Samford


28
Apr 15

The little things

You wonder what things people take from their young adult years, what stories they carry into their hopefully long and prosperous lives. Someone will tell a few of these stories for a good long while, for sure. These celebrations are in the cafeteria:

Pretty cool, huh? One of the tennis players has been in two of my classes. One of the track athletes has been in my class and he’ll be getting his second conference championship ring. One of his teammates is our sports editor this spring and he’s getting his first ring, as a freshman. All of that is nice, but I just thought it was a nice touch how the folks in the athletic department took steps to point out their team’s success.

Paper tonight, and a run today and a lot of time in the office working on class things. Sometimes it feels as if the grading will never stop.

You might have heard of the weekend storm in the Gulf. One sailor died in the squall, and the search is on for others still missing. Sad story:

“I’ve now sailed thousands and thousands of miles and I’ve never seen a situation come up so fast,” he said.

And yet it was on land that Creekmore got the most terrible news.

“He’s a wonderful, very brilliant, very bright young man,” Creekmore said of Beall, who owned Kris Beall Construction in Alexandria, La., and was from nearby Pineville.

Creekmore described Beall as “very passionate about sailing.”

I was downtown tonight, for pizza, and so this was a good night to also see this story, which has probably never happened here before:

As cities around the country look for ways to go green, a recent report shows Birmingham to be leading the way in terms of air quality.

Ozone and fine particulate concentrations in the Birmingham area are at their lowest-ever recorded levels, according to the Jefferson County Department of Public Health.

You don’t have to go terribly far back in time to see the city in an entirely different, cloudy light.

The air has been getting progressively better over the years. You can even see the skyline for miles. I remember days as a kid when you couldn’t say that.

This gentleman is believed to be the last surviving member of Merrill’s Marauders in Alabama:

“My biggest concern and the gravest concern of all of us was — we were surrounded there — can they keep us with enough ammunition?” the 94-year-old Kinney, who grew up in Cullman County and now lives in Calera, said about the battle.

“We had been sitting there for 13 days and the Japanese had us surrounded. We had no food and no water for five days,” he said.

Kinney, who had suffered two hits from shrapnel and a bullet across his helmet during the fighting, recalled the Nhpum Ga battle came to a halt on Easter Sunday morning in 1944 with a victory over Japanese soldiers. It was the latest of several hard-fought battles for the Marauders, named after their commander, Gen. Frank D. Merrill, but it wasn’t their last.

“When we were disbanded, there was less than 200 that were still fighting,” said Kinney.

Nothing little about that.

I tell students that obituaries aren’t about the way people died, but about how they lived. And, occasionally, that makes for a story worth telling grandly. Here’s the story of a woman who was abandoned at a train depot as a baby, who then lived for a century:

Ione’s 65-year-old daughter, Margaret Pacifici, a nurse, said, “She wanted perfection.”

Son Joe, 68, an organic chemist, said, “If you had done your best and it was not good enough, mother would tell you to do better.”

Joseph, her husband, died in 1984. After that, Ione traveled. She read. She drove a Buick until she was 92.

She drove a Buick. Whoever writes mine, a long, long time from now, I hope they remember to get in a lot of small details like that. In any kind of stories, I think, those small details are the one that make the imagery sing.

The little details make the big picture.


24
Apr 15

A tiger of a start to the weekend

The life of a costume character is pretty weird, if you think about it.

Aubie

The life of a costume character is pretty good, if you think about it.

That all started because she pointed out that Aubie seemed to have some lipstick on his fur. He had something pink staining the mouth area. There was also something with a light peach shade. Who knows where it all comes from, girls, kids, cotton candy, a comic bit he did, the random impulsive smooches that a costume character steals.

Two classes today on broadcast scripts. That meant two more class preps and will somehow double the stack of papers I need to grade.

Ran late getting off of campus, but that just let me run into Katie, an old Crimson editor I worked with a few years ago. She has a photography business now. She was one of those you never worried about too much, good things were always in her reach.

We went to a cookout after the game and shot the breeze with a half dozen friends. Had a great time of it, too. Probably because of the food, which was pretty incredible. No one thought to bring any bowls or spoons for the beans, so they stayed on the grill, but the chicken and the deer were terrific. The company was great, too. I bet the beans would have been delicious.

Aubie didn’t show up at the cookout, but he could have and he would have been well fed.

The life of a costume character is pretty good, if you think about it.


21
Apr 15

A quick run through the hodge podge

They built a time machine in Manhattan. And it is fantastic. Just fantastic.

We should see to it that every elevator has this technology.

Speaking of going back in time, journalist Ernie Pyle was killed this week in 1945. He was the kind of journalist I want to be when I grow up — the traveling all over the country and meeting people and writing about them part, not the war zone part. But Pyle could write about war. He could write about loss. He could write about minutiae in the face of tragedy. And he could write about regular people. He could write about anything.

I’d never heard this story about the piece that inspired a young Pyle:

If any one thing inspired him, during this period, it was Kirke Simpson’s news story on the burial of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington Cemetery. Simpson was an Associated Press reporter.

“I cried over that,” Pyle told friends later, “and I can quote the lead or almost any part of the piece.”

Kirke Simpson, as an old AP man, won the Pulitzer for the piece Pyle was talking about, the first wire service writer to win the Prize. And that piece is an incredible piece of literature and history. The lead Pyle mentions:

Under the wide and starry skies of his own homeland America’s unknown dead from France sleeps tonight, a soldier home from the wars.

Alone, he lies in the narrow cell of stone that guards his body; but his soul has entered into the spirit that is America. Wherever liberty is held close in men’s hearts, the honor and the glory and the pledge of high endeavor poured out over this nameless one of fame will be told and sung by Americans for all time.

Toward the end:

Through the religious services that followed, and prayers, the swelling crowd sat motionless until it rose to join in the old, consoling Rock of Ages, and the last rite for the dead was at hand. Lifted by his hero-bearers from the stage, the unknown was carried in his flag-wrapped, simple coffin out to the wide sweep of the terrace. The bearers laid the sleeper down above the crypt, on which had been placed a little soil of France. The dust his blood helped redeem from alien hands will mingle with his dust as time marches by.

The simple words of the burial ritual were said by Bishop Brent; flowers from war mothers of America and England were laid in place.

In between, and after, is a journalistic tour de force. They should read that at the tomb every Veteran’s Day.

There are photographs and more AP copy from the ceremonies here.

Something fun … this is at Birmingham’s WBRC. Mickey Ferguson is the weatherman. Swell guy, lots of fun. Wonderfully comical. And this other gentleman stole the show:

And also this, which brings two of my favorite themes together: the kids are alright and we live in the future:

Finally, spring at Samford is a wonderful time to be on campus. Here’s an example from earlier this afternoon:

spring

Not bad, huh? Hope it is a lovely spring wherever you are.


17
Apr 15

A quick note on a busy, and slow, Friday

A full and busy day. Didn’t get home until 9 p.m. and there was baseball after that.

Led one class on data gathering. We talked about 990 forms and financial statements and online resources and text references and digging up story ideas from that sort of source material.

There was another class where we discussed broadcast writing and radio scripts.

Then I sat in on a bunch of interviews and all of that made the afternoon race by.

Which got a lot slower as soon as I got on the road. Two hours stuck behind this scene this evening:

truck

It had been there for four hours before I got there and they weren’t close to having the roadway cleared by the time I inched through it.

truck

At one point both lanes were closed, so there was a detour. And between the backup on the interstate, the other direction and the detour, they had 12 more wrecks. And one lane was shut down for more than eight hours.

A great big, rainy mess then. Hope everyone was OK — there was one injury reported — and that we all keep our sense of perspective while we’re stuck in a bad day of traffic.

Then baseball with friends. And now, I’m going to go fall asleep — pretty quickly, I’d imagine.


15
Apr 15

Wednesdays move swiftly

Another Wednesday, another full day. Class stuff in the morning, lunch, and then a class, which is immediately followed by another class. And then advertising phone calls and emails and faxes. (That’s how we upload.)

Then comes a few minutes to catch up on news and then student meetings. That’s followed closely by the newspaper critique, pictured below:

critique

critique

They are a swell group. Sharp, engaging, witheringly funny. They’re doing good journalism, too. If you need some promising young reporters, it turns out I know a few.

I saw this late last night and wanted to share it here today. If you’re an Auburn person, or a sports fan, you likely knew that Philip Lutzenkirchen died last year. I met him three or four times. (I don’t hang out with those guys or chase them down, but small town, BMOC and all that.) He was smart, handsome, talented, a nice fellow, well liked, respected by his peers and his fans. I wrote one of the first things about him, along those lines, after he died.

His profs liked him too, as a person and a student. (One of The Yankee’s colleagues wrote a nice piece about him, too.) Lutzie was coaching at a high school and looking forward to his next chapter when he died. A stupid, dumb tragedy that killed two boys, one a promising young man in college at Georgia and his friend, a guy just out of Auburn and a kid himself.

From that, though, comes this, which is one of the more courageous things I can imagine. His father spoke at that first hometown memorial. And he’s taken this on as a mission. Within just a few weeks of losing his oldest kid he was in locker rooms talking to high schoolers and college students. I saw him pick a kid out of the crowd, talk to him for a few moments and then send him out of the room. “And just like that, he can be gone.” Mike Lutzenkirchen sharing a raw, real, candid kind of message because, he figures, he’s filling the hole.

So here he’s talking to a room of high school athletes this week. It’s beautiful and hard and real. And kids should hear it, bad as it is for anyone to have to speak it from their own terrible personal experience.

And far be for it me to tell Mr. Lutzenkirchen how to tell his family’s story, he mentions the prom example in that speech, but he undersold it. From the Department of The Kids are Alright, comes perhaps the sweetest story you’ll find today.

And since we are at the anniversary of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, check out this cool slideshow from CNN.