August, 2010


25
Aug 10

Got your days confused?

I do, apparently, but as personal problems go it is mild and worth working through. There could be so many more. Your starter may not start, for example. Worse still, your alternator may not alternate.

Happily all of the various mechanical parts of my lovely automobile are doing just what they are supposed to do — taking the action, adding the -ER at the end to give it a name and then safely transporting me from A to B. I have my health. I have many other wonderful things we sometimes ask overlook. In that context, my confusion over whether it is the 25, the 26 or the twenty-thirtheighth is not the biggest problem in the world.

Oh, you didn’t even notice, but I’d mistakenly dated the blog. You didn’t notice, did you? Oh, good. If you had I would go out back and make a flogging spectacle of self-flagellation. So, a thousand humble apologies.

Beyond maintaining a straight gig line I don’t recall having any sort of obsession of minute detail before I built my first web page. I blame Tim Berners-Lee and the summer of 1996.

Anyway. Hit the phones today, in a terribly exacting way. Tis the season to call all of the high schools in the region and remind them about the upcoming journalism workshop for high school students at Samford. It is a tricky thing, catching teachers on the job. Often they are in class, as you might expect.

Some of them have voicemail. For others you must simply leave a message the old-fashioned way, with an office aide, and hope it gets through. Those I’ll be calling again next week.

The workshop, though, is a strong one. We’ll have several hundred students for a day of magazine, newspaper, yearbook and broadcast sessions. The high school students get to meet our faculty, visit our beautiful campus and hear from industry leaders. They get war stories, advice, the chance to get a little insight on what kind of work they could do one day and so on. It is a fine workshop, I’m glad I’ve had the chance to work on it the last two years.

Somehow, during the day of calling, I managed to get the operator. That’s not right. I landed in the operator’s voicemail. This would surprise most people, as we still think of the operator as a bank of individuals with a nasal voice sitting at a giant console full of patch cords. Operators have voicemail?

And what would the function of that be, anyway? I needed your assistance with a particularly tricky area code, and also, was feeling a bit lonely and wanted to chat. But you’re not there. So … I guess I’ll just Google it. Thanks, though.

So I left a message in a nasal tone, asking if they could ring me back and put me in touch with someone in Peoria.

I don’t know anyone in Peoria, but I’ve always been anxious to learn how a great many things played there. This would seem to be the time to find out.

I’m still waiting for the operator to return that call.

Made jambalaya for dinner. We’d picked up fresh sausage at the meat lab recently and I’d mentioned it to The Yankee. She thought that might be a good idea. For jambalaya, though, you need musical accompaniment. I considered Pandora, but I guard my minutes there carefully now. To the App Store!

You want zydeco? There is no app for that.

You can, however, get a stream from the legendary WWOZ. (Rush right now to grab yourself a wonderful community-supported radio experience.) It was jazz night, and that works for sausage and Cajun concoctions. Ultimately I think the Italian seasonings in the sausage muted the festivities in the jambalaya, but you live and learn.

I listened to jazz, from New Orleans, almost 400 miles away in my kitchen tonight over my phone, via my wireless network. This modern world, and the Internet will never cease to impress me. I credit Berners-Lee for that, too.


24
Aug 10

Black and whites

Before I fall asleep, which will happen any minute now, there are four new installments in the Black and White section. That link starts you at the beginning. If, by some miracle of amusement or pity on your part you’ve been following along, you can see the latest starting here.


24
Aug 10

Sales meeting, and also, Ted Turner

Getting to be that time of year again:

Samford fanfest

Incidentally, that white vehicle on the left margin? That’s an armored truck absolutely running through a stone cold red light. Almost whacked that car, which was turning under a supposedly protected green arrow. I hope the money made it to wherever 45 seconds earlier than necessary. But I digress.

I stopped by an outdoors store — where they pay a guy to ride a forklift, full time, moving giant gun safes back and forth across the parking lot. It is a curious activity. Anyway, I’d stopped there because I have this old knife:

USMC knife

My great-grandfather gave it to me, years ago. It is a Marine Corps knife, though my grandfather was in the army. (You can read a bit more about the knife here and here.) He was a medic in Europe, earned a silver star and a purple heart. After the war he came home, never talked about it, raised his family and farmed his land. I think, if I remember correctly, he found this on the side of the road and gave it to my mother to give to me when I became old and smart enough to not cut off my hand.

Not that there’s any danger of that right now. The blade needs sharpening. But, otherwise, it is in great shape, except that the one tang has the point snapped off. The blades need a good deal of cleaning. I know a little about knives, enough to know you can damage them if you clean them incorrectly. So I’ve been hoping, for a while, to find a knife expert. Hence the outdoor store.

Find the knife counter, they had a knife counter, and the guy working there interrupts his conversation with another man who was Ted Turner.

Or his twin.

And, yes, you’d think he would have been taller. In the South the man is as big as life itself. In person, this gentleman was about five-foot-four.

The guy behind the counter says he can show me what I need. He leads me away. I apologize to Mr. Turner, who says “A great-grandfather’s knife is far more important than I am.”

Which is how I realized that the man I met wasn’t Ted Turner. There’s no way that guy is as cool as this guy.

The stuff I need, is a product called Flitz. Wash the blades with a mild dish soap, he said. Dry it. And then go to work on it with Flitz. It will take elbow grease, but it will shine the blades up nicely, he said.

I’ll let you know how the project turns out.

Met the new sales manager today. She’s a nice young lady. I try not to overload them with too much material all at once, but sometimes there is just a lot to be shared. We talked for about an hour about rate cards and sales approaches and this and that. I think she’ll do a very nice job.

I’m going to sit down with the Samford Crimson staff next week and talk about goals and achievements and try to start them out with a good, passionate first step. The are a little young, this year, but there’s a lot of potential in the group and I expect they’ll take some great strides and be doing great things before the year is out.

No pressure.

At the gym I had a monster workout. Basically doubled the reps on squats and lunges. I did way too many trapezoid curls. I did abs. I rode 30 miles. All together it was a two-hour endorphin ride. That ended before I even made it to the shower, unfortunately. But! But. If I could work out for two hours on a regular basis I’d be very pleased with myself.

If only.

Tomorrow: I work the phones. I read. And the 1939 World’s Fair will make a comeback.


23
Aug 10

Monday is now history day

Beach volleyball, anyone?

Bump set spike

No? OK, then. I agree. It is too hot, still, for all of that. I spent a little time in the evening — when it wasn’t 1,000 degrees, but rather 997 — taking a few pictures to give us something else to chat about on the site. You didn’t demand it, but I knew you were thinking about it, so here are a few bits of local history.

Drake

Drake was still listed as the university surgeon in 1927, so he must have worked right until the end. They named a building after him, the medical clinic. It was still in operation when I was in school, but by then had earned an unfortunate reputation. The students joked you were only diagnosed with strep throat or pregnancy if you went in for a visit. I served as the official photographer of a renovation project at Drake while I was still a student.

These days, the clinic is gone. The new medical facility is across campus, the old spot now home to a sparkling new engineering facility.

As for Drake’s military service, noted on the original marker, he rode with the 53rd Calvary during the Civil War.

The 53rd Alabama Cavalry Regiment, Partisan Rangers, was organized by increasing the 1st Cavalry Battalion to regimental size at Montgomery on 5 November 1862. Recruits were from Autauga, Coffee, Coosa, Dale, Dallas, Lauderdale, Lowndes, Macon, Monroe, Montgomery, Pike, Tallapoosa and Wilcox counties. It proceeded in a few weeks to Mississippi. In moving from Columbus to Decatur, in Lawrence, a portion of the regiment was there equipped and proceeded to join Gen’l Earl Van Dorn. This battalion was in the fighting at Thompson’s Station, and at Brentwood. The regiment was engaged in the fight with Union Gen’l Grenville Dodge at Town Creek and in the pursuit of Union Col. Abel Streight. Soon after, the 53rd joined the main army at Dalton as part of Gen’l Moses W. Hannon’s Brigade, Gen’l John Kelly’s Division. It operated on the right of the army as it fell back towards Atlanta and was engaged in constant duty. When Union Gen’l William T. Sherman reached Atlanta, the 53rd was the principal force engaged in the daring raid in his rear, whereby a valuable train was destroyed. It was then at the heels of Sherman as he devastated Georgia and the Carolinas, and it took part in the last operations of the war in that quarter. It surrendered a small number with Gen’l Joseph E. Johnston at Durham Station, Orange County, NC, on 26 April 1865.

I’m sure it was miserable.

Incidentally, to ride with cavalry you had to weigh less than 165 pounds.

There doesn’t seem to be a good picture of Dr. Drake, but if you look here you’ll find him third from the right, on the front row, at or around 69 years of age.

Here’s one more:

Thach

Dr. Charles Thach, who’s marker reads:

Guided by a humble faith in the Christian religion he dedicated his life to the education of the youth of the South. The lives of Auburn men made larger by his influence and the institution to which he gave forty years of loving service, and of which he was president from 1902 to 1921 are his real memorials.

“And whosoever of you will be the chiefest shall be servant of all.”

Not a bad thing to have said about you. The University’s historians continue:

Following (API President Leroy) Broun’s (1902) death, the board elected Thach, an API graduate who had spent his entire career at the school, to succeed to the president’s office … Thach immediately launched a campaign to bring the school’s financial needs to the attention of the state legislature at its upcoming session.

[…]

In June, 1906, Thach began preparing the board of trustees for the upcoming legislative session. He called their attention to the higher costs of scientific education over that of classical education and warned that they faced a choice: either support scientific education and thus allow Alabama’s natural resources to be developed by Alabamians or ignore it and the state’s resources would be developed by outsiders, a euphemism for Yankees.

It goes on like this for a while, the first 1o years of Thach’s tenure as president focusing a great deal on raising money. This did not sit well the University of Alabama. If you keep reading the link you see the good old fashioned classism at play. There were promises of money from the legislature that never came to fruition and they haunted Thach’s administration for the second decade of his tenure. He needed buildings, he got empty words and stalls. Those issues were somewhat resolved after World War I and the end of Thach’s time in office, but there were many ramifications to the funding problems from the Progressive Era.

Here’s the only picture of Thach I have, from the 1918 Glomerata:

Thach

He’s probably writing an alumni there, probably asking for money, the two things for which he’s generally remembered. Today, he has a building and a street named after him.

Tomorrow: meetings, and the 1939 World’s Fair.


22
Aug 10

Catching up on stuff

Four pictures for you that didn’t find there way elsewhere on the site this week. First:

Dr. Copeland

That’s Dr. Copeland, one of our talented and kind professors at Alabama. He’s on my dissertation committee, and I’m lucky to have him. That’s not his Emmy, but rather one of his students. That is, apparently, the first Emmy won by a former Alabama student and he brought it to be displayed in a trophy case somewhere in the building.

Allie's toys

Allie got a care package from her grandparents. These are called Midnight Crazies, or some such upsetting thing. Allie doesn’t need help with the late night, early morning fun. She’s a yowler. It is a special grief to hear this for hours and for no discernible reason.

The Strutting Ale House

It was the Ale House. Very recently it became the Strutting Duck, which had moved closer into town. Just the other night we walked through the parking lot on our way to grab a burger and noticed the Strutting Duck sign. Now it is the Ale House again. Very strange.

A bird

This bird did not like me.

Also, three videos, all shot from my phone:

That’s from my Thursday morning drive. Nice, empty field, nice empty, country road. It has a good feeling.

We were at Petco, checking on kitteh food options when a big guinea brawl broke out.

I edited that while we were walking through the grocery store. This is the coolest thing ever.

And finally:

The ice cream man War Eagleth.