January 6, 2021

My heart is heavy, and my spirit is mourning.

I’m just truly deeply sad.

My unshakeable belief is starting to shiver.

My unwavering faith is starting to quiver.

No man, no one person, no single act, no moment in time is stronger than the republic ...

I’ve always said.

I’ve always believed.

The institutions are solid, the base will hold, the foundation is secure, the nation endures ...

I’ve always trusted.

Not here, not now, not possible. No way.

It’s not supposed to be this way. But is it this way?

I’ve never been one for the exaggerated claims: “end of days, catastrophic shifts, future of the country, life as we know it, pivotal decision, vote of our lifetime, life-changing moment …”

One party, one election, one law, one act -- one “anything” is not the sum of us.

It never has been for me.

I’ve never believed such narrow and extreme warnings.

“Better angels … malice toward none … city upon a hill … e pluribus unum”

They’re not just words, not just platitudes, not just theoreticals, not just ideas.

But they’re not finished. They are a work in progress, always.

And I still trust. And I still believe. And still hope. And I still love.

But I’m worried. And I’m sad.

Truly, deeply, sad.

Athletes, Performance Bonus, & Teacher's Salaries

In the final seconds of the last regular season NFL game between the Seattle Seahawks and the San Francisco, with the Seahawks up by three with the ball, it might have been expected that a simple running play or a kneel-down to run out the clock would have been the call. And it was. At least that's what the coaches wanted. However, quarterback Russell Wilson changed the play in the huddle, and called for a pass to receiver David Moore. It was a completely inconsequential play for everyone on the field -- everyone except Moore. For him, it was a $100,000 play.

That was his payoff for catching his 35th pass and reaching a performance bonus in his contract.

Apparently, some people, including a few morning deejays in Denver today, are upset about Wilson's choice. That's just ridiculous. There is nothing wrong with using these pointless plays at the end to help someone complete his contract and earn his money. Why should the team just kneel down? That "run-the-clock-out" standard that the NFL requires teams to finish out the clock with purposeless plays is silly anyway, and there is no reason the team should kneel or run a worthless run play either. And that money is there for players to earn - which David Moore did. He caught the ball. That's his job. And this practice is not that uncommon. It happens every year, and Tom Brady did the same thing for his receiver this week. 

And that brings me to teachers' salaries -- because whenever there is an issue with athletes making large amounts of money, people make absurd comments about how they shouldn't make that much money because their jobs are just entertainment, and teachers by contrast should be making millions. That's nonsense, and to claim so reveals an ignorance of basic economics. The athletes and entertainers receive huge salaries because their jobs generate huge revenue. And they deserve their share of it. Teachers don't generate massive ticket sales, apparel income, and ad revenue. They don't generate huge revenue, so they don't earn huge salaries.

It's that simple. Stop whining and be happy for David Moore.

Can We Talk about Seat Time & Attendance Now?

"Seat time," or the legally required minutes, hours, and days that kids must be in class for it to count as "school" is an entirely arbitrary number, and educators have always known that. And I've long opposed the restrictive idea, especially when politicians and pundits make exaggerated and misinformed claims that what American students really need is more time in school. In reality, some kids can benefit from more time, and many can actually benefit from less. So, now that the pandemic and the last ten months turned education on its ear, perhaps we can revisit the ideas we hold about seat time and attendance requirements.

To that point, education researcher and professor Michael Petrilli of the Fordham Institute opined in Bloomberg last May that perhaps "Half-time High School May be Just What Students Need." Now that we've been through a semester of it, perhaps it's time to have more serious discussion about school schedules. The practice of remote learning, hybrid schedules, and asynchronous lessons, which schools implemented out of necessity in a health crisis, has revealed that students may not need to be physically present in school buildings for pre-set times of the day if they can access curriculum in learning in other ways. Granted, there are many aspects of schooling that ...

no virtual environment can replace .... [such as] football games, choir concerts, musicals and so much more that’s part of the American high school experience.

However, it's indisputable that many students, especially at the high school level, spend countless hours bored and disengaged while in the physical building. And if they can access the lessons, do the work, receive constructive feedback/assessment, and learn in other ways at different times, then we are doing the kids and society a disservice by mandating specific stretches of time. 

That said, schooling is not all about content, skills, and coursework. We have long attended school in person because we are communal animals, and much learning is enhanced by a community of learners. I know I benefited greatly from discussions with my grad school cohort, especially when tackling works such as Thomas Pynchon's post-modern masterpiece V. In fact, I doubt I'd have truly understood and benefited from reading it without them. Yet there was as much to be learned from the time spent exploring on my own in the graduate library. And, I completed my degree while teaching full time - so clearly being in a classroom five days a week wasn't indispensable.

Overall, I believe kids need to be "in school" regularly. And the pandemic has also exposed significant gaps in learning, as too many kids have fallen off the map, and grades for many have plummeted. The lack of accountability and access for many children has been catastrophic. Truly, for many kids school is the one constant, the one safe place, the one bit of security and stability. Kids need human connection. But the rigidly arbitrary nature of "seat time" and attendance requirements can change. And it should.

Fifty-One, "Palm Springs," & the Year We All Got Stuck

I'm fifty-one today, and as Jerry and the boys once sang, "nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile."

Normally, my birthday would consist of a nice early morning hike, afternoon visits to a few art galleries, and a happy hour out with the family. None of those things were in the cards this year, and that's OK. Instead, it's been a rather chill and pensive time to simply look at the present. And reflect a bit on the past. And have no expectations for the future.

Last year on January 2, the year of living artfully got off to a pretty solid start with all the favored highlights. And the first few months included a few art classes, some good writing, and ideas about the Colorado summer. And then the world turned sideways, and we found ourselves "stuck in a time loop," the opposite of Billy Pilgrim who fifty-years ago "came unstuck in time." I mention those two ideas because I recently finished re-reading Slaughterhouse Five for the first time since I read and barely understood the book over three decades ago. And, I recently watched the Andy Samberg movie Palm Springs, which is a rather astute and entertaining homage to classic existential meditation Groundhog Day. 

Both those movies, and of course Vonnegut's classic novel, aptly comment on the absurdist nature of existence. Truly the film Palm Springs may be "the perfect film for 2020," and it sardonically investigates the notion that time doesn't really exist in the way we believe it does, never really has, and occasionally the world comes unstuck, or we become stuck, and we must deal with the bizarre nature of the moments in which we exist. As "the definitive rom-com for 2020," the absurdist pop culture vehicle is a perfectly silly meditation on how we spend our days, especially when something comes along to disrupt the expectations we had for how things were supposed to go.

As far as how things go, we will keep on living these moments as they come, and hopefully do so with a bit of wisdom and patience and kindness.

“What would you do if you were stuck in one place, and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?” —Phil Connors, Groundhog Day

Closing the Book on This One

Looking back, I realized I did not blog at all in the month of December, 2019. There are good reasons for that. And, now I've blogged pretty much every day this month, and that feels right. I have a habit of setting large unrealistic goals and silly timelines for writing and art and personal growth during the regular breaks I get from school. This year was, of course, no exception; and despite good intentions I have not finished three paintings, though I did one, and I have not practiced and perfected a song on the piano, though I am further along than I was last month. And, I did not finish editing my collection of essays and op-eds -- which incidentally was a goal for all of 2020. 

Oh, well. 2020.

As we bid farewell to an arbitrary collection of 365 days, we know nothing really changes tomorrow. And the same goes for me the next day when I turn fifty-one, though I like to tell myself something is different, or could be. As far as final thoughts on this year, I have to share an annual tradition in journalism and commentary that is one of the few enjoyable things about looking back on the worst year of our lives. To that I give you Dave Barry's "Year in Review: Trying to Find some Humor in a Tough 2020." While there wasn't much to laugh or even smile about these last ten months, it helps to look back on the absurdity of it all. And no one exposes and ridicules absurdity better than he.

Beyond that, with an eye toward how we somehow heal and get better, get further down the road in 2021, I've been reflecting on David Brooks' column "2020 Taught us How to Fix This." Brooks is, in my opinion, an incredibly bright and erudite thinker who poses some relevant and interesting insights for us. In this piece, he is addressing the vast divides we have found between us, and he exposes the downside, or perhaps inadequacy, of the trainings and education we believe can heal our prejudices and biases. Hint: they probably can't. But I will counter that they may for any one individual make a difference. And if they do, then they're always worth it. The key, I think, is to try, and we can only do this by being together, which is Brooks' other point, being together and communicating. For, as I noted in one of my better pieces of writing this year, "As Long As We're Talking," there is hope.

And for one final little chuckle, I have to give a shout out to Avenue Beat, some girls from Peoria, IL, for their song "F-2020" all too relevant goodbye and kiss off to the year none of us wanted, and all of us want to forget. 

Exercise for 4 Minutes? How 'bout 4 Seconds?

The news on working on out just keeps getting better.

This year, Gretchen Reynolds of the New York Times has been covering the research on the benefits of brief bursts of high energy interval workouts. Who knew the benefits could come from as short as four seconds of intense exercise? I've been a fan of the interval workouts for a while now. A few years ago, I ran across a piece in the paper about the "7-minute workout," which I modified as my own 9-minute workout. Now, I have a few different short but intense workouts that I believe are an asset in my overall good health as a 50-year-old.

Live as He Lived

So, in glancing at the First Reading from today's liturgy, which comes from the first epistle of John chapter two, I had an interesting thought about faith and how we live. The verses I'm thinking about advise:

But whoever keeps his word,
the love of God is truly perfected in him. 
This is the way we may know that we are in union with him:
whoever claims to abide in him ought to walk just as he walked

And, I have to say, not meaning to offend but merely to ponder, that in the contemporary world, especially American society, we seem to have many more "pharisees" than we do disciples, and it seems that these people of implied superior sanctity have potentially turned attendance at services and the reading and study of scripture into their own version of the golden calf. Does that sound strange, that the actions of the service and the reading of the Word could actually become a sort of false idol, so to speak? I don't think so. The public profession of faith and the practice of the service would seem to me to ring a bit hollow if we did not act in accordance with the model, for "This is how we know we are in him; whoever claims to live in him must live as Jesus did."

Now, of course this observation is obviously influenced by the Catholic school kid in me -- the idea that actions matter and that actions are the ministry we are called to. And, I have to say, I don't see enough of that ministry in the world today, nor granted, do I exhibit it enough myself. For it is written "anyone who hates a brother or sister is in darkness." And there is no shortage of darkness going around these day. It's worth noting a little further into the epistle is one of my favorite and to me perhaps the most important of verses:  "God is love." Yep, that pretty much says it all - love, compassion, empathy, charity, and service. But above all love.

So, while this post is a definitely a departure from my usual fare on this blog, these thoughts were on my mind, and so I thought I'd share. 

Billionaires: Please Buy Us. Love, Print Newspapers

In reading former journalist Tom Zoellner's new book of essays, The National Road: Dispatches from a Changing America, I was particularly struck by his nostalgic ponderings of print journalism, small town newspapers, and his job at the Appleton Post-Crescent. Small town print newspapers like the Post-Crescent or the Alton Telegraph are certainly in danger of going under, especially when big city newspapers like the Denver Post, Chicago Tribune, and Los Angeles Times are facing dire times as well. And it doesn't help that beyond the fading interest in buying and reading a daily print paper among the general population, the large scale papers are being gutted and bled dry by soul sucking hedge funds such as Alden Capital, which are run by shallow soulless business vampires like Randall Smith and his next generation clone Heath Freeman. These men are determined to almost singlehandedly destroy print journalism and daily papers in the United States even if the market doesn't decide to and if many readers still want a daily paper.

So, daily newspapers, which have long been the life blood of an educated electorate, need a savior. For, even though many people choose TV news or random blogs, remember that all the information contained in an hour-long TV show can be found on a single page of a newspaper, and all those bloggers still check the daily papers like the New York Times before logging on to share their view. Yes, print journalism and small town papers need a sugar-daddy, like Jeff Bezos has done for the Washington Post , local philanthropist Paul Huntsmen did for the Salt Lake Tribune, eventually turning it to a non-profit, and Glen Taylor did with the Minneapolis Star Tribune. There are enough billionaires who must have, at one time, enjoyed a print paper with their cup of coffee, or at least recall watching their parents and grandparents enjoy that. Surely, they could find it in their hearts and conscience to park some of their assets in newspapers like the Denver Post or St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Even if the papers don't make money, they could provide a valuable service in terms of information, culture, .... and jobs for goodness sake. 

So, come billionaires, whattaya say? Do it for the little guy. Save the newspapers.

The Way Pete Souza Saw It -- It's about Dignity

Late in the documentary The Way I See It from Focus Features, the former White House photographer of the Obama administration Pete Souza says something to the effect of "I wouldn't be doing this if it were Jeb Bush or John Kasich. It wouldn't be necessary. This is not a partisan issue." The "this" he refers to is his political activism via Instagram posts aimed at challenging, mocking, even trolling the unsavory, embarrassing, and even dangerous behavior and tweets of outgoing President Donald Trump. Basically, Souza counters Trump tantrums, rants, and threats with positive and moving photos from the Obama years as a way of demonstrating how the President is supposed to behave -- with dignity. 

Pete Souza is spot on, and the documentary, which spotlights both the Obama and Reagan years, is a beautiful work of art that reminds us of the way things ought to be, and I highly recommend it. The Obama era covered eight scandal-free years and dignified leadership from a true man, a mensch, a good person who honored the office and the legacy of Washington and Lincoln. Outside of his politics -- and he was a true politician and Democrat -- Barack Obama was a man of character. And that is the non-negotiable quality we must have in a President. And that is why the current administration is so unsettling and simply so .... wrong. It's why the GOP is in a ethical conundrum, it's why Never Trumpers rightfully voice their concerns, it's why many people are "conservative but not Republican."

Barack Obama was a very good man and president. As was George W Bush. As was Bill Clinton. As was George HW Bush. As was Ronald Reagan. As was Jimmy Carter. As was Gerald Ford. As was Richard Nixon ..... and so on. And I pause with the inclusion of Clinton and Nixon, for these were men with ethical lapses, to be sure. And they undoubtedly tarnished their legacy, their years in the White House, and the very office of the Presidency. But those mistakes were exactly that -- mistakes. Those good men made bad decisions. They were not undignified and embarrassingly so on a daily if not hourly basis. They were not woefully unfit for the highest office in the land. They were not the truly sad situation that has burdened our nation for past four (actually closer to five) years.

Regardless of politics, Pete Souza is right. It's about dignity. Thankfully, that virtue will soon return to the Oval Office. Hopefully it returns to the rest of us as well.

 

In Pursuit of the Ideal

 "Neither joy and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way,

But to act that each tomorrow,

Find us further than today.

In one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite poems, American transcendentalist poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow advises us to seek progress on the path toward enlightenment -- basically work each day to simply get better. We will never be a perfect person, but we might become a better one - a better husband or wife, a better son or daughter, a better student, a better teacher, a better employee or boss, a better community member, a better citizen, a better friend. That pursuit of the ideal is at the heart of romantic thought, no doubt, but it has a place among classical thinking as well. 

The ideal, and a "defense of ideals," is at the foundation and starting off point for one of Mark Edmundson's most important and moving works, Self and Soul. Edmundson, a humanities professor at the University of Virginia, is a writer and thinker I deeply admire and enjoy for his work in exploring and explaining the point of the liberal arts and the question of why we read, why we write, why we study, and why we seek to learn about the human condition. In a world increasingly and unsettling moving in the direction of technological progress, economic growth, utilitarian focus, and material gain, I join Edmundson in worrying and wondering about the cultivation of the spirit. The humanities and the arts, I believe, are our source for understanding why we live -- the development of virtue and values.

If we seek to heal, if we hope to start fresh, if we seek a new path, if we desire some sense of unity and community in the future, we would benefit from returning to the humanities and the traditions of the classical world, the cultivation and pursuit of three ideals -- courage, compassion, and contemplation.  

At risk of "a mere existence based on desire, without hope, fulness, or ultimate meaning ... We can do better," Edmundson tells us. We can do better.

Let's do better. Let's be better.

Could We Start Again, Please?

At times, we all would like a do-over, a reset, a second chance. An opportunity to start again. And this year, which has at times seemed like we're on a perpetual loop of uncertainty and despair, the idea of starting new and fresh is at times unsettling and appealing. But I'm thinking about that fresh start, re-birth, that do-over, that reset on December 25, 2020, on Christmas. 

Christmas is a time to celebrate new life, a new life which came to us with news of light in darkness, of warmth in the cold, of truth in a time of despair. While we know that Easter and the spring equinox are the holidays and times associated with re-birth and the earth awakening from slumber, it's also worth thinking about the message of Christmas and the winter solstice as a celebration of life. The birth of Christ remembered during winter is a reminder that in the dark days of winter, or in the dark days of a pandemic, or in the darkness of a divided nation and society, or in the darkness of violence and uncertainty, that we always have the chance to start again. 

In the troubled times we've been facing, I have tried to be hopeful. Perhaps it's the sappy romantic in me, but I believe in the pursuit of the ideal. And I have faith, just like light in the darkness and warmth in the cold and a birth in the middle of winter, that we can always start again. With our friends, with our community, with our politics and our economics and our struggles for truth and understanding, we can start again.

 I've been living to see you

Dying to see you, but it shouldn't be like this
This was unexpected, what do I do now?
Could we start again please?

I've been very hopeful, so far
Now for the first time I think we're going wrong
Hurry up and tell me this is just a dream
Oh could we start again please?

I think you've made your point now
You've even gone a bit too far to get the message home
Before it gets too frightening, we ought to call a halt
So could we start again please?

I've been living to see you
Dying to see you, but it shouldn't be like this
This was unexpected, what do I do now?
Could we start again please?

I think you've made your point now
You've even gone a bit too far to get the message home
Before it gets too frightening, we ought to call a halt
So could we start again please?
So could we start again please?

So could we start again?

Where I'm Supposed to Be

 After the Buffalo Bills' relentless scorching of the Denver Broncos last week, Bills quarterback Josh Allen was asked about John Elway's decision back in the 2017 NFL draft to pass on picking Allen at number 5, and instead picking an outside linebacker Bradley Chubb.

"I'm where I'm supposed to be," was Allen's simple reply.

There's a lot of wisdom in that statement, and also a significant amount of subtext. Should the Bronco's have taken the young QB in the draft? The Broncos' endless struggles at that position since the departure of Peyton Manning, and John Elway's apparent inability to measure and judge talent and potential at his former position indicate that Allen was a missed call at the line by Elway & Co. And, for that reason, Josh Allen has every right to be miffed at the Denver Donkeys. Thus, it's not surprising the game meant just a bit more for Allen than a regular season game, and it's not a stretch to think the Bills QB and coaching staff relished running roughshod over the increasingly hapless Broncos.

So, is there a place we're "supposed to be"? Sure, it was just a quip, and a clever response to the media. But I like the confident comfort Allen has taken with his position. Certainly, it's not a question of fate or destiny -- we all have choices and options and myriad paths lie before us. The important point, I believe, is remembering that wherever you go, there you are.

My wife and I had a nice chat last night about where we are, and of course, where we could have been. The road to our life in suburban Colorado, in a nice little community, working at an excellent school, has been circuitous as well as fortuitous. I might have taken a job at my old high school upon graduating in 1992, we might have opened a bakery and surf shop in Kenting, Taiwan in the mid '90s, our jobs and Julie's culinary education could have gone different ways in the city of Chicago, we could have ended up buying my grandmother's house and opening a B&B, I may have gone the Ph.D route following my Master's degree and the birth of our son, Julie's pastry catering business could have become something more than it was, I might have sold one or two of those screenplays to a Hollywood production company that was tantalizingly interested (for a few minutes), .... and so on and so on and so on.

But wherever we went, here we now are. And, like Jake Allen, no matter where I've been, it's "where I'm supposed to be."