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memories

No title Tuesday

When we got in last night, the first thing I did was put my things down.

No, that’s too early, let me back up.

When we got in last night, we stood on the curb at the airport for some time. The place we used as a park-and-ride had one shuttle running to the airport the week before Christmas, which seemed smart. It was cold. We waited. But it was at least night to be out of an airport, off of planes. Our trip began just before 6 p.m. and we landed just after 11 p.m. Not bad, considering we had a short layover in Detroit. It turned out that we took the same plane, so we disembarked long enough to grab a bite, and then get back on the plane. For our first leg of the flight I sat next to a retired Delta pilot. He is now flying rich people around out of Detroit. There are, he said, five wealthy families in Detroit and six jets. Then he showed me his Christmas card from Bob Seger, who is one of those families.

We covered a lot of ground as we were flying over the ground. The styles of flying, how much money people typically earn before they buy a plane of their own, some of his anecdotes, and so on. He asked me what I do for a living, and I told him, and he found this interesting, so we talked about media for a long while. One of my former students is in Detroit, and he has surely seen him on CBS. He was very curious about the nature and process of media, and the conversation gave me more grist for my “people don’t understand what we do” mill.

It goes both ways, of course. I’ve been on many planes, and I can fly one just as well as he could produce a media product. We think we know about other things because of our experience, but it’s not an expertise. He told me the progency of the plane we were on, and told me about the insulation properties of the fuselage. I know nothing about his business. Now, let me explain the basics of local media economic models.

There’s going to be a hypothesis in there, somewhere, eventually.

We left him in Detroit, it was his last work for a week. It sounds like has a pretty good gig for a retired man. On the second leg of the trip I sat with my lovely bride. She watched a documentary, I caught up on the day’s news. I also learned that one of my former students will be on national television on Christmas Eve. She’s a meteorologist, having gone from Greenville, North Carolina to Albuquerque to San Francisco, a real talent, a credible forecaster and now she’s getting turns on national TV.

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I bet she could have told me whether I had on enough layers for the curbside cold. Standing there, getting on the shuttle, getting to the car and getting home, might have taken about the same amount of time as either one of our flights this evening.

And so, finally, the first thing I did was put my things down. Then I petted the cats. They were very insistent and full of attitude, as if to say “These are the hi-jinx you could have enjoyed if you’d been here the last week.”

Today, there has been a lot of desperate cuddling.

And a lot of loud complaining.

One of their friends spent the week with them. They had a good time. I saw the photos and videos. I’m not sure who they think they’re fooling with this act.

But the kitties are doing well. And all of the cuddling slowed down today’s grading. This last batch took the afternoon and the first half of the evening. Much longer than necessary, but the class was the class was the class.

I’ll submit the final grades tomorrow, marking the end of the fall term. I’ll take a few days off. And then, starting Saturday, I’ll go back to designing a new class for the spring term. This will be my third brand new class in as many terms, and my 11th new prep in six semesters.

That, if you are not in this business, is a lot.

memories / Monday / photo — Comments Off
8
Dec 25

It was July of 2002, maybe August

I was taking the garbage out last night, because that’s one of the things I do on Sunday evening. My mind wandered back, because that’s one of the things that it does on most any day, to a conversation I had in the summer of 2002.

I was talking with my news director about this and that and he said to me, “You have to look after yourself, because no one else will do it as much or as well.”

It was one of those things that made sense at the time, and felt more right the more I thought about it. This was what it was to be accidentally deep. Two weeks later, I walked back to his office and offered him my resignation. Not because he was right, but because I was already on my way out the door. And, also, he was right, of course. Since I think far too much about work, I’ve always thought of that as professional advice. Maybe that’s the way that he meant it.

But there I was, standing in the drive, in the dark, and just as I walked under the motion sensor and the flood lights clicked on I thought, What if he was talking about everything in your life? The fun stuff too? The rewarding stuff? The valuable stuff? What are the things we’re all looking to fill our days with to have a day well spent? What is that thing?

It’s a part of a long-running puzzle. Some passive part of my brain has been working on that for, I don’t know, seven, eight years. And I did not figure it out tonight, standing there in the driveway. It’s too cold for all of that.

But, yes of course a conversation from almost a quarter of a century ago came to mind. You don’t do that? I remember precisely where I was standing when it happened. Right where this dot is.

Every now and then, over my many years working with students and young journalists, I’ve found a way to work that same advice into conversation. Most of them are well equipped to realize that already, but it is worth repeating. That guy, my former news director, is working in Nashville now. He’s been there … for more than a decade, which is a substantial amount of time in one spot in his line of work. He seems very happy there, but he’s one of those relentlessly happy sorts.

What do those guys know, anyway? Aside from occasionally stumbling into good greeting card caliber advice, I mean.

Let’s have a look at the kitties, who are insisting that I get back on the schedule. They make a good point. They’re the most popular feature on the site, and Monday is traditionally theirs. Why mess with what works?

So here’s Phoebe, getting in the holiday spirit.

And here she is, getting all cuddly and cozy under a blanket. What a cute little face.

Poseidon, meanwhile, is ready for his closeup.

But, also, his pink nose is cold.

When they sleep like that it just kills me.

Maybe I should ask them about living right. They know how to spend a day.

memories / sports / video / Wednesday — Comments Off
19
Nov 25

Another extra piece

I tried to get this published elsewhere, but failed. I still like it. I’m sharing it here.

We fall in love for a lot of reasons.

I recently asked a bunch of people to tell me about a big sports event they participated in, watched in the stands, or even on TV. You could group their specific answers into a few categories, pure sport, inspiration, and family.

In no particular order …

Someone mentioned the 2021 James Madison-Oklahoma softball game. The Sooners were on their way to becoming the irresistible force in collegiate softball, and JMU played the underdog role to perfection. The two sides faced off three times in the Women’s College World Series.

College softball is perfectly packaged as a televised sport, and that series proved it. The pace is fast, the game moves quickly and the athletes are incredible.

Someone else recalled the 2017 Minnesota Vikings playoff miracle as the moment he became a football fan. Not a Vikings fan, but a football fan, because the play showed him that anything is possible.

And Joe Buck’s “DIGGS!” will give you a little pep, even when you know what’s coming.

A couple of people talked about their own personal moments, being on the field when a championship goal was scored, winning a state championship in track and field, being a part of a David vs. Goliath style upset … I asked them what it’s like to be a momentary folk hero. It must be pretty good, humility wouldn’t let them say so, but the little smiles gave them away.

Ricky Pearsall had a triumph of the human spirit last year. Robbed and shot, he was on the field for the 49ers less than two months later. It’s easy to see why someone might pick that game, especially.

Some of the memories people shared were straight up sports moments, as they should be. Giancarlo Stanton digging in with the bases loaded and delivering, just like every kid that’s ever picked up a bat has imagined, was one such sports memory.

Others were personal. One recalled going to the Yankees Old-Timers Day with his grandfather, seeing some of the greats on the field, and meeting some of the legends in the stands. And to do that with your grandfather … it’s a lifetime highlight. I hope if someone asks him that question one day, it makes the short list.

In every generation, in every Olympics, we are reminded that sport is about our future. Someone recalled watching the 2008 Beijing Games, being inspired by a 14-year-old Tom Daley and becoming a diver, too. I asked, springboard or platform? This is how young that child was when inspiration struck: My mom wouldn’t let me dive off the platform. Moms are moms, and sometimes a mom’s fear overrules the drama of athletic feats and stories well told.

While Daley towered above us, balancing on the edge of cement structures, we were also all looking up as Kawhi Leonard bounced … and bounced … and bounced a ball all over a forgiving Toronto rim. Two people mentioned this one.

Drama is why we keep coming back, no? This year’s 4 Nations Face-Off and basically the entire 2012 NHL Stanley Cup playoffs were mentioned as two great examples of peak hockey.

Some moments just live on the circumstance and the visuals they give us. Maybe that is a part of what we want fandom, at our most romantic, to give us. Like when Bryce Harper delivered “the swing of his life” against the Padres’ Robert Suárez, who saw his ball sent to left-center, and the Phillies saw their season continue into the World Series. Or perhaps Saquon Barkley doing any number of Saquon Barkley things. He comes up a lot with this question right now, as you might imagine. The greats always do when you ask a question like that. Tom Brady and his many rings, Lebron James in Miami, women’s gymnastics at the 2024 when Simone Biles and Jade Carey and Jordan Chiles and Sunisa Lee and Hezly Rivera won gold, all of them no doubt inspiring another generation of talent to follow them.

Early impressions are lasting ones. We are so often fans of teams or players because we either grew up in a broadcast radius, our folks liked them, or they were at their peak when we were coming to fall in love with the sport. It was no different for one person who told about his introduction to the Australian Grand Prix because it roared by his neighborhood a decade-and-a-half ago. There was also the guy who smiled through a memory of going to see the Pittsburgh Steelers’ training camp to meet his heroes, because Mom and Dad made it happen. Similarly, another watched Tiger Woods make his improbable run in 2019 with his grandfather. I wish the older man had been in the room, so I could have also asked him what he thought about that moment with his boy.

It is easy to see how sport can reflect us socially or culturally. We bring a lot of reasons and a history of our own to these things. We put a lot into it. Sometimes we must explain the context of a particular event to help others truly appreciate a memorable moment. It is much easier to explain how they resonate on a personal level. The great plays and best outcomes — the swing, the stick, the deep bomb, the dagger, the buzzer beater, a woman runs fast, a man dives, an incredible backhand, a preternatural putt, a fine day in the sun, a long leisurely afternoon in the autumn shade, the fabled pimento cheese sandwich, the roar of crowds, the improbable post-season runs, high-fiving strangers — really, they’re all just permission, some of the world’s most ridiculous permissions, to fall in love with these silly things.

May we carry them forever.

What’s the best sports play or event you saw live? Why does it stick with you?

Friday / memories / photo — Comments Off
24
Oct 25

It stings

Well, that hurt. I went back to the dermatology center today — I think that’s also the name of the place. It’s about a half hour away and it is clearly a front for some jobs program. I have been there three times in less than three months and I have seen five different people in their exam rooms. First was the woman who did the summary inspection, a nice young woman already washed out before her term, staring at people’s skin all day. She had an assistant who excelled in not being at all visible or memorable. Two weeks ago, another person did the operation. Firm handshake. No real sense of humor. Michigan man. The woman who assisted him was delightful and kind, the sort that seems to have an irrepressible sense of good cheer about her. She’s probably been reprimanded about that before. I liked her immensely.

Today, which I have been looking forward to for the better part of the last two weeks, is when the sutures came out. I’ve been looking forward to it so, naturally, I was eight minutes late. Also, I had to go alone, because my lovely wife was out of town.

I was very brave.

Once, several years ago I was in a hospital waiting room and a mom and her young child came through. It was some sort of visit for the kid, and the staff at the admissions desk made an appropriately big deal about him. I was still there when they were through, and the woman at the desk remembered him and she asked, in her adult voice, not the patronizing kid voice, “Were you very brave?” And, of course, the little boy was, and I think of that from time to time. Today I was very brave.

This is what it was. I stuck my head in the at the desk. The woman there said they’d be right with me. I sat down just in time to be called to the back. A woman walked my around a byzantine set of hallways to an exam room. I asked her if she would be the one dealing with me today (because see above). She was the one that was dealing with me today. I asked her my series of carefully memorized and rehearsed questions. I got satisfactory answers to all of them. And then she proceeded to rip this industrial strength cable through my tender, delicate skin.

This was, again, just inside my shoulder, so I couldn’t see it but there were several sharp burning pulling moments. I wanted a local for this. When I got back in the car, in a few minutes later, I realized this was the worst the thing has felt since it was a thing. But Tylenol took care of that later in the afternoon.

So I had five stitches. Now I have none. And I went from a gauze pad to a Band-Aid. And, in a few days, it’s back to normal.

I have to have another checkup in a few months though. Standard procedure. I have been assured that the tests came back from the lab in fine order. The humorless man from Michigan land must know what he’s doing.

These have been sitting in my phone for a few days, and I don’t know why I keep forgetting to share them. So let’s share them. The last color of the hydrangeas, in the warm bath of a flood light.

They get bent over in the late summer rains, and never really recover their posture. But, aside from that, I enjoy the changing colors of these petals a great deal. There’s just a lot of character and nuance there. Like the bush is trying to tell me of the season, or the longer, cooler nights. I don’t know.

For another week or so, I’ll have that to ponder, and then soon it’ll just be sticks and twigs and waiting until it bursts back to life in March and April.

I could make that a metaphor, but my entourage of dermatology experts have told me I still must avoid heavy lifting for a few more days.

adventures / Indigo Girls / memories / music / photo / video / Wednesday — Comments Off
10
Sep 25

Let the wind blow back your hair

Worked in the home office this morning and early afternoon. Then we drove to the train station, where I saw this sign.

The people putting that sign together, and installing that art on the train platform, must have done all of that during off hours. What doesn’t feel right to me is the woman who watched videos on her phone at full volume for the better part of an hour.

Fortunately her stop was before ours, and we had blissful silence for 17 seconds. At the same stop, a woman got on the train, mid-phone conversation, speakerphone, full blast. It’s a common complaint of modern life: the loss of social graces, and headphones. I’ve nothing new to offer the conversation, and this isn’t playing through a loud speaker, so no one could hear it anyway.

We had dinner at The Alderman, the pre-theater dinner special, a four-course meal and you pick the two in the middle. I had a brightly tart, almost citrus salad with a lot of arugula. And then this half chicken which was drenched in grilled lemon juice.

It was all quite tasty. And now I want it again.

Then we went to the nearby Radio City Music Hall.

This was my first trip there. And it occurs to me that they should probably offer tours. Probably a half-hour walkthrough would be a decent draw. I’d think you could see and learn a few interesting things.

It turns out that they offer daily 60-minute tours! I hope it includes the chance to sing a little song or dance a jig on the stage.

Here’s the iconic sign, as you walk across the intersection. Yes, I will stop traffic in New York City for a photograph of neon. Fortunately, the people there are all very nice and understanding and accommodating.

Playing there tonight, Melissa Etheridge and the Indigo Girls. We saw them late last summer, and they were close enough, so we caught them again. Etheridge opened the show. She’s 64 and less dramatic (her word) but she still commands a stage, still has all of her power and can command absolute control of a venue. I had the first six or seven records on a variety of cassettes and CDs, but moved on somewhere along the way.

When we saw her last year, she did a dynamite cover of Joan Armatrading on the piano. And maybe, she had not been successful, Etheridge would have been the best cover singer you’ve never heard of. She does a killer Billy Joel cover and here, she’s mixing one of her own songs with a bit of her idol, Bruce Springsteen for a “The Letting Go – Thunder Road” medley.

And it hit.

Really fun show, wonderful venue. Took the subway to the train and the train to the car and then the drive home. Late night, long day tomorrow. And I’ll put up something from the Indigo Girls then.