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journalism / links / Samford / Thursday — Comments Off
3
Nov 11

Memory and tradition dictate

Oh you thought you knew all about barbecue:

One historian speculates that the slow-cooking method of barbecue stems from a long tradition of general slowness in the South, (Bass 311), and maybe that is the reason that the South has been slow to abandon its traditional foodways. Other theories include the relative poverty of the South compared to the rest of the region, and a resulting reliance on familiar (and easily and cheaply procured) foods. Slow-cooking methods can transform tough and stringy meats and vegetables into delicious meals, and canning and preserving bountiful summer foodstuffs is an economical Southern custom. Cooking with pork adds flavor without expensive seasoning. The Depression which enveloped the United States in the mid-twentieth century was nothing new for most Southerners– poverty was a way of life for many Southerners long before it affected the rest of the country.

Another reason for the strong tradition inherent in Southern cooking is the emphasis on tradition in most aspects of Southern culture. Most Southerners are proud of their traditions– for hospitality, for strong family ties, and for a lavishly laid table.

[…]

Simmering vegetables for hours on the back of the stove made sense in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries– the stove was already lit, and the cook could tend to her many other chores without worrying about the greens and fatback (or butter beans or stewed corn or other vegetables). They would peacefully simmer at low heat, and would provide a meal (along with some biscuits or cornbread) when her other chores were finished. Today, this method is not convenient, but it persists. When Georgia Brown’s, a restaurant specializing in Southern food in Washington D.C., started serving collard greens that were cooked quickly to retain crispness and nutrients, patrons complained. Now, the restaurant serves collards both ways. Obviously, convenience is not the main factor in food preparation in the South anymore– memory and tradition dictate some food choices.

The sociology of food would be an interesting field, but it would always leave you hungry. You’d only find yourself stuffed when you disagreed with someone’s obviously wrong conclusion.

That’s from the Department of American Studies at Virginia, where they will also demonstrate the complexities and contradictions of America in the 1930s. Read everything there, go back in time and fit right in. It has only been 80 years, but that’s our world and our great-grandparents world do have some differences. We have, for example, successfully learned to keep giant gorillas off the Empire State Building.

A touching feature story from Ohio, where Sgt. 1st Class Steven Jessie is being forced out of the guard after a 30-year career. His last duty assignment has been working honor guards at funerals, having participated in more than 1,000 burials.

“I don’t necessarily believe that the guest of honor can look down from the great beyond. But, if he can, he will see that his remains are being treated with honor.”

Fifteen minutes later, Charlie Smith’s family arrived. The ceremony unfolded. The flag was folded. And presented to Mike Smith, Charlie’s son.

Jessie gave a special emphasis when he said the word “appreciation” as he presented the flag to the GI’s son.

Smith noticed. After the funeral, he walked to where the honor guard stood. The trio had marched from the crest of the hill to a valley out of sight of the procession.

Smith shook Jessie’s hand.

“It meant a lot to know a man who took up the call of duty for his country,” Smith said, “hasn’t been forgotten.”

He turned and walked away, still clutching the flag in the same position in which he received it from Jessie.

My great-grandfather, a decorated World War II medic, had asked only for a VFW honor guard, which was simple and sweet and somehow not enough, but that was his way and the family’s wish.

This function of military ceremony, though, at once critical and tragic, is an interesting area. You’re one of the main players in some terrible, traumatic moment of people’s lives, whether you’re talking about old gray veterans or active duty service members. The other side of it is the notification. There was an understated movie — which was greatly harmed by one too many subplots — on the topic:

The really moving piece on the subject, however, is this slide show and the incredible Pulitzer Prize-winning feature writing that accompanied it. Sadly the paper that published it, The Rocky Mountain News has since folded, but Jim Sheeler and Todd Heisler’s work is enduring, as they followed a notification and burial detail for a year. They tell this story from a Marine’s return home, to his funeral, before his child is born. The photographs just build and build and then the last one, one you might not expect, punches you in the throat.

Back to the story on Sgt. Jessie, then, where the funeral director says he’s seen soldiers who can’t fold the flag. But he knows: when Jessie is there everything will be right. That’s a job to be taken seriously, nice to see there are men and women who do it.

Class today. It was otherwise one of those days that slips away in chunks that you can’t quite explain. I did read a lot though. There’s always a lot of reading, it seems. Should have gotten more done than I managed to, but that’s what tomorrow and next week are for.

Auburn / journalism / music / Samford / Tuesday / video — Comments Off
1
Nov 11

“The beat don’t stop”

Sent the in-laws home today. They’re lovely folks, full of fun and I’m glad when they get to visit. It seems we’re making this an annual thing, though, their fall trip for a weekend. Last year they made it down for a homecoming game. This weekend they saw Auburn host Ole Miss. Next year, a big-time game perhaps.

Anyway, we had breakfast at Barbecue House, as has become a weekly tradition. Some football players were there, including an offensive lineman. My mother-in-law barely came up to his shoulder blades. Mr. Price now remembers me. He asked my mother-in-law if if I was back or visiting.

And this is the sign that I ate here too much in undergrad — several times a week for breakfast and sometimes for lunch as my class schedule allowed — he now recalls me by name. That’s a powerful memory.

I graduated a decade ago.

Saw them off and headed to campus. Did a little work, graded some papers, mingled a bit and went to class.

I learned what relief sounds like. I told the students they would have no quiz today and the room got brighter, louder and the barometric pressure dropped two degrees. The escape of tension can be a tangible thing.

At the paper, where the student-journalists are hard at work … showing each other videos. Rapper’s Delight shows up in here, as well as other high points of the genre:

There are three things about that. First, I’ve now seen Jimmy Fallon do something funny — he’s just … not. Second, I think I’ve found Jimmy Fallon’s audience — the college student. Third, this is the jumping off point where I can no longer relate to that audience — I’m old.

They are also putting together a paper, alas, there is no compelling video of this herculean feat. There will be news copy tomorrow, however.

Google is making changes. They are horrible. More on that tomorrow.

history / journalism / links / Samford / Tuesday — Comments Off
25
Oct 11

… You make Tuesdays

Breakfast this morning at Barbecue House and then to campus. Well, first I had to stop for plaques.

Next weekend is homecoming at Samford and one of the many festivities is our department’s Wall of Fame. Two individuals are being inducted this year, one an alumnus from the 1930s that I mentioned here last week and another gentleman who was a longtime public relations pro here in town. Part of the honor is a very handsome plaque (there are also speeches, bios, headshots and so on), which required the trip today to the awards and engraving store. It is helpfully named Awards and Engraving.

I’ve been in charge of this particular task for three years now. The guy is starting to recognize me. He also trusts me to leave with the efforts of his hard work without paying him. He seems convinced we won’t be packing up the university this weekend.

There is a tempting vacant Bruno’s parking lot nearby for any schools looking to move, though.

Samford has been here since the 1950s, though, I doubt the facilities people will uproot the joint after the game Saturday. Before that, Samford (or Howard College as it was then known) was in East Lake. Apparently that campus was never going to be suitable, something the university officials realized about 15 minutes after moving up from Marion. So, they spent 36 years in Marion in the 19th Century, 70 years in East Lake and 54 right here. The building holding my office has been around since the beginning.

I wonder what my office space was originally intended for.

“For now, we’re just going to hold chemicals and files up here. But in five or six decades, well. Everything will be different.”

So there was class. A few groans over the current events quiz and then the joys of discussing infographics. I showed off the work of Megan Jaegerman and an assorted collection from the always excellent infographics The New York Times puts out.

And then the bad. This PDF is so overdone as to be laughable, but it is a soap opera timeline, so maybe that was their point. Even still.

No paper tonight. The Crimson is publishing on Friday this week because of homecoming. So they’ll put that to bed on Thursday night. I’ll be hard at work on other projects between now and then.

journalism / links / Monday / movies / Samford / video — Comments Off
24
Oct 11

When life throws you Mondays …

Busy schoolwork day. I wrote three brief link posts on my blog for journalism students, one on the new faces of poverty another on the return of the police blotter and linked to an interview offering a little bit of social media advice for journalists. I’d like to think most people have gotten that figured out, but every once in a while someone does something that makes you wonder.

So those are the posts that I have been copying here from time to time. I can never make up my mind about how I want to present them. They’ll probably be reprinted here again next week, just out of habit.

One of the neater things I saw today. A six-year-old donates her birthday to help donate clean water to people in need. The founder of the non-profit recorded her a personal video:

The high touch is still a very valuable thing. Sending personalized notes like these at the right time to the right people makes for memorable content, and maybe some devoted followers.

The rest of my day was spent grading a few things and, mostly, preparing a big presentation on infographics for tomorrow’s class. There’s something like 40 pages of slides, a handout and the thing is still growing.

Oh, and there’s also a current events quiz for tomorrow’s class. MUHAHA.

Watched The Captains this evening. The preview:

Lileks‘ take on it:

The idea is simple and brilliant: he interviews everyone who played a captain on Star Trek. He’s a very good interviewer. The subjects are varied … In the end it’s about Bill, and life, and work, and what you lose, and death, and what you make in life. There’s even a big trip to a convention, and one scene that just about grinds your heart into a fine dry paste – which you can reanimate with your tears, if you please. Recommended.

This really became an excuse for Shatner to travel around and talk with people about himself while asking a few questions. At least that was the way it was edited. Maybe no one is as interesting as him. Scott Bakula and Patrick Stewart remain the most likable of the bunch, because they aren’t not crazy, bitter or overcome with ego. Chris Pine might be too cool for school, but he’s only in a fraction of the film, so it is difficult to tell. I call Kirk-level shenanigans.

Pardon me. My phone is ringing.

[…]

Step-father. He has dialed me by accident. I hear him speaking pointedly about … something. There’s someone else’s voice. And what sounds like some news-type talk show on in the background.

He is the only person that accidentally dials me. I think maybe my number is one of the hot buttons on his phone. It doesn’t happen often, but about once a year I’ll find myself comically yelling “HellllllOOOOOOOOOOO!”

This time I thought, What if he is flying? The recorders might not like my tinny voice in the background making jokes.

Why it has taken me that long to think that is a bit problematic. But I’ll distract myself with this question of morality: If someone unknowingly calls you, and you listen in, are you eavesdropping?

Because, you know, what if he were speaking pointedly about me?

He was not. When he realized his phone was on we had a little chat. Turns out he was talking about companies who are only out to get the consumer. Lots of folks can relate.

iPhone / journalism / Samford / Thursday / video — 1 Comment
20
Oct 11

Look straight ahead, indeed

The hardest part of my day was in writing a biography about a man I’ve never met. People do this all the time, they are called biographers. They usually have a few more resources at hand and the opportunity to do more research. But I was tasked with doing this one in an afternoon. Fortunately the length required was much shorter.

But still, 750 word biography on a man you’ve never met. He’s deceased. His wife is also gone. There is, I was told, some small mystery about some of the particulars, even among his children. I understand that. There’s a lot of that in my family, too. Also, this is a bio about a journalist, which will be read by an audience of journalism-type folks.

No pressure, right?

Hugh Frank Smith attended Samford in the 1930s, when it was Howard College. Then he went to Mizzou to finish his education. I talked to some of their folks today trying to drum up information. He graduated, started working at a Memphis paper, where he stayed for half a century until it folded, with the exception of his time in the Navy during World War II. He wrote for other Tennessee papers after the Press-Scimitar disappeared. His work cropped up from time to time in bigger publications.

He ran a horse farm. A lot of people in Memphis learned to ride there. He used email, perhaps unusual for a man born in 1915. He traveled quite a bit, but never forgot east Alabama, from which he came, or Samford, to whom he became a scholarship donor. All of the things you can find about him are very complimentary. He seems like he would have been a nice man to know.

But I was able to find some of his old columns, and they are lovely. From late in his life, a tribute to his sister:

Nan taught me a lot through the years. She read to me nearly every day and was always reading a book herself — one reason why I still read one or two books a week. She taught me how to drive our old Model T Ford — at first in a hayfield, then later on a dirt road.

She always said, “Look straight ahead when you are driving.” Once when we were rounding a curve I almost ran into a ditch. She couldn’t understand why I was so reckless. “You told me always to look straight ahead,” I explained, and I had been — straight ahead into a cotton field.

I must have scored well in her other lessons because I have never had to report an accident in 78 years of driving.

Here’s one he wrote a few years after his wife died:

Even as her memory faded, Rachael never seemed depressed, and often she would laugh at herself when she said something ridiculous or outrageous. Rather than correct her mistakes, many of them humorous, we just went along with them. I even kept a log. For example, one evening she looked at me and asked: “How did I happen to marry you? I didn’t mean to.” We both laughed. Another night, after arriving home from a party, she looked at our house and asked: “Didn’t we once live here?” I laughed and she quickly joined me.

I really think she often made comments like that just to elicit a chuckle. When she couldn’t get to sleep one night, I suggested: “Why don’t you count sheep?” Her reply: “We only have three.” That was true; we had three sheep.

[…]

Most important, she remained at the center of our farm and our family throughout it all. We found ways to treasure as much of the end of life as possible. As it turned out, Rachael’s sunny disposition throughout her life was her final gift to us. It made Alzheimer’s “long goodbye” more bearable for my daughters and myself.

So I wrote a bio, met with students. I gave a tour of a few of the facilities to a visiting alumnus. I taught a class. Also this, a hasty little video just to remember the sunny day:

It was a fine day. Began with a headache, ended with pizza with friends and jokes in a blustery parking lot.