A full afternoon of classes. In my criticism class we watched three short pieces. Usually, on Thursdays, we settle in for a long documentary, but I wanted to try a few shorter packages. We talk about specific themes in all of these programs, but I wanted to hopefully make a point about how stories get necessarily compressed, and what might be accentuated, or omitted, in these shorter pieces.
So we started with Chris Nikic making history in Florida.
That one worked pretty well. And then we watched this NFL propaganda about new helmet technology, featuring former wide receiver Steve Smith Jr.
I thought that one was interesting because we spent a day earlier this term discussing the NFL’s CTE settlement, via a Washington Post story. It is interesting in a “how it’s done” way, but it is 100 percent a piece intended to make fans feel good about the what the league is doing for player safety. That’s not a bad thing, but it’s not a subtle thing, either.
Then we ended with this public television package trying to understand and explain Philadelphia sports fans.
And that’s where I lost them. Not exactly sure how that happened.
But in org comm we continued our talk about ethics, which is always a really exciting time. Fortunately, we have a big gambling scandal in the NBA to talk about. I had them read this Joon Lee opinion column and we discussed several elements of that. I had them look up a few other interesting points for some more context. We talked about their own impressions about gambling in sport. And then we ran through some different sorts of hypotheticals. They were largely into it, which is a great result in a week when you’re talking about ethics.
In the office, way up high on the sixth floor, I noticed the trees were looking lovely.
Last week might have been the peak leaf turn here. Maybe it is this week. Probably it won’t be next week. Nothing about foliage fits into the old calendars anymore, but admire them when you can. And from above, if at all possible.
And admire Catober, while you’re at it. The month ends tomorrow. (But there will be some too-good-to-omit photos next week for a Catober bonus post.) You can see them all by clicking that link and scrolling through a month of cozy kitty photos.
It was a mild day. Just below the seasonal averages, but not bad. No rain. Windy at times. Blustery you might say. Why did I sit in front of a computer all day when there was a day like that, just outside of these windows. Ahh, yes, work.
Tomorrow we will watch three TV-sized packages in my criticism class. It’s a quick nod to how the storytelling must change when you’re more compressed for time than a typical documentary. In org comm we will continue our discussion about ethics, but I’m going to sit back and listen to the class discuss pressing matters of state. Somehow, this all requires planning. Also, I spent the day trying to get ahead of next week’s documentary. There’s a film I want to show that is the runtime of the class. My goal is to leave room to talk about the thing. But I can only really cut about nine minutes out of the film without losing the spirit.
What to do, what to do. I think, what I’ll do, is show it next Thursday and come up with some way for us to talk about it the following Tuesday. On the one hand, there’s more time to consider your thoughts and impressions. On the other hand, that’s Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday to lose all of your thoughts and impressions.
Maybe it can become a writing exercise.
If you are the sort of reader who can never get enough of these sorts of stories, then you, my friend, live in the right era.
When there’s an outbreak of a vaccine-preventable disease, state health officials typically take certain steps to alert residents and issue public updates about the growing threat.
That’s standard practice, public health and infectious disease experts told NPR and KFF Health News. The goal is to keep as many other vulnerable people as possible from getting sick and to remind the public about the benefits of vaccinations.
But in Louisiana this year, public health officials appeared not to have followed that playbook during the state’s worst whooping cough outbreak in 35 years.
Whooping cough, also called pertussis, is a highly contagious vaccine-preventable disease that’s particularly dangerous for the youngest infants. It can cause vomiting and trouble breathing, and serious infections can lead to pneumonia, seizures and, rarely, death.
Complete medical disregard for the local community by the health care professionals aside … In the 28th paragraph the NPR affiliate finally gets to, “A spokeswoman did not answer specific questions about the lack of communications but referred to a Sept. 30 post on X by the state surgeon general.”
Which — in a story about time, responsibility, and children — should maybe be in every other paragraph.
Bari Weiss this week clocks up four weeks on the job as chief booker (sorry, editor-in-chief) of CBS News. Breaker hears that she has unimpressed staffers with a series of bold ideas in the 9 am call.
Last week, following the jewel heist at The Louvre, Weiss suggested they interview author Dan Brown. Staffers questioned what expertise in the matter Brown would provide CBS News viewers? Brown is well known as the bestselling author of the 2003 mystery novel, The Da Vinci Code, about a murder at The Louvre.
On Tuesday’s 9 am call, Weiss suggested a story about how people who are scared of climate change aren’t having children. “She is showing her worst self,” one CBS News journalist told Breaker. “People are running to avoid her.”
Pretty regularly now, when Sen. Tommy Tuberville finds a camera, someone comments about the Alabama education system.
I, a product of that system, understand the joke.
Tuberville on Trump's third term: "He might be able to go around the Constitution, but that's up to him."
But dear commenter, I need you to know: Tommy Tuberville is from Camden, Arkansas and holds a BS in PE from Southern Arkansas University.
Speaking of Alabama. More than 750,000 Alabamians are enrolled in SNAP — almost 15 percent of the state — including 7,800 who work in grocery stores. But we must also think of the trickle down effects.
The grocers association said any cuts or interruptions to the program could cost Alabama up to $1.7 billion in annual federal funds, resulting in a $2.55 billion economic loss. That would put “rural grocery stores — often the only food source for many communities — at risk of closure,” the association said.
Grocers in Alabama were already warning about the impacts SNAP cuts would have on them when the Big Beautiful Bill was passed in July, cutting $186 billion in funding for the food program.
Jimmy Wright, who owns Wright’s Market in Opelika, told AL.com that about 35% of his customers use SNAP.
“It could have a huge impact on our business,” Wright told AL.com “If business drops by 20%, I can’t cut off 20% of my lights or call my insurance company and tell them I’m going to have to reduce what I pay them to compensate. All that’s left is payroll.”
OK, back to work for me. And, for you? Something more fun than work I hope.
Rowan / Thursday / video — Comments Off on Keep your eyes on the scenery and your hand upon the wheel 23 Oct 25
I got a great deal of work done in the office today. The key was I had a list. The other key was, no one was on our floor during most of the time I was there. The other key was that I had an extra 75 minutes in the office based on how my day was set up. What that really means is that I’m closing in on some of the work that should have been done days ago.
But other work keeps popping up. And student papers. And every other thing. Plus prepping for the next class. Plus remembering the things I’d forgotten.
Right now, at least two things may be considered permanent fixtures on that list.
It’s OK, though. I’m sure next week I’ll have the time to finish those items. This is a thing I’ve said for the last four weeks. Or 12 years, who can really say?
Anyway, in lieu of anything better, I’d like to share with you a few of the lovely views from my drive home from campus. It’s quite the bit of scenery.
Tomorrow, I’m getting these stitches removed from my back, and finding out how many more days I need to take it easy. (I’m pretty much over that, which is always how you know you’ve recovered nicely.) Join me tomorrow for a report from the doctor’s office, won’t you?
But before that, make sure you’re caught up on Catober. Today was Poseidon’s day to look handsome, and he pulled it off easily. But both kitties are giving vibes. Click that link and scroll back to make sure you’ve seen them all.
We spent the afternoon campus, because campus called for us to be there. My lovely bride had to take a few photos. And I had the chance to sit outside and enjoy the trees and the leaves and the breeze for about a half hour. Probably it wasn’t that long, but it was quiet and slow enough to feel that way, and that probably means something.
And after that I did some grading in the office, in between the casual meetings that are held in the doorways of the office.
The bulk of the afternoon was devoted to a faculty meeting. It was said that it should be a seven-hour meeting. It was two-and-a-half. I am not sure it needed to be seven. But I did learn something important about curriculum creation. And I was able to talk about our department’s social media progress — views up 174 percent, followers up 22 percent! — which is now something I oversee.
I also wrote a bunch of email today, but I think I’ve done that most every day for the last quarter of a century and it might not be that notable anymore.
I remember being so excited when I got my first email account, in college. How often I checked it. How important it felt to check frequently. How I spent way too much time coming up with absurd sig files. How I instinctively understood to avoid FWDs. I remember my first spam. Now, I’m just trying to figure out how many times I should peer into an inbox in a day. And also wondering why there’s so much in my inboxes, which I treat as To Do lists. The bigger the inbox, the more to do. And so you see the loss of appeal.
In the front yard the Acer nigrum, the black maple, is turning. This is such an interesting tree. So steady in its coloration, until this week, when the leaves begin to turn green.
It’s a large tree, fully developed and mature. Maybe 70 feet tall, and it sits right next to the road. It looks like a sentinel as you drive through. And the best part is that most of the leaves just … disappear.
We’ll gather some, but not nearly as many as have been showing off all year. Maybe they all go into the neighbor’s yard, across the street. They have one of these same trees. Who can tell where the leaves come from?
OK, back to work. I must finish preparing for class. There’s a midterm in one tomorrow, and a strategic planning exercise in the other. So there’s only the one slide deck to prepare, but, still, information must be conveyed, and I am the one that must do it.
Listening to the trees would be a better use of the evening, though.
Today was pretty lousy. Just a bad feeling day all the way around. Body weary, incision … incised and sore. I enjoyed that delightful disoriented feeling of painkillers, without the benefit of painkillers. Just the worst day since the day after my little surgery. And odd that it comes 10 days after the thing.
So it was a delightful evening to go speak to a bunch of students, trying to keep my thoughts in order and my acronyms in line. Just a marvelous impression I left them with.
And then we went out and sat in the cold. I intended to take off my sports coat and put on a jacket I had in the backseat of the car, but it was taken out of the car. I did enjoy these portable little seats we got recently. They have chair backs, and they were material, rather than a cold plank of aluminum.
It was a first round game of the field hockey playoffs. My god-niece-in-law (just go with it) is a senior on the team. And she got a penalty shot in the game.
Her team won 7-0.
On Saturday, a day when the weather was much warmer and I felt much better. We went to the beach, and to a boat. But not this boat.
Same goal, though. We were out looking for whales, which are passing through on their seasonal migration. And what do you know, there’s a humpback now.
We saw two of them, from a safe and non-threatening distance. (There are laws about this. And the company that does the tour is very keen on following the laws, and telling you about them. And, also, keep your feet on the deck at all times. And please, for the love of the salty seas, stop trying to lean over the rails to pet the whales. They are 50 yards and more away.)
Thar she blows!
Or he. I’m not one to assign gender to our ocean-going neighbors. That may have been fine for Mellville, but we live in different times. Also, as far as I know, I’m no Melville.
(I’m no Melville.)
So we saw the one whale, and watched it dance and swim around for a while, and then quietly we moved off. And we found this whale.
It turns out that humpback whales have distinguishing patterns on the underside of their tails. Our vessel had several naturalists and some interns aboard, and while we were oohing and aaahing as tourists, they were doing the important work of studying the beasties. And they knew this one, and realized it, just from these quick glances at the tail marking.
We saw a handful of bottlenose dolphins on the way back in. But you’ll have to take my word for it. No pictures of them, but here’s the rock line that marks the return back into the little port.
And here’s a row of fishing vessels that were safely tied up. Maybe it’s a seasonal thing, or a Saturday thing.
It was a lovely little visit. Two whales, lots of birds, some dolphins and a nice day on the water. A three-hour tour. Not a single Gilligan reference was made.
We drove by this place on our way out, but did not stop.
It seems pretty bold to say you have the world’s best coffee. And at this particular store? They have 24 locations. To say nothing of every other shop that sells coffee. What are the odds?
At home, we had a flyover by a few Canada geese.
They’ll go back and forth from fields to ponds for weeks, always that direction in the evening, and the opposite direction in the midmorning, honking all the while.
