the Explorer about five feet from our window, and for the first two weeks I woke up about six times per night imagining it was being stolen. (Glen warned me about the heavy stolen car traffic across the border). I thought of tying a string from the bumper to my toe, but I was afraid of losing my toe. On Friday and Saturday nights, we were comforted by the constant wail of sirens, screeching brakes, and the beat of the police chopper which beamed its spotlight periodically into our parking lot. Actually, once we got used to it, the location was fine. As a bonus, between my 2 1/2 mile walk to work each day, and my evening workouts in the "World Gym" a half block away, I lost thirty-five pounds in five months (despite living 1/2 block from the Mexican restaurant with the best mariachi music in Tucson.)

The university and department were much as I expected. There was heavy emphasis on faculty research, and much less contact between faculty and undergraduates. There were many excellent technical seminars on a variety of topics, particularly in the computer engineering area. Faculty research ranged from basic solid state, through parallel processing and optical computing, to collaborative/systems engineering. The program is roughly five times as large as ours (space, student numbers, faculty and staff etc.) so naturally their laboratory and computer facilities are impressive. However our individual student access to such facilities is at least as good. I attended one departmental faculty meeting, and felt as though I had never left home. The topics discussed - shrinking budgets, student enrollments and abilities, curricula changes, central administration, --- sounded all too familiar.

My days were primarily spent in my office or in the engineering library reading books and papers, working problems, planning courses and research tacks, etc. I can still picture the specific look and location of every significant book and journal. (One unusual side note. I ran across a book on the history of IBM. Being an ex-IBM'er and a closet historian, I quickly found a chapter relating to a system which I helped develop on my first job in the late 50's. I was amazed at the detail and accuracy, but felt like a fossil as I read it, particularly when I saw my immediate supervisor described in iconic terms.) The latest work on parallel processing was my major interest, since it is obvious that computing speed advances will continue to become increasingly dependent on pipelining, distributed caches, vector processing, multithreading, etc. Photonics (optical switching) also caught my attention as a prime prospect for major speed breakthroughs in the near future, but my limited technical background in optics discouraged me from pursuing that area.

Great advances in the internet and world wide web took place during my term as department chair, but I somehow couldn't find time to join the parade. I decided to take a couple of weeks to upgrade myself. The first few days were spent digging through several manuals I had bought, and trying out the various ideas on the net - gopher, finger, usenet, FTP, WWW, etc. As I became more facile, my exhilaration mounted. I could find ANYTHING I wanted. After a few days my ardor cooled as it dawned on me that I couldn't use most of this information, however interesting, and the net could be a major time waster if you let it. But at least, I now feel part of the real world of computer nerds.

My world away from work was a revelation. No kids, no lawn to mow, no house to maintain, one room to clean, and two dishes to wash. My life had regressed (progressed?) thirty years. This left plenty of time for sightseeing and absorbing the area attractions. We were out most evenings, and on the road every weekend. Ghost towns, Indian reservations, horseback riding, quail hunting, national parks, museums, concerts, rodeos, ethnic festivals... We could have made a powerful infommercial for Ford Explorer. Jane is pretty laid back, but more than once she prayed aloud as we crept along icy mountain cliffs, or crossed treacherous desert washes. The flora and fauna were magnificent. We encountered myriad birds (from elegant trogans to hummingbirds), jackrabbits, a rattlesnake, a gila monster, coyotes (including one in downtown Tucson), deer, antelope, elk (we saw eighty in an hour), javelina, etc. The desert wildflowers were spectacular because of the heavy winter rains. However, this was a mixed blessing -- the hayfever season was the worst ever. Many people, including Jane, required medical attention. The violent flash floods were amazing. One fellow's body was never found after he unwisely tried to drive (on a paved road) through a flooded wash. His car was later found 100 yards downstream under two feet of sand. In addition to the desert beauty and wildlife, I most enjoyed the Mexican and Indian people and culture, as well as the laid-back wranglers. Incidentally the average age in February in Arizona must be seventy (snowbirds). We saw the Sons of the Pioneers play at a chuckwagon supper, and we were the youngest of about 150 people there.

We left Tucson about Memorial Day to take a leisurely trip back, sightseeing and visiting Jane's relatives. First stop was the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. After a day at the lodge we went seventy miles over a dirt road to a spectacular place called Toroweap. The canyon is a sheer drop of 5000 feet to the river. The rafts looked like dots, and a small fleck of foam below was the largest rapids in North America. I reevaluated my relationship with Jane after I stood a foot from the edge posing for her camera, and she asked me to back up a step for a better picture. We were awed by the great parks of southern Utah, but the high point of the trip came at the Luna Mesa Oasis (one room and two teepees) in Caineville, Utah. The story is too much to tell here, but I suspected it would be "different" when I asked for the room key, and the proprietor said, "Why". The next clue was after dinner, when he slid the bottle the length of the bar and said, "Have a slug!" It was a raucous evening in which I learned of his time spent in the county jail (jailer was "Jake the Snake") for beating up a game warden twice -- once in the desert and once in the courtroom. He also described his visit from extraterrestrials who parked their UFO just outside his door. Finally he told us how to find our way through the desert to Butch and Sundance's "Robbers Roost". The next day, with much effort, Jane and I found Butch Cassidy's unmarked cabin site, fifty miles from nowhere. We toasted him with a Coors at his still-standing fireplace chimney. Next major stop was Colorado, to visit Jane's sister. She was manager of a lodge in the mountains, and I was able to ride her horses through unbelievable scenery for two days. After Rocky Mountain National Park came Scottsbluff, Nebraska and other Oregon Trail sites, old Fort Laramie and Devil's Tower in Wyoming, then to Jane's relatives in Baker, Montana. (Her cousin Bonnie runs a cattle and sheep ranch which extends to the horizon in all directions. We chatted with her in the trophy room of her house -- from her African safari in the 50's.). Through the Dakotas to visit Jane's mother in Minneapolis. (I worked out with a friend of hers, Quadry Ismail, wide receiver for the Vikings). Then into the grunge of the midwest, where we visited "Touchdown Jesus" at Notre Dame and Tom Edison's lab at Henry Ford's Greenfield Village in Michigan. Finally, through New York state, arriving safe in New Hampshire by mid-June.

Overall I believe I satisfied Webster's three goals for a sabbatical, although I'm not so sure about the "rest" part. Oh well, two out of three ain't bad. The sabbatical did its job, reinvigorating me both personally and professionally.

Tom Miller picked the title of this article when he asked me to write it, but I haven't said much about the last part. Let me simply say that "Life after Chairmanship" is GREAT -- particularly as I see Tom whizzing by my office trying to fill the slot of the teaching assistant who quit on the day before the semester started or; as I notice him in early am or late pm in his office writing the most recent report required by the administration; or dousing the latest fiscal fire.