Some 20/20 hindsight

 

The above quote from singer/songwriter Ray Wylie Hubbard is a reminder to me that I have much for which to be grateful, including painful lessons learned along the way.

One downside of having time on one's hands is the old saw, attributed to both St. Jerome and Chaucer that "idle hands are the devil's workshop/playthings" for me the idleness is not necessarily in my hands but in the rabbit hole that is YouTube where a VERY powerful algorithm has figured out that I like Golf, OU Football, lists of odd or unusual things, and self-help/psych videos.

In my leisurely scanning of the above items I have come across some very interesting content about sociopaths and narcissists. While I am no psychologist or psychiatrist, I am enough of an observer of human behavior to realize that I have spent time with three sociopaths and one definite narcissist in my professional life. One of the sociopaths has actually been helpful to me, as I have never been a target or manipulated, but I have seen and heard some of the vitriol directed at others, the incredible vindictiveness, and the verbal abuse. Maybe seen is not the correct term as I have not observed it, but have been told by the individual in question of their verbal destruction of another. The switching between charm and aggression is startling. The other two sociopaths in my professional life have been much more harmful and hurtful to me.

Neither of these two individuals are capable of empathy, both are liars and manipulators, in my amateur analysis they appear to has anti-social personality disorder. Both seem to have experienced, or at least made up, tragic backstories offered to elicit sympathy. Once sympathy is shown, it is perceived as weakness and now it is manipulated and abused. Both appear to be absent any empathy, both blame others for their shortcomings, and oddly both are misogynistic. I'll leave their gender to the reader to infer. Both caused me personal pain that I finally came to realize was allowing them to continue to bother me. I've forgiven them. I'll never do anything to help them, but as has been said before, and better by the Buddha “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."  I can't be that guy.

A supervisor many years ago told me that I was a "very nice man" and that helped me in my career, but it could also be a shortcoming in some situations. As the president of the college in Pennsylvania, I was at what can only be called a hostile editorial board meeting when one of the members said "you haven't done anything" . My niceness was stripped away and I nearly jumped the table to throttle the guy. My chief of staff grabbed me by the arm to stop me as I said "I take umbrage at that", "we have graduated students and placed students in jobs and transfer to other institutions". The editor later mocked me in the paper saying that "Nairn had taken 'umbrage' to statements made by the board". I had to let it go but I was very tempted to send a letter saying a newspaper man ought to know the word since he obviously confused it with umbrellas...but I digress.

Tonight in my readings across the web I came across an article that wrote about empathy in the workplace as healthy for organizations and a good leadership practice. As I have written time and again, kindness, empathy, forgiveness are virtues to which we can all aspire. 

OK, I can accept that I am nice, strength or weakness, virtue or vice, I am, or try to be. So now I'll be "not nice". The three aforementioned sociopaths have all been visited by karma, or "bad juju" as a former colleague called. The narcissist, about whom I have not gone to any detail, is now in prison for murder. I had spent a lot of time with this person and knew there was something unsettling, as my carpenter father would have called "half a bubble off" about them, but I could never have foreseen what eventually happened. 

As I said earlier, all of this knowledge from a few YouTube videos.

Maybe I should hang out my shingle?

The inestimable value of validation

 I have thought a lot about what I wanted to say in this message. I went back and reread my old posts to see if I was as redundant as I felt I might be. If there is a redundancy in all this it would be that I have been in a nearly constant search for an answer to what is truly important. It is simple. What is important is how you treat others. How we are remembered. What difference has our presence here made.

In my rereading I realized that I had not shared my Keith Miser story here. I know I have shared it with others from my grad program, with friends and trusted confidants. I am now including you.

If you have read earlier posts you know that I entered the profession of higher education with a great deal of trepidation. I was the blue-collar guy, a middling student in college (but I had fun), and unsure and without direction for a long time. When I was offered the assistantship/fellowship at UVM, I accepted with little idea of what lay in store. So I left a job, took a very pregnant Terri 700 miles from friends and family, and moved to an apartment we had never seen. (long story for another time). 

Once I arrived in Burlington and began to connect with my classmates, many of whom are still close friends, I was told by a classmate that I "had the top assistantship in the program", that the competition for the position was fierce. Oh, wow. (in the words of the late, great Joan Didion). No pressure for the guy who wasn't sure if he was good enough to succeed in graduate school, the guy who was unaware of the class migrancy he was experiencing, the code switching he would need to learn in this new environment. Graduate assistant to the Dean of Students, the "best" position among the fellowships.

Probably too much context for this story, but, now it starts. Keith, the Dean, and I were heading down College Street to a meeting on Church Street. As we passed many beautiful Victorian homes that were now fraternity and sorority houses one stood out from the others. Modern, new, it resembled a Pizza Hut more than a frat house. I asked Keith the story behind the odd house and he sighed...

Keith told me that the original house had burned during a bitterly cold Vermont January. As Dean he was called to the scene where the fraternity brothers stood, cold, in shock, some wearing only their underwear. Keith told me he had to find the frat president and do a headcount. He told me he was literally screaming into this guy's face (he was in shock) "do a headcount, do a headcount, tell me who is not here!" The student realized the importance of the roll call and determined that all brothers were accounted for except two. When the campus realized the fire, one of the missing brothers reappeared from staying with his girlfriend, but one brother was missing. Keith arranged for the students to be cared for and stayed with the firefighters to see what was next. What was next was awful. As the firefighters pulled down a wall to get at the flames they discovered the body of the missing brother. He had died in the fire.

Keith then said to me, "I have gone into classrooms many times to tell a student that their grandfather or grandmother, even fathers or mothers had passed. It is never easy, but we as children learn to recognize the mortality of our elders. The hardest phone call to make is to tell a parent that their child has been lost in some tragic accident. Parents aren't ready to outlive their children". He paused as though to let that sink in, and then told me something that has me emotional even as I write this nearly 40 years later. "Joe, I'm telling you this because some day you will be a Dean of Students and you will have to make that call."

Here was a man I respected, admired, loved, and he was telling the insecure, unsure new graduate student that he believed in me, that I would succeed. As I said, (after reaching for the tissues,) that conversation moves me to this day.

Keith passed away last year. Covid made travel impossible but I understand that there will be a service/recognition of his contributions once gatherings are possible again. Best of all, I know that I am not alone in having been touched by the kindness and wisdom of this great man. I can only aspire to have the impact he has had on others. I hope to be remembered as fondly.

After careful consideration...

I have been ruminating on this particular message for a while. In a post long ago I reminded myself that I had been admonished by a friend for thoughtful, but dark, posts about head trauma and the like. Recently, I had been thinking about some of the sociopaths I have encountered in my life, but will postpone that "less than festive" topic for a later time.

In the spirit of the holiday, I'd like to address gifts I have received. These gifts are not always tangible, but often the gifts of greatest value are not. Many years ago, one of my most cherished mentors provided a very meaningful and life altering affirmation for me. I believe I have written of this here before, but Keith's words to me resonate to this day, and I am forever grateful to him for leaving me that bit of his wisdom to try to "pay forward" when possible. Others have boosted me as well, not always professionally, but personally. A close female friend from college and I were in one of those reminiscing conversations some time back when I shared that during our college days I heard a lot of "confessions" from young women with whom we had gone to school. These confessions were really just conversations but took on an intimacy because of their content. They shared with me decisions they had made that left them with guilt and pain. I told L that I never really understood that. That maybe I missed a calling to the priesthood, but she said something that I have never forgotten. "They told you because you are the least judgemental person I have ever known. They knew you would listen". Years later another close friend and colleague once told me "you actually like women and listen to us. And, you read."

More recently, I received a message from a young woman whom I had hired in her first professional position. She is finishing her bachelor's degree and thanked me for believing in her when she did not necessarily believe in herself. She told me that my affirmation of her was transformational and I'd like to think that I have validated Keith's incredible kindness to me by "paying it forward."

So, a holiday wish to any of you who take time to read my ramblings. I hope that you too are affirmed, buoyed, and lifted up this season. And if you are so fortunate, please find someone who needs to see themselves for the special, unique person they are, and share your gift of kindness with them. 

BTW:

My two most recent gifts!

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.