Today at the conference I was on a panel titled Mediated Fandom in Turbulent Times. The panelists talked about how movies, TV shows, podcasts, sports teams, and social media channels offer us versions of mediated fandom, which can serve as places of mooring. A recurring theme was about how we retreat to things we know, which everyone understands on a modern practical level.
I said one of the basic concepts of trauma is a loss of control, and how watching Friends or Gilmore Girls or the like for the 90th team is a means of re-establishing a bit of that control, if only for a short while. We know the characters, the plot points, and the outcomes. This, I said to the room of academics, is another reason why you see a lot of movies from the students’ youth as on-campus activities.
The rest of the panel was better, because the panelists were great.
The whole conference is really good. Here’s a panel I watch from the audience. These are some of our friends, representing universities in Alabama, Texas and Mississippi. These are some of the brightest and most thoughtful minds in political communication, talking about the last two election cycles.
Bill, Brian, Melissa, and Barry, talked about political realignment, overcoming hyperbole, socially mediated politics and memes. They’re also our friends, and the best part about the whole trip is hanging out with them. Everything is a joke, or incredibly insightful, or both. And they’re all so kind; just lovely people. Why they put up with me I don’t understand, but I’m grateful for it. And they have to put up with me for another day-and-a-half.
It’s another day of playing a bit of catch up. Mostly because the day was spent working on stuff sitting at the computer. Dear Diary, today was more grading. That’s not terribly exciting. There’s always something more exciting than that, if you’re willing to look on the bookshelves everywhere around me, or the big stacks of music that are everywhere else.
This weekend I read “The Day The World Came to Town.” I picked it off the Kindle via a random number generator. It was released in 2003, I bought it on a big sale in 2021, and it’s sat there, waiting. And, when I opened it, I didn’t have high expectations.
This is a book about September 11th, and the days that followed, in Gander, Newfoundland.
You’ll recall that one of the things the U.S. did after the planes hit the World Trade Center was to close down American airspace. Every plane had to land at the nearest available, accommodating airport. No mean feat, logistically. This applied to international flights coming over, too. No one knew it at the time, because no one knew much in those first terrible hours, but the military was preparing to shoot down any planes that didn’t comply.
Up there in Newfoundland was a great big airport. They’d had an aeronautical boom during and after World War II. The biggest positive were the very long runways that could allow the biggest planes to takeoff and land. When jets, and their greater range, became the kings of the sky, it became more-or-less obsolete. A small place with no real reason for people to visit.
Then, 38 planes landed there, putting 6,595 people on the ground in a town where fewer than 10,000 people lived. And this book is that story.
And, as I said, I didn’t expect a lot from this book. But this book was good, and really quite charming. It details the people of that community, Gander, and some of the people who couldn’t have found it on a map before September 11th. These people, the Newfies, are really something. For instance:
The biggest problem facing officials was transportation. How do you move almost 7,000 people to shelters, some of which were almost fifty miles outside of town? The logical answer was to use school buses. On September 11, however, Gander was in the midst of a nasty strike by the area’s school-bus drivers.
Amazingly, as soon as the drivers realized was was happening, they laid down their picket signs, setting their own interests aside, and volunteered en masse to work around the clock carrying the passengers wherever they needed to go.
And the whole book is full of this, a parade of regular folks doing the small things that were huge things in such a traumatic moment.
In most cases, the passengers didn’t have their actual prescriptions with them. In each case, O’Brien and the other pharmacists had to call the hometown doctor or pharmacists so they would know the exact medication and dosage, and had a new prescription sent. During one stretch, O’Brien and his wife, Rhonda, worked forty-two hours straight, making calls to a dozen different countries.
Surprisingly, there isn’t one universal standard for identifying drugs. A drug such as Atenol, commonly prescribed to patients with high blood pressure, can go by different names in different countries. A pharmacist for more than twenty years, O’Brien spent hours on the Internet, and worked with the local hospital and Canadian health officials, to sort through the maze of prescriptions and find the right drugs for each passenger. In the first twenty-four hours, pharmacists in Gander filled more than a thousand prescriptions. All at no cost to the passengers.
Canadian Tire was giving products away. The local cable company made sure every place that was housing refugees had a connection for news. The phone people set up banks of phone lines and fax machines. And on and on and on it goes. People welcomed strangers into their homes. They made herculean efforts to get messages back and forth. The locals tried to distract a woman who was worrying over her firefighter son, and finding ways to let teenagers be teenagers.
One of the stories is about Gary Vey, who was the president and CEO of the Gander International Airport Authority. He wasn’t in Gander, but in Montreal at a big airport conference. He couldn’t fly back to work at his airport, so he rented a car, drove more than 600 miles, caught a six-hour boat ride, and then drove eight more hours to his hometown, going straight to the airport, arriving in the afternoon. He worked for about 12 hours, after all of that, and headed home in the predawn hours.
Not wanting to wake his wife, he quietly showered in the hallway bathroom and decided to sleep in their guest bedroom. The room was dark as he dropped his towl and climbed into bed, wearing nothing more than wet hair and a weary expression on his face.
And that’s when he realized he wasn’t alone. He was in bed with a seventy-year-old woman from Fort Worth, Texas, whom Vey’s wife, Patsy, had befriended at one of the shelters and decided to take home. Remarkably, the woman was still asleep. Vey gingerly stood up, covered himself with his towel, and retreated to his own bedroom.
“We’ve got company, I see,” he told his wife when they both awake the next morning.
“Yes,” she said, “that’s a lovely lady from one of the flights.”
She told her husband she couldn’t stand the thought of this old woman spending a night sleeping on the floor of a classroom at Gander Academy. So she’d brought her home and tried to show her a good time. Well, he said with a laugh, he almost showed her more than that.
It was a great weekend read.
Since we had so much fun with the Re-Listening project yesterday, let’s jump back in today. I’m still about 10 or 14 discs behind, after all. And next on the list is a great little 1998 record that no one purchased, but me. Seven Mary Three’s fourth studio record peaked at 121 on the Billboard 200, and it’s easy to forget, but even easier to enjoy.
It’s a rock album, but it’s also introspective, more than you would expect, in a rock album sort of way.
There’s also the visceral, which is perhaps what that band is best remembered for. Just roll down the windows, press a little deeper into the accelerator and sing aloud sorta stuff.
And that’s Seven Mary Three to me. My college roommate and I saw them on their second record’s tour. We played that one a lot in his place, and in his truck. And so this band, to me, is about Chuck — I didn’t see him much when this album came out. I wonder if he ever heard it. — about that whole driving into a song thing, and oddly, a band I listened to a lot while mowing the lawn.
I have four of their albums. Maybe I should buy the other three to round out their catalog.
Also, the rhythm section of this band never gets its due.
The band hasn’t played since 2012, and doesn’t look to anytime soon, apparently. I’d probably go see them again. We caught them at Five Points South, a now defunct club that hosted a lot of great music over the years. That’s also the place where I saw Edwin McCain for the first time. And his second album, “Misguided Roses” is up next in the Re-Listening project.
It is a perfectly acceptable effort. The album peaked at 73 on the US Billboard 200.
The single you remember, of course, is “I’ll Be,” which was on radio everywhere, and at most every wedding since then. It went all the way to the second spot on the US Heatseekers Albums chart, blocked from the top spot there only by the band, Fuel. And then it really took off, which disqualified it from the odd rules of the old Heatseekers chart, but it lodged itself into the top 10 of six other Billboard charts. I wasn’t even aware it could have been eligible for six of them, or why some of them even exist.
The rest of the album is stuck in amber which, for pop music, is probably an OK thing. One of the songs still stands out. (Though, I must say, they all sound better on every format that’s not “YouTube.”)
I probably saw McCain and his band three or four times right around that period, usually opening up for one of his buddies. He took some time away from music, restoring boats, apparently had a TV show about that in the middle of the teens. He’s released two records since then, 12 studio albums in a solid 20-year career. He’s touring this summer.
And that’s enough for now. That’s plenty. We’ve got a beautiful, busy spring weekend ahead of us. How about you? Big plans?
Friday / photo / site — Comments Off on The Friday random 21 Mar 25
This week flew by, somehow, and now it’s time to get back into class mode. So I’m starting to work on next wee’s classes. And wondering where this week went. And wondering how the next two or three weeks will go. There’s a lot to work through. So I must get to it.
But, first, there’s this.
I dropped a piece of paper in our Chicago hotel room and it just … disappeared. I’m glad there was nothing vital or embarrassing on the note, because it’s gone. My best guess is that it fell and slid under this improbably heavy and immovable bed frame. While I was looking for it, I somehow accidentally took this photo. For an accident it is a pretty decent composition.
I like how it blurs in the foreground but becomes clear as it goes forward. I’m looking for a metaphor there.
I updated the front page of the website. Go check it out. It looks something like this right now.
As we were waiting to take off from Chicago, I made the mistake of looking at the flight monitor screen on the back of seat in front of me. Despite the snow we drove through to get to the airport, conditions must have been radically different on the tarmac.
So it was a good time to leave, I guess. But that was last Sunday and this is Friday and next, for us, is Monday. I’ll see you then!
I gave a presentation of our research today at the Summit on Communication & Sport today. The session was titled Perception and Representation. One of our colleagues presented on topics titled “When Soccer Meets Streetwear: A Critical
Analysis of Soccer Shirts’ New Cool.” Another, a good friend presented on an interesting topic, “Interaction and Gamification – The Media Audience’s Perception of Reality and Virtuality in New Sports Formats. A Mixed-methods Study using the Example of the Baller League in Germany.” Another research team discussed “From Geek Kingdom to Non-Gendered Utopia? The Gendered
Representation of Esport on French Sports Media L’Equipe.fr.”
In between, I talked about the research The Yankee and I conducted last fall. We titled it “Doing this may Kill Me: A Mixed Method Approach to Perceptions of Cyclist Safety.”
Here are some of the slides.
On a beautiful evening in August 2024, two brothers were heading home on bikes when they were killed by an aggressive driver who, police say, had a BAL over the legal limit.
It happened by that power pole on the right.
They were local boys. Two guys done good. Both were hockey players, they became folk heroes at Boston College. Matthew, the younger one, had a short professional run on the ice before returning home to coach his high school team. His older brother Johnny was an NHL star. The family said they were always together. Shoulder-to-shoulder. They were together on that particular day to celebrate their sister’s wedding the next day.
Johnny had two children. He and his wife were expecting their third. Matthew and his wife were expecting their first child.
The driver of the vehicle hit them so hard that his Jeep Cherokee died a tenth of a mile away, as he tried to flee.
We conducted a survey of local cyclists. Using snowball sampling, we aimed at people in the tri-county area, but our instrument quickly reached into the tri-state area. We wrapped it with 1,296 respondents.
Here are a few numbers from the survey …
Of those 1,296 respondents, all cyclists, 66 percent reported near misses with other vehicles on their bike rides. Eighteen percent said they’ve had bike crashes involving vehicles. Nine percent have had more than one accident involving vehicles.
That’s something like 116 people!
Sixty-one percent reported that drivers pass too closely more than half the time. This is, admittedly, a tricky question. As a cyclist, I recall the dangerous passes far more clearly than the safer interactions. (Boy do I!) But … this gets to perception, and the intrinsic motivation involved in Self Determination Theory.
Our survey asked about aggressive drivers, and 13 percent said they have to deal with them on more than half their rides.
Also in this survey, 67 percent of cyclists say they fear they’ll be in an accident when they ride their bikes. And two-thirds of them also told us the infrastructure at their disposal for road riding is inadequate. (The implications here are fascinating.)
Of the 1,296 people who took our survey, 83 percent reported that they feel unsafe riding by some combination of drivers and poor infrastructure. We didn’t break that down further, but it’s there for future study.
When we asked cyclists about their perceptions of law enforcement, the numbers were not good; 64 percent perceived the utility of law enforcement toward helping to ensure their safety was “terrible.”
We’ll unpack this in a moment.
This is not a percentage, but a real figure. A third of our respondents, 453 cyclists who took our survey said the risk was so great they have stopped, or would not, ride on the road.
Here’s some other data. The various state departments of transportation use the term “vulnerable road users.” That’s how they define cyclists, pedestrians, or anyone else not in a car, truck, or SUV.
This, so you know, is the state law on passing vulnerable road users. National advocates who monitor these things say this is one of the best in the country. One of the best laws in the land means you have to give me four whole feet when you pass me. But you have to know that law, honor it, and understand distance and vehicles at different speeds (and a lot of you don’t). So, just think on this for a second. Four feet.
Four themes emerged in our qualitative work. In the first theme, people discuss how road systems are set up, first or exclusively, for motorists. That’s problematic. The US Census says 870,000 people commute by bike. People for Bikes, in their most recent research, says 112 million Americans rode a bike last year. The discourse is due a change.
We saw a great deal of frustration within the law and law enforcement theme. Cyclists complain of law enforcement officers who don’t know the laws or aren’t interested in policing them. They’ve been told that without video evidence there’s not much that can be done. Sometimes that’s difficult even with video.
Infrastructure is a recurring theme in our survey, advocacy, and in national conversations. Cyclists and other vulnerable road users frequently complain about it.
Boil it down to money, political will, and time. Most places are several lacking quality infrastructure for all road users. (Again, not just motorists.) There’s also an urgency problem.
Our final theme, I just called it personal. Hands go to chests when I talk about the bike shop owner who fixed a customer’s flat, and, minutes later, the cyclist was killed by a motorist.
“What if I’d told him I couldn’t do it then? What if I repaired it slower? Or faster?”
He lives with that.
It’s not his only story of that sort.
Let’s talk about impact. The Yankee and I were invited to share the initial version of this research with the local community soon after the Gaudreaus were killed. The crash, and this data, helped inspire the creation of a local safety committee. They are now doing advocacy. That group’s work has them in front of youth organizations. Bike safety and road awareness are key for everyone. They are also taking part in a county safety committee as well.
We’ve also shared the data with the state DOT and talked messaging with a variety of organizations. This research also caught the ear of a state lawmaker, who ran with it. And with good reason!
One criticism we saw a lot is that not everyone knows about the state’s relatively new Safe Passing law. The Center for Sports Communication and Social Impact. We take the title to heart. This is research with real impact. In part because of our research, the Safe Passing law will now be taught in Driver’s Ed and appear on the driver’s license exam.
Please be careful on the roads. We’re all just trying to get somewhere and safety is the goal.
Friday / memories / music / video — Comments Off on Re-Listening: One of these has a notorious Star Trek reference 7 Mar 25
Apropos of nothing, I just sneezed. Some sneezes you can feel coming from a long way away. Sometimes you can sense that a sneeze will be arrive tomorrow, at about 1:30. The lining of your nose gets that first tinge. “There’s something in here!” signals are sent to the brain. The brain fires off memos in triplicate to the body. “We’re going to do it!” Your eyes shut, the tongue moves to the roof of the mouth, and the muscles brace. Sometimes it happens in just a few seconds, or 25 minutes.
That’s not the sneeze I just experienced. This sneeze was a bit closer to the seeing-your-life-flash-before-your-eyes tinged with a bit of “What am I going to do after this, if my nose stays on my face and my organs stay in place?”
There’s no metaphor here. Just the one sneeze, come and gone. Sometimes the nose needs a reboot. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a low-brain reaction to a sternutation.
I’m about 14 CDs behind in the Re-Listening project, so let’s make a small dent in that deficit. If anyone can remember back that far, the Re-Listening project is something I’m doing in the car. I’m playing all of my old CDs in more or less the order in which I acquired them all. I say more or less because this book is out of order. I had hit the 21st century, but right now I’m back in the 1990s. It doesn’t matter.
I decided, since I was listening to all of these again I could write about them here. “What a great regular feature,” I thought, back when I did that sort of thing. “I can pad this space, pull up an old memory or two, and then play some good music.” And I did that, until I kept forgetting to do it, at least, which is how I’m so far behind right now.
So it’s … let’s say 1997, maybe 1998. This was a record that wasn’t meant to be a success, but a 1996 single got a lot of airplay and a Grammy nomination. And then the record was certified gold the next summer. And that happened to Duncan Sheik who was used to playing small venues, and suddenly he was on much bigger stages, which was a surprise for everyone, especially the singer, who saw that one song stay on the charts for a year, after peaking at #16. It spent 55 weeks as a radio hit, which was one of the longer stays on the chart at the time.
But there was more to the debut record than just the one single. There were two other singles! And a lot of deep cuts. Probably I picked this up after the second single, “She Runs Away,” but I don’t recall for sure. It was almost 30 years ago … a sentence I find I am now saying a little too often.
Anyway, when I popped this into player, I was hooked by the second track. (It sounded great on big wooden speakers.)
Why did we ever move away from those large speakers, anyway? Everything sounded better. And nothing was re-compressed by an additional layer of digitization.
And, look, that first Sheik record was pure singer-songwriter pop. Except for the parts that weren’t. But he did like to incorporate his vocal range all over the place.
At various times, when I had to do such things, Sheik’s music was a good vocal warmup. Sing along on the way to the studio and all that.
There are 11 tracks on the record, I liked 10 of them, and eight of them still hold up. Sheik has released eight other studio albums and a live record, but none more commercially successful than his debut, which did hit number 80 on the Billboard 200. He’s probably OK with that. I got the impression from interviews that the unexpected success was a little overwhelming.
These days, he’s performing as a writer and composer on Broadway, where he’s won two Tony awards.
I’m sitting here looking at the next disc trying to decide how I have this false memory. The record was released in 1998, just another power pop, post-grunge alt record. And the overriding memory doesn’t fit that timeline. I went to high school, and once worked with a guy who was in a local band. I saw them play, just another group of kids who were inspired and he’d sing the big hit, but he did a cool vocal trick in one spot where he’d sing on top of the note in a key spot. It was just enough different that now, when I think of or hear the song, I hear it his way.
Only, I didn’t work at that place when the single was a single. I hadn’t worked there in probably two years. So how does that memory even work?
Beware of memories, I guess.
A few years later I got an out-of-the-blue email from a mutual friend and it turns out that that guy was going to go to jail for a while. He’d gotten drunk and climbed into his house through his bedroom window, only it wasn’t his window and it wasn’t his house. Extremely common name. No idea what became of him.
Anyway the band was Semisonic — and I mean that made the record, not the band of the guy I knew. “Closing Time” was the single everyone knew, of course, and it was a big hit, climbing to 11 on the US Radio Songs chart, four on the Pop chart, topped the Alternative Airplay chart, 13 on the Mainstream Airplay chart and so on.
But, and I realize I used this above, there was a lot more to “Feeling Strangely Fine” than the one single. The second single, from August of 1998, is a terrific little pop number which found its way into two top 40 charts. I always liked that it was a song about listening to a cassette. It was charming even to me, a slow music format adopter.
Then, as now, there was no way this piano — a keyboard, really — should pair up with that bass sound.
Whenever I picked this up, I don’t recall that either, I listened to it for a good long while. It got heavy rotation during the year of driving back and forth from Little Rock to Birmingham. This was a good late night, empty highway song.
I don’t know your feelings about this, obviously, but I think we all need a New Year’s Eve song. Here’s one now.
There’s one song another song on here that I’ve always liked, but I can’t listen to it, because the weird way the singer treats the chorus is too catchy. It’s just days and days of this, when you play it. You’ve been warned.
That was Semisonic’s second album. They produced two more studio records and a live album. And they’re still at it, touring the U.S. this summer with Toad the Wet Sprocket.
