Before we begin.... a minor admission. A mini-mea culpa, if you will.
Obviously, I was off on vacation in Bonaire last week. It was a fabulous trip. If you're really curious about Caribbean diving, here's a link to my G+ Bonaire photo album.
So I'd planned on finishing up the "parrotfish sand problem" last week, but got too busy diving. (And, truthfully, I spent much of my time on the last two days chasing after parrotfish, hoping to catch them in the "sand creation" act. I did, but it was hard!)
Then, the moment I got back, I was plunged into the deep end of work. So I haven't had any time to finish up the parrotfish question. But I shall. It just might be at the end of this week.
Hang in there... more work on this in a bit.
AND NOW... back to today's Search Research Challenge....
Because I'm time-limited, I'm going to post a fairly simple challenge. Once you figure it out, it's fairly cool and interesting. (But, as with many of these challenges, if you don't see the solution, it will look crazy-hard-impossible. Remember what we've talked about before in this blog. If you keep those search principles in mind, you should be able to figure it out.)
|A genealogical chart from the original King James bible (1611). Image courtesy LOC.gov|
As you know, I got my PhD in Computer Science from the University of Rochester in 1985. My specialty area was Artificial Intelligence (if you must know, my thesis title is "Schema-based Problem Solving").
And, as you know, every doctoral student has one main advisor (or rarely, two...).
There's also a very traditional aspect to getting a PhD. Having a doctorate awarded is a relatively long, ritualized, ceremonial affair involving special gowns, hats, felt stripes on the arm of your cloak, and history.
Most PhD students know their advisor's intellectual lineage. That is, you know who your advisor's advisor was, and often the great-advisor, and so on. There's a bit of legend and lore in all this; a feeling that excellent advisors pass their learned opinions down from the greats in the past. And that observation leads to today's challenge.
Who is my (meaning me, Dan Russell's) great-great-great-great-great-great-great advisor? (And why is that an incredibly cool thing to know?)In other words, I believe that you can figure out who my advisor's-advisor-advisor-advisor-advisor-advisor-advisor was (back 7 PhD generations). Once you figure it out, it's a fairly interesting thing to know. (Put it this way, I was certainly surprised.)