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photo / Rowan / Tuesday — Comments Off on The semester’s last lecture
9
Dec 25

The semester’s last lecture

The last day of classes. We talked about the future of streaming media in the criticism class. We did an image repair exercise in the org comm class.

I’ve got this speech I give. At the beginning of the term I say that being at the front of the room gives me the opportunity to, from time-to-time, go off track from the class. I have this down to three speeches, two at the beginning of the semester and one at the end of the term. And today I remind them of the first two speeches. The first speech is about my hope to be a small part of them discovering the true value of education: the joy of learning. The second speech — particularly selfish, but they are my captive audience and this is my gimmick — is about being mindful of cyclists and other vulnerable road users when they drive.

Both groups nodded along that they remembered both speeches, which I gave on separate days in September. And then I launch into the third and final speech. I talk about the open mind you need in class. Next door to an open mind, I say, is an open heart. And around the corner is compassion.

I say to them, there is a time in life when the only thing of value you can give another person is your compassion. And there may be a time in your life — and I hope it is many, many, many years from now — when the only thing of value another person can give you is compassion. If you look at the world around us, I say, you can see that the world needs more compassion. It’s always been that way, and may always be that way. And so I ask them to nurture that compassion within them, so that when they are called upon to do so, they are ready to give it freely. That, I say, is why I end each class the same way. “Thank you for your time. I’ll see you next time. I hope to see you next semester in class or around campus. Until then, be safe, and be kind.”

And, then, for some reason, the students all clap at me, and most of them make a point of thanking me.

I don’t need those things, but I’m gratified to know that something here has meant enough for them to do so.

Some of our colleagues have decorated their doors for a holiday party tomorrow. This is my favorite one.

And here’s the sunset from the sixth floor. A sunset at 4:44 p.m.

And now it is finals time. My last final went online today. It is also meeting time. I have a faculty meeting tomorrow. I have a bunch of stuff to grade, too. Guess what I’ll be doing for the next week?!?

memories / Monday / photo — Comments Off on It was July of 2002, maybe August
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.

Friday / photo — Comments Off on It’s all fun and games, until the geese answer back
5
Dec 25

It’s all fun and games, until the geese answer back

We were standing outside, doing some outdoors chore, or talking about it. We were in the backyard, near the kitchen corner of the house. I’m sure we were pointing or looking or otherwise considering a plan of action. This is what I do. I work in the home office for a few hours, and then I go find something else productive to do for a while. Then it is back to work. Study breaks and work breaks are both useful. And this particular one involved being outside in the cold for a few minutes. That’s when I heard it.

honk.

Honk.

HONK HONK.

HONKHONKHONKHONKHONK!!!

I looked up, putting my eyes where my ears told me to go, toward the east. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and trained it on the sky, waiting for the geese to fly through the frame.

“QUITTERS!” I yelled, so as to be heard over their honking.

OK, I muttered it to myself. We have neighbors, after all.

Somehow the geese heard me anyway.

“We’re not quiting,” they said between honks. “We’re just going over to a field a few miles west of here. You know that. We’ve seen you over that way.”

Of course geese have recall and distinguish between humans.

Also, please note the skies.

It was 3:16 p.m.

photo / Wednesday — Comments Off on Flowers don’t wilt like they used to
3
Dec 25

Flowers don’t wilt like they used to

The weekend before last we went to a year-end party for the tri club that my lovely bride is a member and captain of. It was a nice affair, private rooms at a local restaurant. Big tables. Fixed menus. Only one small speech. An entertaining slide show. Good company. I met a guy who was car shopping. Big NFL guy. There was another gentleman at our table who has worked the chain gang for local college football games for decades. He retired from the job, which he did for free all of those years, but he was so good they brought him back this year. There was a couple who had one daughter in college and another on a travel cheer team. And these are the people you just want to ask what they do for a living, because it all sounds outrageously expensive. There was another couple I’ve met before at our table too. Anyway, it was all delightful.

At the end of the night, we took home one of the small bouquets of flowers from one of the tables. It sat, for a few days, on the bookcases in the library. And then Poseidon, who is the reason we can’t have nice things, found them.

I moved them, when he wasn’t paying attention, to an even higher spot. He found them immediately.

So now we’re playing keep away from the ruiner of iron and the ruster of stone.

They’re doing amazing things with cut flowers these days. This is now, what … 11 days or so since we took them. Still in fine shape.

I’m planning on keeping them around for a while. Changing flowers fit a certain melancholy mood, but I find the way the colors change, and don’t, to be fascinating.

Now we just have to keep the cat distracted.

Anyway, back to work. I have to finish a final tonight. It’ll be available to students tomorrow. My online class is rushing in toward their final group projects, and that means a lot of back-end of the semester work is flooding in. And we’re going to wrap up some talk about scandals in org comm tomorrow. But, in criticism, we’re watching a documentary. It will center on a fair amount of scandal, too, as timing would have it. Should be a lot of fun!

Instagram / photo / Rowan / Tuesday / video — Comments Off on Ready for turkey?
25
Nov 25

Ready for turkey?

Guess who has been giving me the business for not talking about them here. You guessed it. They get a whole month of highlights, and then I overlook their contractually obligated weekly appearances for a few weeks and the howling, yowling protests I receive … these cats should have been agents. They’d be devastating in negotiations.

Anyway, here’s Phoebe, in between lodging her protestations. She’s surveying her queendom.

On a recent cold night, Poseidon cuddled up next to me, on top of me, and under the covers.

That’s the boy that wants to go outside all of the time. Always needs to be under the covers, but wants to try on the cold of all outdoors.

Here’s Phoebe considering a bit of dust on the steps. I like how the tail curls around the paws.

And here’s Poseidon doing his best noir cat act.

He would have been great in an old noir movie. He’s got real charisma on camera. But he also has versatility. If he couldn’t get top billing, somehow, he could play a good mid-level henchman.

So the kitties are fine. They’re ready for Thanksgiving, and an extra day of cuddles.

And while Thanksgiving is Thursday we did have class today. The university is only closed Thursday and Friday. So we had class today, those of us that showed up. In my criticism class we discussed Mo’ne Davis is finally ready to play baseball again

Back in 2014, when she was on top of the planet, when she was the first girl to pitch a shutout at the Little League World Series, when she was on the cover of Sports Illustrated and getting recognized everywhere she went and fielding requests from what felt like every corner of the country, Davis heard something that she never forgot.

In the immediate aftermath of that wild run in Williamsport, Pa., her coach told her, “Mo, I don’t want this to be the greatest thing you do in your life. I don’t want you to be 35 years old stuffing yourself in your old Little League jersey and signing at a card show.” She took that message to heart.

That was not his plan when he delivered it to her. “When they’re 13, you feel like they’re not even listening to whatever you say,” Steve Bandura says now. He was stunned when Davis, now 24, recently used that quote in a newspaper interview to describe what had shaped her life after that famous shutout. You remember that? Of course she did. Bandura met Davis back when she was in elementary school and had coached her in multiple sports, and he’d always recognized how smart she was, how good a listener, how thoughtful. Of course she would hold on to something like that.

She was invited to the White House. She published a memoir. She struck out Jimmy Fallon on The Tonight Show, she was the subject of a documentary by Spike Lee, and she had not yet turned 15. She kept thinking about those words from her coach all the while.

It’s a good story, and it’s about her, but it’s also about this new baseball league, and the modern star, and the commissioner, and the draft, and Davis’ coach is our real tie to the younger star of years gone by.

The draft for this new league has since taken place. Davis was picked 10th overall. The Women’s Pro Baseball League is scheduled to begin play next May.

We also discussed Cowboys DE Marshawn Kneeland dies in apparent suicide at 24:

DPS troopers found Kneeland’s vehicle crashed on southbound Dallas Parkway near Warren Parkway. According to the report, Kneeland fled the scene on foot and officers searched the area with help from K-9 and drone units.

As authorities were looking for Kneeland, a dispatcher told officers that people who knew him had received a group text from Kneeland “saying goodbye. They’re concerned for his welfare,” according to recordings from Broadcastify, which archives public safety radio feeds.

Approximately three hours later, Kneeland was found with what appeared to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Happy Thanksgiving, boys and girls.

That’s a morning-of story, and one of the few breaking news style pieces of copy we’ve looked at this semester, so there were plenty of new things to talk about. And, as a palate cleanser, I ended the day with three quick videos, each with something we could discuss in a useful kind of way.

In org comm, we talked about stereotypes, prejudice and diversity. We discussed the organizational aspects of diversity and inclusion, and we talked the substance of organizational success. You could see them staring at the screen, with my extremely exciting slide deck. You could see them dreaming of turkey.

The blog is taking a few days off. See you next week. When I make my quiet little list of things I’m thankful for, I’ll be including the readers of the site in that list. And, of course, the kitties.

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