Three and a half chill minutes of clouds at sunset from the other day. Taken with my little drone (DJI Mini 2) at about 400ft AGL (above ground level). If you look really close at the second half you can see downtown St. Louis and the Arch. Which is about 17.6 miles away!
Author: Chris
John Green: “The deadliest infectious disease isn’t a science problem. It’s a money problem.”
John’s op-ed in the Washington Post (archive)
“In 2022, TB killed 1.3 million people, according to the World Health Organization — more than covid-19 or malariaor HIV. Each week, 25,000 people die of TB, a bacterial infection that primarily attacks the lungs.”
A random person messaging you should be treated with suspicion
Tell your friends and be safe out there.
CFXFVWP7V1
My wife bought a pair of AirPods Pro off of someone online. They were brand new, unopened. She looked up the serial number in the listing on Apple’s website. All checked out. She went and bought them for $70.1
When she got home the serial number on the box was different from the listing (CFXFVWP7V1). She doubled checked on Apple’s site. Purchased date of October 2023, with a Limited Warranty until October 2024. Ok, it still all checked out ok. Using Apple’s website to verify a serial number, according to the top Google search result (and common sense/logic), is the best way to check that they are legit. Until she went to use them.
They were fake.
The serial numbers on the individual AirPods are different than what Settings show. They pair up just like a real pair, but switching between the various audio modes does nothing.
Searching on Google, the serial number shows other fake listings (from random folks around the world!) with the same serial number. So I’m writing this post in hopes that I can prevent another innocent person from getting taken advantage of.
She ended up buying a real pair off of Amazon. The slightly newer version with USB-C. Can you tell the difference?
Michael E. Koerner
Michael Koerner was my dad. That’s hard to write. “Was”. There’s not much new to be said about the death of a loved one after centuries of human experience, especially those who are the closest to our hearts. But that’s what I’m going to do, because this is my dad. And I loved him.
August 6, 1951 – January 3, 20242
My dad was born in St. Louis, Missouri on August 6th, 1951. The internet says it was a Monday, and hot (92ºF). He doesn’t remember that. He grew up in south St. Louis City, Affton, and was the second oldest of four children. His parents worked hard to provide a safe and loving home and they did. Something that we Koerners continue to strive for today. He had a typical lower-to-middle-class upbringing. Running around the neighborhood getting up to no good, cooling off on the porch roof on a hot summer night. Hanging out with his younger brother Greg. Grandma, Georgia, never learned to drive, having access to public transportation – and Grandpa, Christ, did own a car and would take her wherever she needed. They both worked and cared for their children.
After high school he tried college. Forest Park Community College, but ended up joining the Navy. He spent a few years aboard the USS Reasoner. Even after only serving four years, he had a lifetime of stories to tell. About the people he met and befriended and the places he saw. Southern California – where he met his first wife and my mother, Carla, Vietnam and the Philippines, Washington state and even a little bit of Alaska, by way of motorcycle.
Oh I should mention motorcycles – or really my father’s love for anything with wheels and a motor.
A car aficionado since childhood, my father could look at nearly any vehicle on the road (or often in a parking lot at a local car show) and tell you numerous indelible things about the construction, performance, and culture around it. If it has a 404 (a size of motor), but came from the factory with a 306, he’d know what make and trim and year and…well, you get the picture. He was at every Easter Car Show in Forest Park for the last 30 some odd years. Even the little local ones every month, April through October.
Mike, sorry, Michael – he was big on proper names3, not that he ever chided anyone for shortening them – spent his forty-something years of employment working in warehouses and mailrooms in higher education institutions. First at Washington University’s Central Stores, and later Saint Louis University. He worked hard and smart. Never making a trip back-and-forth empty-handed.
He defied the oft too common stereotypes of a motorcycle-riding, blue collar worker by being a fan of the arts. Which makes sense when you work for universities I suppose. Nah, my dad was just a voracious learner, a critical thinker, a common sense maker. A set of skills that continue to be passed down.
He was kind and loving. You couldn’t get off the phone without saying, “I love you too”, and even in my teenage years – and much to my chagrin – I always appreciated the affection he shared with me and many others. He showed up so many times throughout my life – all the way up until the end. He always told me how much he was proud of me.
He adored being a dad and eventually a grandfather, lovingly known as Pop. Pop attended every dance recital, choir and orchestra concert, soccer game, and numerous other events his granddaughters do. Most recently he helped his oldest granddaughter Kari complete her Eagle Project. He welcomed my wife of now 20 years, Jackie, with such admiration and care that she was taken aback by the first hug and has loved every one since.
Pop and the family
My dad was an avid reader. Of sci-fi, westerns, fantasy – anything with a good story and quick-witted dialog. He even started writing a few of his own stories, unpublished, but loved.
He loved the movies. Film was a big way he and I bonded. Sharing the experience of being in front of a big screen and kibitzing afterword about the plot and characters and special effects. Oh, and going back to the mistaken stereotype, my dad loved the theatre. His favorite show was Mama Mia. A musical based on ABBA songs! I think he’d seen it enough times that they could have asked him up on stage to fill in as an understudy. We loved the Fabulous Fox Theatre and the hundreds of experiences of a live performance. A many blessed memories with the Vogelsangs (his godmother Martha and cousin Pat) and many others.
Education was crucial to my father. Working at universities (and being aware of the world) he always drove home the importance of being open-minded and continually learning. He worked these physically demanding, not very well paying jobs, so I could go to school. My going to college was very important to him – that I could have, and succeed, in a life better than the one he had.
They say a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and that has never been more true than with my father. He loved to try a new place to eat, to take us out for a casual burger, and to enjoy a home cooked meal. He stuck to the more traditional fare, but he never turned down trying something new.
Never quite a trendsetter, my dad is proceeded in departing this life by his parents, Georgia and Christian, his brother, Gregory and sister, Barbara. He leaves behind a sister, Helen. He is proud of his son Christopher, his wife Jackie, and their two daughters, Kari and Kori. As we were of him.
To tell a story is to have one’s memory live forever. Please watch a film with a loved one and tell a story or two. Pick up a good book and read it aloud to someone. Travel. Go someplace new, even if it’s just a restaurant across town.
If you’re interested, my dad asked that donations be made to the Ronald McDonald House Charities of St. Louis.
He didn’t want a funeral or a burial ceremony. “None of that dreary stuff”, he said. I don’t think he’d want a traditional obituary either, hence, the more casual and conversational tone in this one. Something I think my father was known for. If you want to pay a visit, he is interred at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery.
A gathering will be held in the near future to celebrate his life. Where we can come together and share stories of him.
