memories


28
Feb 11

History, history

Back into the swing of things today. It was this evening before I realized I felt normal today. Weird. I’ve plowed through many long projects, pulled far more consecutive all-nighters and found myself in lots of anxious tests, papers, projects, work assignments and so on. But the comps last week beat me up far better than any of those things. I wrapped that up Thursday and I couldn’t get back to feeling normal (meaning exhaustion and general ease) until tonight.

I went to bed last night before 10 p.m., for example. That just doesn’t happen.

Anyway. Back to it today. Back to the phones and the email and the syllabus and grading and so on. Lots of grading this week.

Also rode the bike a little bit. A tiny bit. My pedals arrived — I’m not sure if I care for them — and so I did a few laps around the neighborhood sizing everything up. Feels like a good bike, the new Felt. Now I just have to remember how to ride.

It’s like riding a bike. Yes, I know. I learned to ride a bike on a gravel road. Merry Christmas, and thanks. It was no one’s fault in particular. My first big boy bike was delivered by Santa to my grandparents who, until the last few years, were so far out their county didn’t even realize they were out there. Necessity being a mother, I was taught the Jedi trick of balance, was pushed, pedaled and fell.

But if you fall on gravel you learn quickly how to prevent that from happening again.

[I fell off a bike just a few weeks ago, so take that gravel road! (My grandparent’s road is paved now) I couldn’t stop fast enough, and I had the choice between a curb or a port-a-potty. I got over the curb, saved the bike and managed to execute a perfect fall, distributing the kinetic energy of my motion as evenly as possible over the ground … and laughed as I was covered in mud.]

So maybe gravel doesn’t teach you how to never fall again. But you learn quickly all the same.

On this day in history, since I couldn’t anywhere to take pictures today, this is stripped directly from my Twitter stream and indulgently embellished beyond the 140-character limit.

In 1997 there was the North Hollywood shootout. It was a Friday. (I just clicked back through my calendar to be sure. You want depressing? Click back to the point you were in college and wonder why carpal tunnel is kicking in. Too many clicks.) I was a sophomore, so I’d probably gotten smart about morning classes by then. Let’s say I was just waking up. Two bad guys killed, eleven officers and seven bystanders shot. More than 2,000 rounds of ammunition were expended. There was a television movie, which was better than it should have been. Some of the footage was made at the scene of the shoot out, six years earlier. Also, the film used 40,000 rounds of blanks.

You can just imagine how that played out in production meetings.

“So we’ve got to find a way to get more than 2,000 rounds in 44 minutes. That’s almost a shot per second!”

“Have you seen the work of John Woo?”

“Right. Better make it 40,000.”

On this day in 1993 the Branch Davidian raid started the standoff in Waco. I was in high school (and, thus, am not clicking back that far to see what day of the week this lands on.) Four feds and six Davidians were killed as the ATF tried to serve a search warrant. Since that worked so smashingly they decided to lay siege for 50 days. Seventy-six people, including almost two dozen children, died in the infamous fire. Not the government’s best moments.

Something brighter then! Remember 1991? I don’t recall specifics of this, but I clearly remember when the Gulf War began. But on this day, 20 years ago, President Bush declared victory, seemed destined for a second term — if Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf didn’t swoop in — and life was grand. Oh, sure, some folks wondered about Baghdad and why the good guys didn’t march on in, but other than small details like that, life was good.

A few others wondered how they could spell Schwarzkopf and make it count on write-in ballots. So beloved was the general from New Jersey that even Madonna had a lyrical fling.

Can’t imagine that these days.

In 1983, there was the M*A*S*H finale. I don’t remember seeing it then. I wasn’t even in kindergarten yet, but I do remember the intro from the original airings. It was years before my mind could convince my eyes the helicopters weren’t flying backwards. Optical illusions are tough, I guess. It was longer still before I would see the finale. And I worked for a year or so at a television station that aired M*A*S*H constantly.

It is still in the top five, ratings wise. There are four Super Bowls and the farewell. I wonder how that show would do, today.

And, finally, in 1958 a school bus rear-ended a wrecker on a foggy morning in Kentucky. The bus fell off into a ravine and, ultimately, into a flood-swollen river. Twenty-six kids escaped. Twenty-six more, and the driver, could not get out of the bus and drowned. This is the worst school bus disaster in American history. The other worst bus disaster in the country was in 1988, also in Kentucky, also killed 27. (That one was a drunk driver hitting a school-turned-church bus, causing a vehicle fire that the victims could not escape.)

Because of these two incidences Kentucky requires buses to have more exits (nine) than anyone in North America.

The drunk driver that hit that bus in 1988, incidentally, received a 16-year sentence as a repeat offender on 27 counts of manslaughter. He was considered a model prison and was released after 10 years. (He declined an offered probation.) The church members, those most profoundly impacted by what was a truly national story, largely forgave him. The profound amount of courage that must take will always mystify. Now he lives just a few miles from the crash site.

You’d think you would get as far away from that as you can.

And now, for no particular reason, Dilbert:

Dilbert.com

I went back 20 years (more clicking) on this date. Dilbert has said exactly five things on February 28th. You’re welcome.


16
Feb 11

Trees at Toomer’s Corner poisoned

Out came the news today, some pathological deviant decided to do dastardly deeds. As of this writing the police are reportedly near an arrest and the fate of the trees is uncertain, but the situation is very grim. The best forestry specialists and horticulturists around work just down the street. If the stately old trees can pull through, they’ll be the people who make it happen.

But let me tell you a more important thing about my alma mater: Auburn and her family are stronger than oak and more sturdy than history. We’re going to say “Meet me at Toomer’s” for generations yet. The power of dixieland is going to be just fine.

War Eagle and plant a tree.

“I believe in the human touch, which cultivates sympathy with my fellow men and mutual helpfulness and brings happiness for all.”


8
Feb 11

Three stories and a forecast

To finish the joke about comedic timing from yesterday …

When I was in high school and working at Stanley Steemer — oh, the stories those people can tell about the people they meet on a daily basis — I befriended this guy who was about 10 years older than me. He had the best music and stories and he’d been places and done things and was just a very interesting person to talk to. We worked well together, made a lot of money and someone made a running joke that he was my father. This was funny because the age difference wasn’t that great and, also, because he was of recent Japanese descent.

So Jon would say these worldly, funny things all the time and we eventually starting ripping off a Saturday Night Live/Kung Fu joke. It was an SNL bit from before my time watching the show, but I caught on to the shtick. He would say something interesting and I would say, “Ah yes, but Master, why do you call me Grasshopper?”

He would close his eyes and say, “Because you are ugly, like insect.”

This went on for months.

And then one morning Jon says, “Oh, and the master’s blind.”

You had to be there.

Busy day today. Had lunch with The Yankee, who was hosting students at a conference, and our friend Brian. After that I finished my class prep, taught, ran this errand and that. The day gets away from you when you never sit down.

And, you’ll be proud, I taught so hard I hurt my back.

Still not sure how that happened.

This class last Thursday was canceled because of ice falling to the earth without having the decency to melt. So I felt compelled to get part of that session in today too. There was the social media presentation, and a big handful of other things to discuss. Got them out on time, though, and knocked off all but two things on the list. After two small meetings after class there I retired to my office and listened as the staff put their newspaper to bed. This is the week of Step Sing, the big song and dance revue which dominates Samford for the first part of the spring term. Everyone puts a lot of time into, and a lot of the paper people are involved. They’re all working hard in about six different directions at once. They’re tackling it all with good morale, though, so that’s encouraging.

Did a lot of administrative stuff today. Followed up on phone calls and Emails and marveled at how that job never seems to end. I got one step closer to putting one of the big outstanding projects behind me. I’ll knock that out tomorrow. Another I should also be able to soon finish and pass along to others. This is good progress, resolving the things eat into your best intentions. That’s where I am now, on the edge of being able to pull myself up that ledge, so I can proceed a-pace.

A-pace being something slightly more productive than treading water. Until you get there, though, you just have to try and stay afloat.

I don’t know how it is now, but I did these summer day camps at the local YMCA when I was young. One of the programs at our Y had to do with the wonderfully over-chlorinated indoor pool. Yes, this has changed. Anyway, there was a graduated system of developing swimming skills. You achieved things! Got a membership card! And a cool fish name! At the top of the scale, of course, was the shark. I believe there used to be a dolphin or porpoise in the mix, but if so that’s gone. Somewhere along the way toward the top of this system we had to tread water. I think it was for six days. Or 75 minutes or an hour. Whichever was most agonizing.

I hated that.

I also seemed to remember having to inflate a pair of jeans and float on them in some bogus boat-rescue exercise, but I could be conflating that with lifeguard drills.

Anyway. I can keep my head a-float and a-pace like nobody’s a-business.

Lots of things have changed in the ol’ swimming game, just to veer off to something random because when I think of pools I think of warmth and the current temperatures are the opposite of that. The Yankee and I were both certified as lifeguards once upon a time and we occasionally shock people with this story.

When I certified, lifeguard training and the protocols they used for rescue were a lot more aggressive than they are today. If you were in distress the lifeguard came to get you. If you panicked and fought the lifeguard off the lifeguard might fight back, because you ruined his or her tanning lotion. Or, on a really good day, the lifeguard might put you under the water (which ALWAYS adds to your clarity). A lot of people are shocked to hear this. These days they throw in a float and tell you to grab it. If they do get wet, they are trained to wait until the person goes under before going in.

This just takes all the fun out of it, and is when I lost interest in the lifeguarding game. Not that I ever had interest, really, but the mountain was there, and so I learned how to climb it.

There. Aren’t we all warmer now for having heard that little story? It is going to snow here tomorrow.


7
Feb 11

Monday’s new mission

I have a new gimmick for this space on Mondays. Since the day is spent pinned beneath the computer — picture it, the machine has fallen on top of me, on the monitor is a vaguely human expression of determination, I am feebly trying to crawl out from under it — I’m just going to make this the day of a great dumping of links.

Oh there’s still Monday history, for the 1.4 people who come here to find out what I find interesting. That’s been transmorgified (Now there’s a wonderful word. It means something, but as yet has not been defined. We just know it is something about a mutation, but that G sound in there just makes it sound … unpleasant.) into a little elaboration on what I put on Twitter in the morning.

And I do that every morning on Twitter. There the habit seems to be recent history, mostly American or culturally impactful things that I find in a daily history app. I’d do more meaningful tidbits, but it is hard to explain 16th Century context in such a small forum. So I limit it to the baby boomer set when I can. From there and the two following generations people just know stuff. Right? That’s why President Obama talked about Sputnik, because it has seeped into the public consciousness, even if it was someone else’s actual event. Everyone knows what “we” did with Sputnik. And certainly the recitation of that storied tale was accurately told in the brief news packages the next day. Sputnik, when Russia launched us into space! It was Sputnik that put us on the moon!

This isn’t a new phenomenon, actually. There’s a great quote by John Adams after Benjamin Franklin died, where in his most bitter, paranoid way imagined the way the story of the American Revolution would be:

The essence of the whole will be that Dr. Franklin’s electrical rod smote the earth and out sprung General Washington. That Franklin electrified him with his rod and thence forward these two conducted all the policy, negotiation, legislation, and war.

The word insecure, in the psychological sense, only dates back to the early 20th Century (make your jokes here). But if they’d had that concept at Philadelphia, New York and Washington, they might have used it to describe Adams.

Stories change, is the point. Maybe it is enough that people remember Sputnik with fear and wonder, or bemusement, and tell their kids. And then one of those children grows up to inject it into a speech that his boss, the president, gives before a joint session of Congress and the nation. Anything is possible when that kid grew up with a father who used Old Spice.

Did you know there’s a new Old Spice commercial?

I wildly digress, but that’s OK because Monday, in the original Latin, means Stream of Consciousness.

If you’re really suddenly very curious about what recently historical things I’m trying to condense into 140 characters, then by all means, follow me.

From that storied feed of valuable historical information we remembered that today:

In 1990, the Soviet Union collapsed. This is oversimplified, of course. It took about two years, but on this particular day the Central Committee let loose of it’s power. They’d finally gotten around to watching Rocky IV and saw the writing on the wall.

I remember watching television when the Berlin Wall fell, but not this day in particular. So let’s make it up. This day in 1990 was a Wednesday. I was in class. I was in the seventh grade. So let’s say I was in … Coach Tucker’s social studies class. Why not?

This was before my time, but I remember reading about it on the 40th anniversary. In 1967, at a rooftop fine dining restaurant in Montgomery, Ala. a fire broke out in a cloakroom. The flames quickly spread, blocking access to the elevator and stairs. When they finally put out the flames they pulled out 25 bodies, including a prominent former state official, the wife of a newspaper editor and one of Jimmy Hoffa’s chief lobbyists. Here are two contemporary accounts, including one from a reporter who had dined there the night before, and considered returning that night.

Here are the recollections of survivors and firefighters:

And here’s the place today:


View Larger Map

In 1964 the Beatles invaded. In 1962 the United States stopped trade with Cuba. If I could have lived in the sixties I would have stopped just after the British invasion began. After that it was a long time to sit around for something fun. Sure, there was Apollo and the moon in ’69, but that would mean wading through five more years of that decade.

My mother asked me once, I’m sure I’ve written of this here, if the moon landing meant us much to my generation as it did her’s. From the exploration and science standpoint, sure, it is incredible. But, on the other hand to my age bracket we’ve always been on the moon. The previous generation got the experience of seeing it happen.

Of course, they didn’t have Google Moon. Come to think of it, they might have won this round.

Other links of varied merit: AOL is paying $315 million for Huffington Post, approximately 10 times HuffPo’s reported last year. From a financial point of view they overpaid. From an intangible point of view, it is anyone’s guess. I’m siding with Alan Mutter:

If HuffPo’s revenues triple this year to $90 million, then Armstrong can tell his shareholders he paid “only” 3.5x more for HuffPo than its sales are worth. If HuffPo sales triple again to $270 million in 2012, then the value of the deal is likely to be about 1x HuffPo’s revenues at that point and Armstrong, assuming he remains on the job, can tell the skeptics he was right.

The question to ask yourself in evaluating the long-term financial benefit of the acquisition to AOL is whether you think HuffPo is capable of bringing in a $270 million in annual sales within a couple of years.

Poynter’s Damon Kiesow finds some problems with Rupert Murdoch’s newest venture, The Daily:

I have been reading The Daily regularly since it launched on Wednesday, and almost every time I open the app, I’ve been confused to see a message telling me that “a new issue” is being delivered.

The Daily is published every morning, but Editor Jesse Angelo also said that it wouldn’t be “static” and would be updated as events warranted.

He’s quite forgiving of the experience, which is a better reception than The Daily has received in many corners. Of course there will be problems to overcome, this is a new enterprise, after all. These things must be done in full view of your audience, which is tough, but familiar to news types.

If only they’d announced it as a beta, everyone would be more willing to accept the learning curve.

Finished up a social media presentation for tomorrow. Three dozen slides should just about do it, right?

Try to make sense of that if you like, but it is mostly images and not too much text. The places with text will be, I suspect, where notes get taken. More to the point, though, I’m hoping to demonstrate the virtue of a PowerPoint presentation where every word isn’t read from the screen. This is an entry-level class and this is meant as something of a not-quite-vague overview.

Sadly I won’t be talking about cool stuff like this, where Coke is looking to move into SMS as a mobile priority:

“If you want to reach every consumer on the planet, texting is the way to do that,” said Daly, speaking Friday at MediaPost’s Mobile Summit conference in Miami. To underscore his point, he noted that 2.3 trillion text messages were sent worldwide last year. And as one of the world’s most pervasive consumer brands, Coca-Cola is always interested in reaching as wide an audience as possible.

Texting has even helped the beverage giant sell more Cokes through vending machines equipped to handle mobile short codes and cashless payments. The unlikely combination of traditional and newer technologies has given vending sales a 14% lift where the specialized machines have been rolled out, said Daly.

That’s just fascinating. You don’t often see Coke making bad marketing moves, so if Coke says they’re concentrating on SMS, you should be the next group.

Did you know our accents are changing in the South? Seems that way. Language is a fluid thing and it is always changing, everywhere. There’s a lot of neat stuff in this story as researchers ponder how and why this happens. I’m surprised no one is thinking of mediated influence. Naturally that wouldn’t be the only cause, but certainly it could be a significant contributor in modern times. Television and radio shape and influence patters, too.

But then I’m a media effects scholar. Here’s my hammer, there’s a nail.

This week Dr. Oz is unveiling his choice of Unhealthiest Cook in America. And Paula Deen’s boys are somehow involved in the promotional aspect of this, but it isn’t Paula. That’s odd. There are less healthy cooks than Paula Deen and her sons — it’s good, food, sure, but your doc would be displeased. Would you eat this:

Place burger patties on English muffins or buns, and if desired, on glazed donuts, as the buns. Top each burger with 2 pieces of bacon and a fried egg.

I made fun of this on Twitter, just as The Yankee uploaded a picture of the cupcakes we bought this evening for dessert. The secret to comedy is timing.

Tomorrow I’ll tell you how I learned that.

Ehh? Timing! Get it?


21
Jan 11

Swimming in Internet problems

Charter. Internet. Problems. This problem has lingered on for three weeks.

The people on the phone have been nice. The technicians that have visited the house have been nice. There is a great disconnect between the two aspects of the company. It has been my experience that any company with the word “Communication” in its title doesn’t do an especially good job communicating within itself.

So we’ve had Charter troubles for a good long while and everyone who’s had the experience understands. Finally I became a little more insistent on the phone yesterday. A serious, sturdy fireplug of a man visited, fixed things and left. But the problem wasn’t fixed. So I called again and they rescheduled, but the guy apparently didn’t return last evening based on the phone call we didn’t receive. So we called again today, when the problems continued again, and I talked with a supervisor.

She listened patiently, said the guy had returned last night for outside work (but the story changes, so who knows) and professed her inability to do anything more than give a little discount before sending someone else out.

Someone else came out and worked outside, a condition upon which I insisted, as every variable inside had been tested and approved. We shall see.

All of this fussing, though, has resulted in two different Charter employees following me on Twitter. I told one of them, as I told Helen, the supervisor, that Charter needs a secret handshake. I appreciate that things occasionally go offline and need repair. I’m willing to accept it on good faith that the company has been responsive and is trying to find and fix the problem. By and large that has been the case during all of this. The frustrating part is having to detail all of this to each random person I meet on the phone.

“That’s a good idea!”

Write up a memo, then. Get a raise.

Brian is here, and Wendy too. They’ve each come to visit for the weekend. Brian made it this afternoon and we took him to the swimming and diving meet. Brian was a swimmer and The Yankee was a diver. I have watched both on television and covered the sport, but just sit and nod to their observations.

Auburn has one of those powerhouse swimming and diving teams. They have 13 national championships in the last 15 years or so. When I was in school I did a coach interview show where I had the great pleasure of regularly speaking with then-coach David Marsh. He coached 22 Olympians at Auburn and 89 individual NCAA title winners. This is the most important thing I learned from him.

“You have to respect someone willing to spend hours and hours, swimming hundreds of laps, to shave a thousandth of a second off of their best time.”

When David Marsh talked about swimming you sat quietly and listened.

So Auburn (the men were ranked sixth, the women 12th) upset visiting (5th/6th ranked) Florida, proving Tigers are better than Gators in the pool. Florida does well at distance, however.

But the sprints today were all Auburn. This is the men’s 50-free:

Auburn’s swimmers Adam Brown, Karl Krug and Marce Chierighini swept the top three places in that event.

Wendy got in this evening as the rest of us finished a delicious dinner The Yankee made. Tomorrow we’re going to Auburn’s national championship football celebration.