Thursday « Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

Thursday

Ice Station Alpha

Nope, still not melting. Because it is never going to melt. Oh, they say this weekend. But this weekend will turn to next week. Just wait and see. And while we wait and see, I actually like this one, shut from the hip, but how the light comes in from the side is nice, even if I blew it on the horizon.

I always blow it on the horizon.

You shouldn’t put your horizon right in the middle, but there I was, admiring that light leaking in from the left, and there’s the horizon, right there. But this time it makes sense, see. Because I’m telling two stories in this photograph.

First, the sky, the clouds, and the light. Lovely!

Second, the snow and ice. Which will never melt.

In Rituals and Traditions we talked about fan identity and social identity. Here I make fun of Georgia fans, because they make it easy. We also talked about highly identified fans, and so I used this local TV package to introduce them to Roll Tide Willie, who is a wonderful example.

We also discussed BIRGing and CORFing — basking in reflected glory and cutting off reflected failure — and there are, of course, examples of Willie CORFing. He’s a little over-the-top as an example, but he’s funny and memorable. And, as I said, I know more than a few people like this. Fans are fans, after all.

We’ll talk about a different view of fandom next week. I’m trying to do all of this from the point of view of looking at fans as if we worked for a team, or a league, or an athletic department. A big question is, How do we help maximize the fan experience? From there, I think, this class could become quite rewarding.

In Criticism we watched the excellent documentary “Venus vs.”

It’s a 2013 piece, directed by Ana DuVernay. As she told the story of a tennis player rising to the peak of her powers and changing the sport, she was, herself, on her way to huge successes. It’s a good documentary, and we talked about it for a few minutes near the end of class. What can documentaries teach us? How, and in what ways, should we view documentaries. And how should we think about what we’re seeing?

On Tuesday, we’ll talk about some of the visuals in that documentary. Look at the way those interviews were captured. We’ll talk about media aesthetics. Why were the shots composed as they are? What do those shots say?

What does this shot say?

It says it is never going to melt. And if you think it feels like a rejected shot from Ice Station Zebra, I wouldn’t disagree.

Maybe this weekend. But probably not.

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5
Feb 26

Left, on a jet plane

Want to guess where I am? You can guess where I am. Here’s your first hint, I am not at home. Here’s your second hint, it’s a quick trip. Here’s your third hint, here’s the mode of travel. Or, at least, part of it.

We are attending a wedding this weekend, meaning a few nights out in hotels and restaurants and with one or two people we know. We’ll be in and out in no time flat. Getting married is one of my lovely bride’s former students. (This is the third wedding we’ve been to out of that particular cohort.) It is a black tie affair. (No pressure, other former students.)

We are also chummy with the groom’s parents, who are delightful people and I am looking forward to seeing them all tomorrow.

From the airport, and after an easy direct flight, we took an Uber to the hotel. The woman that drove was was just adorable and hilarious. She told some stories about some of her clients. And she let me lean into a few jokes about them. A little small talk with a southern woman is a thing to behold. She dodged traffic and avoided idiots and got us to our hotel.

We checked in with no problem, and then had dinner at a newly opened hipster tavern a few blocks away. I had one of those burgers that was overstuffed with condiments. You had to be careful to lean all the way over your plate to avoid dripping anything on you. Also, they had spicy ketchup which was, authentically, spicy. I don’t know what inauthentically spicy ketchup tastes like, but this wasn’t that. It had a flavor profile that haunted the taste buds, lingering there like a hint, and a memory, a smoke that won’t leave the room, a spice that burned after its welcome was worn out. Fortunately, I could wash it down with a glass of sweet tea. Another thing to behold, and I held it, right there in my hand. And then I had a refill.

Maybe another. Who can count such a joyous thing?

Tomorrow, we have meetings, and then a welcome party for the wedding. And some virtual work on this tiny little desk in our little room. It’ll all be charming, and about 25 degrees warmer than home.

We started working on a survey instrument today in Rituals and Traditions. I’m going to have the class survey members of the campus community. The survey data will, hopefully, help them in their group projects. So there I sat, keyboard in hand, typing up the suggested questions that the class came up.

We started as a brainstorming session. No question too silly. Well, may not that question, that question is silly. We wound up with about 40 questions. And then we took a pass through the whole lot of them and struck a few that probably wouldn’t help too much. We re-framed some of the questions to shape them up a bit better. And now I have to cull the 30 or so that remain. Thirty is probably too many for the type of survey we’re going to conduct, so I have to get this list down to 15 or so. And then build the survey.

Great fun!

In Criticism we watched the HBO documentary Fists of Freedom, which covers the lead up, and protests in the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City.

I like Lee Evans’ part of the story, because he seems like a fun guy. The best segment here is Bob Beamon’s record-breaking long jump. It’s a beautiful moment of filmmaking. Scrub ahead to 36:08 for that.

They called it the leap of the century, and it took something like 15 minutes to resolve the distance. In the end, he’d jumped 21 inches farther than the previous world record. (And the world record holder was in the field at those Games.) Beamon’s mark would stand for decades.

The whole documentary is well done. (Though there are some weird edits in the embedded video for some reason.) Released in 1999, almost all of the primary participants are included here. Bronze medal winner John Carlos, notably, is absent. And we’ll talk about that in class next week. This documentary, and next week’s will hopefully set the stage for how we think about documentaries over the rest of the term.

But I’m not going to think about that until Monday. For now, I’m going to relish these 35-degree lows and contemplate the sheer novelty of a 50+ degree day tomorrow. It is not that at home. Spring is about to hit, here, right on time. I know that because things will be budding by February 14th, when a normal spring should arrive. I know that because I have the curse of experience, which becomes an embittered thing in the second week of February and I see a low temperature of … 15.

At least, when it gets even colder at home this weekend we won’t be there. Until Sunday, when it gets even colder. But not here, and not right now.

Rowan / Thursday / video — Comments Off
29
Jan 26

There’s no pattern like migratory patterns

I recorded this video, then forgot about this video. Then the platform wouldn’t let me upload the video. Then it did let me upload this video. So this Monday video is now a Thursday video. But it could just as well be from today.

These geese hang out in some fields a mile or two to the south. And they’re heading back there in this shot. They’re flying back from the sloughs a few miles to the north of here. I’m not sure their schedule, but lately they’ve been flying the other direction in the early evening.

I love the geese, and the honking. I love them because I hear them passing by, and because I don’t hear them constantly.

Let’s talk about work. That’s what that image just above is about. That’s on campus … somewhere. I do not work in that building. I haven’t seen that building.

One day, when it isn’t 5 degrees out, I’ll have to take a shot of our building to use as another banner.

I was dreading class today because I felt the need to try to cram in two days worth of material in one. Going slower is better, but owing to the weather, I feel behind, hence the urge to overfill one day. Also, these were designed as two important days.

Fortunately, I’d asked the students in my Rituals and Traditions class to write a brief paper about this topic in advance, and that told me exactly where we all are, so I can tailor the presentation and cut the superfluous. I also had a colleague stop by and talk to the class for a few minutes, just to help set the table. And so, somehow, the class moved along nicely.

Later in the afternoon I had to complete the stage setting for the Criticism class, and there’s a lot to establish at this point for the rest of the term. I prepared one slide deck out of two, and had to work through varying pages of notes all out of order, hoping to make it flow, determined to make sure it made sense.

We made it through. A lot of what we discussed, in both classes, will come up a lot throughout the term, of course. And in Criticism, at least, there aren’t a lot of lectures. As I joke, they don’t want me to lecture, and today they found out why. That class becomes more conversational and Socratic, and I’m glad for it. I just need to figure out a way to make Rits and Trads something like that, too.

Happily, it was still daylight when we left campus at 5 p.m., and a bracing 6 degrees, having warmed a full 20 percent from several hours earlier. It was dark by the time we got home, however, but the days are growing longer. In just two more weeks nautical twilight will be at 6:30, and that’s the second sign that there’s seasonal hope.

There’s eight inches of packed ice outside my window right now, so it feels like a bit of false hope, but nevertheless. The sun is telling us that winter is on its way out. We’re gonna win.

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22
Jan 26

How you get there

So focused was I on the tasks of the day that I was about three-quarters of the way to campus before I realized that I’d gone the wrong way. There are several routes, of course. But you might want to wind up one one side of campus, and so you go this way. Or, if you want to arrive on the other side of the place, you’d take this turn, much earlier.

I wanted to do the latter, but we were almost there when I realized I’d done the former.

You’d like a story to start better than that. I mean that both the general and the specific sense. You’d like a story to start better than that. And you’d like a story to start better than that. But this is what else I’ve got. I woke up, did the morning reading, had a bite to eat. I sent a note to my online students. (I write them several times a week.) I finished getting ready — swapping out pocket squares several times — and then pulled my backpack together for the day.

The drive was far, far, more interesting, I know.

Two classes today. I walked right into the Rituals and Traditions class and we talked about sports for an hour, which was good fun. At the end, I summed it up, how all of these things allow us, encourages us, and gives us permission to feel passionately about something as silly as sports. Sure, I said, it’s important. And you can make that case in a number of ways. But, really, boil all of that away, and it is silly. And it is also important. That’s why we’re all here, in this class, in this program, after all.

After, I held office hours. No one stopped by. I did a bunch of work. I wrote a former student back. I received a lovely thank you note yesterday, and it deserved a careful reply. The rest of that time I spent making sure my Criticism class was ready. In that one, we also talked sports for a while, just trying to get everyone talking. And then I gave them two quick pages of notes, just the basics of criticism, what it might mean and how we’re going to apply it.

I started to learn a few names today. There are 46 or 47 people. I’m bad at that. It’s a shortcoming. I’m aware of it, and I dislike it. It takes me forever, but this term I have a head start. I know about 10 of these students already, and I look forward to getting to know the rest.

The days are getting a bit longer. Oh, such a happy sentence! We drove home and admired the sunset along the way.

There was an explosion in the sky. Unfortunately, the power lines were on the west side of the road for that portion of our commute. It took a while to get to an open space. By then, the colors had shifted, growing smaller but no less intense. In a way, it was better. Sunset photos are wonderful, but just watching the thing is better.

And, also, driving, of course.

Being in the moment was so much better than this, where I pulled off the side of the road, next to a field that is quietly waiting for spring. Me too, field.

But here was that view.

At least, I thought when I started this evening’s drive, I’m going the right direction.

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15
Jan 26

Cold and new sweatshirts

It was cold here today. At the peak of the afternoon the thermometer, which is, of course, an app, said it was 32 degrees. But, just below that, all proud and sure of itself, was a line that read: Feels like 22°. But at least it was sunny, here on the inner coastal plain — where the heavy land and the green sands meet.

Yesterday it was 50, for a time. Right now, this evening, it feels like 15.

All of these numbers have been verified against other outputs, because I’m not the simple sort of person who thinks we don’t need weather forecasters or forecasts anymore because we’ve got phones.

Some people think of it that way. I talked with one over the holidays. He was playfully griping about his wife always watches the weather, and why is there so much weather, and where did the sports go on the nightly news.

Rare is the day when I can tell people what I do and they want to talk about it. So we did. And I’m pretty sure he came to regret it. As I explained … ahem … the National Weather Service, and Accuweather, and IBM and it’s super computer and The Weather Channel and the private equity firm that owns them now, and satellites and buoys and forecasters … to a man who has been in commercial aviation for longer than I’ve been alive.

Just your random guy, this would make sense. But you have to figure, a man that flew for Delta, and now boasts of flying rich people around on their whim, would have some passing familiarity with the demands of the atmosphere on the needs of his job. But, no, it’s right there, in your phone.

Friends, it is not.

Anyway, cold, but sunny. I will take the former because of the latter. I accepted it cheerily today, albeit with a shiver, and because this was the last night of the season when civil twilight arrives before 5:30 p.m. We are, friends and loved ones, making progress out of the darkened season.

It occurred to me the other evening, as I put on a fancy new sweatshirt, that a simple and small thing I would do if I had no cares in the world money, would be to buy up a bunch of sweatshirts. Don’t get me wrong, I have a lot of old sweatshirts, several of them decades old, and they occupy an important place in my mind and in my wardrobe. But there’s something magical about slipping on that new sweatshirt the first few times, when the inside is just so.

It is the tactile version of the new car smell. It is soft and luxurious, and maybe in a way most of our torsos don’t deserve. Of course, you say, that’s silly. When has a torso ever deserved anything. Others will say, a new sweatshirt isn’t an extravagance. But, no, I’m saying I’d figure out how many wearings and washings I could get out of each shirt before it didn’t fit this criteria any more. Then I’d give the thing away, and wear a new one. How many would that be a winter? Thirty? Forty? If I had money that I’d never miss, that’s a thing I would do.

I thought of that recently while I was slipping on this handsome little fellow.

It was a gift from my godmother-in-law (just go with it). She has three of us to shop for, though really she doesn’t need to buy me anything, so every year her sons-in-law and I get basically the same thing. And she’s good at it. I have some really nice lightweight pullovers from her thoughtfulness.

And if I spread out wearing them, they’ll last a long time. Decades, maybe.

I managed to avoid a Thursday meeting about a Tuesday meeting, which was to precede a meeting next week. I wrote something that kept the meeting from happening. I wrote it on spec last night. It was requested today. I blew it up and rewrote the thing, just to make a few points more carefully and clearly.

And then I wrote a document that, hopefully, will be of some help to my faculty colleagues. Our university does a wonderful job of building up support services and resources for the student body. And what is in the surrounding community is quite robust, as well.

The problem I have seen, on every campus I’ve worked on and probably the ones I attended, as well, is one of awareness. Not everyone knows about all of these programs. How could they? Why should they? So in each class I build a one-page document with some of the most important resources and share it with my students. Last semester I thought, I should share this with my colleagues, in case any of them would like to add to whatever they distribute. I did that earlier this week, and that led to a few people sharing what they share.

I began to think of synthesis. I said I would pull all of these together once the semester got under its own power and nothing needed my attention anymore.

Well, that’s silly, of course. Everything will always need our attention. So I just did the thing today. And what emerged was a three-page Google Doc full of campus and community resources. And maybe someone can make good use of them in the days ahead. Or maybe we can keep building the thing out in weeks and months to come, because, even at three pages, it is hardly complete.

So I wrote six useful pages before lunch. And then I had lunch. And late this afternoon I have built two more lectures. That means … hold on, I’m doing math.

…

Seriously, this takes a while …

… probably longer than one of those documents I wrote this morning …

I think approximately half of my semester’s course work is laid out.

Barring the unforeseen and small changes.

(This is the part I’ll keep repeating, if only to see the list grow smaller.) That should leave me only with grading the work of 93 people throughout the term, plus the 15 or 20 things I’ve planned to write, plus finishing two research projects, and three panel presentations. Plus committee work, my contract packet, whatever else pops up, and so on.

So I have some free time between now and early May, clearly. Obviously I volunteered to present guest lectures via Zoom in Minneapolis if a teacher somewhere needed it.