thewritingprofessor55

Hello from breakfast at Cracker Barrel,

The first day I came to visit Bloomsburg, with my friends, colleagues now, and somewhat surrogate family, the Deckers, we came to eat at the local Cracker Barrel. It was a warm Saturday afternoon in May, but it was a restaurant I recognized and enjoyed (breakfast is my favorite meal). This morning, I am back, some 15 years later, and pondering that beginning of a new chapter. That chapter has now ended, and I am embarking on yet another journey (this one both figurative and literal) as I complete my time in Bloomsburg (and at Bloomsburg – Commonwealth). When I arrived in the Spring of 2009, I was both excited and apprehensive. The move back to Pennsylvania had me with an hour and a half from where I had been a parish pastor some 20 years before, it necessitated leaving an elderly woman I had committed to caring for back in Wisconsin as well as leaving an incredibly important person in my life. And then where was the leaving one tenured track position, which I had to some degree failed in managing, to another. Fortunately, the person picking me up that day understood my situation – perhaps better than I did – and his mentorship would be instrumental in what I have accomplished here in North Central Pennsylvania.

Certainly the clichés about commencement being an ending and a beginning are well-known, but this ending is about that idea of completing the thing we prepare for from early on. Retirement is understood as both a completion, but imagining life in a totally new manner. Others tell you it is a wonderful time, and they have enjoyed it beyond anything expected. As I ponder, I am not sure I know (or remember) anyone who has detested their retiring. And yet, I am learning daily there are new things to manage, and most of them, at least thus far, have to do with paperwork and medical care. I must say that most of it has gone smoothly, but there are things that are managed differently (and it is not always intuitive or logical). Planning in advance is imperative, and I am generally a planner.

A former department chair wrote a book titled Retiring Minds, a thoughtful and humorous consideration of academics moving on beyond the classroom. I began reading it and need to return to it, which means in my packing of things I need to find it again, or reach out to the author. I am not sure I see it as some profound end and the of beginning of a new life or person. Perhaps that is because of the anticipating and preparing I have done over the past year. There were conscious decisions made the last three and a half years, both in terms of work taken on as well as managing my health, which had been an issue since my late 20s. At one point, the assistance of another made a significant change in my possibilities, the various roads forward. It is only as I reach this point I can appreciate the accuracy of their prediction. Their insight, their example, and their kindness are all appreciated beyond words.

One of the things I did over the past few years was to continue to travel, to examine options, and to carefully consider things without locking myself into anything. There were times it felt like I was merely moving toward an abyss of sorts, but there was so much in the daily requirements that I was never frightened about the what-if approaching. Managing the daily things that academe throws at us, and the amount of things continues to increase, can be all consuming. I will say the feeling of freedom of not needing something by tomorrow has been liberating. Even the meeting with the breakfast crew seems different. There is no scheduled office hour or other requirement (e.g. Brightspace (the CMS), grading, jillions of emails) to wrangle. Indeed, that seems to be the most incredible difference. Yesterday, a former colleague asked if I missed anything, and I answered, albeit a bit hesitantly, “No.” It sounded a bit selfish, but it was also truthful. However, on the other hand, I never regretted going to work; I did not detest the long hours nor the feeling that I was never really caught up. I loved when the lights came on about some issue or a student noted something amazing they had not considered prior to that moment. I found unparalleled satisfaction in knowing someone grew, their thought-process matured, or they found new possibilities n’er before realized. What an incredible life I have been blessed to lead.

And now, a new adventure begins, though it is for me just an additional chapter of what has been an unpredictable life, one both planned and simultaneously left somewhat to chance. I recently noted that I can, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, but even then there is a plan. The time spent researching, imagining, and trying to control the variables of this new adventure is both inside and outside my wheelhouse. The researching and planning are not new, in spite of the reality that I am working with skills that are not new conceptually, but they certainly are experientially. Regardless that I grew up with a journeyman electrician for a father, my wiring experience is minimal at best. It matters not that I had two bathrooms remodeled in my home, and I watched the process quite intently, my actually laboring to do it is pretty non-existent. Then there is solar, compostable plumbing, gray-water tanks, or carpentry. The learning curve will be steep. But as importantly, I have the time. That is the most important thing. I do have a proposed schedule, but there are still so many pieces to work out. The first two important pieces include the windows, which are being manufactured in Washington as I write this. The second piece, and one mostly unexpected, but deep-down perhaps not, is the installation of a rebuilt transmission, and that is pricey, but a necessity. I am working on my new video, but learning Camtasia on the fly at the same time. I have thoughts, hopes, and expectations of this also. It will take some dedicated, thoughtful, and meticulous work on a number of levels, but I want to create something both inspiring and memorable. I need to perhaps ask a couple of people to assist in small ways on the technology piece, but it’s exciting to imagine. There are moments I feel like my ducks-are-in-row, but there are times I see no ducks!! Next week, if I get the house issues pretty much behind me (which should be manageable), ordering of some of the significant pieces of the electrical, solar, batteries, and other necessities for the power and cooling/heating in the bus. There are some essentials I need to consider, and working with a couple people on specifics next week will be important.

The reason for getting the house emptied first is so I can singularly focus on the various elements of the build. The second reason for waiting until next week is about managing cash-flow because there will be a significant layout of cash coming soon. I am trying to be both not cheap as well as simultaneously frugal. While this might seem oxymoronic, I do believe it is possible, but it will take time, thought, and patience. I think my propensity for process will pay off, or I surely hope so. Over the last months I have spent time watching the videos of other builds, and examining what occurred carefully. I hope to learn from the experience of others. Even before the really down-and-dirty of the build, unexpected occurrences have been normal. I considered wrapping the bus. Someone’s decision (prior owner) to paint the bus with latex paint banished that option. Windows with no screens are a no-go, so replacing 7 windows requires UPS and working with a company in Washington state. My own concern about the shifting (or lack of appropriate shifting) has necessitated replacing the transmission, which is neither cheap or instantaneous. New shocks seemed like a good plan considering the additional weight and amount of driving that will occur. All of this is before the build. I am sure there will be other unanticipated occurrences. Learning will abound. In the meanwhile, I will hopefully have a new video up early in the week. It is a step forward in production from the first one, I am not sure the sound is where I want it. And there are other things to manage, more learning. The link to my YouTube site is: https://youtu.be/QbTzS55DWhE . Please do subscribe and follow. I am going to document the entire project. I need to offer shout outs to @S&S Glass of Berwick, @chuckcsssady, @edenthebus, @dayzea, @peninsulaglass, @steveshannontire, and independenceford at this point.

The video here is a recent version of the classic Jackson Brown tune about the end of his shows. The recent version reminds me of the reality of aging, the reality of endings and beginnings. It is life, and it has been and will be an adventure.

Thanks as always for reading.

Michael (the retired version)

Hello from my corner in Panera,

I ate breakfast, and I am currently waiting for my to-go order to be prepared. It has been uncharacteristically cool a number of mornings, a harbinger of the Fall which is to soon arrive. A drive on I-80 had already revealed the changing of colors, so I am not sure what that forecasts for the winter. Are we ever prepared for weather or do we merely adapt on the fly? I know the returning of students, the seemingly always poor planning of managing street projects (resurfacing the main street in town as traffic exponentially increases), or the unexpected closure this morning of other main thoroughfares has made a simple drive from point A to B seem like I made it halfway through our alphabet.

As noted in almost every platform, retirement, which has been a focus, is now a reality. I have a week of not being required by any entity to be somewhere at a given time. That has allowed for other things (e.g. packing, selling, donating, mailing, managing paperwork, or planning) to find themselves front-and-center. Last night I had my first experience of trying to manage my medications on new things like Medicare Parts A,B, and D and my supplemental. It appears this two week period from my actual retirement date to the beginning of the month as well as where the prescriptions are managed (in terms of Medicare or Blue Cross) are something I will need to manage differently. I have a kind pharmacist who had a coupon code, and his understanding saved me a couple hundred dollars. Thank you to my Weis pharmacist. While thought I had everything covered, I found out I was underprepared. There is much more complexity to all aspects of simplifying than I knew. I am a person who prefers not to fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants, but can if by necessity. And yet, I do everything I can to prevent such a situation. Alert: what you will read below could perhaps shock some because it is a painful confession of profound failure on my part, and it might change some opinions. It is a guilt that has affected me for over half my life. It was how I acted earlier in my life.

I find myself pondering this: when are we actually prepared for much of what life presents? When do we completely comprehend the parameters or adequately plan for the contingencies? Too often, we manage neither. Today is an anniversary of sorts, but one that did not happen. It would be a 40 year wedding anniversary if I were still married to my college girlfriend. We were married about 9 years when our divorce was finalized. While some of the reasons for our marital demise were issues created by both individuals, there are certainly things that were my fault. They were my failures, and for some of those things there was (and is) no excuse. I better understand today what contributed to my actions, I am accountable for everything I did (or didn’t do). Failure to support her adequately when she struggled; failure to be able to manage my frustration or anger when I was in my late 20s or early 30s. Was I abusive? Yes. I was, and there is shame connected to that yet today. Failure to be as faithful as I should have been. There is much more one could say here, but I need only look at myself. I did not maintain my fidelity as well as I should have. Those are terrible admissions to make, but I need to make them.

It is here there is both a profound degree of failure and a connection to being unprepared. Even as a former pastor who stood before others reminding them of the importance of trust, I was not as trustworthy as I should have been. I was selfish and stupid. It is something I never did in my second marriage, so perhaps I learned through my own self loathing. Failure that affects another is much more significant because it has a kind of concentric, exponential consequence.

Some 40 years later I look at the picture (the one at the top of this post) and I think about that Friday evening. I was almost 29. Perhaps there is something strangely apropos that it is a bit blurry. I was in seminary, and I thought I had things pretty well figured out. Nothing could be further from the truth. I was a mess on so many levels, and yet I believed I was doing the appropriate thing by getting married. But I was nowhere close to being prepared for such a commitment. And yet, exactly what prepares us for such a set or level of promises made to another?

When I think back to my mindset 40 years ago, I thought I was prepared to be married. In spite of a return of a ring during a Summer Greek program, in spite of a failure to breakup with their former boyfriend, in spite of people warning me about some potential issues, I believed I could handle it all. That is both foolish and a failure; it is both egotistical and unwise. I am guilty of all of it. Therefore, the question appropriately asked is a simple why? There is no simple answer. The truth is, however, very simple. Regardless the actions of the other, and I will not give any specifics, my choice to do what I did, what I didn’t, my emotional responses or reactions are mine. I need to own them. That is still painful. I remember that night thinking I could not be more in love with someone. Now 40 years later, I wonder if I had any idea what it meant to love another. I think I was in love with the concept of being in love, of having a family, of creating my own version of the American dream. Of course, at that time, I was more clueless than intelligent; I was more unprepared than underprepared. In spite of the many things I did that were appropriate, loving, and supportive, I failed at some of the most foundational. And much like the Biblical house on the sand, a marriage was destroyed by a lack of trust from either person. I could belabor the specifics, but to what end.

At this point in my life, as I noted with someone the other day, keeping my word, being trustworthy, and having integrity matter to me as much as anything. I did not manage those things earlier in my life, with grave consequence. It is interesting that some things people believed to be true weren’t, and some concerns were unfounded or inaccurate, but there were things perhaps even undetected that destroyed both a marriage as well as my own personal sense of self-worth. It has taken decades to face that failure. And the irony of confessing it today does not go unnoticed or understated. That night I sang at my own wedding, and I know in my heart I felt and believed every word I sang. It is the video below. The song will always hold a special place in my heart because, in spite of my failing, I am a hopeful (and hopeless) romantic. To the person who wishes to be such: I wish you success where I failed. I hope you are prepared for the storms in ways I was not. I hope for those pondering their life shared with another that you will manage it much better than I. If I have created some dilemma for those who thought better of me, I hope you might find that the person you know now is more genuine, more trustworthy, and more believable than the person I was 40 years ago.

Thank you as always for reading.

Michael

Hello on a Saturday morning,

Being principled is something I ponder on a regular basis. It is something that seems conceptually straightforward, and then again perhaps not, but it certainly is not something easy to manage. Principles are related to one’s morals, their values, but most importantly, their actions. When speaking to my students, regardless the class, there was always an ethical component to the course. It might be understandable to ask why I might choose to include this, but I hope it is as possible to comprehend the significance of doing it.

Undoubtedly, the importance of an ethical process seems as extreme as ever. Regardless your perspective, people from all backgrounds seem to bemoan the unethical behavior of those with whom they disagree. Of course, all too often that it not as much an ethical question as it is a process or outcomes issue, but that is a concern for a different post. The point is ethics or the adherence to an ethical methodology is a complex thing. The commitment to following through with a particular set of values or morals is not a simple understanding of something being right or wrong. And that is because we do not have the same values, morals, or understanding of how to employ them. Some of this is cultural and some of it is environmental experience. I would like to believe we all begin with some of the same basics, but even watching young children, and their different behavior toward others causes me to question what it is that teaches or establishes the basis for living a life informed by a sense of morality or structured by a set of values.

And yet are there some foundational moral statutes, some essential values, that we hold as basic to establishing a society that can function in a manner that provides some sense of safety, some expectation of normalcy? I think perhaps being truthful, committing oneself to not stealing or injuring another might be a place to start. And yet even those behaviors are suspect when we consider how we employ the economics of our current world, when we look at what is happening in Ukraine, the Middle East, or even on our streets. And yet, it is not the intention of this blog to fall into some sense of despair by our failures. In my last blog, I spoke about the group of men I often have more coffee with, though I have been out and about and away for more than a week to 10 days. Most of them have been married to their spouses for a half a century. One particular gentleman lost his wife a year or so ago, and she was in a memory unit for some time because of advanced Alzheimer’s, but he visited her almost daily. He would share pictures of her in her earlier years, telling stories of their owning a family restaurant on Main Street. Another currently is losing his wife to cancer, and he has been in every hospital in three or four counties trying to get her the best care possible. Their commitment to caring for each other is a testament to the things I listened to during the homily at a wedding this past Friday evening. The priest spoke about an incredible love that comes not from ourselves, but rather is instilled in us from a heavenly Creator. Regardless the piety you might have, surely a commitment to a love that seems beyond our human understanding or ability comes from somewhere other worldly. It is not a perfect thing, but it is an evolving, dynamic sense of selflessness that might surprise even ourselves. My father referred to it as the ability to give 150% to the other. He noted it is about willing to give the extra when one’s partner cannot give their part.

I admire when two people can do that for the other day in and day out, turning the days into weeks, months, years, and decades. It is a difficult thing to admit I was not capable of doing that. I was too fragile in my own sense of self to maintain that sense of commitment to a spouse. That fragility created a sense of unworthiness, a sense of loneliness, even when married, that undermined trust, eroded our mutuality, and often left me wondering why I struggled so much. What I have been compelled to realize is in a first marriage I was more in love with the idea of being married and having a family than I was in love with the other person. That is painful to realize, and taking responsibility for my failure has been a long time in coming. Certainly, there were other things that eventually led her to file for a divorce, but I have learned to own my part of that. I owe her a multitude of apologies for my failures. As some know, I was almost 29 the first time I was married and that will be 40 years ago this month. I was a very different person. On the outside, most thought I had my life together pretty well. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I was searching for a sense of worth in almost every area of my life, but I could not find it.

The second time I found myself married I was 40 years old. And as I tell people to this day, if there was a person I have loved in my life, it was my second wife. In fact, I still love her in some ways. I tell people if she walked in a room I was in, even now, I would be a bit of a mess. It would take incredible thought and fortitude to remind myself that our relationship was not healthy. Again, I have some responsibilities for that failure. My inability to work with the difficulties that characterized our marriage taught me a lot, and in fact, I am still learning. I have been single now for a quarter of a century. Not what I expected, but probably what I needed. Even in this past 6 months a reconnection with a profoundly talented, attractive, and good person, something that was intentionally planned did not convince me to abandon my singleness. While on one hand that was disappointing, it was also instructive. It pushed me to understand things about myself. It forced me to question quite honestly what I am capable of doing. It also pushed me toward embracing the immediate plans post retirement, which will be a solitary adventure for the near future.

As I look at some of those dear to me, I see various examples of commitment to another, to the long-term. I think of my dear cousins, and how even among them there are differences. When I look at my nieces and nephews, again, there is no recipe card for success. What makes any relationship successful? It is not merely staying together for me; there is something more. And yet, what is it? Again at the wedding this weekend, as I am prone to do, I observed all the people, pondering all the different ways I saw this commitment to another. I listen to people and take in the comments, both positive as well as some less so, imagining what it is that keeps them together.

Certainly, their sense of commitment is sometimes due to the fear of what might happen if they decide to split up. Sometimes they stay because it is supposedly easier; and sometimes it is a true sense hinting the vows once made. There is certainly a difference between loving someone and liking them. I once wrote I think my father loved my mother, but I do not think he liked her. That was a commitment to a vow, and yet, I am not convinced it was a healthy way to live. That too gives me pause. However, I did watch my father give my mother every chance to live, even after she had died on that bedroom floor. That will be 35 years ago tomorrow that he had to left her go. That is stunning to me. It is also 100 years ago tomorrow that Lydia, the last person who was like a parent to me, was born. Happy Century, Lydia. In someways, I was committed to caring for Lydia as I was to anyone. She had been a widow for almost a decade, and would live almost two decades longer than her husband. She taught me about commitment in ways I had not previously experienced. When she and George came to America during the post-WWII era, they committed themselves, as many others who chose self-exile to becoming Americans, often giving up their language, their food, and much of their culture. That takes profound fortitude, unparalleled desire, to change almost everything, to adapt on the fly. I remember Lydia telling me she took diction tutoring to try to eliminate her accent. It never worked, and that frustrated her.

And yet she was as committed to her new country as anyone born here, perhaps even more. She never missed the opportunity to vote. She paid significant attention to both national and local issues, and she was unabashedly opinionated about the importance of democracy. This sort of intentionality is something we could all learn from. It is much like the same intention, the consistency I see in my morning colleagues to their significant others. I am in awe of this ability to another person. I wish I was more successful in that ability. The picture above is of Lydia in her yard, shortly after I met her. In spite of her patriotism, she was still a proud Austrian. Her love of Strauss was never lost, and I often this Strauss piece as a way to finish this post

Thank you as always for reading.

Dr. Martin

Hello on a warm, sultry, by July afternoon,

As someone who’s spent about 85% of their life in a classroom, albeit in various roles, to say education is central to my life would be a strong understatement. And yet, perhaps surprisingly, I find myself asking has it been edifying. The simple answer could be “Of course!” The non-critical answer could be, “Without a doubt.” And the foolish answer might be its own question, “Why would I even ask this question?” Much like the students in Lincoln Douglas or Parliamentary Debate, it is essential to define terms. I do, for instance believe that education involves the acquisition of knowledge, and ideally it occurs in a way that what is acquired has a positive cumulative result. The term edification (which is used as a participle in the title) was a bit surprising to me. Not that I had no comprehension of its meaning, but as a verb, the first term was educate, and the 7 following synonyms were all related to teaching and learning. And when I look at the noun form, the same occurs, even more extensively. This pushes me to do some further etymological searching, but that is for later. It seems they are more synonymous than realized.

As a boomer and a veteran, I am on the cusp of the requisite college explosion. In my blue-collar, middle class, but still barely beyond a paycheck-to-paycheck existence, many of my classmates entered the factory life or the trades, and I had no real belief that college was in my future. And earlier posts attest, I had neither the means nor the grades that pointed toward where I now find myself. Attending college, obtaining a degree, and managing a professional position was certainly something to aspire toward. And yet, I realize now I had no idea what was required or what it would feel like if I accomplished those three things. Furthermore, the idea that I would have multiple graduate degrees was certainly no where on the radar. I had a cousin, who was older (a parental age) who had achieved this level, life as a professor, but I did not see myself in his realm in any manner, shape, or form. And yet . . . As I retire from the academy as he once did, I wonder what he thought about that life of preparing others for a path that started with achieving that educational goal beyond public education.

The reality of that accomplishment and how even those in my own family understood it was demonstrated loud and clear when I was accepted to the PhD program. I called my father, who was now 80 years old, and I was excited to tell him about my acceptance to the program. As I relayed my news, he paused and stayed inquisitively, “You are going back to college? I thought you had a job.” A bit taken back, I responded, “Yes; but it’s a doctoral program.” In his practical manner, again, he said, “I am proud of you, I think.” My one word response of “yes” was rapidly followed by a second question from my less-than-impressed father, “How long will this take? As I responded, “Four or five,” he interrupted before I could say years, and said incredulously, “Years?” As I responded in the affirmative, he asked how many years of college that would be. My response of 13 or 14 elicited yet another pragmatic statement from my startled parent. Not a person prone to swearing, he said, “Jesus Christ! Don’t you think you should be getting smart pretty soon.” There were more questions and answers, but needless to say, my path made little sense to my electrician father.

I do believe he would be proud of my accomplishment, which he did not live long enough to see, but I remember his eyes welling up in tears when I received my first Master’s. I was quite stunned and humbled by that response. This returns me to the concept of both education and edification. Life is educational; it happens daily, and often without our realization. Too often we merely muddle along with minimal to no reflection on our experiences. I have often told my students all learning is positive. When it goes well, it can be edifying and there is hopefully something efficacious, something worth revisiting. Conversely, when it goes poorly, when it creates something painful, I am positive I do not want to do it again. More importantly, some of the most significant lessons learned have been knowing what I do not want to do again. Experiencing, reflecting, and processing are foundational to growing and moving forward in life. The other important consideration is where it occurs. In spite of so much time spent in a classroom, some of my most profound learning moments occurred outside that determined space. Some of the learned things, growing moments, happened through merely going through the simple actions of being.

While there are a multitude of examples, there is one that might seem innocuous, but that was not the case. My second summer in language school in Kraków, I was put into a section that was thought to be kind because of previous experience. Because I had not diligently worked on my Polish since the previous summer, I was not ready. My two incredibly talented (and patient) instructors (one from the previous summer and one who had been our guide on the trips for years) tried to support me, but their most intentional efforts were not enough. I would not succeed in that course. It is about a week ago in the calendar year and the summer of 2019, when I wrote one of the most revealing posts in my 11 years of blogging; when I was perhaps as despondent as I could possibly be (fortunately I am not there now, and I have not really been there since.). What I remember is the outpouring of support following that post was palpable, and that is an understatement. That was, for me, both educational and edifying, which was, by extension, perhaps even more educational.

First, in spite of being in a familiar place, albeit in Kraków, a place I loved, I felt alone and displaced. Second, for someone who found most learning comfortable, I was anything but; and finally, those two things together, had me overwhelmed and feeling like a failure. The old demons of self-doubt were alive and well. With the people I felt most comfortable reaching out to 7 hours difference in time and over 4,000 miles away, the loneliness and fear were incredible. Clearing my head, managing my emotions were only possible through writing, so this forum was a salvific place. However, it was much more than the writing. Much like the reality of most theological action, there were two parts. There was my confession of sorts. However, it was the response of others where the most profound experience, significant enlightenment (truly) occurred. The comments from so many, and some I had not heard from in months or years were a potent reminder that in spite of time and distance, I was not alone. There was the educational moment. Even in our moments of being solitary, either intentional or by accident, we are seldom unconnected. More importantly, those connections are essential to our well-being.

In our busy lives it is easy to turn inward, focusing on the task at hand, but often, caught up in all the minutiae, we miss what happens around us, we lose sight of community. It is ironic that I realize the importance of that sense of connectedness when I merely take the time to retreat and think. As I ponder the changes that stare me in the face, I am cognizant of the way I will both lose a community that has been my life for 15 years and simultaneously work to establish a new one. Over the last week, I have been reaching out to some who have known me their entire lives. I am reaching out to some known only for months, and I am even reaching out to establish a new community. Most of it is non-academic, but educational nonetheless. All of it has the potential to be edifying, and as I am now realizing, that too is educational, and perhaps more profoundly so. The picture is from my little few day trip to South Carolina. The song is one of my first favorites, and about something that has always been of importance.

Thanks as always for reading.

Dr. Martin

Hello from my little room in the Woodbine Medical Center,

As has been a once a year visit for the last 7 years or so, I am at the dermatologist to have them see if there are any new issues in my world. This one does have a specific concern that has been a problem for over a year. I suspect there will be some minor surgery, but that should manage the issue. Otherwise, there are a number of to-do items on my list for the next couple days. I have tried to be diligent on some things, but it seems many things are more complicated than necessary, but the need to manage them are profoundly necessary with the coming changes. The weekend will begin a couple of journeys that I hope prove to be fruitful and enlightening.

The summer has been a bit of a hodgepodge of events, reactions, and locations. Location is always a sort of post-modern word for me. There are the physical attributes of place, but there are also psychological, emotional properties. What provides a sense of belonging or comfort? What makes familiarity so essential? Events or occurrences fulfill time or days, but what makes them memorable, significant? Certainly sometimes those things happen unexpectedly, serendipitously, and that is often both an unexpected blessing as well as a thought-changer (more to be said about this term). And finally, while we are accountable for our reactions, our decisions, there are moments the reaction is so deeply felt, it changes the planned course of action. Certainly, the consideration of leaving my day-job has been a mixed bag. So much of my identity has been what I do. I have often said being a professor is not what I have done; it is who I am. So much of my life has been interaction with as well as from others. Retirement will provide a sense of solitude that I actually crave to some extent. I want to interact with others certainly, but I also want to have time to decompress and focus on what I want to do versus the deadlines that epitomize the academy. Additionally, I hope to have opportunities to learn and experience new and different options. This really gets me to the point of this particular post. Culture is something I focused upon in a Comp class at one point. How do you define culture? Think about it for a moment. It is complex because it encompasses all of our lives. It is certainly all the things we see; it is all the things with which we engage. It is what we hear, what we find important. It is what we eat, what we drink, what we use to entertain ourselves. It is what we believe or practice. It is what we value or believe. The point is simple. Most everything around us, everything that affects us is cultural. And yet I will assert that most of us only scratch the surface when it comes to understanding either our current cultural reality or even our cultural heritage. The difficulty in comprehending our present situation is due to the unending and overwhelming amount of information and the enormous degree of conflicting data. The struggle with identifying with our cultural heritage is we seldom take, or took) the time to ask the important questions of those generations preceding us. How many of us wish we knew more?

Over the last years, and this assignment had a metamorphosis for sure, I asked my students to create a Google map of their life, writing it as a sort of memoir to their future 18 year old children. I have created such a map for my nephews and nieces. I will, perhaps, share the URL in this blog post. One of the questions I require them to answer is how and why they describe themselves as they do? What are the three traits that most describe the person they believe they are? Ask them to speak to their aunts, uncles, grandparents, and ask questions about things they wish they knew. Even with that assignment and request, too often they are not as critical in their thinking about what to ask. Too often they are not analytical enough in pondering what they might ask or how and why they might ask that significant thing. It is one thing to view something and respond, to be asked a question, and merely to answer. That is what I did when my mother would catch me off guard – say whatever first came to mind. In retrospect that seldom worked. When it comes to things of importance, that is still the case. And it might be even more so in this discombobulated world we presently reside in, which is all the more reason to step back, think, and analyze.

This brings me to the second element of my title. There are multiple genres, sub-genres, cultures, sub-cultures or what some might consider counter-cultures. In more polite terms, one might refer to them as niche; others less polite might call them weird or BSC (batshit crazy), depending on the circumstance. What makes some aspects of culture mainstream or acceptable and others fringe or suspect? It often has to do with what we allow, what we find successful (which is itself a loaded term), what we believe to be comfortable (again, in our own understanding of that term), or what provides the means to be independent (again a loaded term). What I realize as I write this is a bit startling. We subscribe most often to what others think rather than what we feel, what we believe, or perhaps, most importantly what we need. What we need does not always align with what we want, but it is possible to create that alignment? I think this is where we need to step back and imagine, envision the possibilities. Additionally, when are the opportunities available to take such chances. From early in life, we are encouraged to have a plan, to know where we are going, where we are headed.

Recently, I attended an event that epitomizes a sub-culture, referred to as Schoolies, Busers, Van Lifers, those who have tricked out vehicles and live on the road. I experienced families, professionals, artists, crafters, and individuals from every part of the country, gathered to learn, exhibit, and share their expertise. The things I learned about solar power, living-off-the-grid, boon-docking, or the reality of living both simply and successfully was astounding. Certainly there were people there out of curiosity, but I walked into some vehicles that were so incredible, if I had not walked into their vehicle I would not know I was in something mobile. Certainly, there were all sizes, visions, and ideas. One of the most amazing builds, and one that received numerous votes for best of show, came from right here in Bloomsburg. I had watched videos of the build, which were stunning, but even those videos were not close to doing justice of the real thing. Inspirational comes to mind, and that is an understatement (the initial picture does not do justice to the actual experience). What was most interesting to me was how thought, planning, creativity, and the willingness to dream can make something happen. This is not unique but rather something that forms the basis for most achievements. Too often our fear eliminates the possibilities or options. Our fear creates artificial limits that negates imagination. Taking chances requires some courage, but it also takes honesty, and a willingness to ask for assistance. I often say, “My man-card is not that fragile.” That will certainly be the case over the next few months as I undertake a significant project. I am reading, asking questions, and listening to those who know so much more than I do. I am excited to learn new things and see what is created. Updates and progress will show up on Instagram. A couple weeks of managing materials and then let the transformation begin. Here is my musical thoughts about the journey. Life is that and believing that there are always possibilites.

Thanks as always for reading,

Dr. Martin

Hello from the high desert of Oregon,

I am pondering next steps, and I am on a learning excursion. After discarding the idea of van- or camper-life, I am reconsidering it with a vengeance. It has been a day that the title of my last post epitomizes: I have met wonderful people and learned a ton of things. On the other hand, I left my prescription glasses behind and have air-tagged them. They are now 120 miles away, and I have not moved. I could write an exclamatory word or two, but that would change nothing. I have marked them as lost and left a phone number. Perhaps the better angels will come to me and karma will work. The air tag is telling me where they are. Someone picked them up, so I am on the mission to get them back.

The weekend here in Oakridge has been enlightening on numerous levels, from a learning perspective to an interactive manner. Certainly, I saw some incredibly tricked-out schoolies as they are called. One in particular looked like and had the ambiance of a home (and I mean that – more of a home than a house). A second one was tricked-out to the degree you could cook anything in that kitchen. While there is much one can say about things being aesthetically pleasing, the mechanical, the out-of- view things are probably more important, and there one can rack up some serious cost. Understanding the issues of solar and how to manage that is foundational. Deciding issues of plumbing and choices about that are crucial, especially for me. Making sure I have a thoughtfully useful kitchen is of significance, and deciding how, why, or what to do in terms of heating and cooling are essential, particularly when considering the heat and cold ranges that are becoming more commonplace. I did make some basic decisions about a couple of things. All of this covers some of the things I am pondering. However, that all is what I have been focused on while here.

This is my first time in Western Oregon. I drove from Portland to Oakridge, and the state is beautiful. Where I am in quite rural, and yet it is Oregon. My understanding of the West Coast, and this is from my honest, but limited knowledge base. It is also a comparison to what I know from Pennsylvania or Iowa for that matter. As a former Marine, I have a strong sense of patriotism, a intense understanding of decorum, and a incredible belief that our supportive behavior of democracy is foundational to the survival of what many are now calling our Republic. In the 15 years (this time) and 4 years prior (in Lehighton), slightly more than 1/4 of my life had been in Pennsylvania. As a history major, and with particular work in the Civil War, I am amazed by the number of Confederate flags I have seen flying in Pennsylvania. In the past when I saw an American flag flying, I saw it from my Military mindset. And now that has changed. When I see an American flag flying in the bed of a jacked-up 4 Wheel Drive, I find myself now uncomfortable (and this is not something I am proud to say). When I see people with a placard that says “Support the Blue,” I find myself questioning their politics as much as I wonder what it means to support law enforcement. Again, a position that creates significant angst for me. A former student, with whom I shared significant time and had important interactions with over years, even beyond their college years, discontinued their interaction when I questioned the appropriateness of running people off the road during the 2020 campaign. They wanted to argue freedom of speech and patriotism. I could not accept either argument, and they accused me of supporting socialism and be willing to tear down our country. While I will admit that my reaction to former President Trump was, and is, more stridently political than I have ever been in my life, that visceral response is based on three things. I believe he is dishonest; I believe he is disrespectful; and I believe he has been abusive in how he uses power (be that financial or political). Conversely, I have not been a person who believed our former President is stupid; nor do I see him as incapable. He has been rhetorically effective, and he has been surprisingly successful in persuading a substantial section of the electorate he cares about them. That is not an easy thing to do, especially in our present national psyche.

As I ponder how it is the only two people we believe reasonable to run for our highest office are 78 and 81 years old, that too is a profoundly damning statement about our politics and our two-party system. Globalism, which is now foundational to all aspects of our earthly community, often frightens people. And this is about so much more than immigration, about the movement of people or goods, and is about a global backlash against the other. What does it mean now versus what was initially pondered or believed when we were integrally connected to the idea of a government of, by, and for the people. If money is the primary driver, of the rich might seem more apropos; if the first adage is true, we are governed also by those wealthy enough to bankroll a campaign; and finally, as the lack of term limits and name recognition clearly demonstrates ( re-election in the House has not been below 80% since the 1960s and in the Senate, while a little more volatile, is seldom below 80% with a couple strong exceptions in the 1970s) too often those elected are for their re-election. I do realize that is a bit cynical, and I wish I felt less so. I am amazed how many people (and not surprisingly) are deeply concerned what this November will bring.

As a veteran, the idea of patriotism, the expectations of a functioning democracy, and the desire that we are a country, which can still serve as a model society in our larger world, is something that has always provided hope and some sense of pride. And yet, both through experience with other American citizens as well as traveling to Central/Eastern Europe, Western Europe, Central and South America, I am well aware of how much of a beacon America still is for so many. It is ironic for sure that the very things that make us such an incredible place seem to be the things that most divide us. Issues of ethnicity, citizenship, freedom of religion and expression, and what equity means are some of those things. Our inability to look at and accept the other seems to be at the core of our struggles. And yet I am aware from the stories from some of my European friends that immigration is problematic there also. The geo-political situation, one exacerbated by the wars in Europe and Gaza, as well as the growing alliance between Russia and China or Russia and North Korea. As I read, it appears that Russia had created a situation where they have little choice but to reach out to their authoritarian counterparts as the war in Ukraine continues. I am certainly not an expert in Russian history or its current circumstances, but it seems all the work Vladimir Putin did to prepare his county (and here too it is the rich areas of Moscow and St. Petersburg) economically for the fallout of any military provocation has not gone as well as he hoped. Certainly North Korea poses a problem for China as well as with its other neighbors. So the importance or NATO, the EU, and other countries like Australia, New Zealand, or Turkey and Egypt in particular demonstrate how politicized our globalism is.

And yet let me return to us – what is an appropriate role for America on the world stage? Certainly what we did from the end of World War II until the collapse of Saigon in April of 1975 is no longer possible. And yet it seems we have no consistent long-term sense of how to manage it all. As I have mentioned on multiple occasions, we have seldom had an exit strategy to the conflicts we get mired in. When I think about President Obama’s foreign policy, I am not sure he was nearly as effective as he should have been (and I realize it’s complex). I believe President Trump’s actions toward NATO, coupled with his kowtowing to the very people we are mostly like to end up fighting served no good purpose (and I realize this is an opinion). I actually believe President Biden’s actions are more consistent with the American foreign policy of the late 20th century. Is that positive? Again, I want to say yes, but I am quite sure I have no clear sense of tue best outcome in what seems to be a reshuffling of our world order. And as certainly as I am unsure of what is best, and even more sure I would not want to be saddled with the duties of a President, required to make that very decision.

As I read through this, what is apparent in the moment is everything is connected in some way; everything is therefore exponentially more complicated; and as a consequence, it is all political. There is no way to avoid it. One might wish to not think about. One might wish to avoid it. Both are possible, but the consequences of it all are not. So, while I can appreciate a desire to not embrace it, at least thinking about it critically, especially until November 5th might be advisable. Read, question, listen, and ponder. Examine the words, consider the rhetoric, examine the choices. While the demonstrations about Gaza and Israel are somewhat reminiscent of the later years of Vietnam, there seems to be little of the focused strength that much of the country coalesced around from 1968-1972. This song perhaps spoke as clearly as any in that time.

Thank you as always for reading.

Dr. Martin

Hello from Cleveland,

As I read and listened to the verdicts (both guilty) for two highly volatile cases, and as I finish the last three days of the last “typical class” of a full-time, tenure track teaching, academic career, I find my brain in two places. And yet, there is a connecting thread that holds it all together. Additionally, while I understand the appropriateness of parallelism, I am going to break that rule, and begin with the latter of the two points (and Bill, this is so you might continue to read).

Much of my life has been spent figuring things out, trying to understand the why about things. My poor mother – she certainly did not know what to do with this inquisitive, take-nothing-for-granted person she ended up with (as I was adopted). I appreciate the difference of opinion more than some might believe, more than perhaps I should. Over the past decade, the obsession with assessment in the academy is apparent in every corner of our university existence. Student Learning Outcomes, General Education Goals, Programmatic Outcomes, Accreditation, Agencies, and the list could go on. Are we doing what we say we are? That is a fair and significant question. Even when I was an elementary student, I remember taking tests titled Iowa Tests of Educational Development (ITEDs we called them). Certainly the rationale for No Child Left Behind (NCLB) was well-intended. However, in spite of our best intentions, it seems we use assessment as a way to monetize education. The actual amount of money we spend nationally on education is a pittance to many other things, and three decades in academe has illustrated that consequence (less than 3% of the Federal Budget is spent on elementary and secondary education, and we currently spend less than $2,300.00 per student on post-secondary education – these are 2023 figures from the US Department of Education). I looked at EU countries and the average for the EU is 4.7%.

Then there is the issue of evaluation . . . what is the difference, you ask? Assessment is about actual learning, evaluation is about grading. Those things every student focuses on. Why did I get this grade? What can I do to raise my grade? It is stunning how much value we place on those letters. I have thought about this for years, and I was as grade driven as anyone. I never graduated with a 4.0 cumulative GPA. I had significantly strong grades (after failing out the first time), but grades never kept me from moving forward. I learned some time ago how to address grades, and for the most part it has worked well. When I was in graduate school at MTU, we (as a department) decided for a year or two, if I remember correctly, to only give midterm and final grades. People freaked out. But the experience taught us a lot, particularly in the area of writing. Without grades, students paid much more attention to the comments on their papers, and their writing improved significantly (I think on average an entire letter grade). Step back for a moment and consider when grades matter after you graduate . . . for your first job or if you are going to graduate school. Otherwise, no one cares. Your future employers want to know if you are capable, dependable, and to put it in elementary language: do you play well with others? What has happened with the common practice of grade inflation is a belief that showing up (with not much else) earns someone an A. That is neither realistic nor honest. And more interestingly, the persons most often questioning the grade are the very ones who shouldn’t. We are evaluated throughout life, but we also need to learn to evaluate ourselves. Over the years, I learned to not compare myself with my colleagues. We all had different strengths, different skills, different methods. What I needed to do was compare myself with my earlier self. Was I improving, teaching more effectively? What I realized after leaving Stout was the incredible power some had over our lives, and how little power I had. It was a painful, but important lesson.

As I continue this blog, I am back in Bloomsburg after a bit of some a whirlwind trip with both expected and unexpected events. Before the week is completed, I will be out again, experiencing yet more new things. The first part of my blog noted the trial of two individuals, one a former President, and one a President’s son. In both situations, the reality of our polarized electorate is apparent and present. In both cases, a jury of peers adjudicated their understanding of justice, of deciding guilt or innocence. I would not have cared to serve on either jury, and I admire those who did in both cases. And regardless toward which side of the political aisle you lean, the need to have a trial by jury is essential to any hope we have for maintaining a civil society. That sounds a bit oxymoronic in our current national atmosphere, but the reality that both individuals (with incredible power to sway opinion) sat in a court of law to be judged is important. While partisans from either side will lament the outcome, I am pleased that a process played itself out as it should. There are all sort of things to argue (should either person have gone to trial? could either person get a fair trial? what are the consequences of both the verdict or the trial itself?), the simple fact that both individuals were found guilty lays out a couple of basic points. First, someone has to be indicted . . . this means there are grounds to charge someone. Step back and forget who is on trial. Indictment means something has materially (actually) happened that created a legal problem. In both cases, motions, questions, delays, and attempts to block the trial from happening occurred. However, in both cases, eventually, the trial occurred. I believe what happened, both in the court room and the response of the individuals there, could not be more disparate. Certainly some will argue it is all inappropriate, be it for former President Trump or for the current President’s son. Actions have consequence, and for the first time in a while, I believe we can say there was accountability. Again, I am well aware of all the extraneous arguments about both, but they are irrelevant. This is where I believe we have a bit of Dickens’s novel. “it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair . . . ” This seems to reflect so much of what or who we currently are in 2024. While I certainly have my own political leanings, and I do not really hide them, I would like to look at our system in general for a moment. Certainly, with the recent passing of O.J. Simpson, there was a renewed examination of that trial, a lack of conviction, and the other things that occurred in the aftermath. I remember sitting on the couch of my apartment on Shelden Avenue in Houghton, MI watching the Bronco chase. I remember being in the MUB on the MTU campus when the not guilty verdict came in. Much like now, that verdict split the country. The questioning of justice, depending on perspective, has never really disappeared, as was evident in the level of rehashing of what occurred in that 1995 trial. I think there is an interesting possible consideration of – is there a difference between not guilty versus innocent? That might be worth another blog at some point.

As a history major, and someone who was particularly interested in the difference between the French and American Revolutions, Dickens’s words about the world in the late 1700s are instructive. It was about the extremes of the society, of the world. The reality of the world and the final words of Carton as he ponders the guillotine are also revealing. As he considers what has happened, he thinks “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” One of the things I consider for my students, and those coming into our world is whether or not we give them reason to hope. Hope is such a powerful motivator. It is an essential component of life. But, what is necessary for someone to be hopeful? What is that foundational element that provides a person a belief, the sense that something better is possible? I believe it is how we provide an understanding of the world, of what we do to promote the agency of the individual. Agency is something that seems to be at the front of my consideration lately. Too often we subjugate our power to the other. Power is something we all have, but something we seldom know how to manage. Power is complicated, but it is real. Certainly, much of what has occurred in our national court rooms was (and is) about power. And yet, I am comforted that the power of our system seems to have worked. I hope at some point when we look back on all of this, we will see that we still have hope in our system, in our country, and in our world. Sometimes, we believe we have lost it all. Sometimes, we wonder if there is still something fundamental that we can hold on to. The song by Faith Hill at the end of the movie, Pearl Harbor comes to mind.

Thanks as always for reading.

Dr. Martin

Hello from Davenport, IA,

The establishment remains the same, but the location is different – and yet I am doing what I do. Sitting, thinking, pondering and writing are who I am. On my way here, I caught up with dear friends, former colleagues, and drove roads familiar to me. There is always a nostalgic element to it. From the incredible waving fields of newly planted corn and vibrant greens to the rolling hills (and they do exist, particular on the Eastern and Western borders) and smells of the rich earth, I am reminded of my childhood and visiting my Great-aunt’s and Great-uncle’s South Dakota farm. From the familiar towns and mile markers, I recall the travels earlier in my youth, when I drove something much more gas-consuming than my Beetle (I had a ’71 Chevelle with a 454 in it). Driving down the two-lane highways (cue up Pure Prairie League) certainly carries me back home.

As I write this, the imminent changes in my life are more real, bringing both joy and some wistfulness. I finished the grading of my summer class, turned in the grades to the electronic system that makes them official, and the ending of 31 years of full-time in some manner in the academy is closing. When I came to Bloomsburg 15 years ago, I knew it was the last rodeo, the final piece of a puzzle that I never knew I would create. When I arrived in this North Central town, I was both excited and anxious to see what a new place would hold for me. As with any period of time, there are a plethora of things that occur, but the ride has been incredibly smooth over all. There are a number of reasons for that, but most of those were the things outside my control. Students, 18-22 year olds, are the same, generally well-intentioned and trying to figure it all out. I do believe there are some generational differences, and I believe my colleagues would say the same. Colleagues, be it in one’s department, college, the university, or even the system, are essential to the well-being of the academic experience, and, of course, there is the administration. I have for the majority, and across the board, been blessed to work with unparalleled goodness and brilliance. There was one exception, but I learned valuable things from that experience. Of course there are those people who make a profound difference, and I am blessed to have such a person.

I was encouraged to apply for the position at Bloomsburg by a previous colleague who knew me at Stout. He left there about three years into my time in Menomonie, but his ability to see through any situation and get to the core of it is still unlike anyone I have ever met. His ability to address any circumstance with a simple matter-of -fact attitude as well as compartmentalize has served him and those who work with him well. In fact, I am not always sure how astute others realize him to be. He has a sort of “awe shucks” tone at times that belies his incredible wisdom and rhetorical ability. Then there is the reality that he is brilliant and principled. When I arrived at Bloomsburg, he was my known entity, the person I trusted and appreciated. Fifteen years later, he is my chair, my family, and my most trusted friend. To say he has blessed me is no where adequate. To say he changed my life might be the most profound understatement I could ever write or utter. To say, I am indebted to him announces what he gave to me can never be repaid. It has been a profound honor, joy, and privilege to work with him, and to become a family friend to all in the family.

While on this little journey, I had the opportunity to meet again with a former colleague and spouse, a couple that is incredibly dear to me. We had dinner the other evening, and after catching up on a number of things, the conversation changed to asking about their summer plans. At that point, one of them informed me of some incredible health concerns. I was stunned, and for the most part speechless. I merely stared across the table at them. The news was devastating, but again, in the typical manner, a calm, collected, and thoughtful voice noted the blessings in their life, in their relationships, in their accomplishments, and then stated they were content. And it was a truthful statement, there was no resignation about what might have been or what could be. It was a contentment for what is. As I listened to the process, the prognosis, and the plan, I found myself being comforted by the one with the diagnosis. What an irony. And yet, knowing this person as I do, there is a gentle, but strong (beyond measure) resolve to face the world as they know it. From the first time I met them, there was a goodness and wisdom, a kindness and calmness, that goes beyond admirable. One of the things noted was a project they embarked on together (and this was no ordinary project), but they have accomplished it (and in spite of the fact it is ongoing), and the consequence of their labor and love is so evident on a multitude of levels.

What I find myself realizing as I write this in the comfort of my sister-in-law’s dining room is too often we resign ourselves to our circumstance. If we are resigned to something, we give away our power. We abdicate our agency, and we choose to become the victim to our existence. What an incredibly sad way to manage our lives. I have often noted that resilience is a life changing, but it is also sagacious. It confronts the reality of something and chooses to work with it versus become the casualty of it. That does not mean there are no struggles nor questioning, but I believe it faces the reality of life, choosing to fight in the best way one’s knows to do. I am reminded of my father when he was diagnosed with cancer (he passed in less than 45 days from his diagnosis). When his PCP asked him what the oncologist had told him, he said, quite matter-of-factly, “He said I have cancer.” When the doctor asked if he remembered where it was (he was in the advanced stages of dementia), he responded, “It is in my liver and my kidneys.” And then he paused and looked up at the ceiling. He stated quite succinctly, “And it is somewhere else . . . and that is what is going to send me down the road.” His voice never wavered, and his tone did not change. I wonder if that was resignation or contentment? I think perhaps a bit of both. And yet, my father was also a person who rolled with things. Even earlier in his life when we was relegated to working out of town because of his stance on some issues (he was a journeyman electrician), he never complained in a way that we knew. He simply went to work, wherever it was, and managed life the best he could. There were years when we worked 8-10 hours away, covering 12 hours shifts, 7 days a week. There were times when we only saw him maybe 36 hours in a two month period. Eventually, that would change, but during my elementary years, it was difficult. I think there were times there he was more resigned than content, but he understood what he had power to change and what he did not.

As I consider those moments in my own life, what allows us to be content when a circumstance is less than amenable? I think I am learning, even this weekend, to remember my father’s words to me . . . “choose your battles wisely, and fight them well . . . but do not make them all battles.” Disagreements occur, situations happen, and feelings are bruised or affected. Personalities affect so much of what we do or say, but if we are only reactionary, more often than not, the circumstance is exacerbated. I have learned to be content with circumstances rather than resign myself to them. There is always a place, an aspect, where we can find some ability to manage rather than be managed. I often note that I wished I had learned two things earlier in my life. If I have no power over it, do not waste time on it; and second, if I make a mistake, to own it. In both cases what I am realizing that I have learned to be content with those situations versus resigned to them.

This week I have been reminded that life is not predictable, regardless of how much we plan, how much we attempt to manage our circumstance. Contentment is not resignation, it is understanding the reality of something, pondering the actuality of it, and believing I am not the victim of it. So much of my life has been planned and yet unpredictable. So many people and events have influenced and changed the path that was expected. I am sure there will be more along the way, but I am excited to see what happens on the other side of what I have been doing for so long. To my colleagues, my students, and those who have made a difference, I am grateful beyond words. To my dear friends, I love you all deeply, and I am here when you need me to be so. The video today is about that sense of peace that is so essential to being content.

Thank you as always for reading.

Dr. Martin