Cobblestones, Cathedrals, and Golf
Scotland is built on cobblestone, dotted with villages surrounding cathedrals, all woven together by fairways, greens, and pot bunkers. My weekend there spanned from the east coast to the west, ancient golf courses to local munis, haggis to mac n cheese, and the roars of galleries to the silence of missed putts. Our first stop came on Wednesday after landing in Edinburgh, and took us to what is considered one of the oldest golf courses in the world... read more
Losing the Magic of Life
I spent a couple of years living in Norway after high school. The last four months of which were spent well above the arctic circle, in a small town named Harstad. A place where vikings used to trade, and where farmers and fisherman called home today. Walking around the city provides unmatched beauty at the foot of the Lofoten Islands and shores of the Norwegian Sea... read more
Unsupervised Machine Learning: Placing Fire Stations
Unsupervised machine learning is a way computers can classify data, without the need for human involvement. Typical supervised machine learning involves giving the algorithm some training data, so that it can predict what a new input is or might act like. For example, you can train an image... read more
Application of Graphs: The Kevin Bacon Problem
Have you ever heard about the six degrees of Kevin Bacon? Basically, the idea is that every actor in hollywood is typically connected to Kevin Bacon by 6 movies or less. Think of it like this: Kevin Bacon was in Patriots Day (2016) Mark Falvo was also in Patriots Day, and was in Captain America: Civil War (2016) Tom Holland was in Captain America: Civil War. So, Kevin Bacon and Tom Holland are just one actor away from each other, giving Tom Holland a score of 2 (or two degrees of separation)... read more
Using Math to Make Sense of Amazon Reviews
Have you ever looked at something to buy on Amazon, or some other e-commerce website, and immediately check the reviews? You're not alone. Most people trust the reviews more than anything when they are shopping. But can you actual trust the star ratings you see online? I dove into how sentiment analysis can help decipher how consumers actual feel about the product based on the tone and content of the reviews they write... read more
Losing the Magic of Life
Jared Garlick
I spent a couple of years living in Norway after high school. The last four months of which were spent well above the arctic circle, in a small town named Harstad. A place where vikings used to trade, and where farmers and fisherman called home today. Walking around the city provides unmatched beauty at the foot of the Lofoten Islands and shores of the Norwegian Sea.
In the winter months, early afternoon sunsets and long nights provide a glimpse into something that can hardly be described, understood, or--until witnessed--believed. If you're lucky on a clear night, green, pink, and purple waves start to dance across the sky, under the backdrop of a million planets and shooting stars.
The picture above was my first time witnessing this magic. It honestly felt like time had stopped and I was transported somewhere new, somewhere out of this world. It was magic, and I couldn't wait to see it again. The next night we did. A few nights later, even more magnificent and bright. But we didn't stay out as long. A few nights later we just watched from the car as we drove home after an especially cold day.It wasn't that the magic was any less magical the fourth, fifth, or sixth time; it wasn't that the northern lights were any less beautiful the tenth time seeing them. It was that I let myself become less and less amazed and impressed by them.It's the same with anything wonderful that we are lucky enough to experience. That feeling of time slowing down can happen anywhere. A walk through warm rain, Christmas morning, faith in God, reading something new and interesting. A moment of laughter with a loved one, a moment of realization, a favorite song. But those same songs, laughs, and moments can become less and less astonishing if we allow ourselves to miss them. Distractions and notifications and to-dos can make us numb to the beauty and creativity and magic that life has to offer. Numb to the moments that might lead us down new roads or to new ideas.
Don't allow yourself to miss anything. Don't allow yourself to lose the magic of life.
Cobblestones, Cathedrals, and Golf
Jared Garlick
Scotland is built on cobblestone, dotted with villages surrounding cathedrals, all woven together by fairways, greens, and pot bunkers. My weekend there spanned from the east coast to the west, ancient golf courses to local munis, haggis to mac n cheese, and the roars of galleries to the silence of missed putts.Our first stop came on Wednesday after landing in Edinburgh, and took us to what is considered one of the oldest golf courses in the world-- Musselburgh Links. It was a short track, literally contained inside of a horse racing track, and everything you want out of a local golf course coming right off of an 8 hour flight. It hosted the British Open six times between 1874 and 1889.
I played the 9 holes with a set of hickory clubs, giving a humbling sense of how golf used to be played, and revealing how forgiving and advanced clubs have become. I found more success with the 2-iron than the 3-wood (literally wood) off the tee, and dialed in the mid-iron for most shots between 80-150 yards. The straightforward short course was anything but simple, providing blind tee shots, hidden greens from the fairway, and gorse bushes you just had to surrender lost balls to. Swinging with a wooden shaft is kind of like you'd imagine-- a ton of flex, and mis-hits sting. Full swings just don't work, and hitting the center of the club face is more than essential.
After haggis for dinner, and a night of sleep not really knowing if I was tired or not or what time it was, Thursday took us to the home of golf-- The Old Course at St. Andrews. It was an enchanting drive, through villages and farms, eventually ending at the coast where the Royal & Ancient Golf Club House overlooks the wide tee box on 1, touching the even wider fairway of 18, with the Swilcan Bridge off on the distance. It was a surreal experience walking around the grounds, seeing groups of foursomes shake hands on 18 green, and imagining Old Tom Morris, Sam Snead, Jack, Seve, or Tiger hoisting the Claret Jug.
It was an unforgettable day, in a place I hope to return to again and again.Friday was part one of two days of the main event -- The Open Championship. The 152nd playing of the Championship took us to the west coast of Scotland, at Royal Troon. One of my favorite moments of the day came before we even stepped foot on the course. We parked and started walking along the railroad tracks that parallel hole 11, grand stands in the distance and could hear a faint applause from a gallery. Walking only a few feet away from guys I've seen for so many years on TV was equal parts dreamlike and humanizing--they hit bad shots, missed short putts, and on some holes looked like a mid-handicap. Another highlight was Phil Mickelson walking by, no one else around, after bogeying hole 8 (his first time ever bogeying that hole), yelling an f-bomb. The stuff they don't show on TV was fun.

Somehow the golfing gods smiled down on us, and, unbelievably, the only day of real rain was Saturday, the day we weren't at The Open. We drove around Glasgow, explored neighboring villages, and searched for a local club to play 9 holes at. A quick search on the map took us to Dalmuir Municipal Golf Course--which might be one of my favorite courses now, and I only saw the clubhouse, hole 1, and 18 green.
The humble brick clubhouse was at the end of a road lined with working-class terraced houses on both sides. A light drizzle of rain and cigarette smoke filled the air, a group of guys, young and old, sitting on the stoop, some walking in and out of the small front door, laughter and chatter booming equal to the thunder above. It was perfect. They had no clubs to rent, but that would be a course I could go to every single day and it would never get old.We drove until we found another course, which wasn't very far, Scotland has golf courses like suburban America has splashpads. Nearly every corner we turned there was another group of golfers walking off a green. We got to Clydebank & District Golf Club only a few minutes before the Club Pro was closing up, offering a set of his old clubs to play with, and instructions on where to leave them when we were done. It was an incredible 9 holes, filled with tall trees, skinny fairways, blind tee shots, and tiered greens. The rain came on hole 1 and never left. It's the way golf should be played.
Sunday was our final day in Scotland and the final day of The Open. To me, the final walk up 18 on Sunday at a Major has always been one of the most captivating, electric, moving moments in sports. There is a magic that comes from the golfers, the grand stands, the drama of the moment, the course, and all of it coming together perfectly. I now know that any hole on Sunday holds that same magic, after seeing it and feeling it.
Watching a golf tournament in person was much different than watching it on TV. At home you get each shot back to back to back, not missing anything. When you're at the course, you hear roars coming from all around and you have to piece together which group is on that hole based on when you saw them last, and which group you're currently watching. There is a buzz in the air that can only come when thousands of people are anticipating a putt to fall or a tee shot sailing toward the green. It made for a dramatic finish, not knowing exactly how the leaders were shaping up, but hearing the roars from Xander's group after 4 birdies on the back all but sealed it. His walk up 18 was something he'll never forget, I'm sure, but it's something not one of the several thousand people watching it ever will either.It was a busy, tiring, full, incredibly memorable week with my Dad in Scotland. It's home to some of the kindest people I've ever met, cobblestone villages you could explore for days, cathedrals you could be in awe of forever, and golf courses that make you feel like you're stepping back in time. Five days filled with memories I will always cherish and look back on fondly for the rest of my life.
