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COVID-19 Gratitude 3: Seeing My InfoSec Friends Fight the Bad Guys

The pandemic has kept me and a lot of friends in the information security industry busy, as attackers try to cash in on the hysteria over COVID-19. Watching friends in the industry come together to do their part has been a powerful shot in the arm for me.

We are truly in this together.

Mood Music:

A couple quick examples.

The COVID-19 CTI League, for cyber threat intelligence. This group spans more than 40 countries and includes professionals in senior positions at such major companies as Microsoft and Amazon:

One of four initial managers of the effort, Marc Rogers, said the top priority would be working to combat hacks against medical facilities and other frontline responders to the pandemic. It is already working on hacks of health organizations.

Also key is the defense of communication networks and services that have become essential as more people work from home, said Rogers, head of security at the long-running hacking conference Def Con and a vice president at security company Okta Inc.

—Joseph Menn, writing for Reuters

Cyber Volunteers 19 (CV19). This group formed specifically to target threats to healthcare facilities:

Cybercriminals are doing all they can to exploit the fear and confusion that the COVID-19 pandemic has brought with it. This exploitation does not stop at the hospital, medical facility, or healthcare service entrance. Staying on top of their cybersecurity game might not be the highest priority within those organizations right now, but it is nonetheless vital. It only takes one successful ransomware attack to have a life and death impact on patient care potentially….

One newly formed group of information security professionals, including company CISOs, penetration testers, security researchers, and more, have vowed to do all they can to help provide cybersecurity support to healthcare services across the U.K. and Europe.

—Davey Winder, writing for Forbes

These efforts are additional examples of how the current crisis has brought out the best in humanity.

When my spirits dim and waves of anxiety wash over me in these difficult days, seeing things like this give me the strength to keep showing up.

Rock on, friends.

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Robert C. Corthell, 1948-2017: Trucker, Teacher, Family Man

Robert C. Corthell of Haverhill, Mass., died peacefully at Lahey Burlington Wednesday, Nov. 8, 2017, surrounded by loved ones, after suffering a pulmonary embolism. He was 69. He fought his brief illness with the same stubbornness and grit by which he lived.

His family and friends knew him as Bob, Bobby, Dad and Grandpa.

He was born and raised in Haverhill and, after serving in the U.S. Army, spent the rest of his life there, though in more recent years he and Sharon spent their winters in Winterhaven, Florida.

He made his living as a truck driver, hauling tractor trailers, commuter and school buses and just about anything else with four wheels and a motor. He was proud of his profession, keeping model cars and trucks around his desk at home. He retired from Conway Freight in 2014.

His nephew, Chris, remembers coming back from Germany in 1981 and riding with him while he drove a commuter bus to Boston.

He was a family man first, always there to help bail someone out if they were stuck on the side of the road or facing other crises. He and Sharon took in family and others in times of need. He was a devoted member of All Saints Parish in Haverhill and sent his daughters to St. Joseph School, then part of the parish. There, he served as a Sunday school teacher and Eucharistic minister.

Above all, he was a teacher.

On the side, Bob and Sharon ran Chandler’s Auto School and, as his niece, Faith, remembers, taught virtually half of Haverhill to drive.

After his brother-in-law, Leon Basiliere, suffered a stroke, Bob taught him how to drive again and helped him get his license back.

He taught just about all of his kids, nieces and nephews to drive and had started teaching his grandson, Sean. At Conway, he taught fellow employees about truck-driving safety. After retirement, he continued to teach driving and safety at the New England Tractor Trailer Training School (NETTTS) in North Andover, Mass.

He taught his son-in-law, Bill, how to drive with a stick shift in a beaten-up Ford Escort up one of the steepest hills in town. Bill was nervous as hell, and thinks his father-in-law enjoyed that.

He was passionate about RV camping and the safe and proper use of firearms. He and Sharon took their camper out regularly, and they lived in one during their Florida winters. Those passions rubbed off on his children and grandchildren, and each summer they would all camp together.

He taught his daughter, Erin, and son-in-law, Bill, how to haul a camper, set it up, close it down and maintain it. He also taught most of his children, his oldest grandson and various friends how to shoot with a firearm.

He and Sharon were avid square dancers and were members of the Firesiders, Montachusett Twirlers and Wolf Rockers square dancing clubs.

He had opinions and wasn’t afraid to share them, especially when it came to politics.

He taught countless people how to live and love. For that, we’re forever grateful.

He is survived by Sharon, his cherished wife of 48 years, his children, Erin Brenner and her husband, Bill; Robin Coughlin and her husband, Tim; Sara Croft; and Amanda Daniels and her husband, Matt, all of Haverhill. He also leaves behind his grandchildren, Sean, Duncan, Madison and Owen, many nieces and nephews, and his siblings: Cindi Basiliere, Janet Gillis, Natalie Pineau and her husband, Steve; Steve Corthell and his wife, Pat; and Fred Corthell and his wife, Terry. Bob was preceded in death by his sister, Nancy.

CALLING HOURS will be Sunday from 2-5 p.m. at Driscoll Funeral Home, 309 S Main St, Haverhill, MA 01835. A funeral Mass will be held Monday, 10 a.m. at All Saints Parish, 120 Bellevue Ave, Haverhill, MA 01832, followed by burial at St. Joseph Cemetery, 892 Hilldale Ave, Haverhill, MA 01832.

In lieu of flowers, gifts may be made to Lahey Hospital & Medical Center in memory of  (name of tributee) to support the greatest needs in patient care. Please send your gift to: Philanthropy Office, Lahey Hospital & Medical Center, 41 Mall Road, Burlington, MA 01805. You also may donate at Giving.LaheyHealth.org/Donate.

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Thanks for Everything, Lisa Milso

I spent my high school years angry, unhinged, unmotivated and unsure of how to live my life. So, before attending Salem State University (then Salem State College), I spent a couple of years trying to find myself at North Shore Community College (NSCC).

I took classes mostly at the Lynn campus because it was five minutes from my house. I spent more time in the smoking room than I did in class, and cared more about my long hair and clothes than about what the future might hold. It was a confusing time but also a fun time, which I needed. Indeed, the experience did allow me to sort things out, and I have many people to thank for that — especially Lisa Milso, director of student life.

She was a voice of reason and motivation as I delved into all manner of activities, including a stint on the student government council. She touched countless lives in similar fashion, so I was sad to learn that she passed away Dec. 24.

I’m not sure how she died, but I know from the college’s Facebook page that as an organ donor, she saved seven lives on Christmas Day. That was Lisa, helping people to the end.

The statement from NSCC said in part:

Lisa loved NSCC and our students and proudly served the college for over 28 years. Through her many roles at the college Lisa has personally touched the lives of countless students and alumni and her absence will be deeply missed.

She held that post for 28 years, which is amazing in this day and age, where people switch jobs every few years.

She was a master volunteer, organizing student trips to New Orleans as part of NSCC’s “Labor of Love” initiative, in which students and faculty traveled to New Orleans to help in the continuing effort to rebuild neighborhoods destroyed by Hurricane Katrina a decade ago.

She was a rare gem, the type you can’t replace.

But when I think of all the lives she touched, I know she’ll live on in many people — from those who received her organs to the countless people she helped steer toward productive lives.

Thanks for what you did for me, Lisa. Thanks for what you did for everyone.

Obituary: MILSO, Lisa Anne Of Lexington, Dec. 24, 2015. Lisa is survived by her mother, Theresa Marie Milso (Pace) of Lexington, and by her aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. Director of Student Life at North Shore Community College. Funeral from the Douglass Funeral Home, 51 Worthen Rd. Lexington Monday Jan. 4 at 9am followed by a Mass of Christian burial at St. Brigid Church, Lexington at 10am. Relatives and friends are kindly invited to attend. Visiting hours Sunday from 4pm to 7pm. Donations in her memory may be made to the Lisa Milso Memorial Scholarship Fund, Attn. Tatiana Espinal, Director of Development at tespanoi@northshore.edu. Interment private.

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Tales from the Womb

For a few years in the late 1980s and early 1990s, it was one of my favorite places on Earth. My late friend Sean Marley built the room in his basement, a couple doors down from my house. If we weren’t in my basement, we were in his.

Mood music:

https://youtu.be/QcVS4Kpdn0E

Sean called it The Womb because he likened the peace one felt in there to being back in the womb. It was a fairly accurate description.

There was always a smell of incense. There was a phone made in the likeness of Opus from the “Bloom County” comic strip. There was the wood-burning stove, a huge amp and a black Carvin guitar — probably one of the heaviest guitars I ever held. There were books of all sorts and there was usually alcohol nearby.

It’s where he taught me to use a bong made from a Windex bottle and introduced me to a lot of the music I love today: Thin Lizzy, T. Rex, Ministry, Soundgarden, King Diamond, Nine Inch Nails. He also introduced me to some stuff I wasn’t as crazy about, like Skinny Puppy.

Sean and I would talk for hours down there, just the two of us much of the time but frequently with an assortment of friends, too. I met people there who became dear friends and remain so today. We talked about philosophy, religion, politics, history. It was the most comfortable classroom I ever knew. And Sean was a great teacher.

Thanks to Dan for sharing this photo. It brings back a lot of great memories.

Bill Brenner and Sean Marley in the Womb

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The Bright Side of Being Buried Alive

Here in Massachusetts, hell has frozen over. We have six feet of snow on the ground and at least two more snowstorms in the forecast. The kids have had 2-3 snow days a week since late January. Public transportation is at a standstill. Words like “unprecedented” and “historic” keep surfacing.

Mood music (sure, this song is about cocaine, but the title fits):

But I’m here to tell my fellow citizens that it could be worse.

Seriously.

True, winter tends to disagree with me. This is the time of year where seasonal depression typically kicks my ass. I’m usually the last guy to see silver linings in those snow clouds. But really, folks, this could be so much worse. Consider the following:

  • The storms so far have dumped light, fluffy snow. That means power outages have been minimal. Here in Haverhill, we’ve had power throughout.
  • Families have gotten a lot of extra quality time this winter. Around here, we’ve enjoyed several movie nights a week instead of the usual one or two. So what if the house is in shambles?
  • In this day and age, the Internet makes working from home much more feasible. A lot of people still have to trudge through the snow to work. But many of us can work anywhere where there’s an Internet connection.
  • It’s no longer pitch black at 5 p.m. Longer days will inevitably give way to spring and warmer weather.

We will survive. We will prosper.

And yes, we will cry some more after another two or three feet have fallen.

snowman with sign: I'll be dead soon

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I Didn’t Know Danny Lewin, But I’m Grateful For Him

As an Akamai Technologies employee, I practically inhaled Molly Knight Raskin’s book, “No Better Time: The Brief, Remarkable Life of Danny Lewin, the Genius Who Transformed the Internet.” It’s a spectacular look at the history of the company, and it captures the Danny Lewin I’ve heard about from colleagues who knew him.

Mood music:

I was laboring unhappily at a newspaper on Sept. 11, 2001, when Lewin died aboard American Airlines Flight 11. It’s largely believed he was the first victim of that day, stabbed while trying to stop the terrorists from hijacking the plane.

Back at Akamai, as the surge in online traffic threatened to grind the Internet to a halt, Danny’s colleagues worked feverishly to keep the web from crashing. They succeeded, and it’s one of the many inspiring stories to come out of that horrible day.

At its core, the book is the story of Lewin’s friendship with Tom Leighton, which took root at MIT. Lewin was a mathematical genius who wrote a set of algorithms that would be used at Akamai to create a faster, more stable Internet. Leighton was his soft-spoken professor and mentor. Last week I had the pleasure of interviewing Leighton, who is now Akamai’s CEO. You can listen to the interview here.

But the thing I most identify with is Lewin’s restless, relentless personality. He was loud and pushed his goals with the speed and power of a freight train. I’m pretty useless when it comes to mathematics and code writing. But I identify with that drive. It’s one of the byproducts of my OCD — sometimes a curse, many times a blessing that has helped me achieve success in my own profession. There’s no record of Lewin having OCD. He was shaped by a history much different from mine.

He served for four years in the Israel Defense Forces as an officer in Sayeret Matkal, a unit dedicated to fighting terrorists. He had unlimited energy that kept him going with little sleep. He was a devoted husband and father.

He was also loud and could be ridiculously demanding of people, something I relate to.

Learning about him has been a pleasure. His story inspires me to work harder and take nothing for granted. I’m grateful for that.

There’s a cool footnote to this story: Danny’s remains were identified in 2004 and buried in Sharon Memorial Park, a massive Jewish cemetery south of Boston. It happens to be where my brother is buried, along with both my maternal and paternal grandparents and my great-grandmother.

It’s just one more bond connecting me to a man I never met; a man who influences me all the same.

Lewin book

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Three Things Jeff Bauman Teaches Us About Being Boston Strong

Jeff Bauman has gotten so much attention since the Boston Marathon bombings a year ago that I had resolved not to write about him here. I’m as inspired by his story as everyone else; I simply thought there was nothing I could say about the guy that hadn’t been already said.

Then I started reading his new book “Stronger.”

Mood music:

I’ve only read previews and excerpts thus far, but already I’m seeing something special.

About now you’re thinking I’m daft for only just now seeing something special. After all, the man’s durability of body and spirit has been evident since the day that bomb blew his knees off. We’ve seen picture after picture of him smiling in the hospital, throwing the first pitch at the start of a Red Sox game and appearing at the start of a Bruins playoff game.

But what I’ve read reveals raw feelings beneath the smile. In particular, he shows his discomfort as sports teams and politicians ask him to make appearances. He writes:

Did the Boston Bruins really want to do something nice for Jeff Bauman the human being? Or did they want him to be a prop? Something they could use to make a crowd of people cheer? Look at Jeff, isn’t he adorable? Look at Jeff, isn’t he brave? Look at Jeff, he’s a symbol. He’s a marketing tool.

Bauman also shares his relationship struggles before and after the bombings. He reveals the mood swings and commitment issues he thrust upon girlfriend Erin Hurley. Happily, the couple recently announced their engagement and that they are expecting a baby.

For me, there are three valuable lessons as I continue to read his story:

  • Don’t believe all the hype that surrounds you. Bauman knows he’s not the special snowflake the media and sports franchises portray him as. He’s essentially a regular guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is doing the best he can with the fate he’s been handed. My experience as a writer is that people regularly put me on a pedestal for sharing my demons. I know I’m not special. Though, trust me, when people tell you you’re awesome often enough it’s easy to start believing it.
  • Smile, even when you don’t feel like it. We’ve seen all those pictures of Bauman smiling as he tries out his new prosthetic limbs. His writing reveals that on many days he didn’t feel like smiling. But he did anyway, and whether intended or not, that gives others the shot of inspiration needed to forge ahead in the face of adversity.
  • Make the best of bad situations. We all go through bad times. When we do, it’s hard to recognize the blessings hidden in them. Bauman knows his experience has made him stronger and that there are plenty of ways he can turn tragedy into something good. Reluctant as he may be some days, he has certainly made the best out of his situation.

Thanks for the inspiration, Jeff. And congratulations on the new book. I look forward to reading it in its entirety.

Stronger by Jeff Bauman

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From Stress and Fear to Passion

A friend shared one of those inspirational memes with me yesterday, and it got me thinking about my approach to work — and how far I’ve come in general.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/MhtednkzJl4

The meme says, simply:

Working Hard Is Called Stress

Man, is that ever true. I know, because I’ve been on both sides of the equation.

Sometimes the job was intolerable. Mostly, my own demons were intolerable.

During my days as a newspaper reporter and editor, all I knew was stress. Stress over the next deadline. Stress over the backstabbing and petty squabbling often prevalent in newsrooms.

I used to hide by trying to sleep by day as much as possible — especially on weekends — and at night my sleep was pierced with the nightmares stress will generate deep in the brain.

My first job as a security writer was full of stress, too, but it was different. The job itself was good. My coworkers welcomed me from the beginning, and I was well compensated compared to what I had made before. But I was also full of self-loathing, anger and addictive compulsion due to a variety of issues.

I sorted it out, mostly during my time at that job. Then the next job came along, and I had a blast. By then I had pretty much come to grips with my OCD, depression and other issues, and I had a stronger spiritual foundation under me. I was more confident and finally had the ability to approach assignments with an almost child-like glee.

Now I’m at Akamai in a position that’s quite different from those I’ve been in before. I’m inside a security operation instead of outside looking in. I’m part of a team of awesome people I learn new things from every day, and I have the freedom to swing for the fences with my ideas.

It fills me with a lot of passion. Sometimes the passion feels like stress, but that’s usually when I fail to use the myriad coping tools God has given me.

All in all, it’s a great station to be at in life. I’m blessed for sure. The equation started to turn when I faced down my fears, which brings me to another meme I’ll end with:

The Other Side of Fear

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The Friends Joe “Zippo” Kelley Left Behind

The fourth annual Joe “Zippo” Kelley Memorial show is tonight. Sadly, I can’t be there this year because of business travel. But I hope many of you will make it out to pay homage to a golden soul.

Mood music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnyVCQrFN7Q

Joe died in August 2010. At the time, it had been years since I had last seen him, and I didn’t know people like Anne Genovese, Audrey Clark, James Melanson, Harry Zarkades and Gretchen Shae. Since then, I’ve met them at shows and through Facebook, where friends of Joe gathered to remember him in the months after his death. Along the way, old friendships have been rekindled and new ones forged. I’m a richer man for it. I’ve also gotten to know and grow fond of Joe’s parents.

My musical tastes have widened to include The 360s and a lot of punk. I’ve also gotten to know the other guys from Pop Gun (I’d already known the drummer, Greg Walsh, for years) and have a renewed appreciation for The Neighborhoods, who headlined the first benefit show.

This is how it happens: You go do something to honor a guy who is no longer with us. Then, from his perch in Heaven, he leads you to a bunch of people who become friends. It gives new meaning to the idea that someone lives on after death.

Details for tonight:

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RIP Gary Cioffi

Last week a treasured friend and brother to many in the Revere, Mass., music scene passed away after fighting cancer for several years. I didn’t know Gary Cioffi nearly as well as many of you, but he touched my life all the same.

Mood music:

Gary and I were connected on Facebook, where I enjoyed the jokes he posted almost every morning. I also followed his cancer battle, which he waged with grace and humor. I’ll miss those posts.

Shortly after he connected with me, he sent me a private message asking if I remembered him. I had to admit that I hadn’t. He reminded me that his mom used to babysit my siblings and me in the 1970s. My memory kicked in when he mentioned how he used to play the piano we had in the living room. I was barely beyond toddlerhood at that point, and the memories are fuzzy. But I remember images and sounds.

I connected with him online because he was part of my hometown music scene. A lot of Boston’s best bands have their origins in Revere, most famously MASS. I wanted to see who was doing what, and I quickly discovered that Gary was a central player in the scene, drumming for the band That’s That.

He played the places I remembered as a kid, including Bill Ash’s Lounge.

His helping me to reconnect with my hometown musical roots is the thing I’m most grateful for.

To those who were close to him, I offer you my sincere condolences.

Peace be with you.

And thanks again, Gary, for giving me a glimpse into your world and reminding me where I came from.

Gary Cioffi