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journalism
9
Nov 11
Big day
Spent the day covered in newsprint:
Now comes the time of year when stories must be submitted for contests and other notable honors. This is a multiple-day process that will stretch into next week, includes solving Byzantine riddles and parsing out the meaning of a rough online translation of a fortune cookie’s first draft.
There are very precise rules for news contests. It requires a great deal of precise effort, because imprecision means disqualification. It is a mess, really. But then you think of the person who must deal with the many submissions.
He is a kind man, and he welcomes dealing with these submissions and finding judges and sending out the clips and getting them returned and sorting out winners and he does it in a contest that can have about 30 categories for dozens of schools. He’s also a patient, hardworking man. And he needs these rules in place, just to make sense of it all.
So you can’t complain, really. Almost every one of the rules makes sense when you see it from his point of view. And if you heard the reasoning behind the other two or three rules you’d probably think, “Yeah, well, that figures too.”
Which doesn’t exactly make the entire process fun, but it is an important one. And, as I said, will stretch into next week.
Busy day otherwise. Jefferson County voted to file for bankruptcy, the largest municipal failure in the history of the United States. Here’s a fine timeline on the issue from August. It saddens me to read that. This story has been going on my entire adult life.
Indeed, it was one of the first stories I ever reported on the radio. And even back then it seemed like this would go on forever. More than a decade later, they’ve avoided the bankruptcy for as long as possible.
And so here’s the next story, the numb and numbly titled Now What?
Speaking of the radio, I returned to the old format for about five minutes this evening. Ingram Smith, sitting in for Chuck Oliver, asked all the right questions about a football game coming up this weekend. I surely gave all the wrong answers. The final conclusion: if the ball bounces the right way the Deep South’s Oldest Rivalry will have a close finish.
Speaking of football and old and tradition and finishing … Here’s the historic Penn State press conference from this evening. I especially like when the students in the room started asking questions.
That will be around water coolers for a good long while.
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.
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.
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.
