No Better Time

Stadium seating in movie theaters, wheeled luggage with extendable handles, and UV-protection swim shirts -- where was this genius when I was growing up?

Seriously. Sometimes I ponder some of the modern conveniences we have, like a smartphone, and I think it's a pretty marvelous invention and certainly one that required a lot of technological development, much of which had to grow from previous achievements. Sort of the "standing on the shoulders of giants" idea. However, something as simple and obvious as stadium seating in a theater seems like such a no-brainer. And, having memories from being a child in the 1970s and literally having to view a movie through the gap between the shoulders of two adults sitting in front of me, I just wonder why it took so long to figure that out. Same thing goes for wheeled suitcases. Do you have memories of lugging awkward heavy luggage prior to the wheeled cart? Who was the genius who finally said, "Enough! I'm putting wheels and and a handle on this." Regardless, simple conveniences like that certainly make life just a bit more pleasant than even just a decade ago.

Stephen Pinker might agree with me.

The esteemed psychology professor has long noted what a wonderful time it is to be alive, despite all our grumbling and complaining. While we can certainly look nostalgically back to a time before Covid and before the War on Terror and before a 24-7 hyper-connected world and before franchising and before advanced weaponry and before ... oh, so many things, the hard data about life in the twenty-first century is that it's a mighty good time to be alive.

For a bit more insight and information on this, and for certainly a much more erudite, informed, insightful, and inspiring read, check out Pinker's book Enlightenment Now. the Case for Reason, Science, Humanism, & Progress.

Wanna open a motel?

Ok, so I will admit that, like many Gen Xers who are nearing that time of life when we think about Act III, when we find a new career to help us slide into retirement, many of us consider making our vacations also our lives. So, for a generation that definitely embraced travel and the expat life, the idea of running a B&B sounds intriguing. Shows like Newhart and Gilmour Girls may have something to do with it as well. I know my wife and I have wondered whether we could host guests as a way of financing our retirement, and more specifically our next home.

But what about an old motel, the kind of which dotted the highways we travelled in the sixties and early seventies?

The New York Times has an intriguing piece today about how "Upstate Motels Make a Comeback, with an Aim to Captivate." And if I could run the spot with the beautiful pool in the article, I might just go for it. Ahh, nostalgia.

“Then there’s the whole nostalgic factor,” Ms. Berger said. There’s also influence from pop culture movies and TV shows, like “Schitt’s Creek,” the award-winning sitcom with the cult following, which featured a modest motel as its signature architectural style. “Motel Makeover,” a new reality show about revamping a rundown property, is also now streaming on Netflix.

At the end of June, the Terrace Motel in Ellenville sold for $550,000 to two couples — Victoria and Anthony Nelson, ages 32 and 38, and Jemma and Mitch Allen, both 34 — who intend to revive the dated complex with a budget of $1 million to $2 million.

The motel originally had 44 rooms. It had undergone a few renovations over the decades, including a major update in 1971, but in its formative years, the mid-century-styled compound had an Olympic-size swimming pool, an on-site restaurant, and a cocktail bar called the Terrace Room, where many locals toasted their first legal tipples.

If all goes according to plan, the motel, which sits on eight acres in Ulster County, is expected to open next summer with 20 rooms, a pool club, outdoor events and possibly a spa and sauna. By 2023, they plan to add an indoor event space and restaurant.

The Way We Were ... before the September that changed it all

"Turn on your television ... a plane just hit the World Trade Center in New York."

I can't even imagine how many times those words were uttered twenty years ago, but like nearly everyone of age at the time, I can tell you exactly where I was the moment I learned. And I know almost every moment of that day and the mournful, hollow, existential days that followed. But what about the "carefree" summer months leading up to that horrific moment? 

Dan Zak and Ellen McCarthy of the Washington Post have put together a powerful piece of reflection that is beautifully written and thoughtful in its look back twenty years plus to the Summer of 2001, The Summer Before 9/11: 

The country woke up with Triple Sec and cranberry juice on its breath. Just out of reach: the scuffed brick of a Nokia phone, a bottle of pills to stoke the serotonin, two and a half pounds of more than you needed to know about President John Adams. The phone on the nightstand couldn’t read the news, so on went the television. Something about a woman in the Houston suburbs who drowned her five children in the bathtub. And that D.C. intern — another intern scandal — was still missing, and her parents were suspicious of a congressman with whom she allegedly had an affair. In Las Vegas that week, Whitney Houston accepted a BET lifetime achievement award at the ripe old age of 37.

“I’m a survivor!” she exclaimed, echoing a Destiny’s Child hook from the spring, and made a prediction: “The best is yet to come.”

A Renaissance of Wonder

"I am waiting ...

I am waiting for my case to come up

and I am waiting

for a rebirth of wonder

and I am waiting for someone

to really discover America

and wail

and I am waiting

for the discovery

of a new symbolic western frontier

and I am waiting

for the American Eagle

to really spread its wings

and straighten up and fly right

and I am waiting

for the Age of Anxiety

to drop dead

and I am waiting

for the war to be fought

which will make the world safe

for anarchy

and I am waiting

for the final withering away

of all governments

and I am perpetually awaiting

a rebirth of wonder

Each fall I begin my classes with this poem from Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Beat poet and owner of the iconic City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco, who passed away last year at the spry age of 101. The poem is meaningful for me in the classroom because of the idea of wonder, and I love the concept of a rebirth of wonder. Our classrooms, and the process of education, should be filled with a sense of wonder and curiosity, and far too often the "grammar of schooling" inhibits and stunts that sense of wonder. I read the poem so my students and I don't forget to wonder.

Art, more Art!

Last weekend I went to an art festival and bought some art. And it made me really happy. And then I wrote about it for my latest column in The Villager:

Art, More Art!

Pablo Picasso once said every child is an artist. The challenge is to remain one once the child becomes an adult. As an educator I know all too well that fading loss of faith in our creative muse as we grow older. Ask any kindergarten class which kids are artists, and every hand will go up. Ask the same question of a high school class and chances are no one will move, even the kids who do draw, paint, sing, dance, and create regularly.

What happens to the artist in us all? Why do we stop seeing the world like an artist?

This weekend I joined thousands of people at the Affordable Arts Festival in Littleton, and it filled my soul to see so many people turning out to support, not to mention get great deals on, original art. I picked up a unique and engaging multimedia collage from Palm Springs artist Richard Curtner. Last time, I came home with two pieces from Aurora artist Stanislav Sidorov. One, an impressionist urban landscape of figures walking in the rain, and the other an abstract-expressionist piece with a color scheme I couldn’t resist. Sidorov noticed me shifting between the two, unable to decide, so he gave me a discount for both.

This weekend the Cherry Creek Arts Festival returns to Denver for the first time in two years. Front Range fans and aficionados of the arts are fortunate because Denver hosts a truly vibrant art scene. From a thriving, well-supported museum system with world class exhibits to the dozens of galleries downtown and out into the suburbs to First Fridays on the Sante Fe Art District to a seemingly endless string of art festivals and events, it is easy to get your art on in the metro area.

It’s also quite simple to immerse ourselves in the fine arts, and that extends to opportunities for rediscovering that confident kindergarten artist in us all. A couple years ago, shortly after I turned fifty, I signed up for an abstract drawing class at the Curtis Art Center. It was my first art class since elementary school. The talented, inspiring teacher Christian Dore helped me rediscover the artist’s instinct buried deep inside, and I had so much fun I immediately signed up for his abstract acrylic painting class. His teaching approach was built upon encouragement and discovery, and it seemed everything I tried was “brilliant.” Perhaps more importantly, he always talked about improving. “And this is just your first painting,” he said. “Imagine what number one hundred will look like.” Christian also introduced me to Mirada Art Gallery, where he is currently exhibited.

Sadly, while Denver-area residents have an art-rich world which seems to expand weekly, there is a distinct, intentional restricting of art experiences and opportunities in the education system. Beginning in 2001 with the passage of the No Child Left Behind act, the myopic focus on standardized test scores in reading and math has led to widespread cuts in art classes and fine arts programming. A recent study and article from the American Enterprise Institute noted that despite broad support for arts education, an increasing percentage of children are growing up in America with no exposure to the arts. This is despite broad consensus and definitive evidence that the arts positively impact the emotional and intellectual development of children and have a causal effect on higher achievement across all academic areas and student engagement.

In 2002 mathematician and math professor Paul Lockhart published an essay entitled “A Mathematician's Lament” in which he criticized our current model of math education and called for viewing and teaching mathematics in a more aesthetic and intuitive manner. In making his case for the inherent beauty and art of math, Lockhart asserts "The first thing to understand is that mathematics is an art. The difference between math and the other arts, such as music and painting, is that our culture does not recognize it as such."

In the beloved movie Dead Poets Society, the humanities teacher John Keating strives to inspire a passion for the arts in the young men he teaches at a rigid boarding school. In teaching them to appreciate and even love poetry he tells them, “Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

We can, of course, include art on that list.

Broken Window World

Being the "world's policemen" has been a controversial and often confusing role for the United States for nearly a century. And the idea of "broken window's policing," while seemingly logical and supported by evidence, is also a difficult conversation because of disparity and biases. Bret Stephens of the New York Times takes an interesting look at both ideas in "Broken Window's World": 

We now live in a broken-windows world. I would argue that it began a decade ago, when Barack Obama called on Americans to turn a chapter on a decade of war and “focus on nation-building here at home,” which became a theme of his re-election campaign.

It looked like a good bet at the time. Osama bin Laden had just been killed. The surge in Iraq had stabilized the country and decimated Al Qaeda there. The Taliban were on the defensive. Relations with Russia had been “reset.” China was still under the technocratic leadership of Hu Jintao. The Arab Spring, eagerly embraced by Obama as “a chance to pursue the world as it should be,” seemed to many to portend a more hopeful future for the Middle East (though some of us were less sanguine).

Khaled Hosseini talks Afghanistan

Khaled Hosseini, the author of The Kite Runner, left his native Afghanistan in 1976, but for readers outside the Middle East, he is one of the most knowledgeable sources for insight into the country which has dominated the news for the past few weeks. Now, on the day the United States has completed the official military troop withdrawal, it's important to consider the country left behind. 

Last week, Hosseini gave an interview to CNN with "A Message for Anyone Worried about Afghanistan." In reading his thoughts, laments, hopes, fears, and memories, I was struck by the image of an Afghan world not torn about by war, occupation, religious extremism, and revolutionary fervor. That was the childhood memory he had from 1973 when his country was different:

It's surreal how different it was. [There were] hippies lounging in tea houses and women smoking in public and wearing short skirts and driving cars and working in the government as lawyers and doctors and so forth. It was a very different society. Kabul was a thriving city and by the standards of a conservative religious country, it was quite liberal.

That just seems like an almost unfathomable image of the country we've only known in the past forty years as troubled, even dangerous. Clearly, the problems can be traced to the Soviet invasion and the rise of the mujahideen as a defensive counterforce, seeking only to expel foreign invaders. Many subsequent conflicts, many not the work of the Afghan people, led to the repressive Taliban regime now ruling the country against the will of its majority.

As far as the future holds, Hosseinni says he has "no idea" what comes next. He's not alone.

A New Case for Arts Education

Since 2001's passage of the No Child Left Behind Act, schools across the country have seen significant cuts in art class and fine arts education as districts pursued a myopic focus on standardized test scores in reading and math. The damage to the arts and to the cognitive development of the children that schools are supposed to serve has been noticeable. For, the connection between fine arts classes and higher levels of achievement, as well as student engagement, is extensive and supported with data. 

However, for too long, the case for the arts has been promoted by only one political party and stance on the political spectrum -- the Democrats and progressive views. Now, with a recent study and article from the American Enterprise Institute, a conservative case for the arts is being made. And that's a fortunate development. AEI recently released "Reclaiming arts and culture: the fundamental importance of the fine arts." 

Key Points

• Despite overwhelming support for arts education, an increasing share of children is growing up without any exposure to the arts.
• Empirical evidence demonstrates a causal effect associated with arts education on cognitive and noncognitive development for children, influencing their life outcomes well beyond their initial entry into the labor market.
• Investing in the arts generates a wide array of societal benefits, including the promotion of social capital, the decline in politicization, and the influence of culture.

Designs of Color by Dariana - Aruba

I'm a bit of an art geek, though I am certainly in the novice stage of my art appreciation. So, I spend significant time visiting museums and galleries, always wishing I had an extra ten grand or so, just burning a hole in my pocket. Mostly I just gaze and envy and wish. But when I was in Aruba recently, and I strolled down the Renaissance Mall after a wonderful morning snack of perfertiges, I could not stop myself from purchasing this beautiful piece.

This sculpted piece is the vision and work of Dariana who has a shop called Designs of Color in downtown Oranjestad on the island of Aruba. In speaking with the artist's husband, I learned about her artistic process using resins, driftwood, fiberglass, and paint process that uses heat rather than brushes to achieve this vibrant and always unique color schemes.

It’s never going to be OK

This week's column for the Villager:

“Life is managed; it is not cured.”

Each fall in the early weeks of school, I read to my class a list of "Life Strategies for Teens" from a book by Jay McGraw. The book is a collection of contemporary folk wisdom and pop psychology from the son of television therapist Dr. Phil. The list is an amusing little bell starter, and I talk up the book, warning my students that I might recommend it to their parents. I also jokingly tell them I'll encourage their parents to purchase two copies, "so you can read it together and discuss it over dinner."

Each strategy is a chapter in the book, and the aphoristic nature of the list includes insight such as “You create your own experience,” “Life rewards action,” and “There is power in forgiveness.” Many of these ideas are simple platitudes and cliches, the kind found on posters hanging in classrooms and board rooms and gyms and doctors’ offices. Yet, they also contain the sort of bumper-sticker logic which can provide brief moments of insight and even inspiration.

The one piece of McGraw’s guidance I like to emphasize is the statement that opens this column: Life is managed; it is not cured. I like the blunt honesty of that statement. As I explain McGraw’s point, I reveal, somewhat regretfully, to my students the most important lesson we can ever learn -- it will never be okay. It’s never done, never finished, never perfect. Life is a continual process of rises and falls with many lateral movements, and some time after early childhood we reluctantly realize it as we begin to experience the harsh realities of life's fickle, ephemeral nature. However, in a naive desire to return to that mythical time of innocence when everything was all right, we set arbitrary milestones and finish lines for ourselves. They are almost always fleeting and unrealistic.

It usually starts around early adolescence and middle school when most of us first begin to deal with the "stuff" of life that isn't so pleasant. In the face of each disappointment, we tell ourselves that if we can just get through this moment and on to high school, "it'll all be okay." Once in high school, when the messy frustrations of the teen years close in again, we tell ourselves, "I just need to get my license, and then it'll be better. It'll be fine when I have more freedom." But of course, the stuff closes in again, and we repeat the cycle. Once we graduate high school, everything will surely be much better.

We constantly have internal conversations where we make deals with ourselves and the universe. “I just need to get through this week of tests,” we say, “and then I can get organized and focused, and I promise I’ll stop procrastinating. I’ll never fall behind again.” And, then it becomes, “I just need to turn eighteen, just need to get into this one college, just need to turn twenty-one, just need to get my degree, just need to get this first entry-level job, just need to move out, just need to get my own place, just need to graduate, just need to get a new job, just need to get this one promotion, just need to get to that next level ... and then it will all be okay. Then I'll be satisfied. I swear. Then I can relax. Then I can calm down. Then I can stop worrying.”

But it will never be okay. It is never going to be all good, all right, all settled. And, the only disappointment in our life comes from believing we can get to a certain point, and one achievement, one job, one house, one thing will fix all that ails us. But that’s just a fairy tale we tell ourselves, often ironically to our own detriment. Life is managed. Everyday is a new task, a new situation, a new something. Life is constantly in flux, moving and changing. And, when things are going well, we can be fairly certain they will eventually go south, or at least sideways. And, when things are really beating us up and dragging us down, we can also be fairly certain the hard times won't last forever. It will get better, if even just marginally.

It'll never be okay. And when we finally realize that, it really is going to be fine.

Arthur bids farewell

Say it ain't so, Arthur.

High quality children's programming that can appeal across so many audiences and views is hard to come by, and that's why the news about the PBS show Arthur, based on the Marc Brown book series, is so hard to take. This week I learned "Arthur is Ending after 25 Years." And with that news, I think a little piece of my second childhood died. Though my children are now in high school and college, the stories of Arthur the Aardvark made an indelible and endearing mark on our family. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if our family sat down to watch an episode today and loved it as much as when the kids were just four or five. 

An executive producer on the show, Carol Greenwald, confirmed on Wednesday that the series would be ending. She said in a statement that episodes of the show would continue to be available on PBS Kids, but that no new ones would air after next year.
“‘Arthur’ is the longest-running kids animated series in history and is known for teaching kindness, empathy and inclusion through many groundbreaking moments to generations of viewers,” Ms. Greenwald said, noting that no other United States-produced series had a longer life on the air.
The statement did not offer a reason for the show’s cancellation. Ms. Greenwald said that the producer GBH and PBS Kids were “continuing to work together on additional Arthur content, sharing the lessons of Arthur and his friends in new ways.”
On the podcast, Ms. Waugh said she did not know whether the cancellation was driven by a ratings issue or PBS just felt that the show needed to be retired. She added that she felt PBS had made a mistake. “To me it just felt evergreen, like it was never going to end. But it did end,” she said.

The special thing about Arthur, the longest-running animated children's show in television history, is that it appealed so broadly. My wife and I were pretty discerning and even picky about the entertainment we showed our kids in the early years. In fact, I wrote about this in one of my earliest op-eds, where I explained why never showed my children the movie Shrek, or many other supposedly kid-friendly films and shows. But there was never a question in our minds about Arthur. It is one of the best children's shows ever, and it's one I would always recommend.

Two Views on Race, Equity, Social Justice, & CRT

When in doubt on an issue, read a diverse selection of sources. Which means moving beyond the inflammatory soundbites of Christopher Rufo when inquiring about topics like race, equity, social justice, and critical race theory.

The book Stamped from the Beginning from scholar and anti-racism advocate Ibrahim X Kendi is certainly an important read for people wishing to understand the ideas about race that are generating such angst in talk radio/television about critical race theory and public education. Kendi won the 2016 National Book Award for his research into racism in American history as derived from the establishment of the slave trade. Granted, as far as generating discussion, there is something to note when an author subtitles a book "the definitive history of racist ideas in America." That sort of approach could beg the question and ultimately squelch the sort of discussion and discourse that is called for on issues of race in America. That said, the scholarship is vast, and when people are discussing ideas about CRT, this book is undoubtedly a defining source.

For an equally well-informed and researched look at race in America, readers will also want to check in with the work of John McWhorter, a linguist and professor at Columbia University, who has been writing about issues of race and language for more than twenty years now. Particularly apt in discussing race in America and ideas about structural or institutional racism are two books by McWhorter: Losing the Race from 200o which theorizes and examines "self sabotage in Black America," and its 2005 follow-up Winning the Race which furthers the discussion by moving "beyond the crisis in Black America." While McWhorter is not writing explicitly about the ideas in Kendi's book (obviously because he preceded that work by a decade), readers will find McWhorter's approach to struggles in the Black community to be a related but alternative view.

Both these men and their work should be part of any legitimate discussion of race, and specifically the Black-White dichotomy, in America.