Advice for College Freshmen

In my last column of May, as the school year wrapped up and I prepared to take a writing break, I shared my thoughts about the Class of 2023, a group I sincerely think of as “just really good kids.” This week, as summer vacation fades in the rearview mirror, and my wife and I prepare to send our second child off to college, I want to share some thoughts for those young people with their lives out in front of them.

In many high school graduation speeches, there is always a message about college being the time of freedom to explore and figure out who you are. A few years ago, Austin Kleon, artist and author of the cleverly titled Steal Like an Artist, wrote a message to graduates, reminding them that college is filled with that freedom and opportunity, but it comes with a caveat. “The classroom,” he wisely observed, “is a wonderful, but also fairly artificial, place: Your professor gets paid to pay attention to your ideas, and your classmates are paying to pay attention to your ideas.” Never again in your life will you have such a captive audience.

The college years are wonderfully rich times of learning and development. And it’s important to understand that not all of it, or even most of it, happens in the classroom. Additionally, college is not simply an internship or job training. In fact, for most students, a bachelor degree is decidedly not job training. Trust me, few companies are out there anxiously waiting for a twenty-two-year-old college graduate to come in and let them know how the work is done. Instead, employers want to know you earned a degree and have a credential that verifies you have the ability to do the work, whatever they assign you.

Shortly after you start working, you will discover the difference between the classroom and the workplace. Kleon goes on to remind students that “Soon after you leave college, you learn that most of the world doesn’t necessarily care about what you think. It sounds harsh, but it’s true.” As the writer Steven Pressfield says, “It’s not that people are mean or cruel, they’re just busy.” So, while in college, embrace the freedom, stretch your mind, and step outside of your comfort zone.

In a final bit of advice from Kleon, “Enjoy your obscurity while it lasts,” and embrace all the experiences available. Participate in theater if you never stepped on stage in high school, or enroll in intramural sports of some kind if you didn’t play before. Stay active, and make sure you eat some vegetables regularly. Spend time on the quad, playing frisbee and hacky sack. Learn to juggle or paint or sing. If your university is large enough, unofficially audit a class or two in something you’d never study or do. By that I mean, just sit in on a class lecture and learn something new.

By all means go to your college football and basketball games if they have teams and you enjoy sports, or even if you don’t. But also consider losing your voice cheering on the swim team. Take the time to go crazy with friends cheering on athletes in a tennis match or a gymnastics meet. In fact, try to see every team once.

Live on campus, and get a part time job while you’re in school. Find your spot to study on campus, and build a routine around that important part of the college experience. Whether it’s a coffee shop, some back corner of the library, or an academic building’s common room. Visit your professors during office hours. And try to do it before you need last minute help. And, if possible, study abroad for a semester. I have expressed this idea to my students for years – get out of your comfort zone, and by that I mean the country you call home.

Finally, remember that while these years are a time of freedom and opportunity, your time in college is not “the best days of your life.” I don’t share the ridiculous belief that college is the peak – what a depressing message for an eighteen-year-old. That said, it is a new beginning. Appreciate all the moments, including the stress of classes, the solitude of being on your own, the uncertainty of new friends.

Oh, and call your parents every once in a while. Not when you need something. Just because.

Grecian Dreams – Thirty Years Later

I've been on a bit of a hiatus since May, doing some traveling and writing and relaxing. This is my first column for The Villager since then.

Our memories were hazy as we stepped off the ferry in Parikia, the port city on the isle of Paros in the heart of the Aegean. It had been thirty years since my wife and I walked down a similar ramp amidst a group of travelers scanning the lot for taxis, cafes, or just a place to stretch. As we made our way past the windmill in the roundabout and headed toward the town center, we serenely drifted back into our past, all the while holding hands with our daughter’s future.

The impetus for our summer trip to Greece started for our daughter back in middle school when she and a friend began planning their European trip for the summer after senior year. As seven years flew by, and they entered the last year of high school, the plan narrowed to the Greek isles, and soon we were researching plans to rent a house, serving as home base for the girls to island hop. And, then, we were back in Greece, thirty years after our first trip.

In the summer of 1992, my wife and I moved abroad following our college graduation and spent years working and traveling. Living in southeast Asia, we knew many young expats who regularly headed to the beaches of Thailand or the Philippines or Indonesia. But during a lull between two work contracts, we instead headed west to Europe and Paros, which we heard was “where the Greeks vacation.” Initially planning to island hop, we rented a small villa on Paros fifty feet from the beach and stayed a month.

This summer, as in 1993, we began with a couple days in Athens. The city is noticeably different, following the 2004 Olympics which greatly extended the infrastructure. Yet it’s still a quaint European city filled with delightful cafes, inviting restaurants and bakeries, endless galleries and shops. As I stood one evening on our balcony, looking at the Parthenon rising from the Acropolis, I was struck again with the historical magic. I then grinned, glancing down on the Plaka, wondering if it was the same place where we had divine moussaka while also getting scammed as we struggled to mentally convert our drachmas to dollars.

These days, the euro makes things much easier, and once we reached Paros we were comfortably home again. Paros is centrally located and perfect for island hopping, but we spent weeks there before and chose to again. With more than forty named beaches, there was more than enough to keep us busy, though relaxing was the goal. This time we stayed outside the fishing village of Naoussa where our host Kariakos has several villas surrounded by his vineyard. He produces a wonderful boutique Greek white wine, light and refreshing with hints of lemony citrus and mellow melon accents, and gifted us a bottle.

The gem of the trip came at Golden Beach, near the village of Drios where we’d lived. Curiously walking along the coast, I spotted a vaguely familiar villa. As I walked toward it, a voice came from behind me. “Can I help you?” A young man, mid-twenties, had come from the restaurant. I hesitated, then turned around. “Hi, I, uh, think I rented this place thirty years ago.” He nods, as I go on. “The owner’s name was “George?” A huge smile comes across his face, as he places his hand over his heart. “That was my father! “Come, come inside.”

As we chat I realize, Paros thirty years later is really me thirty years later. A return to Paros is a return to myself as I sat on the cusp of becoming the person I would be. This time, sitting in a cafe as my daughter logged on to her university website to schedule fall classes, I rested in a sense of contentment. As I’m embraced by my past, she’s getting ready to move on with her future. It’s with fond nostalgia that I listen to my daughter’s desire to travel and live internationally, and I couldn’t imagine a better plan.

On our last day, as we spent an evening picnicking on the beach and watching the sun melt into the Aegean, I think Paros has given us again a serene reminder of what life really is. Vacation at times can feel like real life, an escape from the dailiness that distracts us from who we really are.

It won’t be another thirty years before we return to our Grecian dreams.

Godspeed, Class of 2023

Some thoughts on and for the Class of 2023 for my semi-annual unofficial commencement speech.

“They’re just really good kids.”

That view was shared with me last week by a colleague, as we talked about the school year on the last day for seniors at Cherry Creek. I was having a nostalgic moment because, well, last Wednesday, my daughter turned eighteen, and she attended her last day of high school the following day. Thinking about her and her friends, I beamed with pride for my daughter, her classmates, and the entire class of 2023. There’s just something about these kids.

“I’m going to have a hard time letting this group of seniors go,” said Alex Burkhart, theater teacher at Cherry Creek High School. The class of 2023 will always be special for Burkhart, for in his fourth full year at Creek, they were his first freshmen class. But it’s not just sentimental. They seemed pretty special from the get-go, as when their ensemble cast nearly brought the house down with their performance of Mary Poppins in March of 2020, just a week before stages went dark. In their four years, this class has been above the drama.

Burkhart’s thespian troupe co-presidents campaigned to lead the board as a team because there was no competition between them, just collaboration. It was symbolic of the confident maturity with which they’ve led. Each class is, of course, unique, and when I think of the class of 2023, I will always smile fondly about this group of “really good kids.” That sentiment has been echoed numerous times this year. Another colleague who sponsors a leadership group said of this year’s class, “They have a pretty special bond that I don’t know I’ll see again.”

If we had to choose one word for this year’s graduates, whether it’s high school or college matriculation, it would have to be resilient. At both levels, the class of 2023 entered school in a seemingly normal fall with the usual bit of excitement and a dash of reservation about what their next four years would hold. We all know how that went. But more than this group of young people being so strong and showcasing such endurance, I think they serve as a helpful reminder of the resilient nature of the human spirit. We are all strong, and we can all carry on, because that’s what we do.

To end the year, I’ve been teaching, or actually helping my ninth graders teach themselves, Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. They are exploring his existentialist Code Hero Santiago, a fisherman struggling through an unimaginable string of bad luck – eighty-four days without a fish. Yet despite the hardship, Santiago’s eyes remain “cheerful and undefeated.” That’s a wonderful way to look at the kids of the class of ‘23 – cheerful and undefeated.

The senior class at Cherry Creek went through school during their football team’s historic four-peat state championship run. So, in a way, these kids are perpetual champions, never knowing defeat. And that spirit is the soul of the class of 2023. They are champions, and like Santiago, they remain undefeated. Even amidst serious challenges and setbacks, they pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and prepare for what comes next.

In a theatrical bit of poetry for graduates, the musical this year at Cherry Creek – the culminating work for the thespians of 2023 – was Man of La Mancha. It’s the story of Don Quixote, the man who “dreamed the impossible dream.” He’s a man who remained forever undefeated in his mind. He is the idealist and eternal optimist who saw the world, not as it is, but as he hoped, wished, and believed it could be. In the fearless spirited pursuit of his dream, Don Quixote lived an idealized life, one of nobility and chivalry and triumph. Like Santiago and the class of 2023, he was forever cheerful and undefeated.

In the iconic song from the musical’s finale, Don Quixote sings of his quest “to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to run where the brave dare not go.” That is the heart of the class of 2023, and I see them with faith and hope and optimism. On their journeys, knowing what they know, they will “right the unrightable wrongs” and “the world will be better for this.” That is their quest, and they will, cheerfully and undefeated, “reach the unreachable star.”

Godspeed, Class of 2023. We are so proud and impressed, and we can’t wait to see what you do next.

Noticing the Poetry

Poetry hides.

That’s what Naomi Shihab Nye tells us in her whimsical poem, “A Valentine for Ernest Mann.” Poetry is found in the unlikeliest of places, even in the eyes of a skunk or at the bottom of a sock drawer. If we're looking for it, we can find poetry everywhere in our lives.

When I first read Nye’s poem at a writers conference many years ago, I was given the opportunity during a writing exercise to think about and list all the places that poetry hides in my life. When my kids were younger, I realized poetry was often giggling under the couch cushions when I came home from work. It was hiding in the bottom of the toy box in the basement, and it was out on the driveway amidst laughter during a game of tag or wiffle ball. As a teacher, I realized poetry is found in random doodles of a student’s notebook, or in their silly comments walking down the halls. It’s found on the fields and in the gym where it is always in motion. I revisit my list from time to time, trying to add new places where I’ve noticed poetry hiding.

April is National Poetry Month, which makes it a time to celebrate the beauty and art of language. For poetry, despite all its mystery, is simply language as art. That’s the approach I have always tried to take in teaching poetry in my English classes. Rather than simply study poetry, I hope my students can appreciate it as well. Seeing and hearing the artful turn of a phrase is the key. A great example of this approach can be found in the poem “Introduction to Poetry” by former teacher and national poet laureate Billy Collins. Rather than asking students what a poem means, he merely wants them to “hold a poem up to the light like a color slide,” or perhaps “water ski across the surface of a poem, waving at the author on the shore.”

In a recent Washington Post article, “What if the Sun Could Make a Sound?” poet Maggie Smith shares how she teachers poetry to her own children. “As a single mother, as a poet, and as a teacher,” Smith says, “I’m a noticer. My work at home, on the page, and in the classroom is paying attention — and, if I’m doing that work well, inspiring others to pay attention.” That act of noticing, of paying attention to simple details, is what artists and poets do so well. And when we listen and follow their lead, we become more mindful and aware of the world. When her kids were young, Smith did not force poetry upon them, but instead “began by celebrating the poetry in everyday life — sound, metaphor and image — because I wanted to instill in them a love of language and its possibilities. I wanted to encourage them to use their imaginations and express themselves. I wanted them to think like poets, and to see the world around them in a poetic way.”

There are numerous ways to celebrate and experience poetry during the month of April. Denver has regular poetry readings and performances. Or, there are numerous websites where you can sign up to get a poem a day sent to your inbox. One simple and fun way to appreciate poetry takes place next Thursday, April 27, which is known as “Poem in Your Pocket Day.” Sponsored by the American Academy of Poets, the day is an opportunity to remember the beauty of poetry and the poetry around us by simply carrying a poem in your pocket. If two people meet with poems, they can exchange poems and add a new poem to their collection.

I try to keep a book of poetry on my desk at work, and I will pick it up from time to time while taking a break from grading and just read. Lately, I’ve been working through the body of work from Billy Collins, and I am always amused and pleasantly surprised by the endless ways he uncovers poetry in the world. So, as Naomi Nye says, poetry hides, but you can look for the poetry in your life. Notice it in casual conversations and appreciate it in beautiful views. For, if I can paraphrase from one of my favorite movie lines, if you look for it, I have a sneaking suspicion you will find poetry actually is all around.

Hope Springs Eternal

Growing up in St. Louis, a Midwestern city where baseball is basically religion, I know of no more gratifying words in early spring than “pitchers and catchers report.” Far more significant than any silly rodent not seeing its shadow, the news about pitchers and catchers signals the coming of spring. Snow may be on the ground, we may have not seen the sun for weeks, the mornings might seem like they’ll never warm up. But when the boys of summer head down to Arizona or Florida, it reminds us winter can’t last forever. Soon the summer afternoons will be filled with that familiar crack of the bat.

Coming with the arrival of spring, baseball brings a myth and magic that doesn’t really exist with other sports. Perhaps it’s simply the season, a time of rebirth and renewal, which gives baseball an air of hope and infinite possibility. It could be the game’s long history and pastoral feel, played on a diamond in a park. Or perhaps it’s the schedule of nearly daily games and the idea of teams playing a series of games over three or four days. With a hundred and sixty two games in a season and the next game inevitably coming the next day, no sense of loss lasts for long. The next day brings another chance to play, another shot at the thrill of victory. It’s easy to have a short memory in baseball because another pitch, another hit, another game is coming soon.

The mythology of baseball extends through the poetry and prose of the nation, memorialized in columns and stories and novels and films. From the timeless song Take Me Out to the Ballgame to the classic short poem “Casey at the Bat” by Ernest Lawrence Thayer to timeless movies like Field of Dreams, baseball is a sport filled with stories, and many are grounded in hope and redemption. At the beginning of the classic baseball movie Bull Durham, Annie Savoy, the part-time English professor and full-time baseball fanatic played by Susan Sarandon, talks about belonging to the church of baseball, for the game makes far more sense to her than any of the world’s major religions. Later she recites the words of Walt Whitman: "I see great things in Baseball. It's our game, the American game. It will repair our losses and be a blessing to us."

This year brings a bit more of a spring in the step of baseball fans. It’s a new era in baseball with the recent changes including a pitch clock and the banning of the infield shift. Of course, it’s not really new – it’s a return to the old era of baseball played the way the game was meant to be. The average time of a game this year in spring training was two hours and thirty-five minutes. That’s an improvement of almost forty-five minutes over what games had stretched to in recent years. And with players back to playing their positions as originally intended, the screaming grounder up the middle is a hit again. The base paths are alive with fast players just itching to swipe a base now that pitchers can’t throw over endlessly. The traditionalist in me struggles with some of the new “rules,” but I’m reminded these changes are just returning the game to its roots.

As of this writing, the Colorado Rockies are 2-2, having split a road series against the near billion-dollar payroll of the San Diego Padre$. The Rox still have a chance for a winning record. They can still win the division, make the playoffs, bring home a pennant, and achieve their first franchise world championship. It could happen. Because in baseball, hope springs eternal. Writers from Roger Angell of the LA Times to George Will of the Washington Post to Jayson Stark of the Athletic remind us of the magic of baseball. And perhaps the best description comes from the James Earl Jones speech at the end of Field of Dreams:

“The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game – it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again. Oh, people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come.”

So, this spring take yourself out to the ballgame, and let’s “Play ball!”

SAT Going Paperless

“Ok, time is up. Please put your pencils down.”

For many years those dreaded words were heard by millions of students as they took standardized tests like the SAT, ACT, AP, and Iowa Test of Basic Skills. These timed assessments of reading, writing, and math skills have become the hallmark of supposedly objective testing to gauge school performance. Perhaps more importantly, they have become a fundamental data point for college admissions. And, until now, they were always pencil and paper multiple choice tests. Alas, that era has come to an end, and in my opinion the outlook is not good for students.

In a recent story from Chalkbeat, Colorado’s source for in-depth education news, the recent decision by the College Board and a “group of teachers and administrators” in Colorado to switch to paperless SAT testing has been praised by the decision makers as a positive step forward in the testing industry. They claim the format will be more accurate and relevant in terms of assessing the knowledge and academic skills of high school students. However, educators, especially those versed in literacy studies, have their doubts. “What’s best for kids” should be the primary factor in any education-related decision. The recent decision is anything but. It’s all about profit for the testing company and ease of administration.

The primary problem with the College Board’s and the state of Colorado’s decision to move high stakes standardized state testing to an all digital format is the simple fact that people don’t read as well online as they do on paper. Since the advent of the internet and the increased amount of digital versus paper reading, researchers have been studying whether people read differently in the two formats. The case against online reading has been growing in recent years, especially ten years ago when many states adopted Common Core standards and assessed students’ skills and knowledge with the now-maligned PARCC testing.

According to the Hechinger report, “studies showed that students of all ages, from elementary school to college, tend to absorb more when they’re reading on paper than on screens, particularly when it comes to nonfiction material.” That’s not surprising. English teachers encourage students to annotate text as a basic strategy for comprehension and understanding, but that’s not so easy online. Students say they prefer paper in any testing situation because scrolling up and down a page looking for information is not only time consuming, but actually distracting. Thus, in high stakes timed assessments where students' reading skills are under intense scrutiny, it’s nothing short of irresponsible for education officials to ignore the implication that digital testing will provide less accurate results. When PARCC testing was first implemented, Colorado statutes mandated students be given the paper option. That should remain in effect, and anyone who cares about the authenticity of the tests should demand it for their child.

Additionally, it’s shocking that digital tests are not available at a substantial discount, knowing all the paper, transportation, and labor costs are basically eliminated. Yet, that’s because the College Board is simply in it for the money. The business is a classified non-profit as an educational services company. That, of course, is laughable to anyone who has ever forked over several hundred dollars for their child to register for AP and SAT tests. Yet, in 2019 the president of College Board David Coleman pulled in a salary of nearly $1.7 million. And nine other College Board executives received annual salaries above $500,000. So, for a non-profit that company seems to be profiting quite a bit.

While many colleges and universities no longer require standardized test scores for admission, colleges will still accept the tests as part of a student’s application. Granted, the criticism of the test scores is that they most accurately reflect socioeconomic status, and affluent families have an advantage because their students can afford private tutoring and test prep. But to be honest, I’ve always felt the benefits of those services are greatly oversold. Besides, the College Board puts all their test prep materials online for free. So, while affluent students may have an advantage, access to prep is free to any student willing to put in the time.

Thus, while the tests are not going away, the decision to test digitally should. Rather than students putting their pencils down, I certainly hope the families of Colorado put their foot down and demand that their students be allowed to pick their pencils up.

E Pluribus Unum

As I sat home on President’s Day last week, reading an essay on Washington’s Farewell Address, I was struck by a comment King George III had reportedly made. In the closing days of the Revolution a decade earlier, it was widely believed Washington could easily have made himself king. Instead, after serving a self-imposed limit of two terms as President of the young nation, Washington simply retired to his farm. “If he does that,” King George said, “he will be the greatest man in the world.” Such is the legacy of our first president, like the one of Abraham Lincoln, an equally great American whose life was tragically cut short far too soon in an act of divisive sectarian madness. Presidents Day, which is aptly nestled between the birthdays of our two greatest leaders, is a time to reflect on who we are as a nation and what their legacies can still teach us.

However, my reflection on the man from Mount Vernon was abruptly rattled when I took a break and scrolled through my social media apps. On Presidents Day, in a shocking display of crass treachery, the GOP’s congressional embarrassment from Georgia, Marjorie Taylor Greene tweeted “We need a national divorce. We need to separate by red states and blue states.” That an elected member of Congress could, on a day celebrating Washington and Lincoln, actually make a public call for insurrection and secession is beyond the pale, even in these times. Of course, the real tragedy is not that Greene said it. She’s simply an idiot, and like too many politicians, she uses her office for attention and personal gain.

No, the deeper concern is that we live in a time when Greene actually believes she can say something so abysmal and get away with it. And, sadly, she can. Granted, there was outrage and head shaking and calls for her resignation, but it didn’t come from the right people. While the current party leaders took a pass on the comment, and have taken no disciplinary action, it was former Wyoming representative Liz Cheney who responded, “Our country is governed by the Constitution. You swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution. Secession is unconstitutional. No member of Congress should advocate secession, Marjorie.” How sad that Greene still sits in Congress, serving on committees like Homeland Security, while a smart, classy stateswoman like Cheney loses her seat.

Like Memorial Day, Labor Day, and Independence Day, the national holiday in February celebrating the presidents should remind us of the commonalities that unite a shared citizenship. Washington’s farewell and other writings still have much to teach us, perhaps now more than ever. For example, if Representative Greene considers herself an American and a patriot, which ironically she probably does, she might recall Washington’s letter to the nation “emphasizing the necessity of ‘an indissoluble Union of States under one Federal Head,’ stressing the importance of overcoming ‘local prejudices and policies.’” Later, Washington warned Americans against the inherent danger of political parties, hoping that policy disagreements would never divide the nation into “red and blue states.” We are, or should be, stronger and more resolute than any political issue or piece of legislation.

Regarding the natural inclination to align ourselves by factions, Washington advised “Your union ought to be considered as a main prop of your liberty,” and “… the love of one ought to endear you to the preservation of the other.” Granted, the existence of parties and organizations is not inherently bad, and historians generally believe they are a structure for balancing dissent within the system. However, partisanship, sectarianism, and “local prejudices” are corrosive and unnecessary. Our connections as human beings should supersede our identifications with arbitrary associations. Living in Greenwood Village shouldn’t negate a sense of community with Centennial residents. Being a Cherry Creek Bruin shouldn’t keep us from camaraderie with Smoky Hill Buffaloes. Voting for Democrats shouldn’t isolate and alienate us from others who checked the Republican box.

In a recent Wall Street Journal column, Peggy Noonan looked back at Jimmy Carter’s historic “Crisis of Confidence,” noting how valid and insightful the speech actually was. On news of the former president’s entry into hospice, Noonan reflected on the inherent goodness of his leadership. She reminds us how he ended with this advice: “Whenever you have a chance, say something good about our country.” Great advice from a great man. And he lived it every day of his virtuous life.

Who Am I? Who Are You?

Last week's column for The Villager, inspired by some local events and an intriguing essay from Yuval Harari in Time Magazine.


Growing up in a small town in Illinois on the banks of the Mississippi River, just outside St. Louis, Missouri, I was raised a middle class, suburban Catholic kid who was aware of his heritage but never gave it that much thought. Though my heritage is Irish and Slovakian, I have no identification with those backgrounds other than to know they are where my great, great grandparents and their families lived. For the most part, my identity always lacked ethnicity, a reality that became clear when I went to a large college filled with diverse identities. Later, while living abroad in southeast Asia and then residing in the city of Chicago, a place filled with unique neighborhoods of cultures and ethnicities, my mind was opened even more to how we define ourselves through culture. And, like most people, I often wondered just who I am and how I define myself.

The noticeable void in a specific cultural heritage has, at times, made describing my culture and identity a bit of a challenge over the years as I encounter the rich diversity of the world, and my world. With that in mind, I occasionally refer to myself in relation to where I’m from, specifically my hometown. “I’m an Altonian,” I’ll say when asked about my background. For, even though I no longer live in my little river town, I believe it defines my character as much as any other affiliation I might have. As Morgan Wallen sang, “I’m still proud of where I came from,” and I will always look back fondly upon the place where I was raised. For a placid little river town just north of St. Louis, Alton, Illinois is a surprisingly well-known place with a big history, and it has enough funky eccentricities that, no matter where I am, I love telling Alton stories. Defining ourselves by our geography is a natural inclination, even as that tendency is rife with limitations.

People identify themselves based on many affiliations – their race or ethnicity, their religion or political ideology, their geography, whether it’s a town, city state or country, their likes and dislikes, the teams they root for or against, the lists just go on. And, too often, people think of themselves in terms or this or that, of us or them. In the most recent edition of Time Magazine, Yuval Harari, an Israeli philosopher and academic, wrote a fascinating essay on “The Dangerous Quest for Identity.” Harari identifies and explores all the aspects of his identity that extend beyond his race, religion, and nationality. For example, while he is obviously Jewish, he speaks of being a huge football fan, which is clearly British. He also loves coffee, so he acknowledges the Ethiopians, Turks, and Arabs as clear influences on his identity. Harari is incredibly well educated on history and anthropology, and in exploring the issue of identity, he observes that “People who, in search of their identity, narrow their world to the story of a single nation are turning their back on their humanity.” The point is that we are all humans, and that is the primary quality which we all share. Our shared humanness should unite rather than divide us.

Generational norms are a rather common shared experience, and people also identify themselves by their age. The Greatest Generation, the Boomers, Xers, Millennials, Gen Z, and those to come later all seem to coalesce around shared experiences based simply on chronological age. Douglas Coupland, the author credited with naming Generation X after he wrote a book of the same name, has said the term Generation X was never about a specific age group or demographic. Gen X actually meant a certain kind of person who chooses a lifestyle. Lately some have argued that there is no such thing as a generation, an increasingly relevant claim as society becomes increasingly diverse. Arguably, generations are legitimate divisions only in the sense that they reflect common associations and familiar references.

Often we define ourselves by what we do or who we voted for in the last election. Too often it seems like our sense of who we are is based on opposing those who we are not. And occasionally these days, where I am does not feel like who I am. As Harari notes, many of the ways we identify ourselves as separate from others comes at the cost of the humanity that aligns us.

So, who are you?

Maybe Students Should Spend Their Money Elsewhere

A follow-up column for The Villager on the local issue of the arts scholarship.

Art can break down barriers. It can open minds and connect communities. Art at its best reaches across borders. Greenwood Village City Council, however, has taken the opposite position with its recent meddling in the work of the city’s Arts and Humanities Council. With the decision to restrict and ultimately cancel the annual Greenwood Village Arts Scholarship, the city leaders prefer to close doors, build walls, marginalize people, and restrict arts funding. In fact, if you follow the thinking of the City Council, you might suspect the Village is closed for business to outsiders.

The GV arts scholarship had been a wonderful message and symbol to the community and the town’s neighbors across Arapahoe County. For thirty-five years, previous leaders of Greenwood Village set an admirable example of support for the arts among young people. With its generous and impressive guideline that opened applications to any student in Arapahoe County, the Arts Council used its independently-raised funds to honor the best among all the students attending school in the area. Knowing no city is an island and that consumers cross borders all the time, the Arts Council simply focused on its mission – supporting the arts.

Apparently, city council members are pretty riled up about giving money to artists who don't live in the city. I guess that could make sense because it’s not like the Village ever pays artists who don’t live here – like say the musicians who play the mobile summer concerts. I guess we’ve never seen non-resident artists and performers at the Mayor’s Lighting Ceremony or Greenwood Village Day. No, of course not. The Village can’t honor, support, and pay artists who don’t live in the Village. That’s the thinking of a City Council member who said “this is city money and we are elected to be stewards of city money.” However, that view is somewhat inaccurate and misleading because city tax dollars are not used to fund the scholarship. The Arts Council is self-funded through fundraising, donations, and grants, a point made clear by member Sandy Carson who noted “I find this particularly appalling because all monies for scholarships are derived from our earnings. City taxes are not involved in the scholarships.”

Sadly, current council members are surprisingly aloof to the nature of the town they profess to lead. For example, one council member responded to an email about the arts scholarship by saying she had “volunteered to chair the application and award committee” limited specifically to a Greenwood Village resident. Had she listened to the discussions with Arts and Humanities, she would have known that last year only two of the twenty-seven applicants were from Greenwood Village, and one of those applications was not even complete and did not qualify. The scholarship is a merit award, yet apparently some council members would simply award the scholarship to applicants based on their address. Clearly the council members have limited knowledge of the work the Arts Council does. In fact, that’s why the Village established separate boards and councils to specialize.

Greenwood Village is a small community of just fourteen thousand people. Thus, in a graduating class of nine-hundred seniors at Cherry Creek, the number of Village residents could be quite small, with no guarantee any of those residents are outstanding artists of exceptional talent. However, a phenomenal artist may literally live across the street from the Village in Centennial or just down the road in Littleton. Council members want to award the “youth of Greenwood Village,” but the youth of the community are not just those living here. It’s those who spend their days – and their money – in the Village. And, to be clear, of the nearly seventy scholarships given over the years, only twenty-nine went to kids outside the Village anyway.

As a Village resident, I’d hate to suggest people not support local businesses, but money talks, as the saying goes. Because the Council has made it clear they don’t value non-residents as members of the community, perhaps students should think more carefully about where they spend their money and the implications of those funds. A Centennial or Aurora student attending school in the Village may spend thousands of dollars in the Village over the years. Until the Greenwood Village City Council reverses its unfortunate decision about the arts scholarship and heals its relationship with the Arts and Humanities Council, the young people of Arapahoe County might want to consider spending their money elsewhere.

The Proust Questionnaire

Marcel Proust, a French novelist, essayist, and critic from the early twentieth century, is probably best known for his iconic, massive novel Remembrance of Things Past. The book follows the narrator’s recollection of childhood and his transition into adulthood, pondering the loss of time and the eternal search for meaning. In contemporary times, Proust may be better known for popularizing a common parlor game of the Victorian Age called the confession album, where players answer a series of questions designed to reveal a person’s true nature.

Versions of the questions are now known as the Proust Questionnaire, and they are often used by interviewers. The most well-known example today is probably the profiles featured on the back page of Vanity Fair magazine where celebrities answer variations of the original questionnaire. I’ve always enjoyed reading this feature, and I’ve often used parts of the Proust Questionnaire in my classes. Yet, while I’ve pondered the questions when I read profiles of others, I’ve never taken the time to literally record my thoughts. Until now.

What is your idea of perfect happiness? A quiet Sunday morning with the sun just coming up, a cup of rich dark roast coffee with a splash of heavy cream, a slice of homemade strawberry rhubarb pie, and some cool piano jazz in the background to accompany it all.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Those times I lack kindness and empathy

What is the trait you most deplore in others? A lack of kindness and empathy

Which living person do you most admire? My children are two of the most impressive people I have ever known, and I have endless admiration for how they live their lives. They are both more mature adults at the age of eighteen than I was in my mid-twenties. I’m in awe of their kindness, confidence, compassion, knowledge, talents, and genuine good nature.

What is your greatest extravagance? I never mind paying top prices for exquisite dining, and I also enjoy quality bourbon.

What is your current state of mind? Contentment and joy for how my life is now mixed with subtle but anxious ambition for what comes next

Which living person do you most despise? An old friend of mine once had a bumper sticker on his car that said simply, “Mean People Suck.” I agree with that sentiment.

When and where were you happiest? Summers in Keystone with the family

Which talent would you most like to have? To be a really smooth jazz piano player and musician

What do you consider your greatest achievement? My teaching career

If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be? Honestly, I’d like to try this one again.

Where would you most like to live? As my wife and I think of what comes next, we’re tossing a few ideas around. The south of France and northern Italy appeal to us, so the town of Genoa on the border might be the perfect compromise. I am also quite interested in the town of Alton, England, where Jane Austen lived and wrote. Interestingly, I grew up in Alton, Illinois, and never knew of the British counterpart.

Who are your favorite writers? I enjoy columnists like Mike Royko, David Brooks, Robert Fulghum, and I think Mark Kiszla is one of the best sports writers out there.

Who is your hero of fiction? Oh, it has to be Huckleberry Finn.

What is it that you most dislike? As a member of Generation X, I think collectively we most dislike inauthenticity and phoniness.

What is your greatest regret? I believe if we are satisfied with our lives then we should have no regrets about the ups and downs that got us here. However, I was just telling my wife the other night that I wish I’d seen more concerts and shows in my youth. On a more personal level, I do regret any and all the times I’ve senselessly hurt others.

What is your motto? I like Henry Thoreau’s reason for going to Walden – “I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately.”

Self reflection and self examination are valuable parts of the human experience, and it’s helpful to occasionally take the time to think about what we really feel and believe. So, if you have the chance, perhaps sit down with the Proust Questionnaire and record your own “remembrances of things past.”

So, About the Guns

For my column this week in The Villager, I reflected on the continuing tragedy of gun violence. Specifically, I pondered why licensing and training aren't common sense for the pro-gun crowd. I believe increasing respect and personal responsibility, and decreasing fetishization and casual attitudes toward firearms is the best course of action for the United States. The country will always have a problem with gun possession and gun violence. And there will never be widespread bans or buybacks like in Australia or New Zealand. But I do believe we could gradually de-escalate the obsession with and proliferation of guns, and we could more maturely manage firearm possession in the United States.

While it’s not surprising anymore to be surprised with ever sadder and increasingly inexplicable stories of tragic gun violence and deaths, two stories in the news this week rattled and baffled us all over again. In one story which has been in the news for a year, prosecutors have charged actor Alec Baldwin with involuntary manslaughter in connection to the accidental shooting death of the cinematographer on a film set. In the other, it was yet another devastating story of a school shooting, this time with a six-year-old kindergarten student in Virginia who pulled a gun out of his backpack and shot his teacher in class.

America certainly has a problem with gun violence, and no specific gun legislation will end, prevent, or even curtail that epidemic. America has a history of psychotic people becoming deranged, acting out violently and publicly; it also has hateful, rage-filled individuals with access to deadly weapons. Whether it’s a person in the midst of psychosis or an angry impulsive person with violent intentions, it is far too easy to commit violence with implements of catastrophic destruction. That said, it's not simply a matter of passing an assault weapons ban or strengthening the health care system. One is an easy act; the other quite challenging. And neither will solve the problem. The Alec Baldwin situation and the child shooter in Virginia were not issues of mental illness. They resulted from careless negligence in the management of firearms. Acknowledging that weakness may be a key toward eventually decreasing gun violence in the future.

Growing up in the 1970s in southern Illinois where guns were not at all uncommon, I knew the National Rifle Association to be a gun-safety organization. Attending gun safety presentations, workshops, and even "day camps" where young people could learn to safely operate and respect firearms was a natural part of my youth. In fact, the entire purpose of the NRA, as far as I knew, was to promote safe, responsible understanding and handling of guns. To that end, I simply can't fathom the opposition to training, licensing, and regulation of firearms. Regulation is the key to solving the disagreement about America's alarming gun violence. Supporters of gun rights should be the primary proponents of maximizing safety while minimizing tragedy.

Podcaster Marc Maron has a feature of his show he likes to call "I don't get why." The point of the segment is just investigating issues in order to seek clarity and understanding. For example, "I don't get why mandatory regular training, licensing, and registration of gun ownership and ammunition purchases isn't just common sense." It truly baffles me that a society where every automobile must be registered and every driver must be licensed can't have the same expectation on gun ownership. It seems so simple. Anyone who wants to own a gun should undergo extensive formal training, pass an annual test, and maintain a license that is regularly evaluated and renewed. Every firearm should require a registration number assigned to a specific person. That tracking system should be implemented for ammunition purchases. Otherwise, it seems unconscionable that an individual – a mass shooter like James Holmes in the Aurora shooting, for example – can amass an arsenal of thousands of rounds of semi-automatic bullets with no one including law enforcement knowing what is happening.

When Timothy McVeigh blew up the Murrah building in Oklahoma City, the nation reacted quickly to prevent such weapons of mass destruction from ever being assembled and used against Americans again. Law abiding citizens agreed to the regulation of farm fertilizer purchases. Similar tracking was added to the purchase of hairspray after a Denver-area man attempted to create a bomb to set off in New York City. Those restrictions were literally put in place to protect Americans from terrorist violence. Yet, the same would-be terrorists could purchase thousands of guns and millions of rounds of ammunition without ever drawing the attention of any law enforcement agencies. How does that make sense?

America has plenty of guns, and it’s certain there will be more tragedies. But we can do more to increase safety. Tragic accidents like the film set shooting and a six-year-old getting a gun could be decreased. Firearm possession is a serious responsibility and should be treated as such. America will not quickly decrease gun possession or violence, but it could take incremental steps to improve personal responsibility and safety while lessening recklessness which leads to avoidable tragedy.

Greenwood Village Should Restore Arts Scholarship

Some thoughts on a local issue:

In the film Dead Poets Society, teacher John Keating, played by Robin Williams, tells his students this: “Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are the things we stay alive for.” I would add the term “art” to his list, for that is what he is talking about, the Arts. Art sustains us, consoles us, inspires us, heals us, makes us human.

Greenwood Village has long been a community that values and supports the arts. It is, or at least was, a community that cultivates the arts among young people. Programs like Art in the Park, which my daughter took as a child and now works as a rec aide, and the impressive array of Curtis Arts Center classes promotes the arts to the next generation. Until recently the Village also supported the arts with the annual arts scholarships awarded by the city’s Arts & Humanities Council. For thirty-five years, this scholarship has been a wonderful message and symbol to the community and its neighbors, as the award has always been open to any student in Arapahoe County.

However, the Greenwood Village City Council recently eliminated the scholarship after the Village’s Arts & Humanities Council rejected a directive to limit the scholarship to only high school seniors who are Village residents. The City Council’s misguided and unilateral decision to end the scholarship on December 1, was a disappointing lump of coal delivered to the area’s young people just in time for the holidays. Their "take-my-ball-and-go-home" attitude sends a terrible message to our community, especially to young people. For inexplicable reasons, city leaders have broken a thirty-five year tradition of offering an arts scholarship simply because they couldn’t restrict the program to only Greenwood Village residents, even though that had never been the practice.

Until now, Greenwood Village has never limited appreciation of the arts to only Village residents. Non-residents have always been welcome in the city to enjoy the arts, whether that’s art shows and classes at the Curtis Center, summer Concerts at the Crescent, or movies at the Landmark. Past city leaders have always wanted non-residents to enjoy – and, of course, spend their money on – concerts at Fiddler's Green. And it seems money is the crux of the Council's misguided vote. By eliminating the scholarship altogether because they can’t limit it to Village residents, the Council is basically telling all young artists in Arapahoe County, "If-we-can't-have-it-no-one-can."

Yet, current council members conveniently forget the city depends on non-residents coming to the Village and spending their money here. Many non-resident spenders are high school students who spend thousands of dollars on lunch every day they come to school in the Village. They spend thousands of dollars hanging out with their friends here. Many study art, music, and dance in the Village, with their parents spending thousands of dollars on classes. The City Council shouldn’t send a message that they are not a part of our community every day they come here. Giving a scholarship to a non-resident is not a waste of city funds – it’s an investment in the arts and in the youth of the community. And it might actually return to a family some of the thousands of dollars they have spent in the Village over the years.

Greenwood Village is not a self-sustaining municipality whose residents generate enough revenue to support all the amenities they value. As part of Arapahoe County, the DTC, and the greater metro area, the Village benefits from outside money and civic programs. For example, every day students at Cherry Creek take a beautiful path through Chenango Park on their way to spend money at Belleview Square. That path was funded in part with a grant from Arapahoe County. Additionally, as reported by The Villager, the City Council and residents should know arts programming in the Village received $70,000 in funding from the metro area’s SCFD funds – that’s the Science Cultural Facilities District, the regional district providing arts funding for the greater metro area.

So perhaps the current City Council could dispense with the idea that Greenwood Village is only for residents, and these community leaders could focus on opening doors rather than building walls. The Council should honor a legacy that precedes them and should outlive them, for the Greenwood Village arts scholarship is a shining example of civic stewardship. The Greenwood Village arts scholarship is about one thing and one thing only – supporting the arts through the young people who are its future.