‘You need to get out more’

“You need to get out more.”

It sounds like a mild put-down, doesn’t it? Inferring somebody leading a closed, hermetic or even lonely life? It’s kind of my mantra of self-talk lately. I really do need to get out more.

Author stands next to high waves and misty Lake OntarioReal talk: While I’m blessed to work in a creative field that involves strategic thinking, it can be mentally draining. In downtime it can be so easy to give in to sitting on the comfy couch, turning on the TV to absorb some sports or pseudosports on the dozen or so themed cable channels or surfing a never-ending YouTube library. It’s winter, a time for cocooning and hibernation in the natural world.

Going out and about is the opposite. You have to put on pants, and sometimes a coat, hat and gloves too. It sometimes even involves (shudder) interacting with other humans. The easy path is the path that leads nowhere. But, to paraphrase John F. Kennedy, we do not do these things because they are easy but because they are hard.

This is the kind of thinking that finds one hiking in Sterling Nature Center, standing on a beach while snowflakes fly and a stiff wind off Lake Ontario howls into my face. But it’s a smiling face.

In the cold mist of Lake Ontario, birds fly near McIntyre BluffThis place feels soothing, energizing, amazing. It’s not just that Lake Ontario is in my blood. Many a summer evening, the sound of the waves was my lullaby falling asleep. Before I discovered coffee, it was the liquid that got me going in the morning. But the lake is an exemplar of nature itself, and the reality that the world is always changing. The lake is high today. Whitecaps roll crashing in. An icy fog encompasses the lakeshore. Off toward McIntyre Bluff, I see large birds trying to stay aloft. You can sympathize with their struggle.

It’s easy to come here on a summer day. It’s hard — but just as much, if not more, refreshing — to come here in the solitude of a January day. The lake, the wind and the snow paint a palette of harsh beauty but also of a stirring reality. We live here, we get winters … so why not also embrace the tolerable parts? Heck, I even extended the metaphor by falling in my face and getting muddy by not looking where I was going.

Spicy chicken panini with coffee on a diner tableAfter, I went to the Hardware Cafe and General Store and tried something new: the spicy chicken panini (it was delicious). It would have been easier to go home and inhale junk food. This involves wearing pants and interacting with people. And getting over the concept of dining alone, with muddy pants as well, even in a place I visit often.

But ultimately, it was all good. I do need to get out more.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under writing

Days of past and future: Small-town dreaming for a happy 2019.

Meat sandwich of eggs, cheese and bacon

It’s the last day of 2018 and I’m sitting in the Hardware Cafe and General Store on the main street of Fair Haven for lunch. A surprisingly popular idea, it turns out, as the solo server has almost a full house to accommodate. But nobody seems to mind, as we all instead compliment her as she does her best. This was a year where so many of us found ourselves working hard and doing so many things that this seems like an appropriate metaphor … especially as the patrons generally leave satisfied.

I’m not the type to make any grand proclamations or recommendations or resolutions as we leave 2018 in the rearview as we head toward 2019. But I do like to take time at the end of the year to remember and, whenever possible, support things I enjoyed for the year. The village of Fair Haven, which has turned into a sort of adopted other hometown this year more than ever, is a great reason to be thankful.

A little free library in Fair HavenAs I enjoy a plainly titled yet delicious Meat Sandwich (eggs, cheese, bacon between two large slices of bread), I feel blessed that this diner/seller of curios is a place my son and I have enjoyed plenty. Arius is elsewhere today, so he’s not around to charm the population nor make me guess what foods he currently likes, but plenty of other warmth and community abounds. People come in and hug their neighbors or long-lost friends. A woman brought in cookies for the owners, wherever they may be. And nobody’s really in any hurry and never is heard a discouraging word.

After the meal, I will pop across the street to say a quick hello to my friend Bobby in the bank. He and his wife Amy, a teacher in the local school district, opened the Sterling Cidery, purveyor of delicious hard ciders and a convivial atmosphere — it and the cafe are my anchors in a year that saw me visit this village more and more.

Small-town sweetness

Arius looks at a snowman we builtThe latest census counts Fair Haven’s citizenry at 727 souls, although the lakeside community swells in the summer as snowbirds and people in other communities come back north to both modest cottages and homes resembling mansions along the West Bay. When we would spend summers at our camp a few miles down Lake Ontario or the Sterling Renaissance Festival, this is often where we’d come for groceries and modest entertainment. Back then the Fair Haven Register newspaper and my future employer the Oswego Palladium-Times would run stories about the small town’s aspirations to become a year-round tourist destination. Those dreams, like the Register itself, seem to be defunct, but nobody seems to mind that much. Fair Haven’s a gem they are not necessarily in a hurry to share.

While many families have been here for generations, Bobby and Amy are among the new blood. Bobby went to SUNY Oswego, and his history degree eventually found him on the other side of the country working in a museum where he met Amy. She was making hard cider under her sink as a hobby, and their love and an interest in doing more with it blossomed. So when they decided to leave Seattle for a better place to raise a family, Bobby remembered the area and they ended up in Fair Haven, where they have since added two children to the population. Bobby’s parents even moved upstate to join them.

The new year will bring a transition at my favorite cidery, as having day jobs and small children have kept Bobby and Amy plenty busy. They’re in the process of selling to two local couples who have more time and grand plans. Their final weekend of 2018 a few weeks ago saw many members of the community come in as the cidery served its last stock under this ownership — first the blueberry ran out, then the cassis, then standard, then oaken (only the hopped remained when I called it a night). But the inventory and the tidy building will refill in 2019, bringing the populace and their growlers back through its friendly doors.

All around town

Arius in a pirate outfitThis village has served up plenty of food, drink and adventures for us in 2018. Arius and I walked in the parade at Pirate Fest, built (sort of) a snowman during Winter Fest and checked out some music during Porchfest. The latter community-wide musical celebration is in just its second year but has already become an annual highlight. The biggest celebration of the year remains its Independence Day celebration, and I was here this year to catch its Mile-Long Parade from the porch of the cidery with a number of people who were strangers just a year or two ago but are now friends.

If you look east from the cidery or north from the cafe, your gaze would take you to Brandon’s Pub + Grille, known as O’Connor’s until fairly recently, where I’ve enjoyed food, beverages and acoustic music this year. Just west along the main drag of Route 104A is Bayside Grocery, where I’ve secured sustenance to accompany my appreciation of fine cider. Bayside shares a parking lot with Big Bo’s ice cream, where Arius will consistently ask for a chocolate/vanilla twist cone. Down the street a few blocks east sits a re-opened Guisseppe’s Sub and Pizza Shop, which has also provided necessary carbs this year.

Posing with seven salmonAlso on the east side of town, you’ll find a playground that Arius enjoyed a few times this year, and down the hill is a small park along the creek that splits the village, where a few months ago I took my kid fishing for the first time. Across that inlet in a West Bay marina is Whitecap Charters, which took Bobby, his father Bob and I on a much more serious fishing trip, where the two enormous salmon I caught were among a large seven-fish haul for the day. A stone’s throw away sits Turtle Cove Marina and Restaurant, where my brother and I plus our families took our mother for her birthday dinner this year.

My 2018 adventures also included Bobby and I checking out the cider and scene at Colloca’s Winery on the West Bay and some non-cider at Little Sodus Inn north of the playground. I also watched the Fair Haven Tree Lighting Ceremony in the town’s Central Park, which at other times hosted everything from the Winter Fest snow-building activities to a live mermaid during Pirate Fest.

Getting out and getting inArius goes fishing

I’m the product of a small town — although at nearly 2,000 people, Weedsport is almost a city compared to Fair Haven. Many of us wanted nothing more than to get out of town when we could. Not everybody did; some have never moved out of town. Others left and never looked back. Others, like me, come back to visit family but don’t necessarily harbor a heap of affection or nostalgia from a place that seemed so small.

So in a way, my continued love of Fair Haven, here at the northern end of my native Cayuga County, is strange. I guess I’ve always loved small-town living but was looking for the right small town for my affection. Housing prices are cheap (tempting), as is the cost of living in general unless you want to drop $200K or decidedly more on a palace on the West Bay.

Calendar of Fair Haven sights and sceneryAnd if Fair Haven never found that year-round tourist activity, things are decidedly on the upswing. Up until a few years ago, Bayside Grocery about the only place downtown you could expect to find open year-round. Then the Hardware Cafe and General Store — which, as its name demonstrates, has been quite a few things over the years — decided to stay open year round and succeeded. Guisseppe’s is giving it a go this year as well. Under new ownership, maybe Sterling Cidery will join them in 2019 or beyond?

We’re on the cusp of 2019, so why not be optimistic? Before leaving the cafe, I bought a copy of a calendar put together by the talented Kyle Meddaugh, who operates his photography business OnePhoto and a gallery across the street from the cafe. A new calendar for what we hope will be a brighter 2019. Thus even if I’m not in Fair Haven, views of the small town and its lakeside vistas hang on a wall for me to enjoy throughout the year.

Leave a comment

Filed under writing

How the media bungled ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’

Man with large old-fashioned megaphone

(Image courtesy of Vancouver Public Library Historical Photographs)

Pop (music) quiz.

Do you know how many radio stations there are in the U.S.?

15,330

OK, tough one. Maybe this is easy.

Do you know how many radio stations in the U.S. announced they would stop playing “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” this year?

What do you think? A dozen? Dozens? A hundred? Hundreds?

Try this number:

Four.

Yes, four — at least as far as all the media accounts I scoured.

  • WDOK in Cleveland
  • KOSI in Denver
  • KOIT in San Francisco
  • WHIT in Madison

Those are all I could find under multiple articles with overreaching headlines like “More radio stations ban ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside amid #MeToo controversy,” “Even more radio stations have banned ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside,’ but listeners are fighting back,” and “Backlash as more radio stations ban ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside over lyrics.”

Oh yeah, at least two of those stations have put the song back in rotation. But let’s not let facts get in the way.

Facts sure didn’t get in the way of so-called regular media and the social media machine as articles and commenters shouted about “several radio stations” (four is “several”?), “radio stations across the country” (geographically correct, but disingenuous) and the whopper “radio stations everywhere” banning the seemingly creepy (yet slightly less so in the context of the times it was written) holiday standard.

I don’t really have a horse in the race of whether or not to play it — Do I like it? Not really. Would I tell others not to listen to it? Not my thing, but whatever. — but the bigger problem here is the hype and the lack of context spread, or how a few became several that became radio stations everywhere.

These are political times, and the idea — real, inflated or imagined — of “politically correct” types banning the song plays toward interests and agendas that want to a) feed culture wars and b) distract you from things that are actually going wrong that might impact actual human lives, to keep you from knowing or caring.

Yet it’s really sad how easily so many media outlets bought something impacting 0.00026 percent of U.S. radio stations (yes, I know, Canadian stations did, but USians don’t generally care) and turned it into a huge, nefarious network of an imagined anti-fun movement of cultural policing. (And hey, if somebody finds that dozens or hundreds of stations banned it in the U.S., I’m happy to update and correct this post.)

“The hardest thing to kill is an idea,” one of my history professors liked to say, and it now extends to narratives that take over social media. He imparted that wisdom before Facebook could easily be manipulated into apparent truth and launch a thousand memes. So of course those oversimplified narratives fully fed the Facebook Outrage Machine, which is perhaps the most fuel-efficient construct ever, able to run long distances on very little substance.

Then came the memes making fun of the “bans” (by four U.S. radio stations), and making fun of those making fun of the “bans” (by four U.S. radio stations) and on and on until the truth, the scope of the actual news, became irrelevant.

Think about whether you shared one of those links or, if not, how many of your friends (or “friends”) shared them, and whether you liked or commented on them.

Now think about that, and think about how easy it is for the news and alleged trends to be manipulated.

Baby, it’s cold outside the walls of media literacy.

Leave a comment

Filed under words

I want to help, but: Giving Tuesday is hard to take.

I ran across our provost in the supermarket on Sunday in the cereal aisle. I probably looked tired and mildly overwhelmed.
 
“So many options,” he said perceptively, as I scanned the shelves with my face likely sporting a touch of bewilderment. I replied that I’m sure there’s research to this effect, not thinking fast enough to cite Hick’s Law on how the increasing number of choices can reduce one’s likelihood of making a decision.
 
And in a way, that’s the formula that has made Giving Tuesday almost more than I can take.
 
The idea behind Giving Tuesday is wonderful. I want to feel into it. But instead I feel overwhelmed.


Day after day

I suspect it seemed like a natural progression when it started: You had Black Friday where people stampeded poor associates and other shoppers for bargains. Then they could go online and act tech-savvy and dignified with Cyber Monday. After all that, helping a good cause on Giving Tuesday could assuage any guilt for conspicuous consumption.

But even in the “good old days,” there was an economic construct that could deter Giving Tuesday success: Money is a finite resource. Yes, you might have “saved” $10 or $20 or whatever on Black Friday deals, but if you spent $100 or $200, that’s the only concrete figure on the balance sheet. Although most of that went on credit cards, so one could say paying later can enable doing some good while feeling good about one’s savings.

But this year I just feel like I’ve been overrun without walking into a shopping center on Friday. I feel digitally displaced without even clicking a Buy button on Monday. Black Friday and Cyber Monday have taken over the month of November, and it’s not cool.

Too much

I don’t even remember when the first pre-pre-pre-Black Friday marketing email descended upon my inbox, and I’ve lost track of how many retailers have “generously” expanded Cyber Monday into Cyber Week (the emails feel more like an army of Cybermen deleting my sanity). To say that I received hundreds of emails from marketers in the past week related to shopping would not be an exaggeration, and that’s despite unsubscribing from several.

And don’t even get me started on retailers using “Giving Tuesday” as a pitch line, because that stuff’s in bad taste.

Don’t get me wrong: I’ve seen so many great causes promoted by friends and colleagues and various institutions of higher learning. Part of me wants to support all of them. But …

… they are indeed all worthy. So I’m finding it difficult to find the time, let alone have the money, to support all the ones I want. A lot of fundraising happens in November anyway: In the past few weeks, I’ve already donated to multiple causes and am coordinating our building’s SEFA/United Way food drive. And that’s not counting all the stories, social media posts and other content worked on to help a range of charities.

I say this not to congratulate myself but to try to convince myself I’m not an awful person for not getting into the spirit of Giving Tuesday. If you have and supported causes important to you, that’s wonderful. If you’re a fundraiser and your efforts have influenced others to make a difference, fantastic!

I don’t want to give up on Giving Tuesday, but please forgive me if my will gives out until I can regain the holiday spirit.

Leave a comment

Filed under writing

‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ is a kind of magic

Queen on stage as portrayed in Bohemian Rhapsody

(Twenty-First Century Fox promotional photo)

Going into “Bohemian Rhapsody,” I knew to expect great music — Queen is one of the best bands ever, after all — but ultimately the story and the performances make this a movie that will rock you.

In retrospect, the ascension of a bunch of musical misfits who created norms-defying songs and led by a strange-looking frontman really is an underdog story. So many of us either caught Queen’s ascension at the time or afterwards that going back to the beginning and realizing/remembering just how unusual this band and its music was becomes instructive.

The talk of Rami Malik deserving an Oscar nomination as Freddie Mercury is legit. Since I don’t pay much attention to entertainment news, it really did take me half the movie to realize it was the same guy from “Mr. Robot.” Malik is asked to show us a Freddie who is at turns confident and lonely, hot and cold, and coming to grasp with his sexuality and its place in a more constrained society, and he delivers magnificently.

But I was additionally pleased the movie didn’t make this all about Mercury and sell short the contributions of his bandmates. The rest of the band, who look strikingly like their real-world selves (especially Gwilym Lee as Brian May, but also Ben Hardy as Roger Taylor and Joe Mazello as John Deacon), show a range of emotion and real chemistry to bring us even further into the tale. That the movie includes May’s vision for the stomp-clap of “We Will Rock You” and Deacon presenting his disco-influenced bass riff that became “Another One Bites the Dust” are fabulous bits that really flesh out the band’s collaborative talents — and makes the times when a misguided Mercury pushes back on the band’s family feeling even more compelling.

Lucy Boynton as Mary Austin has both some heartbreaking scenes as Mercury’s wife who realizes he is gay well before he accepts it but also heartwarming parts as somebody who sticks by him even as his life strays the wrong direction under manipulative manager Paul Prenter (Allen Leech). Even seemingly smaller roles like Mercury’s family and his eventual partner Jim Hutton (Aaron McCusker) allow the performers to show genuine humanity and decency many such movies wouldn’t bother to provide.

One could quibble with the historical accuracy, or lack thereof, of parts of the film. From the formation of the band through when Mercury actually received his AIDS diagnosis, the filmmakers take some liberties with facts and timelines. This should probably bother me (and my history degree) more than it does, but a biopic is not a documentary. The reworking parts of the backstory come in service to creating a more powerful story, and the film is such a fun ride that I won’t get hung up on it. This is a Hollywood tale, after all, which is both based on a real band and a wonderful bit of escapism.

If you’re a Queen fan, it goes without saying you should see this movie. But even if you aren’t, the music and the story and the performances are all so engrossing, enjoyable and entertaining that it’s likely you’ll leave the theater as a Queen fan. It really is a kind of magic.

Leave a comment

Filed under words

#heweb18: solving the mermaid’s dilemma

A mermaid performs in a Dive Bar aquarium

It’s perhaps an apt metaphor that one of our favorite stops during the recent HighEdWeb Conference in Sacramento (aka #heweb18) was the nightly mermaid shows at a place called Dive Bar. Because, in a way, higher ed communicators find themselves in the mermaid’s dilemma.

The folk tale that also served as the basis for the Disney blockbuster “The Little Mermaid” features the mermaid Ariel falling in love with a human, but facing a difficult decision: If she remains true to who she is, as a sea-dwelling mermaid, she has no future with the man she loves. If she could adapt human form, she could never go back to her mermaid lifestyle.

We feel like that in the higher ed digital community sometimes. We try to stay true to ourselves and what we know our best practices, but something we find ourselves trying to please others in ways that go against our own core values.

We can gain enough expertise to speak at a conference full of brilliant humans, only to be treated like paupers on our own campuses. Through education, training, sharing ideas, innovation and trial and error, we gain expertise that allows us to generate success for our institutions and our audiences. But then HiPPOs and various others with no knowledge of these acquired best practices dismiss our expertise and make requests we know are not good for our institutions: Post this flyer on social media, put this dense mission statement prominently on the website, write this story that we’ve said no to others in the past and now will have to write 10 more in the future.

But the thing about the mermaid’s dilemma, and folks tails in general, is that it assumes a false dichotomy: We can either be this thing or that thing. We make the same mistake in higher ed: We can either do things our way or their way. But that’s overly simplistic. Generally fairy tales work themselves out with some kind of deux ex machina or some kind of magic. nd you know what: We work in positions where we can make magic happen.

As it turns out, closing keynote Sir Ken Robinson gave us the keys for getting past our mermaid’s dilemma. He spoke of the three Cs that aren’t used enough in educating children but which can better prepare them for the future: curiosity, creativity and collaboration.

Curiosity: Yes, we think we have the answers, but have we, in fact, asked the questions? One facet of curiosity is that we need to get outside ourselves (or get over ourselves) and learn more about what those asking things of us truly want. Another facet of curiosity is always looking for a better way and trying new things to move our institutions — and the industry — forward.

Creativity: This is where the magic happens. Whether it’s in writing, video, photography or other content creation; coding; design; implementation of technology; or any other part of digital communications, we put our minds, our hands and our teams to work to solve problems, even the ones that seem difficult if not impossible.

Collaboration: The idea that, in higher ed, we only have our way or their way is self-destructive. That administrator or dean or faculty member whose requests might rub you the wrong way wants the same thing you do: to recruit great students, provide them with opportunities and pave the way toward fruitful futures. We might disagree on the methods, but we want the same outcome. This is an opportunity for you to cultivate your curiosity (learn more about their viewpoints, problems and needs), instill your creativity (find clever and effective ways to solve their problems) and collaboration (remember that you’re on the same team, and to go out and build those teams. And #heweb18 shows how many of us collaborate with other campuses by sharing expertise, ideas and advice.

To those I would add a fourth C: Care. This came up in multiple presentations and contexts. We do what we do because we care about our institutions and our students. But speakers also kept promoting self-care: about finding the right work-life rhythm, about finding ways to recharge and refresh our bodies and minds and about realizing that if we’re not happy and energized, we can’t bring the best to our institutions and our students.

For those of us blessed to work in higher education, it isn’t a question of doing things in the way we’re comfortable with or abandoning what we’ve always known to please others. It’s a question of how we can make our choices work for everybody at the table, and ultimately work for our students. It’s hard work but it’s also a kind of magic.

And to attend a conference where we constantly learn new and exciting things, see mermaids swimming in giant aquariums atop bars and attend the awesome annual #karaokeplane where hundreds of people — both from the conference and locals — come together for an uplifting  evening of improvised entertainment … well, it’s enough to make you believe that magic can happen.

Leave a comment

Filed under words

The Frank Turner experience: part concert, part therapy

IMG_2304

Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls rocking in concert

Seeing Frank Turner live is as much of a group therapy session as it is a(n excellent) concert.

Frank’s catalogue includes beautiful, poignant song about broken people trying to mend themselves. His words have found many of us at the right time in the right place with the right message. For me, songs like “Recovery,” “The Next Storm” and “Get Better” all lifted my spirits and my thoughts when I really needed it. And looking around the crowd that enjoyed Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls’ show last night at the State Theater in Ithaca, I was far from alone. Many people were shouting his lyrics back cathartically, while others wore their emotion on their faces, these songs washing over them and making them feel cleansed.

He’s been through a lot himself, known as a man who got where he is by a rather ridiculous work ethic couple with being a charismatic everyman. It comes across in his songs, his shows and, if you want a nice read, his autobiography “The Road Beneath My Feet.” Frank is a rock star, to be sure, but this nervous, angular, foul-mouthed Englishman really feels like one of us.

Frank tells audiences his shows have two rules: “Don’t be an asshole” and “If you know the words, sing.” If you don’t know the words, he says, you can dance. But he also urged the crowd to dance during various songs, so much of the crowd was singing and dancing.

He started with a slow song, the title track off his new album “Be More Kind,” which thematically set the theme for the night. Frank and the band picked things up with “1933,” one of a few tracks on the new record castigating fascists and racists (as any good punk rocker would) and by the time the crowd was sing “we can get better/because we’re not dead yet” from “Get Better,” the show was in full gear.

A smattering of people had their smartphones out taking a lot of pictures and recording, although it seemed like less than an average show. Frank and the Sleeping Souls provide a very immersive concert experience, best not viewed through a tiny lense. Take a few photos to remember the experience, sure — I usually do mine during the first few songs, then put my phone away — but realize this a live and dynamic thing you should enjoy in the moment. In “Don’t Worry,” the first track on his new album, Frank even has a few lines that seem to address the need to spend less time with technology and be more human:

Don’t let your heart get hardened into stone
Or lose yourself in looking at your phone
So many so-called friends
And still you feel alone
You should spend more time with the do’s than with the don’ts

This was an evening about doing and feeling and singing and dancing. Frank inserted a three-song solo acoustic set, which included “Smiling at Strangers on Trains,” a reworking of an old song from his previous band, Million Dead. Then he asked the crowd up front to make a circle and a mosh pit broke out (I was more concerned about my glasses than my body, but we all made it through).

The band closed the set with “Photosynthesis” (the show-closer for some previous tours). During the break before the last chorus, Frank said we had a chance to take this feeling, this positivity forward, that on Monday morning we could go to work or school and choose not to be assholes, to make compassion in fashion again and to simply be more kind. It sounds cheesy to say, but it was actually quite inspirational.

His four-song encore included one last fast dancing song, “Four Simple Words,” before he closed with “Polaroid Picture,” a song about making memories last. He asked the crowd to put their arms on each other’s shoulders, and soon strangers on both sides of me stretched out their arms and smiled. So we were one big, sweaty, happy wave of people swaying side to side together, one more indelible memory during a song about just such a feeling.

The best art is about transformative experiences. For many of us fans, that’s what Frank Turner’s songs mean to our life. Last night felt that way too, where even a solo like me was dancing with hundreds of strangers turned friends. How many of us got up this morning and went to work or school and decide to be more kind as a result? We’ll never know for sure. But what if we did?

 

Leave a comment

Filed under words