Summer Vacation

I've logged more than 2,000 miles on the Saturn, flew from NJ to NV, seen friends and family, and tanned in the Vegas sun and then some.
Life moves really fast. So much so, I need a rest from my vacation. Really. Loved reading the Washington Post, Philly soft pretzels, the look of D.C., VEGAS, the theater in Stratford, Ontario, traffic.
But, it was worth it. I was reminded of the world outside of a small town in mid-Michigan, a more global view. Some people are kind, others are just mean, and some are capable of so much damage.
I traveled with my mom (84) for awhile. We used a wheelchair so she could get around with ease. You would not believe how many people: used the handicapped restroom when they were handi-able, walked in front of the wheels without giving way, used handicap ramps for places to rest, thus blocking access, did not bother to hold doors open, would not give way on handicap corner cuts in the sidewalk...what is wrong with people?
On the plus side, young boys, ages 5-10, were the most kind - holding doors, smiling at mom. There is hope.

He will be missed

The sad passing of cellist and human rights advocate Mstislav Rostropovich made me stop and pause and remember some incredible times in my life.

As as undergraduate at the University of Maryland, College Park, I was a member of the choir there, about 300 voices strong, which was the choir for the National Symphony Orchestra. As such, our opportunities to work with folks, the caliber and status of conductor Rostropovich, were many. My other favorite was Antal Dorati.

Anyway, we worked with maestro Rostropovich from the day he stepped on U.S. soil. We happened to have a Russian-speaking member of the choir (also our secretary) who could translate. How exciting it was, to hear him work with the orchestra, and us. His observations were magical, symbolic, illuminating, always. He was gentle, but you could see the passion rise when something was amiss and you didn't want it to blossom into anger or frustration. He was not large of stature but incredibly huge in impact. His life was passion, for music, for his homeland, for justice. His wife, Galina, sadly, never sang with us on stage, but she was there.

Bravo, Slava. You impacted my life and the world. Music means more because of musicians such as you.

It is finished

Ahh, the end of another semester.

Bittersweet is the best way to describe the feeling.

Bitter that there was so much more to accomplish, so little time, so many missed opportunities, so many student falters and missteps. Sweet that there is graduation, jobs for some, job hunting for others, some students gone, flying (fleeing) the nest, others returning, and eager to do so.

What a blessing it is to be a part of these young, aspiring lives. It makes me feel young and hopeful too, every spring.

But then, on the other hand, there is my mom. Love her, need her, cry at night when I know she is fading away. Her body is fine at 85, it's her mind...She misplaces the car keys (a blessing actually), because then, she can't remember how to get to the doctor's (she does not drive anymore, sadly). She is afraid of being stung by bees and falling down the front cement steps (she's done so twice). She is confused easily, lonely without her spouse of 54 years (gone just two years now). She is so far away and I want to be there, but I have a job and a spouse and...

Bittersweet. And these young folks think running short on beer money is a tragedy. Ahh, the circle of life.

Imus, Vonnegut and Virginia Tech

Wow, what a week it has been. Thought provoking to say the least.

It's been a great (read intellectual, stimulating, reflective) time to be a media professor. I've been able to engage my students about the First Amendment, inspired writing and news on demand.

First, Imus. My two cents: He yelled fire in a theatre. I am all for free speech, it is my profession, but context is everything. Why degrade women's sports, especially women's collegiate basketball? Women have it tough enough on the court - they get little to no respect in collegiate or professional B-Ball. And to use sexist, racist language to boot? What was he thinking....oh, right, he wasn't (I hope).

Kurt Vonnegut. So it goes. The man who helped me understand the power and beauty of words. The writer who inspired me to write. I actually got to meet him a few years ago, to shake his hand, look into those mischievous eyes and thank him for his gifts to humankind. He just smiled at me (it was in a public, crowded space). Bless you, Mr. Vonnegut.

Virginia Tech. My heart hurts. Being on a college campus should be challenging, not life-threatening or ending. But what an incredible lesson in 24/7 news coverage for media students. And what grace under pressure performed by the Virginia Tech media students. Bravo to all involved on that campus. The campus newspaper editor, a young woman, asked great, penetrating, relevant questions and gave intelligent, unbiased answers on CNN Tuesday night, outshining and classing the so-called professionals. Out of the mouths of the young...

Hopefully, we were all listening and pondering these events. And of course, there are the "usual" suicide bombings, economic challenges, weather disasters. So it goes.

It's been awhile....

A month, wow!

A lot has happened, and normally, in the past, I would have written about it. Maybe it's my age, or my tiredness, but I am just too tired to write, or think anymore.

What is wrong with the world today? Why is there so much stress, apathy, anger, rage, pettiness, idiocy...Ask a rhetorical question...

I guess there has always been stress. From the time we discovered we were not alone, we worried about where to eat, sleep, live, procreate and with whom. It's a never ending stream of what if, where, how, when, unless you just give it all up to the universe to sort out, as it will eventually.

So, why worry? Don't panic. Give it up to your higher power. Chill out. It's always five o'clock somewhere. Now, if I could just believe the platitudes. I sort of have to in a way, because I pass them on to my students everyday. I have to let them know it will all work out in the end (not), that the world is fair (hardly), that if you put in good work you will be recognized (whatever).

In the end, it comes down to one of those sayings I like to dwell on - to thine own self be true - no matter what. And, make sure to be nice to your cat.

Daniel Craig

OK, can we talk?!

Daniel Craig...go ahead, drink him in....

I admit, when it was first announced he'd be playing Bond, James Bond, I couldn't picture the blond on Bond. But, a few seconds into the film....ahhhh

This chiseled, impish, Peck's bad boy is perfect for the part. Why would James - suave, yes, fit, of course, intelligent, indubitably - be anything but arrogant and egotistical and proud of it?

Craig carries all of that off and more. His blue eyes flash to perfect synchronization in the script at every breath. Wait, I need to catch mine right now.

This is the first Bond film I will own. Not only does it have a plot filled with emotion as well as action, but, it has...Daniel Craig.

I remember him from "Road to Perdition," my favorite Tom Hanks' film, but that's about it. I see Craig is slated to play Lucifer in an upcoming film. Fitting. Just keep him as 007.

Our Greatest Fear

I read it in my local paper, but David Letterman has been talking about it for days now in his opening monologue.

I can't get it out of my head.

Vincenzo Ricardo, 70, was dead for a year, his body was partially mummified when found, in front of a droning television set.

A year, dead. No one noticed? No one? Come on - not even the cable guy?

Okay, so he lived alone. But he had some contact with the outside world, right? Even if it was just his tax person?

No one noticed his absence. His disappearance went unchecked. His constant television noise was laughed off by neighbors.

What kind of community is Hampton Bays, New York? Doesn't the absence of one person get noticed? Is is so unlike our towns? Apparently not.

And that's where the fear comes in. When we're trying to sleep at night, when we ask ourselves those big questions - why am I here? what does it matter? - we don't really want the answer, we dread the answer, Vincenzo got.

Rest in peace.

V-Day, Peace, possibilities

Another long week. What is it? The weather (cold), the time of year (dark), the semester (mid)? Oh, well - it's Friday, and most of my colleagues are gone. I'm just about out the door, off to a work meeting, believe it or not, and a weekend of papers to grade. Ahh, the glories of professing.

We did our bi-annual V-Day program here - a special, benefit performance of Eve Ensler's "The Vagina Monologues," to raise money for a local shelter that fights violence against girls and women (Eve's purpose in life) - Peace, basically.

But, little did I know that the performance would enrage a person - not because of the sex, sex parts, vulgar language, etc., but because of the political implications of a few words, words that innocently and ignorantly fell from the lips of student performers, who had no idea that names of places can elicit anger, sadness, rage, homesickness...

After some thoughtful discussions with the person offended, and an engaging communications class this morning, I pulled up a world map, and really looked (sort of like Bob in the "Vagina Monologues" piece, if you know what I mean). What I saw were many names and places I have not one iota of knowledge about, even though the names were familiar and the places identifiable. I had no idea what was really going on in someone else's backyard, and dammit, I should know. I am supposedly an educated person. I know much of the world keeps an eye on North America. Why don't I see other places, spaces, borders, boundaries, hardships, cries for justice? Isn't Ensler's piece as much about love and peace as it is women and respect? Aren't someone's daily fears of bombings, rapes, mutilations my fears, too?

No. Not in peaceful middle America. And, understandably so, not every day, or hour, of my life. But, I am seriously considering broadening my daily responsibility to peace and care to a more global awareness, a broader view. My backyard is endless. I needed someone to remind me, something to jar me out of complacency.

Attitude mixed with a bit of yoga

It's been an exhausting week at the small college I call home. So much drama, sickness, sadness, for staff and students alike. I think it's the mid-winter blaahhs...at least I hope so.

Attitude is everything. I think I've said this 50 times this week, to students despairing over job applications, boyfriends, coursework, home life, health issues. Who knew my college psychology courses would come in so handy? It's not so much the situation, but how you perceive it. Throughout the week, my "Doctor is in" sign has been flying high.

Some of my colleagues intimate I care too much. They are right. I need to learn to let them fend for themselves - they are adults, right? But, when I look into their bloodshot, puppy dog eyes, see their dirty jeans, give them that extra dime or quarter they need for a cold Dew, I realize I was there once, and someone helped me.

It's karma, my yoga instructor reminds me. Yes, yoga. Me, in yoga. Me, who can barely sit cross-legged. It has been fun, though, and I absolutely adore the meditation period...wow...nine-minute nirvana.

Back to the hoards. They need a break, but Spring Break is three long weeks off. Oh, well, they'll cope. They do have youth on their side, after all. I don't, just some yoga moves. Namaste.

Hump Day

I can't imagine being bored...

May it's the collegiate world. Maybe it's mid-Michigan. Maybe it's just me. But I wonder how anyone in this world could be bored. I challenge my students when they say this about themselves and their lives. Last semester, I collected (or attempted to at least) a quarter from each student who used the word in my presence.

This semester, it's worse. I am challenging them to define the word - what it means in their world. According to a dictionary, it means "to tire with dullness or repetition." One thing a college campus is not is dull or repetitive. So, where does this enter funk in their lives?

Between you and me, I fear these folks are essentially bored with themselves. So many of them live in a world that is me first, I want. It is only when they expand their view, see others around them, get involved with someone or something "meaningful," journey outside themselves, that the word "bored" leaves their daily vocabulary.

Don't get me wrong. So many of my students work on and off campus, participate in sports, clubs, home life, etc. These are the folks that do not whine about the dullness of days. That's why we offer alternative Spring Breaks here, and service learning requirements. Once a young person's eyes are opened and their thoughts are elsewhere, they tend to perk up. It's wonderful to watch. It is like a bud opening, a hatchling springing forth, a birth of person-hood. That is anything but boring.

Everything old...

It's a red-letter day on the New York Stock Exchange. After 214 of good old yelling, running, jostling, jotting down trades on paper, the digital age has arrived. Now, traders have the choice of accessing stock electronically vs. using real people to deliver the goods.

Pictures of the scene were confusing at first. Gone were the red coats, mobs of vocal traders, mounds of paper. Instead, one photo showed floor workers sitting, just sitting....Is this what technology wrought? Edison wondered it decades ago. Now it is our turn. Gone are so many things: fresh milk and newspapers on the doorstep, rotary phones (ringing phones, really) typewriters, Morse Code, records (LPs, not those goofy 45s), Johnny Carson, pay phones, and all of the "people" jobs that went along with them...What is man/woman to do, now that technology can do it faster, better, 24-7?

Maybe it will be Utopia on Earth - leisure time, time to relax, read, enjoy the season, enjoy people, travel, think, volunteer, bake, make our own clothes, build our own homes...Yes, back to the good old days, the Little House days...wait a minute, weren't those the days we were leaving behind?

Communication!?!

Communication - I teach it every day, and yet, at times, it becomes less accessible to me and my students, not more.

For example, there is nothing like repeating a concept we've gone over for two weeks to a sea of blank, helpless faces. Hey, it's 9:45 a.m., they shouldn't be sleepy, right? So, what gives?

Yes, I asked. I do teach communication. The answers mostly revealed, "We're listening, we're just not showing it." No kidding.

Later, while relating my frustrations to my colleagues, I jot this down on a lunch napkin: "If we don't care if they understand, why should they care to understand."

This is a breakthrough for me, especially as a fairly new college professor, and a person who cares far too much about getting it just right. My sole purpose (and soul, too) is to relate knowledge and stimulate learning and understanding. I take it very seriously. I hope my students feel the same way. But, I don't, EVERY day, and I guess, neither should they.

It goes back to remembering what it was like to be an 18-19-20-year-old, with obligations and frets and commitments and never enough time, money, energy.... It comes down to realizing we're all searching, hoping, dreaming, being, day-dreaming at any one given time.

They'll get it sooner or later, and so will I.

Premiere! And MLK Day

Okay, I've done it, I've actually completed a New Year's Resolution: join the techno world and start a blog. After all, I'm in the business, sort of. I teach journalism/mass communication, including freshman writing at a private Mid-West college.

So, what do people talk about here, and why would anyone read this? It's a journal, right, but one with no locks, no codes, no secrets. It's open, exposed to the world, the air.

Today is MLK Day - We had a guest speaker on campus talking about social justice, specifically migrant workers and immigration rights/wrongs. Approximately 60 students and staff attended, and were silent throughout. I was one of only two questions during the Q&A and I really don't like speaking up or out - I see our gatherings as student-centered, so students should be engaged and engaging and profs should zip it. But today, there was a distinct air of dis-interest. It could have been the cold, wet and ice outside. It could have been the cold room we had to suffer with. It might have been a weariness of another unimaginative way to celebrate this day. It worried me a bit. There are so few remembrance days that we truly "celebrate."

This day above all cries for action, reaction, shouts of pride, outrage, defiance. Where are they? And where are they if not on our college campuses? Yep, I witnessed the 70s - I was actually a year or two later - the anti-war and continuing civil rights riots and marches. Where have they gone? Is it just Wii, not me or you today? Who is speaking up and out? Folks such as our 60-year-old speaker. They won't be here forever. Then what, or who?