retreating from anger

 Today a friend very kindly complimented me on my Facebook posts, commenting on their balance. I thanked him but felt that it was too kind as I am very aware of my tendency to "shit post" when especially annoyed by something. 

We were at a forum where the speaker, a decorated military veteran and current Senate candidate, spoke candidly about the difficult situation we in as a Nation and the work that will be necessary to repair the damage that has been done. Her words were sage and serious. It will take time for us to heal. As much as I have postured about being on the right side of history, I realize that even when our long national nightmare is over there ought not be a victory lap taken.

A lot of my recent discussions have been about how I have lost respect and regard for friends and acquaintances who have backed such heinous positions as a war of convenience on a hostile (but no immediate threat) Iran, the killing of innocent Americans whose only "crime" was protesting the Neo-brownshirt ICE, the destruction of Venezuelan boats suspected of trafficking, and the rounding up of immigrants and terrorizing families. I am especially disdainful of the "they didn't come in the right way" when immigration reform has been blocked time and again. As you can see I am mightily frustrated.

So, how might I alleviate my psychological pain? I'll forgo the aforementioned victory lap. I will give grace to those who can come back and say, "I was wrong". It is starting to happen now, but sadly that admission is fueled more by rising fuel costs than a recognition of more decision making, misplaced trust, and likely giving in to their baser instincts. I want to say "I don't hate you for what happened, I just want to be sure we don't travel this path again". It will take time, but we can fix this. 

Mental lint from a thought provoking forum. 

 

Friends and Faith

A close friend recently sent be a book he'd like to me to read, and the for us to meet and discuss it. He very generously said he knew I'd do it "because you're a scholar". But beyond the generous (and unjustified) compliment, I have finished it during a day of waiting for my loved one while recovering.

The book is C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity. I am familiar with Lewis' fiction, I once read that his Narnia was inspired by Nairn Scotland , and so I soldiered on through the book.

My friend has endured some very difficult and saddening life events. I knew that he was attending a support group of men who had similar experiences and thought this might be part of their healing process.  have always found that "I was raised catholic" is a polite way of saying "I am no longer catholic". I fall into that category. Falling far enough that I now say "I am unchurched" which does not create the discomfort people have when dealing with an apostate like me.

I could go on about my decision to leave the church, and indeed organized religion behind, however that is another entry here as I clean my pockets. As I consider the various reasons for my current state of mind I am reminded of the statement attributed to Einstein "I worship the god of Spinoza", or that of Frank Lloyd Wright, that  "I believe in god, only I spell it nature". That perspective places me in the position of pantheism, or possibly humanism. I have chosen to believe in physics, particularly that per the Law of the conservation that energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed. Or, the first law of thermodynamics.   as I have read Lewis and also other works such as the Bhagavad Gita and the Upanishads. I have also read about more fundamentalist christian faiths and offshoots such as Mormonism and the Jehovah's Witnesses

All of my reading in these various arenas has lead me to believe in one thing, we are all energy and therefore stardust. What form that energy takes upon death, I do not know. I do not know when matter became conscious, nor do I know how reality came from"nothingness" to "somethingness". I do know that our time is an artificial construct. Our time is based on the orbit of one small rock circling a small star. When we calculate the age of a fossil or some other "discovery" how much confidence can we have?

All of this said, at the core of all religions is a creation myth, and a recognition that our physical being, our consciousness is gone, but our energy, however determined cannot be destroyed. Pantheism gets at that belief for me as everything that ever was, is sow, and everything that will be is now. Call it Nairn's Law, I won't mind.

Words. Loved and Loathed.

 Anyone who knows me well knows that I like words. I always have. In adulthood I received the wisdom that, "never judge someone for mispronouncing a word, they probably learned it through reading" and that was very much the case for me. I mispronounced so many words because I had not heard them spoken, but only read them. Years of "cally ope" and "ah ree" "fack ade" and so on. I've since learned the correct pronunciation for calliope, awry, and facade, among others.

But this is not about uncommon or less used words. In fact this is about overused words, or words that have been made nearly meaningless by their ubiquity. My special irritation right now is Journey.

Whether it is the current Olympiad, professional sports, or (yuck) reality TV, everyone is on a "journey", "I'm so glad to have you on this journey", "his journey from an impoverished background to the NFL/NBA/MLB has been a long and challenging one" "her journey has taken her from a frozen pond to the world stage". A quote from my days as a competitive lifter, attributed to Arnold Schwarzenegger (also to Arthur Ashe) was "success is a journey, not a destination". And the inspirational Olympic success stories of triumph over heartbreak and despair get a bit old after a while.

Why must we mythologize success? Journey is travel. As a noun it is the physical act of going from one place to another. As a verb, it is that act of traveling. I suppose that the overuse of this word is due to the "trip" one takes from one state of mind or being to another. But it seems to be a convenient way to collapse the effort of working from one state, mental or physical, to another. It cheapens the effort required to work toward a goal. The journeys taken in these other contexts often have no goal, or an uncertain goal based on chance. The athlete who does not make it to the next level has a goal, but has the journey been in vain? We all grow from our efforts, but not all efforts are "journeys", many are internal acts of seeking improvement. Physical, intellectual, personal, spiritual.

There are far too many words to limit them to a few. And far too many acts of self improvement and grow that do not, in my mind, constitute a journey.

 

The Tyranny of the "should"

Should seems a harmless word, but its power lies in how it is used. Should can be terribly hurtful in its different uses, past, present and future tense. When we look back and berate ourselves for what we "should have done" we allow the should to invoke feelings of guilt or failure. "I should have known better", I should not have said that to her". Should can take on a power that we need not allow it. When advised by another "here's what you should do", we cede power to the speaker as well as the word if not aware of the implication that we somehow don't know what to do. Others can use the word to critique and possibly berate you. "You should have done it this way" implying their superiority or greater expertise.

Often the should slips into our thoughts at random. "I should practice my guitar more, I should get to the gym today, I should clean up my office."  All are guilt-inducing and self deprecating.  Perhaps self-flagellating would be a better choice. (I should have thought of that first) see? 

The looking ahead at the should can also induce fear of failure whether in an active or passive way. "Should I apply for that position?" Should I ask for more money as I am now doing two jobs since the down-sizing?

Shoulda, woulda, coulda. A wry take on how we do not practice self-care. 

Thoughts on Higher Education.

People often ask questions such as "why does college cost so much?" and "What's the ROI on a college education?' along with statements such as "I don't want someone to go to school, they should learn a trade". All of these questions/statements concern me. Let me elaborate from the perspective of one 42-year "veteran" of higher education administration. To the first question, there is a curt, only partially true answer that is, "because it can". The untrue part of that snarky statement is that as any economist can tell you, price and cost are different. Costs go up as all goods and services do in any marketplace. Costs are affected by many different factors including inflation, but price is more fluid. Price and cost cannot be equal or any entity operating in that fashion will quickly close. There have to be "net revenues" to continue operation and re-investment in the enterprise. Note I did not use "profit" as profit is paid out to owners and shareholders. Unless a college is proprietary, it does not generate "profits" but net revenues that go toward new programs, facilities and other projects and programs intended to advance the institution. There is a dirty underside (in my estimation) to costs, but I'll address that later. The price of education obviously is tied to costs, but can also reflect a "buyers" willingness to pay a differential for what may be a similar experience. While I hate using the automotive model it seems to work well here. Two cars have similar options, features, and records, however, one is a luxury German brand and the other an American brand. we can argue the merits of the comparison but the fact remains that both drive, both have safety features, and both use fuel, tires, and other parts. The willingness to pay the much higher price for the luxury brand has more to do with the perception than the reality of the vehicle. This has worked its way into higher education as the phenomenon the "Chivas Regal Effect". the perception that because something is priced higher (note: cost is not in the equation here) it is better. Chivas, in a post-war funk, raised its prices to move the needle on perceived quality. Once acquired by Canadian beverage giant Seagrams, Chivas was marketed aggressively as "top shelf" liquor. Throughout it all, the product itself had not changed. (side note: I am an occasional scotch drinker, not a Connoisseur, but I have had Johnny Walker Blue at $185-235 bottle and other scotches in the Johnny Walker line. Blue is NOT worth $235/bottle.) Colleges have used this strategy to compell families to believe if a college "costs" more, it must be better than the less expensive options. This strategy has been used to move an institution into a new peer group of institutions, based primarily on price. The quality has not necessarily changed appreciably, although faculty generally enjoy being paired with a better peer group. The only substantive change is in the net revenue generated, which, as promised, I will expand on further, albeit by going back to real "costs". My major concern has to do with what I refer to as the "arms race" among colleges and universities in adding "attractions" rather than content. Lazy rivers, climbing walls, multiple dining options, private rooms, individual showers, and massive athletics expenses do not contribute to the university mission of teaching and learning. There, I said it. In the current highly competitive market for traditional aged students colleges have expanded the "fun park" aspects of the institution, often at the expense of adequate investment in its academic core. While I find some of Robert Maynard Hutchins' elitism offensive, it is hard to argue about whether the man who took the University of Chicago out of the Big Ten was serious about academics or not. He found football to be a distraction from the serious business of the university. That brings me to my next sensitive spot; ROI. I find the ROI (Return on Investment) question especially offensive. In an education, value added requires participation and effort on part of the student. Again, Hutchins said that the meaning of an education was not filling minds with facts but teaching them to LEARN. Graduates of truly liberal arts education have the critical thinking skill and the information seeking skills to move them forward through life. I say this tempered with disabusing myself of the myth of meritocracy. If America were truly meritocratic, we would be a very different place. The best and the brightest are not found only among elite institutions. Many of our best and brightest minds are developed at a broad array of colleges and universities. With the fall of affirmative action there should be a concurrent discontinuance of legacy admissions. No one can convince me that all of the Kennedy family are so brilliant as to be all Ivy league educated, all of the Bush family? Donald Trump admitted to Penn on merit?! ROI in these cases is more "return on influence". Asking a college to "get my kid a job" or "get her into medical school", is placing all of the effort on one end. Yes, we in colleges and universities have our responsibilty to work with and encourage/guide the students in our care, but the effort has to be two way. To simply ask "what is my ROI?' has ignored the quality of what has been invested. Silk purse out of sow's ear comes to mind. As one who (is, and) has worked with many first generation students the return depends on your own personal investement, not on the price paid. Perhaps this rant has run too long but I must address the trade school training versus the college education. There is no question that tradespeople are critical. They cannot be outsourced. A carpenter or electrician, a stonemason or plumber, cannot work from overseas making these critical jobs very important to our very infrastructure. But keep in mind costs vs. prices. Is a $5/hour carpenter as good as a $15/20 per hour carpenter? we likely all have had experience with poor workmanship, but are we willing to pay the price, which includes the costs, of the more skilled laborer? Union-busting and Trickle Down economics of the 1980s resulted in wealth for very few and decimatedd the American middle class. Once the $15-20 workers ask for more, what will become of them? Many skilled labor jobs are not unlike athletes, there is a limited time span for a career. My own father left his position as a carpenter when he became the "young guy" in his forties. Climbing and building scaffolds requires physical abilities that wane over time. What will our well trained skilled laborers do if they cannot think critically and look for opportunities that require other developable skills? I raise more questions than I answer, and I have neglected an entire section on declining state support for higher education along with predatory student loan practices. Perhaps another time.

The Downside of the Football Business

I am not about to be an apologist for Skip Bayless or any of the other pundits using the tragic Damar Hamlin situation to fill their time on TV, the web, twitter, instagram, and on and on...However, the remarks about "taking five minutes to resume the game" or "when wil this be rescheduled? It's such an important game" reflect the ugly reality of football as a business. While I have no doubt that there are many NFL officers who recognize the tragedy of a horrible injury in fromt of an audience of millions, somewhere a bean counter is estimating the lost revenue from, an incomplete game, ramifications for the playoffs, and lost revenues across the board. I'm not insensitive, I'm being real. The game is about money, plain and simple. Players are simply meat to be thrown before coliseum audiences. I don't believe for a second that the Bills do not care about Damar or his condition, but womder if his condition were to occur later in life and attributable to having played? My sister would see former Steeler Mike Webster from time to time, and withouty knowing who he was, felt sorry for the shambling wreck of a man he had become. Better protocols on head injuries may prevent some of today's players from suffering the same decline and demise, but players are still interchangeable pieces of a larger whole. The game is a business, and game receipts and licensing deals and endorsements of the "official popsicle of the NFL" will go on, despite the horrible trauma we witnessed. If you have read this far, thank you. I am not advocating changes to the game ON THE FIELD I am much more concerned with the game OFF the field. The game where young men chasing dreams are often seen as expendable. Where the very idea of continuing a game in which such a tragic emergency occured crosses the minds of announcers and pundits alike, that is the real tragedy. I hope with every fiber of my being that Damar Hamlin recovers. I respect and admire the demonstration of love and support shown by the Buffalo and Cincinnati communities, I am moved by the other teams demonstrating their support, but I am not at all surprised by the callousness of some members of the media. I am old enough to (vaguely) remember the weekend in 1963 when Pete Rozelle thought that continuing to play the games immediately after the Kennedy Assasination was the right thing to do. Kennedy dies on 11/22 and the games on 11/24 went on. There was no broadcast of games, and perhaps there was an effort to bring normalcy to an anything but normal time. Again, I'm granting the benefit of the doubt, but I am concerned that the business of football caneat away at the humanity of sports. To his credit, Rozelle admitted that it was a very bad decision, but you cannot unring a bell

Thoughts sparked by reading broadly...

All too often these missives, this emptying of pockets, begin with "it has been a while" and this is no different. Again my thinking turns to reading and self-reflection. In rereading Robertson Davies' "Deptford Trilogy" I recognized that in many ways, although the books are quite dissimilar, (my favorite book being "A Confederacy of Dunces") the aspect that has drawn me in to these texts might be the "six degrees of separation" that I perceive to appear in both texts. I have often experienced the phenomenon and I am sure many of us have has well, whether we realize it as such or not. Both books involve characters who seem to find their lives intertwined in strange and seemingly unpredictable ways. In a recent discussion with some friends I shared a story about a close friend, Ted, who invited me to go along on a trip to see his then girlfriend, now wife, at the Y camp where she worked for the Summer. He had been there before and had shared with some staffers that I seemed to "know everybody" and always made connections. One staffer scoffed at this and when I met him he, rather insolently, said "Ted tells me that you know everybody". As I recall my response was "I know a lot of people and I find that we usually have people in common", or something to that effect. He, again, somewhat snottily, said "yeah right". I then asked him, "where do you go to school?" they were all college students at the time. He responded, the University of Southern Maine, to which I replied, "do you know John Z and Terry Y" and he said, "oh yeah, they were RAs..oh my god you did it!". The aforementioned pair were fellow grad students in my program, and I knew they had both come from USM. The point of this is not self-aggrandisement or to point out some sort of personal parlor trick, but to indicate that my affinity for these texts lies largely in my own experience. I can only attribute my experience to a self-diagnosis of thinking in "set theory". The Boulean Logic in my head allows me to think of others in common experiences or common communities. the two books are very much place based one in rural Ontario, the other in New Orleans, but the active characters have networks beyond their geographic or social circles. Again, my point in sharing this. I wrote once before that a very dear friend had once called me "the least judgemental person I know", and that touched me deeply. I'd like to believe that focussing on the individual, not their status, position, or station, alloes for a kind of intimacy that, while possibly making myself vulnerable, shows a willingness to "know" them. Truly know them. No one needs to be confessional about it, but if you and I have both come from blue-collar industrial backgrounds in Western PA or Eastern OH, we have a common bond somewhere. If we both have gone to colleges in New England, we may have places and possibly people, in common. Having worked my entire life in Higher Education I have been fortunate to meet many people in various capacities. Knowing who thay are is not name-dropping as much as it is "common experience finding". My takeaway from this is; if we all spent more time seeking what we have in common rather than what divides us, makes us different, we would live in a more civil, more understanding society. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

emptying pockets is sometimes hard to do...

 

 

I try not to be maudlin in these occasional  meanderings of my mind (really, I do), but Terri and I just returned from Charleston SC after a week of touring and getting some much needed sunshine. We left in a snow squall in Buffalo and the weather was a welcome respite. Charleston is, as many old southern cities a beautiful place with an abundance of history. Not too long ago we had made a similar trip to Savannah, a town with the same pedigree and prominence in the antebellum South.

What caused me to consider my mixed emotions about both trips is that in the midst of beautiful and historical buildings, old churches, and fine dining is the dark history of human bondage. The Old Slave Mart Museum above is a very rich cultural center that actually moved me to tears. The excellent and well documented history on the first floor gives an accurate and compelling story of the inhumanity of the slave trade. The second floor has more artifacts, history, and a wonderful docent named Christine who told the story of the slave mart in a well organized and well researched presentation. The story of "man's inhumanity to man" is incredible and filled with paradox. While "the enslaved people" were considered as chattel and less than full human beings, their bodies were sold to medical schools of the time and dissected as instruction for physicians of the time. They were not human enough to be treated as such, but they were human enough to be desecrated and carved up in the interest of medicine. Terri purchased the book, "The Price for a pound of their flesh" which documents this atrocity.

 

We saw lists of slaves for sale including details of their work skills and possible uses. This included some notes such as "imbecile" or "dropsy" as though used cars were being sold with "some defects detected." That and the history of splitting families and the separation of native speakers of certain African languages kept people in a constant state of dislocation and despair.

I felt as though I was imposing my "enlightened Northern values" on the history only to find that many Northern banks profited from the slave trade by making "mortgages" of a sort when owners lacked sufficient funds to purchase their human chattel. New York, Boston, and Philadelphia banks, located in non-slave states benefited from the institution through finance.

I had to step outside to compose myself, so taken was I with emotion. I don't offer this as a self congratulatory note on my perspective, but feel compelled to share it as an indication that all that is beautiful is not without its own dark history. Beautiful homes, ornate and massive churches, intricate ironwork so much a part of Charleston and Savannah history and culture was built on the backs of enslaved people.

 

It may be the current state of the world and the dehumanization taking place in Ukraine that has heightened my awareness of just how evil, we can be, but I was moved nonetheless. Even Fort Sumter, the site of the beginning of the Civil War was built with over a million slave made bricks, many if not all from Boone Hall plantation which we also visited. It actually hurt my heart to see this. As I said, I had to step outside to compose myself.

Will we ever evolve enough to see the barbarity and brutality of which we are capable?

 

A Series of Unusual Events

 

In many previous posts I have noted my "un-churched" status. While I have never claimed to be atheistic, I am probably a-religious if there is such a classification. That said I AM open-minded and able to consider differing points of view.

(The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function. F. Scott Fitzgerald)

I have recently been reading the Bhagavad Gita, a sacred Hindu text heavily steeped in yoga and morality. What has been a surprise to me, fallen catholic that I am, is the similarities between this ancient text, the moral teachings of the bible I was taught, and what I think of as indigenous faiths/beliefs with which I am familiar. (ed. I have finished the Bhagavad Gita)

For some time now I have regarded god as within me. I an loathe to pray to an external power as though I have no self-control, no ability to change, no free will. The Bhagavad Gita has opened my eyes to a different perspective on beliefs. The focus is on the self, and becoming truly self-actualized. I am sure this is not news to friends who have studied Buddhism, but it was a new perspective for me.

One common denominator I find among all these versions of faith, including what I know of indigenous Native Americans, is a sense of a "lord above" making worship of gods in the sky somewhat universal. While considering these thoughts on faith, I have experienced a number of what a friend would call "god winks", explanations for seemingly random events. While reading about the Bhagavad, I also came across references to reality that have led me to read about quantum theory again, and the very nature of reality. Schrodinger's cat comes to mind as our observation of phenomena affects the phenomenon itself.

I suppose the focus of these random ramblings is to say that the link between my thoughts and the surprising coincidences seems to be based in Physics. If energy cannot be destroyed, only transferred, and if we are capable of being reincarnated based on our karma/dharma, does it not make sense that the energy that leaves our bodies at the time of death returns to the cosmos and can come back or remain as pure energy in the universe from which all things have come? My reading of the Bhagavad, admittedly an uninformed reading, suggests that everything that is always has been, everything that will be exists now. Hence my (again uninformed) reading of quantum reality. 

If I have ever actually emptied my pockets of mental lint, this is it. Sorry for the logical and philosophical leaps, but I am trying to organize my thoughts in some meaningful way.

If this has meant anything to you (or if you can help me make some sense of it) please comment below or on Facebook where this will appear...

Thanks for reading.

Grief, heartbreak, and their many manifestations

 Grief has many manifestations. We mourn loss in different ways and for different types of loss. I know that we usually associate our grief with death, but death too has many ways of presenting itself.

 

If you have read any of what I write, you'd know that I love Mary Oliver's works and have found meaning and comfort in many of them. Much earlier when blogging I wrote about how March has always been a difficult month for me. The greyness, the bare trees waiting for Spring, and the remembrance of the loss of both my parents. Both in March albeit 4 years apart. But grief has no fixed time frame, and I'll not go into a Elizabeth Kubler-Ross reflection.

Covid-19 has given us all cause for grief. Some loss of loved ones, some loss of connection with valued friends and colleagues, and some with loss of work or faced with economic uncertainty due to the pandemic. Not to diminish the very real pain of lost loved ones, we have all experienced some level of loss. A dear friend lost his mother quite a while ago, but was unable to gather with family and friends until this year. Terri knew of his love and devotion to his mother as a colleague of hers commented on what a loving support he was for someone who he knew would never come home, never again be the mother he cherished. He expressed his grief and love in a very moving and meaningful service that was appropriate to her "joie de vivre" and love for friends and family. He is still grieving but has taken some solace in the support of friends and family.

While being a supportive friend I came back in contact with another friend, or maybe more appropriately an acquaintance who was dealing with his own difficult situation.He had already lost a sister to cancer and was facing the same situation with another, close sibling. His father was now admitted to the hospital and the  prognosis was not good. He was not well, but aware enough to know that he would soon lose another child. After her death, he too passed away.

I do not intend to be morbid, but his health was not good, and I have to believe that his health was also affected by a broken heart.

I've written often of my father and his life and times. One thing I neglected to note in my last post was that the first time I saw my Dad cry was at the death of our Aunt Anne. The woman who had raised him and his five brothers. My father was not often an emotional man, but I saw, even at six years old, the impact and broken heartedness he experienced. It would be some time before I saw him in that light again.

My Dad seldom called. the calls were always initiated by my Mom who would put him on the phone, so when he called one evening years ago, I knew something was amiss. He asked me "are you alone? Can you talk right now?" It as so unlike him I knew something very bad had happened. He wanted to talk to me somewhere away from my children so I took the phone in another room. He was audibly shaken and could only say "something terrible, something terrible". He had called to tell me that one of my cousins had tragically taken his own life. Having lost my Uncle Bill in WWII I knew that the worst family tragedy we could experience was losing a child. As I noted in an earlier post about my mentor, I understood how difficult it is to receive that call. He was devastated. 

Dad was not much of a traveler. He used to joke that he didn't fly because they wouldn't give him "frequent flyer" miles. But, he and my two Aliquippa uncles made the trip to the funeral in support of my uncle.

Why all of this background? Not long after this my aunt fell into poor health. Some time after she passed a "cousin-in-law" a physician, told me that if anyone ever died of a broken heart, she had.

I have come to realize that grief is not isolated to loss of a loved one, although that seems to be the hardest to bear. There is no "coming back". But hopefully there is closure and we can move on.

Another friend has experienced one of the most devastating losses I can imagine. "Ghosted" by a lover. No closure, no answers, no explanation. This is both heartbreaking and cruel. How can we leave a loved one without notice, without any opportunity to understand. I am deeply hurt for my friend. I cannot grasp how someone you love can treat you so callously. I know my friend is still mourning. I hope my friend can heal, can trust and love again.

I too have experienced loss, but no where as deep or devastating as what I have described. I was hurt, disappointed, and affected on a deep level that threatened my self worth, my self esteem. As I have processed this loss I have come to the mantra I have described here before. I focus on Patience, Kindness, Forgiveness, and Gratitude. The hardest of all has been forgiveness. In mourning it is coming to grips with the loss and forgiving the other so we can forgive ourselves. Outside of loss due to death, forgiveness is often transactional. I can be grateful for all the good that has happened for me, and I realize that the root of gratitude is grace. I can be graceful in my sadness and forgive the transgressions I experienced. Hence, the Mary Oliver quote at the start. I was given a box of darkness, but I have found a way to appreciate it as a gift.

as always, thank you.

About Honor and Family

The dictionary yields several definitions for honor. It is both a noun and a verb, and it is used in many different settings; military, academic, athletic, and in discussions about virtues.

This may seem saccharine, but I would like to address this in a personal way and write about two of the most honorable people I have ever known, my Uncle and Godfather, John William Nairn, and my great aunt, Anne Byrne.

My Uncle John and my Dad were very close and for a long time I had assumed that their close bond was a result of circumstance, they were the two youngest of the six Nairn brothers raised in the "Bricks" of Aliquippa by my great-aunt, Anne Byrne. Aunt Anne came to Aliquippa from Maryland, where my branch of the Nairns originated, to care for her sister, my grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Byrne Nairn, when she gave birth to my father, Thomas, in 1932. Shortly after my father's birth, my grandmother passed away, leaving my grandfather with six boys to raise. Aunt Anne gave up her life in Maryland, about which I know very little, to stay and raise "her" boys. She is the only mother my father ever knew. Aunt Anne loved her nephews with a ferocity that was legendary in the Bricks back in the 30s. No one messed with the Nairn boys without incurring her wrath, also legendary. I find her to be an inspiration in her decision to "do the right thing" in caring for six often unruly boys that were not her own, but were unquestionably "hers". Honor was not in short supply when speaking of Aunt Anne. She lived with us briefly when I was quite young, both at King Street where I was a toddler, and later in Hopewell where my father bought his first, and only home. In the early 60s, my Uncle John built a new home in Center Township with a space for Aunt Anne to live. 

Honor was, again, not in short supply. John and my Dad made sure that Aunt Anne was always taken care of, and they did so unquestioningly. Her example has always served as a model of self-sacrifice for her loved ones, and her memory is honored to this day, even after the passing of all six Nairn brothers.

It took me a long time to appreciate and understand the bond between my Dad and my Uncle John. I was an adult before the reason became apparent, and it all had to do with honor. Of the six Nairn boys, only my Dad and Uncle John had not served in World War II. Alphonsus (Phonse, named for my grandfather) and William served in the Army, Phonse in the Aleutians, and Bill, who died off the coast of Italy in 1942,  Jacob (Jay) and  James served in the Marines in the Pacific, Jay on Guadalcanal, and Jim on Iwo Jima. Aunt Anne could never reconcile herself to Bill's death and always believed he would someday come home. Bill seems to have been my father's protector and role model. His loss was deeply felt by all, and to this day the name William has special significance for my family. John, born in 1930, and my Dad, born in 1932, were too young to have served, but worked to care for my Aunt and grandfather as they dealt with the grief only those who have lost a loved one in a war, and never came to closure can know. (Bill's body was never recovered). Post-war, Phonse stayed on the west coast settling down in California. Jay and Jim came home, Jay to WVU then Maryland and Jim to Aliquippa.  They both started families and set about creating the new lives that "greatest generation" needed so badly.

Somewhere, post-war, Uncle John joined the Army leaving my (still in high school) Dad with their father and Aunt Anne. In 1948, my grandfather died, leaving my Dad and Aunt Anne alone. 

Growing up I knew that my Dad was somewhat ambivalent about Phonse, but at that young age, I had no context for that undercurrent of tension. It seemed as though each time he visited from California I had a new "aunt", and Dad had little time for him. My memory of Phonse is him with a glass of Scotch and milk. He'd say, " the milk is for my ulcer, the scotch is for me". He'd visit a while and head back to California. My Dad never traveled to see him.

When Phonse passed away, my remaining uncles went west for the funeral, my Dad did not. He was unusually taciturn about his reason why, but I could sense there was some reason he would not share. As an adult, I came to understand why. It has to do with being honorable.

After the funeral, Phonse returned to California. My father was 16, and Aunt Anne was not a young woman, I'm not sure exactly how old she was. My Uncle John, then in the Army, applied for, and received, a hardship discharge so he could return to take care of Aunt Anne, and my Dad. He went to work in the steel mill, as my Uncle Jim did and later my Dad would follow, but he sacrificed his own needs, his own direction to care for others. Once my Dad could work in the mill, John returned to the service, this time the Marines, and served in Korea where he was wounded. After my grandfathers death my Dad had no expectation that Jay or Jim would leave their families and come back, we Nairns don't do that, but Phonse had no obligations in California and still went back, leaving Dad and Aunt Anne to fend for themselves. 

My uncle John did the most honorable thing I can imagine, putting his own life on hold to care for his family. I then understood the closeness between my Dad and Uncle John. Honor. Integrity. Respect. Responsibility.

When my Uncle John passed away a few years ago, the last of his generation of Nairns, my cousins and I gathered at his home, the place where he had provided for Aunt Anne in her last years, and as befits our Irish Catholic (despite the Scots name) tradition, we raised a glass of Jameson to his memory. Asked to make a toast, I offered that "we now walk in the footsteps of giants, big men who lived big lives, and made big sacrifices, may we honor their memory by always doing the right thing".

Thank you for reading.

Thoughts on ethical behavior

 I still haven't gotten to my book by Spinoza, but I have had a few occasions to talk with friends about ethics in this current world, and I am mostly dismayed. The behavior by our politicians on both sides of the aisle are loathsome, the refusal to follow the law by the "law and order types" is appalling, and the current situation in education, especially higher education, causes me some despair.

When I say both sides I mean that even well meaning people can err in judgement when they fail to take into account the impact of their decisions on others. I have taken enough policy classes to recognize that too often we, particularly in policy making roles, fail to look hard enough at the long term effect our actions may have on others.

Case in point, I won't name names but I feel I exercised good judgement on the situation I'll relate here.

In previous role at an institution I served, we had a new president and of course we went through the requisite strategic planning process including a re-definition/reaffirmation of our institutional values and mission. One positive outcome was to include staff in institutional governance and I was elected to represent my division. I enjoyed being a part of the process.

The previous president had retired under some controversy, and the faculty felt empowered to effect change based on the new institutional values. Among the institutional values was the common non-discrimination statement that the college would not discriminate on the basis of color, creed, race, religion, sexual preference, and so on. Fairly standard and not controversial.

However, members of the faculty senate felt that the presence of ROTC programs was in conflict with said values and were advocating that the programs be discontinued. The "ban" on gay members of the military was still in effect so it is obvious that this is prior to "don't ask, don't tell" and even more recent changes. The newly formed staff governance group was approached by the faculty group to ask for support for their position.  They laid out in detail how the ROTC policy was in conflict and that the presence of ROTC constituted a break from the institutional value statement recently enacted. 

An academic dean took the opposite position and advocated for ROTC as a positive for students and the military, stating that military officers educated in civilian institutions was preferable to an all academy educated military leadership, and that many students found the financial support critical to their ability to attend. The students entered the program voluntarily and with full knowledge of the existing policy. I found the Dean's argument compelling, especially as a first generation student who had considered, albeit briefly, entering a program that offered tuition support in exchange for service equivalent to the time one received the tuition support. (my father talked me out of it).

Then came the time for questions. I don't remember all of the questions that were asked but I do remember turning this issue over in my mind as I considered the impact of such a dramatic change. When given the opportunity, I asked and was answered as follows:

Me: Help me understand something, this is not an ROTC policy, but a military policy correct?

Them: Yes

Me: the military does not make these types of policies, rather these policies are made by the Department of Defense, and implemented by the military, including ROTC, correct?

Them: Yes that is right.

Me: The DoD is not run by the military, but by civilians who create policy.

Them: Yes, that sounds right.

Me: So our issue is not with the military, or with ROTC but with a civilian branch of government. If we recognize that to be the case, the only way I can see the college removing ROTC is to forgo all DoD funding including faculty research.

Them: You don't understand, we have academic freedom.

Me: Academic freedom has nothing to do with this. You have positioned this as a moral and ethical issue. To penalize students, and excuse faculty for taking the same "tainted money" is hypocrisy.

I could see them freeze in their seats as they pondered how to explain to engineering, science, and computing faculty how they had traded away the federal funding for research to take what they perceived as a "principled" approach. In my mind, policy needs to be implemented fairly and equitably. The meeting ended, and the issue never resurfaced in my time there.

I share this not for self-aggrandizement, but it strikes at some of the issues that face the academy today. Money means nothing to some, as long as it's not MY money. I agree with turning down gifts with strings or that impose ideology on the institution. I agree with rejecting gifts that are truly "tainted". (Who wants to open the John Gotti School of Law?) I also agree with rejecting gifts that "keep on taking" with restrictive covenants that cost the school more than the true value of the gift.

I'd speak to the issues involved in honoring slave-holding, racists from the past in naming buildings and erecting statues, but that is a much deeper project, and one with which I have not had to deal. (perhaps another time).

This feels a bit long, and possibly a bit self-aggrandizing, but I would hope that we as policy makers and implementers consider the effect our decisions can have long-term, and are possibly damaging to the people we purport to serve.

Until the next wave of righteous indignation overtakes me, thank you for reading my rant.

Some thoughts on relationships

 Lately a friend and former colleague has posted a number of deep, thoughtful messages on the importance of relationships. Much of his inspiration and perspective is based in, and formed by, his deep Christian faith. I appreciate that he has found a foundation upon which to build his discourse on relationships, but I don't share a faith-based view of how to make them work, how to get through the difficult times. I believe to make them work, both parties must be willing to work. The best of times in my marriage have been those time when we were clearly partners, not boss and worker, not boy-jobs and girl-jobs, but when we recognized that our success or failure was based on an ability to be fair with one another.

That sounds too easy, and it is, but fairness can be a complex issue in relationships. We may have times when one has to bear more of the burden for a variety of reasons, but at the end there should be recognition and gratitude, however difficult that may be to express. Another friend and I have been getting together over lunch to discuss a number of shared interests. He has gone through some difficult times and I admire him for staying positive despite the setbacks. It struck me the other day as we were talking that his (failed) marriage was a difficult relationship and apparently anything but fair. He had asked me about Terri who has had a rough time managing at the hospital. Covid, staffing problems, issues of too many sick people and not enough beds, emergency departments in the region re-directing ambulances to other facilities, as you grasp, it has been stressful and difficult. I told him, honestly, that she is very stressed and tired and otherwise weighed down in this. I have, on occasion, taken time to "talk her down" before she gets home so that I am not the target of her frustration. I want to help however I can, but I cannot be a strong supporter if I must bear her anger. I'll listen to her vent, but I'll stop her when it shifts from situations that are not work related, but convenient straw men to tear apart.

He asked how that was received and I shared that it is sometimes difficult and time consuming, but she is very smart and will, in time, realize I, or the dog hair on the floor, or the mess on the counter, is not the problem. That she needs to redirect, and deal with work issues at work, not at home. He seemed astonished, adding that whenever he attempted that conversation there were always consequences, as though trying to give someone perspective was negative, wrong, and not supportive. This conversation made me think of the other friends posts about relationships, of finding someone who will appreciate you for you, someone with whom you can share and not feel threatened. Good relationships on built on that; friendships, partnerships, marriages, families, social groups and faith groups.

Having read so much about the psychology of dysfunction (see earlier blog on sociopaths) I know I am no expert but good relationships are about an equal or agreed upon power dynamic. When our children were small Terri and I joked that we worked well together because I don't do blood and she didn't do puke. Gross perhaps but a shared recognition that even in the things we'd prefer not to do that it is never one person's responsibility, just as one person cannot make all the decisions. I have often commented in the past that one of our family challenges is having three oldest children each vying for leadership. Caitlin, Terri, and I are all firstborns and accustomed to making decisions. It wasn't conflict, but there are often tough compromises to be made.

I often share memories of positive comments made to me about myself and others. One of the recent, and very positive comments, was made by a former colleague, now retired, with whom I had worked at two different institutions. At the first we were in different divisions but often socialized after work or even at the golf course. My group was comprised of four of us, all department managers, who genuinely enjoyed one another. We socialized as families, as couples, as colleagues. My colleague from the other division once said to me "I was envious of your group, how you liked one another and did things together. My group just went their separate ways, we didn't have your 'espirit d' corps'. I had to ponder this a while, I had never thought of us as special. I'd never thought of it as different, but I realized in that moment that our relationships were deeper than work, we trusted and cared for one another outside the work environment. It even extended to some "tough love" from two great friends from that group who pulled me aside to say "are you trying to get fired? what is going on with you?" the confrontation was enough to make me recognize the "black dog" of depression that was following me, and I needed to seek help. I am forever grateful to them for what I am sure was not an easy conversation for them, but...relationships. Sometimes people we love or care about need to hear bad news, but they also need our support.

I don't edit myself so this may come across as rather 'stream of consciousness' or disorganized, but my point is to reinforce how important relationships are, and the intimacy of these relationships has more to do with how we care for one another rather than physical intimacy. I am not afraid to say I love these guys.

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.