Alternating, as trips always have, this year's was the "Short Trip." which means that we stayed on the North American continent. The "Long Trip" always includes at least three days in Europe, South America, or some other overseas point. Our objectives this time were Chicago, Niagara, Pittsburgh and New York City.

I have before me my grandfather's Trip Report of 1930, when special buses were first used, in the place of trains. They must have been uncomfortable and painfully slow. Little did he dream that his successors would some day be chartering cabin airships for the trip, and increasing the "Short Trip" radius beyond his "Long Trip" to Chicago- Probably we shouldn't preen ourselves too much, however, for we failed to run on scheduled time. We were thirty-two minutes late into New York City! The fellows were quite peeved!
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Taking the trip as a whole, we found our cruises over the cities and industrial centers lending themselves most effectively to observation, and to an understanding of regional development. It would be impossible to have understood the Pittsburgh district without this ad-vantage. The New York port and the city's magnificent solution of its transportation problems were like a living map beneath us, for we rose to an alti-tude which allowed us to project upon the flat plane all air traffic streams.
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We architectural engineers made good use of the little helicopters that the Airways supplied as a part of their service. With them we hovered around several of the tallest buildings and studied the architectural details fully.  I had wondered how gross and sub-stantial the lacy flambeau of the Golden Shaft is. We found it to consist of duralumin columns and webbing so assembled that its mass is minimized in perspective. Then, too. the contrasting colors used emphasize the ethereal quality, to the distant observer.
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The old-time city must have been a pretty drab affair—gray, dull brick reds, dirty white, everything smoke-blackened. Not until the last few decades has color been rightly used. And now, in the dreamy light of early morning, with a bit of blue haze in the air, a city is as beautiful as a Persian rug'. Color, color, color—uniting, blending, contrasting!
But, how could our forebears be expected to utilize this element of design, when their smokey atmosphere not only hid it all, but ruined it in a few months! Their fearful clouds of smoke and soot! It reminds me of one of the medieval times when sewage was dumped into the streets! Ugh!

Adaptability—Don't train yourself too narrowly.

A man in a rut is a rather hopeless being. He be-comes dependent upon the rut to guide him. It de-termines for him his direction and his objective. His daily procedure is once for all settled.  A forced departure therefrom demoralizes him, and he is helpless.

He loses the power of choice. Decision has no sig-nificance in his life. In fact, he even loses his power of initiative.

Again, the man who is narrowly trained has in power of adaptability to changing conditions. When the world moves on and scraps the hand loom, lie starves and tries to wreck the power machines. When wholesale merchandise is sold by letter and by tele-phone. his traveling job is gone and he is on the rocks. When chain stores undersell him, he shouts, "Thief! thief!" When the movies spoil the market for his art, he joins the actor's bread line.

He is a machine, incapable of being given new jobs to do. With the obsolescence of the product, he—the machine—also becomes obsolete, and must be discarded.   He has no adaptability, and mighty little scrap value.

But shouldn't his job be saved to him?  Isn't it inhuman to turn him off and let him suffer unemployment and distress? Shouldn't society retard its rapid pace from one standard to another—from one indus-try to a more advanced one? Shouldn't civilization proceed more cautiously and more humanely?

Well. maybe it should—but, it never has, and never will! If you are in so deep a rut that you can't get out. some day you may find yourself left there to rot.

Keep your eyes open and establish some basis for adaptability.

Characterisations—Elmer Franklin Bliss, Elec. '02, gives me a thoughtful note. He tells of his habit of associating single words with individuals, as characterizations of them. He proposes:
Mrs. Willebrandt—Sagacity.
Try it on some of your friends.”

Johnson: "Sorry, old man. that my hen got loose and scratched up your garden."
Jensen: "That's all right, my dog ate your hen." Johnson: "Fine, I just ran over your dog."