not an organ recital...

 The title surely requires some explanation. The phrase was shared with me by a very dear friend  who noted that as we reach a certain age our conversations, particularly with long-time friends, turn to a listing of our various aches and pains, our treatments and surgeries, our medications, and of course our failing organs. "I got heart problems" "I had to have my gall bladder out""my kidney stones are killing me" and on and on...

This is not about that conversation, but more importantly about the friends with whom we are comfortable sharing our stories. In June I had a seizure that took me off the road for 6 months. Anyone who has had their driving privileges suspended knows how difficult and limiting that can be. During this aggravating time I once said ala Blanche DuBois, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." But that has not been so. I have come to recognize the genuine kindness of friends who are willing to go out of their way to help. Friends have made this difficult time less lonely, less isolating, less painful. When first thinking of this I realized how many people had helped by being there, joining me for lunch, getting me to the golf course, keeping me engaged. Ed, Frank, Larry, Kurt, Bill, Ted, Jeff, John and John, Cliff, Matt, Steve and Kevin, Karen and Jenni. Each has played a part in keeping my spirits up for the past six months. That is not to say that time with Terri, Caitlin, AJ, Thomas, Ashley, Craig, Colleen, Addy, Elise, Helena (bunnie), William, and Sophie has not been a joy, but I never want to be a burden or an obligation. 

We might not always recognize the power of friendship. I have come to a new appreciation in reconnecting with a close friend from close to 50 years ago. Honestly, I was concerned as I had not heard from him in a very long time, nor could I find anyone who had news of his whereabouts. he reached out after news of my presidency appeared in an alumni article and reconnected. Our recent conversations have covered a lot of ground from our mutual interest in music (we like to think that we were alternative or grunge before it became a thing) and our divergent paths to where we are today. We have both come to a place of self-discovery, and perhaps most importantly self-forgiveness. We cannot undo the wrongs we have committed, but we can atone and perhaps make existential amends by focusing on those things we do in the future, how we live our lives moving forward, He and I have, in my parlance, chosen "helping professions", he in nursing and I in education. As I listened to him tell about his path back from the precipice I was relieved to find that he had come to this place of freedom and relief. His peace gives me hope and promise for others in my sphere. 

With the coming holidays I hope to maintain a spirit of gratitude, kindness, patience and forgiveness. Doing otherwise IS a burden I do not wish to carry.

Haven't gotten to Spinoza...yet

 I had hoped to spend time reading Spinoza to find why when asked "do you believe in God?" Einstein always answered "I believe in the God of Spinoza". I promise to come back when I have a revelation.

My thoughts recently have been far more mundane, and yet they have me questioning what is really important? I assume that readers know me personally (as who would read the rantings of an old man otherwise)so you probably know that my brother Bob is a professor at the University of Oklahoma. Bob will be at OU for 25 years soon, and he has had a tremendous impact on his field of water quality and the environment. That said, he has also been drawn into, albeit peripherally, the madness of OU and Big 12 football. Football is truly a religious experience there on the plains and his friends follow the Sooners like bloodhounds hunting a fox. The recent news out of OU, and recent outrage of OU football fans, has been the move from OU to USC by their head coach Lincoln Riley. The twitter sphere, the YouTube channels, and sports reporters across college football have analyzed and scrutinized this move to death. OU has moved on and hired an excellent coach from Clemson so the fire has died down, but the anger and vitriol directed at Riley has been astonishing. All this brings me to my point; what does any of this have to do with the business of the university? 

There are several possible answers to this question. Football generates a fun environment for those four years of deferred adulthood many of us experience. Football generates alumni support and creates a national audience for successful teams. Football can, and often does (again for high-profile, successful teams) generate revenue from TV, logo'ed items, gate receipts, and now, even beer sales. That answers in part the question as this all has to do with "business" but little to nothing to do with the university's mission of teaching/learning, research, and service. 

I got into a bit of hot water in my last position, president of a start-up college, when I said that vegan bars, climbing walls, and "lazy rivers" had nothing to do with teaching and learning. I was castigated in the press as abrasive, so be it. The simple truth is that higher education is engaged in an arms race that will seriously undermine the quality and desirability of American Higher Ed. Our spends on amenities to attract more and more students to "generate net tuition revenues" will result in fewer options as colleges unable to participate in the "arms race" will shrink or disappear, and institutions engaged in branding will spend more and more time and money on "the brand" while making inadequate investments in quality teaching. The war has already begun in classrooms across the nation where the battleground has been marked by donors trying to direct or re-direct curricula to fit a particular ideology or perspective. I can almost hear the collective eyebrows being raised as the defense is that "the damn liberals in the classrooms have brainwashed our young!", and that it is time that different values are inculcated in those classrooms.

What is the connection between football, an arms race for students, and ideology? Simple. Money.

As the federal government and states have pulled back support for higher education and opened up opportunities for marginal, high tuition, schools filled with empty promises while strangling state systems and opening up the area of accreditation which served as some measure of quality control, we see the arms race bringing in not just missiles, but tanks, howitzers, and even ground troops. Ask anyone who ever worked for a school that compensated their recruiting staff on meaning enrollment goals, they are the ground troops on the front lines and the attrition rate both for recruiters and the students they enroll are staggering. War without bloodshed, but plenty of casualties.

With tongue firmly in cheek I will close with this quote from my favorite work of fiction, A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole

“A firm rule must be imposed upon our nation before it destroys itself. The United States needs some theology and geometry, some taste and decency. I suspect that we are teetering on the edge of the abyss.”

Thank you if you read all the way to the end!

Back in the saddle and off the ranch

It has been a long time since I posted anything here, if you were one of the 2 or 3 people looking for the nuggets of wisdom (or are they more like grapenuts?) the last few years have been quite eventful. One of the readers, a dear friend from long ago asked why I hadn't shared in so long, and so this missive from the missing man.

I have been keeping a journal lately, having a lot of time to reflect on life and what is really important to me. I retired in April. Earlier than I had planned, but a healthy decision when I think about the toll working and being away from my family was taking. Like any life decision there is a process, and for me that process was not unlike mourning. I went through the stages, I experienced the ups and downs that accompany a major life change, but I also found I needed to reassess, to look at what I HAD done. To recognize that all I ever wanted to do was to make a difference, and I believe I have.

Part of this process, and of the journal, has been to find a way to keep my center. To stay true to what I t believe, and to be the person I want to be. My mantra, simply stated comes down to; patience, kindness, forgiveness, and gratitude. If I can be grateful for each day, if I can be patient with myself and others, if I can consciously work to be kind whenever possible (it is always possible), and forgive others and myself, I can be the person I aspire to be. The past few years, while difficult, have sharpened that focus, to find that which is truly important, and to endeavor to make things better for others whenever possible.

Perhaps the greatest takeaway from all of this has to be more reflective. My five grandchildren are the greatest gift I could ever hope for. The health and success of my children makes me proud of them everyday. Terri and I are married 41 years now, even as I see many friends and colleagues divorce and separate. I am not spiritual enough to use the term blessed, but I am analytical enough to see that this has taken a lot of work.

I have a lot of work to do on me, next time I will speak of Spinoza.

Back from the Wilderness

I've been away from this for quite a while, over two years since I last posted anything. But I'd like to share some thoughts now.

There are many theories about what is wrong in our country right now. We appear to be divided as never before, but many writers and historians have noted that this division has existed for a long time. The incivility of our political discourse has been every bit this coarse in the past. What has not changed is the enormous gulf that exists between classes here in America. We have come to pride ourselves on a "classless society" unlike the world our forebears endured prior to their journey to our land of freedom and opportunity. But sadly, the reality exists that America, and Canada to a certain extent, were dumping grounds for the unwanted and unwashed of Great Britain. "Trash" people were sent here to empty the poorhouses and debtors prisons. The authors of our great defining documents acknowledged that many of the people here in the colonies were scoundrels and scalawags the old country was happy to be rid of.

Lyndon Johnson notably said that "telling the lowest white man that he was still better than the best black man" was a sure way to get his vote and loyalty. And that is what we see today. A choreographed drama to set us against one another. And it is all based on class. One way to hold the least fortunate among us down is to give them someone to disdain. So, all Mexicans become "rapists", immigrants from "shithole" countries should be turned away, and lower class whites believe that a businessman who had never done a day of public service in his life is looking out for their interests.

I am, admittedly, a "class migrant." I grew up very blue collar in modest circumstances. I recognize the "code switching" I must engage in when I travel to my home, when I deal with old friends or classmates who have not moved beyond their parochial perspectives. I am not better than them, nor am I dismissive of their beliefs, but I am frustrated by the fact that many do not see the game that they are part of, that the 1%, however you want to characterize them, are exploiting them to keep them in their place. There is no respect for their hardscrabble lives, or their struggles. Blaming others for their lot in life is encouraged as it keeps them from seeing that the other is very much the same as they.

I've read "White Working Class" and "White Trash" and have come to realize that the class divide is that which keeps us from realizing our potential as a nation.

Writing what you know....

The advice to writers seems to always have been "write what you know" which for some of us who view our lives as relatively unexciting or mundane is definitely demotivating. At least it always seemed that way. Writing what I know means engaging in significant self-reflection which is always an interesting exercise, even if not compelling or particularly spell-binding.

Writing what I know makes me consider the as yet incomplete arc of my life, and the incredibly "charmed" nature of life thus far. I grew up in a three bedroom, one bath home in a working class neighborhood. I believed myself to be "middle class" until I came into full contact with truly middle class individuals...in grad school. My naivete persisted that long. I realized that the college friends I had who I perceived to be well-off, to be members of some more privileged class were, in fact, the middle class I believed myself to be. Not so....

Looking back, realizing that a relatively parochial, inexperienced young man took his pregnant wife 700 miles from friends and family to pursue a degree at less than 1/3 of his previous compensation with no guarantee of housing was a true "leap of faith," or an act that defies credulity, anyway. So comes the "charmed" nature of this missive. I have been incredibly fortunate to have been surrounded by good, caring, and supportive people all of that time. My grad school friends were outside the room at the hospital where I sweat through my shoes waiting for daughter to be born. Literally, my socks and feet had taken on the dye of my shoes from the hours on my feet, and there they were...for me, for Terri, for my new baby...Charmed.

The life of a graduate student is, as most know, hardly a time of plenty. Terri and I looked forward to the "every other Thursday" pay day when we ordered a pizza, bought a six pack of good beer, and lived "large" for the time. Sometimes I think that was a happier, simpler time when our expectations were not so large and we could find contentment in "small, good, things." I was again fortunate to have wonderful and supportive mentors and supervisors. When the university was on break I would pick up extra hours, I worked "full time" when I could and with Terri's salary as a Nurse we lived well, even buying a new car to deal with the heavy winters we would experience. A new car, during a recession that resulted in friends at home dealing with lay-offs and worse. Help finding quality child care on a very limited income. Exotic holiday dinners with South African ex-pats and hardcore vegetarians. Charmed.

It wasn't the "things" we acquired that make me feel that way, it was the journey from my, our roots in blue-collar working class homes to a world where we sometimes felt like aliens. And again, we were embraced and welcomed and learned a new language of sorts, the way to navigate among those who had not lived pay-to-pay, those for whom a second home or cottage was significantly more than a mobile home "camp" in the mountains to visit in hunting season. But again, not things, but learning to appreciate music and art and intellectual pursuits. People who helped to move me in new directions while respecting my past and values. Charmed.

In this time of "memes" and seemingly inescapable messages on Facebook, Twitter, and the like, one that stood out for me was an eCard that said something to the effect that "happiness is realizing your children are good people." As I look at the incredible people our children have become, I realize once again how rich and fortunate my life has been, wealth/things or not. Charmed.

It is hard for me at times to see myself as I am. I am now older than my maternal grandfather with whom I was very close. Pap was always "old" even though he died at only 57. I had a child's perspective and it is still hard for me to imagine myself as "old" as he was. In my mind's eye I am still somewhere in my 20s-30s, still able to run and lift and play hard...the reality is far from that, and yet I realize again how much I have benefited from a life spent, not in hard labor like my grandfather and dad, but in meaningful work I have enjoyed and continue to enjoy. Charmed.

Terri and I have been married over 35 years now. It is not easy, I know there are people who disparage those who view a marriage as work, but the truth of the matter is that it is work. We have persevered through a lot of changes in that time. We have had difficult moments, and moments of joy. We have said things we wished we hadn't, done things we regret, but we've managed to find what is most important and stay the course. It is not a fairy tale, but fairy tales aren't true. We have worked, and loved, and disagreed, and made the best of things when they were difficult. Maybe it's not charmed, but it is pretty good. Caitlin got married a year ago, Thomas recently got engaged. They are seeing friends marry and start families, and sadly Terri and I have both remarked that these are stages, somewhere along the line friends divorce. You have to make choices about relationships (who keeps the friends?) and how to navigate new waters. But they are prepared. Caitlin, Thomas, and Craig are all solid, and I am very proud of them. Charmed.

I have been battling some personal demons as of late, and I keep coming back to "how can someone who is so fortunate focus on the negative forces in his life?" It makes me feel as though I haven't appreciated all the good things that have transpired. It makes me feel as though I am inadequately grateful for my life. My charmed life.

Ruminations on March

For some time now I have tried to hold this thought as a mantra, I fail, daily. Not long ago, in a feeble attempt at being clever I was quite unkind, and I regret it. The hearer did not take it to heart, but I knew that my words had been unkind, and I am sorry.

Recently I had occasion to talk with some friends about my interest in Virtue Ethics. While my formal background is limited to a few undergraduate philosophy courses and a grad class in Ethics of Helping Professions, I have been motivated to educate myself in this area informally. I am old enough to have spent a little time under the Baltimore Catechism and was exposed to the four cardinal and three theological virtues while quite young. As I have grown older, I have come to appreciate the role of kindness as the paramount virtue, at least for me.

I am currently un-churched. Not unusual for an American of my age and education. My last formal affiliation was with an Episcopal parish, obviously I was raised a Roman Catholic, but when I identify with anything at all these days, it is usually Unitarian/Universalism. So what does this have to do with virtue, and in particular kindness?

I have written before of my father, my relationship with my dad was not unlike most men I know, we always loved one another, but I acknowledge that we didn't always like one another. Liking the people we love is often very difficult, and we experienced some of that. Respecting one another took more time. My greatest memories of my father are around his almost unfailing and nearly universal kindness. He regarded everyone with respect. He was as unaware of, and as unimpressed with, wealth or status as anyone I ever saw. As I have moved through life I have tried to emulate that behavior, to be kind, even when it is difficult.

Which brings me back to my issue, I was unkind not because someone had been rude or unseemly to me, but because I wanted to make a joke, a bad one admittedly. Humor at the expense of another is cheap. I want to be better, smarter and kinder than that. My Dad was.

What does any of this have to do with March?

I realized while struggling to sleep a few weeks ago that I was feeling a sense of anxiety, something "bad" coming, and I was unsure what brought on this sense of dread. Then it struck me, March has been an unkind month to me.

My Dad died 6 years ago, March 15, 2009, although the massive coronary that took his life occurred on March 7, his birthday, and the birthday of my son and his namesake, Thomas. Two years ago,my Mother also died in March,at the end of a very difficult struggle with Progressive Supranclear Palsy.  March giveth, and March taketh away.

I have admitted to my "unchurched" status, but I am not closed off to trying to understand "why" certain things happen in life. Sunday Morning on CBS aired a segment on "Godwinks" a few weeks ago, expressing a belief that random coincidences are proof of a higher power "winking" at us, to remind us that he/she is watching. I have had a few of those recently. A beautiful article in the NYT by a woman who lost her mother to PSP, finding a scrap of paper with my father's handwriting in among my school papers, so many seemingly random things that bring me back to considering "why." Why now?

As I approach the coming of Spring, I like to share this bit of wisdom from Kurt Vonnegut:

“Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you've got a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies-God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

"Inheritance"

Last year I lost my mother to a terrible, debilitating condition known as Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, or PSP for short. In many ways it resembles Parkinson's or Lou Gehrig's disease as Mom slowly lost use of her limbs and required assistance with everything. Toward the end, she could not even swallow. Instead of water, upon which she would choke, she was given nectar, thickened water that she could swallow more easily. It was very difficult to see her like this, but she received excellent care at St. Joseph's Villa in Baden, PA and my sisters, brother and I are very grateful for the love and care she was shown.

As we sold my parent's home and tried to marshal all the resources we could for her care, my Mom often said how disappointed she was that "there's nothing for you kids" to which we would reply, "yes, Mom, we want to put you in a cheap, inferior nursing home so we get the money..." It was never an expectation on any of our parts that an inheritance was coming. The house was...a house. Home is when you are with family. It isn't dependent on a structure, at least for us. Home really is where the heart is for us.

In 2010, I decided to return for my doctorate. As I have written previously, this was "not my first rodeo" and I was determined to finish. I hoped my mother would live to see it, but I knew that was a very long shot. Her illness was progressing according to the diagnosis, and she passed away in Spring during my last class. I had gone to see her in March and encouraged my brother to come home as soon as he could, it seemed that dire, and he did. Bob, Helen, and Marianne were with my Mom when the priest administered last rites. Bob had called me and I was on my way to PA, but I wouldn't get there until the next day.

Her breathing was labored, and she was having a terrible time speaking. Her words came out in a hoarse croak when she could speak. With Bob, Marianne, and Helen standing there, sadly coming to grips with the inevitable, my Mom managed to croak out "There's no inheritance." Here she is, nearing the end, and her sense of humor still enabled her to break the dark mood as though they'd leave when they realized there was no money coming...

My mother did not pass that night. I got to see her that week, and stayed with her until Wednesday. Sadly, she did die that Friday, my sisters were with her at the end.

But that is not the story.

My sister Helen was executrix of my mother's modest estate, and in the course of going through documents Helen found a life insurance policy that had not been cashed. There WAS an inheritance!

I finished my dissertation the summer after my Mom died. I was sorry that she would not see me finish, sorry that she didn't live to see any of her grandchildren marry, but I was relieved that she was no longer trapped in a body that had failed her, her mind was still (obviously) sharp to the end, but the illness robbed her of everything else. I got the phone call that "Dr. Nairn's dissertation has been accepted" in August.

We had finished the paperwork for the insurance company about the same time I finished my degree. And then I realized, the "inheritance" was a little more than I needed to buy my regalia.

Even if she couldn't be there, I had her with me.

The real inheritance is not the money. The real lasting gift of both my parents was a healthy regard for education, a commitment to having a good work ethic, and perhaps most important respect for others.

I miss my Mom and Dad terribly. Especially at times like this when I want to share with them, this Fall when my daughter gets married, the achievements of all my children as they have grown up to be good people with character. That is the inheritance...