Realizing the “real” of Reality

Good early morning,

Today was the first day of a new semester, the first day of a new academic year, a day of anticipation, excitement and beginnings. Yet, for others, it was a day of being frightened, of being overwhelmed, of wondering how they might merely survive (e.g. Living in parts of Texas or Houston at the moment having lost everything to the aftermath of Harvey; living in this country as someone impoverished to the point they know not where their next meal will be; or waking up in a country that for many seems to have lost its bearings when your skin or language or faith, or orientation does not fit what the outspoken supporters of someone elected.  or the elected himself, deems “what makes America great”). Yes, I realize that is a rather convoluted sentence, but it seems appropriate because to say that our present national persona is similar is a profound understatement.

If you return to my earlier blogs, there is certainly a sense of trepidation concerning how the presidency of Mr. (and now President) Trump would unfold. Yet, as I told my students about 10 months ago, I spent time in the Marines to make sure the peaceful transition of power from one to the next president would continue. In fact, contrary to what many might think, unless something that is abhorently egregious is proven regarding President Trump’s past actions, and profoundly illegal, I do not believe impeaching him will be in the country’s best interest. I believe such an event would only further exacerbate the tear in the fabric of our nation, which seems more tattered than many of the over-priced, thread-bare, jeans I see on so many students. What stuns me is how polarized we have become as a people, how uncivil we have become in our discourse not only in the national media or in our reporting, but more importantly among ourselves. But more significant than being stunned, I am saddened beyond words.

What is our national reality at the moment? Who are we as a nation? More importantly who is it we aspire to be?  I am not sure that is clear at present. When one wakes up each day to one group of the media encouraging what seems to be division and contempt for “the other,” and another group hellbent on proving every element of our current administration is clueless, the line from Apollo 13, which is certainly apropos for Houston today comes to mind. Please do not take my last statement to be some sort of blanket approval of what seems to be a daily “truth-is-stranger-than-fiction” actions of President Trump because it surely is not. However, those who see me daily, know I have little use for many things he has said or the manner in which he has said them. In fact, the emotion, which I find myself most being willing to admit, is embarrassment, and I do not embarrass easily.  The reality for me is simply this. We have made a profound mistake, and I am not speaking about the fact we have elected someone who seems inclined to throw tantrums, strike back an anything or anyone who disagrees with him, or acts in a manner that a attuned to nothing more than a schoolyard bully; I am referring more importantly to the underlying reality of who we might actually be as country.

This is a conversation that I have had with both my Republican and Demoncratic friends or acquaintances, and yes, it is possible to have both. It is, again, a conversation I have had with my conservative and liberal friends and acquaintances, my Latino/a, my black, my gay or lesbian friends and acquaintances, my immigrant or foreign friends – I think you get the picture. In fact, the other day someone asked me, somewhat pointedly, why am I so comfortable or seem to like people who are not American (and by extension, it seemed) or white? The question did not catch me completely off guard, nor did it seem inappropriate. The tone was, perhaps, a bit more accusatory than I might have liked, but the question is certainly understandable, and for a variety of reasons. I cannot explain them all in a single blog posting, and, therefore, I won’t even try, but suffice it to say that part of it is because an immigrant changed my life. It is, in part, because I have been fortunate to travel, both with students and on my own. It is because I have been blessed to be taught by professors who profoundly influenced my thoughts and ideas about history, culture, and faith. It is because the first person I remember calling a parent, who was my grandmother, loved unconditionally and was a living example of goodness. Again, it is because a former student, technically not even in my class, but one who is more like family pushed me, often beyond my comfort zone to understand my privilege as the older white professional person I am. I pushed back against her categorization at the time, arguing I had earned it, but such a statement is not completely true. Indeed, I have worked hard and accomplished some important things, but I have also been given abundant and underserved help along the way. My reality has been cushioned, insulated, and softened from what it would have been.

The consequences are quite evident in some ways. Yet, it is what I feel compelled to do for others that is, for me, most significant. This past Friday, unexpectedly, I had a conversation with a faculty colleague, one whom I have know tangentially, but because of a former mutual student, more completely than I might have. A chance conversation about something that has weighed on my heart deeply concerning that student became an unexpected focus. The words of my colleague were enlightening. Their ability to help me see somethings I knew more clearly as well as things I had not yet considered has provided me a sense of peace that was lacking. The reality in all of this, which now seems more apparent, is simple. If I give, hoping to receive in return, I am not really giving. There are two lessons here. First, it is not wise to give if you cannot afford to do so; and second, be more selective or thoughtful in one’s giving. Certainly, those to whom I have given felt comfortable enough to ask, and they certainly needed it when they asked. Reality again is I made the choice to do it. That is what I did, not what they did. I alone am accountable for that choice. What they have done since is their choice and their reality. How they have moved forward and how they understand that choice and their response to me now is also theirs. I need to let it go, regardless.

Another reality that has become profoundly real from all of this is we are flawed. As humans we are exceedingly selfish and self-centered. I remember a book I once used for a Major  Religions class. It was called The Compassionate Beast. The claim of the book was, as humans, we are incapable of being altruistic. We might claim our compassionate tendencies, but we are more likely the beast. It seems that is the reality of our nation at the moment. No longer do we light a torch for the “tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” as was done for our own ancestors be it a generation or five before. It seems we are much more willing to push the tired, the poor, and those who are huddled somewhere else. Before you believe I have no appreciation for immigration laws, that is not the case, but as with many other things the laws we enforce and the reality of the world in which we live seem to be from two different continuums or time warps. There is so much more to this question than merely a wall or a border crossing. There is so much more than simply a person who has tried to offer an opportunity for thblogs, Worde family. I think what boggles my mind, beyond anything I have every known, is that it seems our President has no compassion for anyone. If you can help him you will get some sense of importance, but that too is only there as long as you seem to be able to give him something. He has little sense of loyalty. If you anger him, he will publicly tweet you into exile, or you wish you were. While he speaks regularly about how important people are, it seems that the way in which he dismisses people or changes course demonstrates something very different. There are all sort of things being said; there are daily polls, prognostications, and pundits. They do not matter. What matters is something I spoke of in a recent blog and it is the power of language. What someone says matters and when that person has enormous power, what they say matters even more. When they have enormous power, how they say something also matters. I speak to my students all the time about the significance of words and audience. The more complex the audience, the more carefully things need to be measured. There seems to be a lack in this for our President. That is more than embarrassing or frustrating. It is not really something that is positive when the average person says well “see, I can relate to him or he relates to me.” Speech is power and to speak poorly is to give up power. I know some will argue this and so be it. I am not sure our President relates to the everyday person, in spite of anything he says. That is the reality that I am afraid is going to hit people much harder than they will ever see coming.

We are about one week into classes and I have not gotten this posted, but plan to do it before I leave my office. My new students are beginning their own blogs and with any writing comes some fear, especially when it is public. One of the best things the blog has done for me is force me to see beyond myself. The last three and a half years of blogging regularly has prepared me to be a better person, a better professor, and a better and more thoughtful citizen. I am grateful to all of you who are following me. The picture above is what I looked like when I first began teaching at the college level. A bit larger and grayer now, but I think also a much better professor. Thanks as always for reading and I hope you can, as my former colleague reminded us so often . . . hug the ones you love.

Dr. Martin

From where does it all come?

Hello from a quiet office and empty building early in the morning,

I have been in my office working on some needed things since about 2:30 and it is almost 6:00 a.m. Amazing what I can get done when no one is around. I remember when I used to go to my study when I lived in Laurium, MI and work on things for my graduate classes. I often spent a good part of the night studying and working. I miss that study room actually. I got a lot of work done there and perhaps some of the most productive times in my academic life were in that house on Woodland Avenue. It seems that life was a lifetime ago, but some of the important lessons I learned there have remained. Hard work is essential if you are to be successful. The things my father offered as handy facts have shown themselves to be more profound than I could have ever realized.

So . . . a different day and a different location, a bit south of Pennsylvania. For the fourth time, I am back in the Dominican Republic. I have been here once a year for the last four years. It’s time I’ve learned more things about the amazing people call Dominicans and their island. What I have found this time is somewhat disheartening. I suspected this to be the case, but now I have some actual numbers. All the smiley people, who work so very hard to make a dream vacation in reality, work both virtually and almost literally for nothing. This is not for the people they do it for, but rather how much they are paid for  working often 12 hours a day. This time I’m not as awed by everything as I was my first time here. Please,  don’t give me wrong; for the person looking for the ultimate vacation, I do not think you can beat it. Even when minor things pop up,  and they always will because there is no such thing as perfection, but every single person I’ve asked for help has bent over backwards to accommodate me. Or little dose of reality on this trip, seems to be a door to our sweet that hates key cards. I know to leave them away from the phone, but I’ve gone through five of them in two days. Now they just shake their head and I just look like an old white guy.

As I work on this blog is Saturday, but I only know that because I booked the calendar. In someways every day here is the same. I get up, eat breakfast, take a walk along the beach, go to the Tower, where Wi-Fi is the best, manage my other life, and figure out what I must actually do, which isn’t that much, and go through my day. The things I hear the most are: Buenos días, ¿como está? which in Dominican Spanish has no “s” gracia mi amigo y excelente.  ¿Si no dices muy bien a su ¿como está? Puedo garantizarle que quieren arreglarlo. It really is living in a dream for a week, or a long weekend. What is evident because they continue to build and add options. It seems my retirement will  be working with a travel company. I really do want to create options for people who think they could never do such a thing, to make dreams come true, and memories that will be a highlight.

What amazes me is why am down here both enjoying and working, for checking the news the craziness that is an administration, seems like a never ending merry-go-round and I’m not sure job security is an oxymoron. A number of people,  for whom I have great respect, voted differently than I did, many claiming that the fact he was not a politician was a good thing. From my perspective, it seems our President wants to run the White House like a reality TV show, or as his company where he is the boss. It seems, thus far, that hasn’t worked so well.  And I don’t care if it is the alt right or the alt left, something carriedto the extreme generally doesn’t work too well. But when extreme is usually created as an response to the other. One of the many things that has surprised me about living in Pennsylvania is the number of confederate flags, a more above the radar actual appearances of people wearing KKK regalia, and an over racism I never saw growing up in Iowa. Of course, Iowa now has Steve King as a representative, which is beyond gauling to me. Even though I was long gone from there long before he ever came to office, I find it embarrassing. The amount of hatred, intolerance, and prejudice is beyond anything I have ever witnessed in my life. As noted by others, hate is learned; it is not inherent. Why are we so afraid of “the other?” More often than not what I have one from the other is to learn more about myself. When I learn more about myself, I realize more oh and thoughtfully about my strengths and weaknesses. To me this is always positive. Sometimes painful, but if that’s the case, it. probably things to happen. All in all this latest trip to the Dominican Republic has helped me realize the many privileges I have, but also the responsibility I have for the other.

Being an American does mean something to me. It also means that I have a responsibility to care for those who are less fortunate than I am . . . it is both a faith thing and a patriotic thing for me. With that in mind, I share a song from the group who still amazes me by the complexity of their music, albeit 40 years ago (in spite of the note it is 35 year ago, this video is 5 years old . . . indeed I am not a math major, but . . . )

Thanks for reading,

Michael

The Power of Words

Hello on the last day of my Summer Session,

My students are packing, considering their last six weeks and what they have learned, wondering what the fall holds for them. Some did their work well and some where capable of more, but didn’t manage as they could, some worked incredibly hard with a deficit from the outset, but there is always the entire gamut. What is most amazing to me is that within a few weeks of graduating from high school, these young people, many  of them still 17 are required to act in a manner that is beyond anything they have done, but with more significant consequences than they can even fathom. Then there is the entirely other issue that they are required to manage two classes, which are 15 week semester courses in the matter of 6 weeks. That is a tall order for most students, let alone a summer student who has been often been the recipient of what I call the  “merely-turn-it-in, be-a polite-student, fix-the-errors, and come-to-class” high school experience. When they see the syllabus and hear what is required, most think I am ridiculous in my expectations. Yet, it is amazing when they push themselves what they can actually do. The second lesson is realizing I will not give them a heads up every day telling them what to do nor will I accept late things without a penalty, if at all. It was a sort of six week academic boot camp, and unfortunately for some of theme having an ex-Marine as their professor made it that much more real.

During the past year, the conversation in many of my classes has focused on the power of language. That should not be surprising to anyone who has read my blog or to anyone who knows about my academic interests. I am fascinated by words, all of them, any of them, but also how they work in terms of how they affect audience(s) or how they work when it comes to creating ethos or identity. I once wrote, we use and study language to make sense of both ourselves and our world. It is both profoundly simple and amazingly complex. How do the words we use help us make sense of the world in which we live, and more importantly what is necessary for someone’s words to have a particular puissance. Sometimes it is merely the eloquence of their prose; sometimes it is the context in which the utterance occurs; and sometimes it is the consequence of their station or appointment. I often note that there are places I will not frequent in the town in which I live because nothing positive would come from my going in that establishment (e.g. a student bar or hangout, either of the two local strip clubs . . . and I can probably come up with others). My rationale is not only that nothing positive would happen, but it is because it matters not whether I am in my office at school or in town, I am still the professor. If I were ever to be arrested, the local Press Enterprise headline would not read “Bloomsburg Man Arrested,” it would say “Bloomsburg Man Arrested.” And it would run like some bawdy celebrity rag doing its best to make sure I looked as badly as possible. The point is simple; being a professor is not what I do, it is who I am. It never goes away . . . much to the chagrin of many of my students (and friends). There are parts of us who are basic to who we are. It might be called personality, propensities, consequence of experiences, or . . .  you fill in the blank, but we are certainly complex. I often tell my students I was both a pastor and a Marine and they can decide which part of me they would prefer. This morning I was having coffee with a colleague, and as he often does, he merely rolled his eyes and says, “Dr. Martin . . .” I respond as I often do . . .  I can only be who I am. Certainly my summer students know this all to well, as do some of my former students. As I often tell them when I attempt to describe my own self. I have reduced it to three words, or two specific characteristics. I am genuine and I work hard. I certainly am not perfect, and, in fact, I am a rather flawed human being. I am much more shy than many believe. I am much more fragile than I often reveal. I feel less capable that is often apparent, but, indeed, each of the three previous statements are more accurate of this aging curmudgeon than 90% of those who believe they know me would realize. However, I digress.

The power of words seems to continually raise its head. While I will not blame everything on the current administration, I do believe his (perhaps) off-the-cuff remarks or tweets are much more significant than some one to believe. One of the difficulties of being in a position of power, be it the professor or the president, depending on the person’s previous experience can be more of a sequela than one might expect. I know that I forget this at times, and that can be damaging to a student in my class. Unfortunately, at least from my perspective, I am not sure our President knows there is such a possibility and perhaps more egregiously does not seem to care. Concomitantly, we have the current escalation of a rhetoric of violence, be it concerning North Korea and Charlottesville. What do we say to a first semester student who did not live through selective service and has no idea of what would happen, as do any of us, should North Korea actually first something that has a nuclear warhead. China this week said if North Korea starts something they would be neutral . . . there is no neutrality in a nuclear war. One the other hand, they said if the United States starts something, they would defend the North Koreans. Fire and fury . . . which seems to be another plagiarism from Harry Truman, or any of the ramped-up comments of this past week have consequence, and more than merely a sort of tit for tat between a dictator and the surprisingly-elected most powerful person in the world. This is more than playing “my father can beat up your father.”  sort of school yard game. The consequence (seems there are a lot of consequences here) of hateful speech, regardless of who says it, or discriminatory doctrine, which does seem to characterize the current administration, is coming to roost in many and various ways. How does a 20 year old find it even humanly possible to believe running down people with a car has any sense of appropriateness? What do his parents think? What was he taught or how was life modeled for him? These are the questions that come to mind for me. I know people who live or lived in Charlottesville. I can guarantee, this is not what they want to be known for.

I remember being in Richmond last year and driving down Monument Road . . . I am not sure if that is the actual name of the road or it is just called that. The statues or monuments are amazing. Again, this morning in that same conversation previously mentioned, we spoke specifically about the commission that is in place there to consider what to do with all of that statuary. Richmond was the capitol of the Confederacy. The Civil War and all it stands for is part of our history. Words like slavery, mistreatment, racism, bigotry, hate, underground railroad, Stars and Bars, emancipation, or abolition are all part of that history. Each of these words mean something different, depending on one’s experience and perspective. We cannot sweep them away . . . we cannot pretend that what the founders of this country did when they themselves owned slaves did not have consequence. Where is the line between historiography and hate? I am not sure I always know. I do know that history like language is fluid. History is generally recorded by the victors. Words have power, but like anything that transverses generations, the understanding of that event or word is certainly affected by context. I noted for someone yesterday that while I was taught in early elementary school that using that certain N-word was never appropriate, I can say with more certainly than I wish that the father who adopted me, and for whom I have amazing respect, was much more bigoted than I would care to admit. On the other hand, he was much more left leaning in some things than I am . . . seems like an oxymoron, and that is not the only place we would demonstrate that complexity than some might realize. While I think he might argue I am a Republican because of some of my conservative leanings or practices, I am more liberal than he was on many social issues.

While I am all for being lawful and appropriate, I am also all about being thoughtful and attempting to understand the complexity of a situation. Those who know me well know I am a pondering person; I am a questioner. My Dean, who is so understanding and willing to listen sometimes just shakes his head at me. I am sure I give him more gray hair at times. I am the person who thinks outside the box and wonders. While I certainly do not deserve to be compared to this person, I am reminded of one of the most amazing rhetorical pieces of all times (this is the short clip; YouTube the complete address if you want, it is worth the 10 minutes it will take to listen to it). If I can come anywhere close to this in my own little corner of the world, I will know I have accomplished something. As I close my ramblings of the day, I have a simple request. Can we please listen before responding? Can we try to imagine the other’s situation before we discount their ideas, concerns, or hopes? Can we respect “the other” first, regardless of what they have done, rather than see them as the enemy? These are some of my thoughts as I am waiting for BOLT, our course delivery tool to come back on line. Thanks as always for reading.

 

I wish you all a thoughtful and blessed day.

Dr. Martin

 

 

Half Way Through or . . .

Hello from my office,

The idea of hitting the half-way point of anything often causes a certain degree of reflection. Why is that? How did we ever come to the conclusion that half-way is significant. It must be sort kind of mathematicians’ covert conspiratorial attempt to make us all appreciate some kind of differential equations. Yes, Dr. Kahn, I am blaming the focus of this blog on you. Of course, it begs the question of what happens when there is no definitive end or boundary to what thing we might be considering? For example, when was the middle point of my life? I am pretty sure I am long past it. Yet, what about the person who tragically passes in their 20s? I am pretty sure the day my brother went back to work, after being home at lunch, he had no inkling he would never come home again. I wonder if Chad Bennington, the late lead singer of Linkin Park, did not think 20 1/2 was the midpoint of his life. When I realize that my grandmother only lived about 2 3/4 years longer than I have presently, it creates a sense of pause in me. When I take the time to realize I have lived longer than any of my siblings, in spite of substantial health issues, I am forced to ask how, and more importantly, why? Growing up, I never really considered the options my future might hold. I did not imagine why might be; I merely existed, and I have addressed that reality in other blogs.

Certainly it was a different time than it is now. Daily, I listen to some of the daily vitriol and wonder how did we get this point? Certainly some will argue it is the decline in family values; some will claim it is a particularly group’s fault or a philosophical change in how we understand things. This morning I was listening to a group of people and their support of some of the things that have happened stump me. They are not stupid, but what I realized is how deep the distrust of the other is in many of them. They are not that much older than I, but they certainly have a different perspective on the world than I do. This is the second time I have lived in Pennsylvania, and there is a connection of this covert racism (and sometime overt racism) that I have experienced here. The irony that it is here and is so prevalent in the state that calls itself the Birthplace of America to begin with does not go unnoticed to me. When I came to the Mahoning Valley in 1988, interviewing to be a parish pastor, I had to do what was referred to as a trial sermon. While I was at the parish that morning, I was told that a church council member had a KKK Rally on his farm just over the hill the week before. This stunned me beyond words. In the four years I was in Pennsylvania, during the first stint here, I saw KKK men in full regalia out 209 toward East Stroudburg in broad daylight. Again, I was stunned. While I had observed such pictures in history books or saw news clips, I could not imagine seeing them in real life, and particularly that far North (and I realize that implies a stereotype of the South). This past weekend, some of our summer students were victims of a racial slur (and while I am sure there was some trash talking back and forth), these students were followed back onto campus. This is not reasonable behavior, but again, I guess I should not be surprised. In this morning’s news, the NAACP just issued their first travel warning for the state of Missouri. The picture at the top of this post, is of a black man who owns a barbershop, which was vandalized and they wrote “Die N-word” on his windows. What makes this so egregious to me is the year I traveled on a Lutheran Youth Encounter team, my home church was in Blue Springs, MO, exactly where this happened. The racial undertones that are no longer so far under seems to be the consequence of a complete lack of respect for anything or anyone that is outside our own narrow prevue. The consequence is a society that works more to fuel the flames of bigotry and discontent. The consequence is a society that has no appreciation for what difference in culture, understanding, and possibility might bring. It is a society that propagates fear, extinguishes hope, and darkens the future for our children and grandchildren. I have noted the consequence of the loss of hope before. If there is no hope, the future does not matter because there is no belief, there is no care, about what might be down the road.

As I write this, daily there seems to be some question about what is true or not two at the very top of our democracy. As I was saying to people this morning, there is no way I would want to work for our President, and that has probably always been the case for anything in Washington, but for me, it has been elevated exponentially. It is stunning to me how there seems to be no consistency in message, expect perhaps for the left hand does not seem to know what the right hand is doing, but heaven forbid, they would be truthful about even that. I am honestly not trying to be overly political. For me it is a matter of embarrassment, and what does it to for the security of the world and the trust our allies might be able to have in our commitments. One of the things I have noted in my classes, and in previous blogs, is that when I do something, I am always the professor. It matters not where I am or who is around me, and the same goes for the President, or if you are a representative of the President. What you say carries weight and people listen, and perhaps more than they realized, people listen closely. I know that I am certainly not perfect, or even close, in every situation, but I do try to me genuine. I do not care that I have 14 years of college; that does not make me any better a person than those who are in my summer class as first-time students. It does not matter that I find myself in an upper-middle class economic situation, but that makes me no more important than the person (and often case a student) wondering if they will have enough to eat on a given day. What saddens me beyond words is the apparent growing lack of concern we have for the other as well as a increasingly malevolent attitude toward anyone different from ourselves.

This brings me back to my focus of 1/2 way. Our country, arguably the greatest democracy in history, seems to have lost its spirit, its heart, its goodness. Because I have an undergraduate in history, I am well aware of those times,  in our still overall nascent history, when we struggled to do that which is right or just. Our continued treatment of Natice Americans and the re-emergence (or unfortunate reassertion of bigotry) of maligning most any group who is not white, American born, and ready to contribute because they speak English is no longer welcome or valued. The consequence of this attitude will have repercussions beyond our wildest imagination. More importantly, it will instantiate a downfall and more expedient demise of what was considered the most significant grand experiment in world history. Hard to imagine what will be left if we continue on what seems to be a path of mass discrimination, a path of pitting one against the other. What I am quite sure of is we are beyond the 1/2 point of America as envisioned. The beacons of light are being extinguished in mass. The hope of generations and the words of Lincoln will be lost on a generation who cares neither for the past nor the future. Going downhill is always a quicker trip than the going up. It is certainly my prayer that America can still grow and prosper, to be the nation which others can look toward for hope, but I am concerned. Time to rewind; time to reconsider; time to re-establish a belief that we are about liberty and justice for all, regardless from where they come. If they want to come and join this land of immigrants, if they hope for opportunity and are willing to contribute to this land, I say, welcome. We are still huddled and there are still masses, but you are welcome. If not, perhaps we are further into the swan song for ourselves than we realize.

With that, I offer this from my favorite band, albeit without some of the original members.

Thank you for reading.

Dr. Martin

Full Circle

Hello from Caribou,

I have been here in Menomonie for the last 4 1/2 days and have a couple left to go. Not surprisingly, I have been here in my old haunt working away, where I have actually been quite productive. It is a great way to begin my day before 7:00 and sit here and focus for about 4 or 5 hours. I have completed a lot of administrative stuff done as well accomplishing a great deal while working to create my summer class. What I have realized looking at the enrollment for my two sections is I will be doing nothing but that for about 6 weeks. This means everything else needs to be completed before then. I have wanted to get together with more people while back here in Menomonie, but work will have to take precedence. Yet, whenever I get to the point I feel a bit overwhelmed (or a great deal overwhelmed), I need to do two things. Come up with a plan for the process and then get my head cleared out, which means it is time to write. . . .

We are into the middle of June and I made it back to Bloomsburg, but then slid away again to the Eastern Shore of Virginia (and Cape Charles) where I have spent four days both sunning and writing. The week I made it home to Pennsylvania, I got a number of things completed. Seems I might finally have the upper hand on some things, though not everything is done yet. . . Here is what happens when I start a blog, get sidetracked, compose other blogs, and eventually find my way back. Other times I would delete it, but to demonstrate a point to my two sections of Literature and Society, I am going to add to it and still post it to my site. What you can see is there is something about writing in the moment, but it is not always possible to find the words, the strength, or the energy to complete it at that same time. That does not mean you should throw it away as a failure, but rather come back to it.

That coffee shop in Wisconsin is where I did most of the work for your class. It is where I wrote the Syllabus. It is where I put the shell of all my work in BOLT together. It is where I worked on other things that needed to be managed. Finding a place where you can sort of disappear, even in the crowd, but do your work is essential if you are going to be successful here as a student. Then I went from Wisconsin back to Pennsylvania and then to Virginia. While it was a sort of mini-vacation, it was also a working vacation. I began work with a colleague on an article that has been three to five years in the making. Honestly, for the first time we moved beyond the talking to composing stage. What I am trying to help you see is simple: no one is (or very scant few are) able to sit down and compose anything of value in its entirety at one sitting. It does not happen, at least for me.  I certainly have times where I am more productive than others, but writing well over a long period of time is excruciatingly laborious. It requires a clear sense of where I am going and why? It demands incredible focus and willingness to keep at it. It pushes my brain, more often than not, to extreme exhaustion. Literally, it seems I can no longer think or put words together with any semblance of cohesion. I do not say all of this to scare you; instead I want you to know that your writing struggles are not unique to you. It is hard to write well.

Today your classes were like the Tale of Two Cities, the best and worst of times. There were really good questions and concerns raised, and there are some phenomenal students in both sections of class. I do know that some of you are feeling like you just got run over by a bullet train and it is not slowing down. Unfortunately, there is more truth to that than you might have realized. The work you are doing with Ms. Water’s in your Reading course should help you with your blogs. In particular it should help you with connecting the reading to writing a more thinking and analyzing style of blog entry. It should connect you, the reading, and your experience as a summer freshman. It was intentional on my part to connect the tending to some of your own personal experiences. That is the Literature and Society piece of the course, the purpose of the class laid out.

Remember last week when we first looked at the Hip Hop Reader, I made the assertion that all art is a reflection of the culture in/from which it is created. The literature you are looking at in these readers are short creative pieces where writers from a wide variety of backgrounds are reflecting on their own interactions within their cultures and considering how it creates a sense of connection or meaning for them. What are some of the cultural differences you have experience within a mere 10 days in Bloomsburg? Some of you have spoken about being homesick. That is not uncommon, and to feel homesick does not make you an incapable or immature student. It means you value that place and you love the people who are there. Not only are you in a different location, bit you have a boatload of requirements academically that are unexpected.

This summer is an opportunity (there is that word again) for you to establish yourself in a new manner. It is a change for you to determine on your own what exactly you are capable of achieving, but this six weeks sets a direction for the remainder of you let life. Hyperbole, you ask? I will assert (or argue) NO. How well you manage this summer will give you a pretty strong sense of just what you are each capable. That is an important realization. I know there are a handful of you who have not even begun to scratch the surface of your ability. The time for waiting is over. Completely, unequivocally past. To not step up now will push you into a corner that you will not enjoy. I do not believe a single one of you wants to tell their parents or significant other you failed and got sent home. It is not a good experience. Again, I have done it as I told you that first day of class. And today it is so much more expensive.

Full circle I wrote as a title. That was because I was back in Wisconsin where I first taught in a tenure track position, I am back in Pennsylvania, where I lived from 1988-1992. I believe my relatives lived here in PA five or six generations ago. Last year I made it to Ireland, where my relatives lived 500 years ago. We have a way of going full circle, and sometimes creating concentric circles at the same time. This blog started in WI, made it to PA, to VA, and now back in PA, but it survived because I held on to it. Sometimes, we know not where we go or how we get there, but we continue on. In my piety I do not believe that to be accidental. With that in mind I offer this song by the 1980s group Mister Mister.  You have to like those 80s styles . . .  oh my, but here is an interesting version with Ringo Starr.

 

As always, thank you for reading,

Dr. Martin

Erasing my Work

Good Friday morning from my office,

In an attempt to clean up the backside of my WordPress site and also to manage some changes, it seems I managed to erase the last posting. While it said it was local to my iPad and only a draft it seems to have removed it from the published section. I have looked on my phone and my computer, the other two places I compose and indeed, it has vanished. So . . . it is time to manage a new post. This will probably be a hodge-podge of things as that is what it seems my life is as I try to manage two sections of Literature and Society, finish two publication items, and complete a Fulbright application. All of which must be done this weekend at the latest. I worked on WordPress for more than an hour yesterday, just trying to get access. It seems that what used to take a second or two (receiving a verification code) is now taking up to a half hour. If you have been following my blog, through an address, I have a new address that has dropped the wordpress in the address. The URL is now thewritingprofessor55.com. It is my own domain and I am going to try to do some more work with this within an actual publication realm.

It is hard to believe, but the first week of the third summer session is already completed. I was in my office until shortly after midnight last night, grading blogs and working on other things, and I will be working on class stuff a good part of the day. There are so many personalities and stories in the summer cohort of students and their emotions, hopes, and dreams are all over the place. It is pretty easy within merely a week to see the different levels of commitment and drive, as well as to understand how their background in either the public or private educational system has affected their perceptions and their preparedness for this summer program. What is also evident is how some students are committed to making it, regardless of their background. I was impressed when more than a half dozen of them came into my office on the 4th of July, their day off, to request clarification or help. There are some terrific young people in the class. Many of them want to demonstrate not only to us here, but also to their families back home that they can do this. It is such a different thing than I went through when I first began college. What I know is that my parents were not really engaged in that process. Even when I first went, they did not seem to have any interest at all in what I would be doing.  I am not sure that influenced my performance, which was not good, but perhaps it did. The second time I decided to attend college, I knew I was on my own, but I also knew it was my dollar paying for it and that there would be little to no help. In fact, I remember my mother being angry because when I came home I was always broke and sick. She did not understand the immense amount of effort I put into my studies. She also did not know what it cost. She thought because I had a GI Bill it was easy. That GI Bill did not begin to pay for going to a private liberal arts college. When I told her how much it cost, she accused me of lying. When I showed her the costs in the college catalog, her question was, “How can you afford that?” It is amazing how our background, even now, has such an influence on our preparedness for college. It is more than just academic readiness; it is also social. It is cultural. This summer program is tough because we are not only working with students who are required to take two courses and condense all of that work into 6 weeks. I assigned a major assignment and worked on the requirements of the assignment over the last two days in class, but they are required to have it completely finished in a week. That is tough turn-around time, but there are few options to do anything else. A number of students did not get the easy work done even the first week, so this weekend will be a sort of make or break for the remainder of the session.

Today is my eldest nephew’s 45th birthday. How did that happen?? I remember that summer so well. I was working at my grandmother’s bakery and my older brother and Carolyn were living in Lawrence, Kansas. My parents went down to see them. That was when my father had a heart attack. I have written about that summer at other times. It was a growing up time for me. Of course, there have continued to be those times, and for anyone who thinks there cannot be significant growth times later in life, let me clue you into something. There are. It never really stops, and more importantly, I do not believe it should. If we are not learning and growing, we are not living. Indeed, you might be moving and breathing, but there is so much more. It is hard for me at times to realize how long some of my family has been gone. Rob’s father, my older brother has been gone for more than 40 years now; and it is almost the same for my grandmother because she and my brother died the same year. My mother has been gone for almost 28 and my father will be 20 later this year. My sister was already 9 years this past April. The assignment given to my students this week was to create a Google Map of their lives up until now, a sort of cross between an autobiography and a memoir. It will be interesting to see what they do. I have had good success with the assignment, and I need to give Moe Folk, a MTU colleague credit for turning me on to this possibility.

It is becoming more apparent to me how fast the days, weeks, and months continue to speed by, and that sense of picking up speed is something that I am certainly cognizant of. When I turned 60 a couple of years ago, I remember saying the second 30 years had gone by must fast than the first 30. Now it merely seems there is no slowing this train down. That idea has given me an idea for the music video at the end of this blog posting. Again, it reminds me of a much earlier time in my life, when I was stationed in Hawaii and I was such a kid. I was in the Marine Corps, but I was a kid, plain and simple. When I think of what I was tasked to do and the seriousness of that position, I certainly had the skills, but I was not sure I had the emotional maturity I would need. Learning that I did have that was quite a surprise to me, if I am to be honest with myself. What creates emotional maturity? What is it that allows some people to see the big picture and realize consequences much sooner than others. I have a student in class now that demonstrates that ability. I call it a 4o year only in a 20 year old body. Those people amaze me, but I also have great admiration for them. I think some of it has to do with personality. Some of it has to do with nurture versus nature stuff, but how does it all work? I was certainly not that person. In fact I might have been the exact opposite. I have noted some of this in earlier blogs, but it took a long time for me to get to the point where I believe my age and my maturity have finally equalized.

This morning I have worked to get some semblance of order to the next few days. I will have to do some intentional work over the weekend. There are things I need to get done both on the home front as well as in the office. I also want, (perhaps need) merely to get it off the list, to drive to Rhode Island. I might try to do that this weekend, though I am not sure how long it takes . . . map quest break . . . hmmmmm . . .  less than 6 hours. Doable. Maybe I will go tomorrow and get a motel for the night, do some work, find a nice restaurant. I need to check in with someone I know. If I remember correctly, they either have property or some substantive connection to Providence. Of course, they are cruising around Europe at this point. One of the things I look forward to most is traveling because for me it is another way to learn. There are so many places and things to do yet. I wish I was 20 years younger merely to have more time to do it all. First things though, perhaps we make it to Rhode Island this weekend. In the meanwhile, I am back in my office and reading and responding to the hard work of students this past week. Here is the song from a well-known group. The first time I saw them was in Hawaii in 1974, as they backed up the Guess Who. Steven Tyler was a brash of a personality then as he seems to be now. Still rocking   . . .  still “the same old song and dance.” This is at least in the same time period I heard them.

Thank you for reading as always and I hope you have a good weekend.

Dr. Martin

A Mid-Summer’s Night in a Dream

Hello on an early Wednesday  morning,

It has been some time since I posted, and if you know me that means that I need to get some order to my life. It could also be that I am trying to do too much. Someone who has known me 2/3 of my life, albeit from a distance most of it, knows me when I was just home from the service. The four decades that have passed allowed for many changes, but a re-emergence provides an interesting view.  What  had happened is a certain level of honesty, revealing the frailties of  the other, that sort of fill in the picture in a more unfinished, but rarely truthful form. There is an interesting freedom in that because there seems little to lose and so much more to gain. It involves taking a chance. It requires a level of trust for me that is a bit uncommon, but still possible. And yes, the very fact it is possible is an important realization. It has been a good thing to share and listen to the other. It has been also positive to reconnect with someone who had such a profound influence on a young, naïve, and searching young man. Over the past month so much has happened. I was back in Menomonie for Dan’s celebration of life, and it was a celebration. His ability to teach us even to the last moment was so quintessentially him.

The time in Menomonie was good. The Lacksonens are such a gift to my life and their honesty, graciousness and care have had more influence on me than they probably know. It was also good to spend time with Amy, Charles, and Simon. They too are like a lost family that I never knew I had, but was fortunate enough to be allowed into their lives. I always marvel at the ways our paths had crossed, but we did not know each other. Again, it has allowed for a connection that is far beyond some superficial creation. I also got to spend time with a couple of other people who are so important to the memories I have of that Wisconsin town that did so much to change my life. I am still being affected by those changes. However, it reminds me clearly that there is so little over which we have control and there are always external factors that come into play when we least expect it. To spend time with Lydia’s doctor and to consider him much more than merely her physician is quite another unexpected and certainly undeserved gift. I did get most of what I needed to accomplish done and before I knew it I was back in PA, but it was already June. That month has flown by, but I have continued to have doctors’ appointment and work pretty intentionally at managing my health. During the first week of June I was able to get a number of other things accomplished and get some semblance of order to things. There have been home projects, some car issues, and then trying to get some writing done. I have made progress on all fronts. There have been more times than I could have realized that I seem to make a couple steps forward to only seem to fall back a step, but I seem to have lessened my propensity for doing that.

The second week of June I got some work done on my Fulbright application, but there is still work to do. That is going to have to happen this next week and it has to be a priority. During the third week of June, I managed to drive down to Cape Charles, VA and spend a few days at the shore. I am fortunate enough to have a colleague who has a house there and is gracious enough to allow me the opportunity to hang out. This time, there was also work involved as we are working on an article together (something that has been in the works for years), but we are almost there with a draft. That has been good. I have a second project just about done, but again discipline and getting it completed. It will not take that much time if I just focus. Then in the midst of all of this, there was the change to move to an office with a bigger window, so I took that task on also. I got the great majority of that accomplished in about 36 hours, but need to finish the rest this weekend. There are a couple of things on my plate yet this evening, and some of it has come a bit unexpectedly, but that is how life usually is. What I am realizing once again is how blessed I am to have the life I do. I have a wonderful job and an amazing department. There are certainly differing personalities and there are what I refer to as spirited discussions at meetings, but with minimal exception, we walk away from those differences and maintain an outstanding sense of camaraderie through it all. There are certainly moments that some make that difficult, but that is humanity at its finest (or something). It is interesting what social networking does, and certainly there is a lot out there written about all of this. For me, FB, Instagram, Twitter, and other things (but the three listed are what I  use most), keep me connected with both the past, but offer possibilities for the future. During the last year much has been written about how our political situation has caused a lot of disunity and there have been significant pieces written on how all of this has caused splits in families and such. One of the people I most appreciate let me know they had quit following me because of some of what I had posted. I guess if I think carefully and analytically, I should not be surprised because some of what I have posted has been a bit edgy.

Somehow another week has passed and I am not done with this posting and the Midsummer Night (or the summer solstice) has come and gone. Indeed, the days are already growing shorter. Not that I am quite aware of it. I am not sure if I notice that it is getting light later or it is getting dark sooner. I think it is the latter, but I still miss the summer nights in the Upper Peninsula. It is one of those important realizations again. Everywhere I have ever lived has given me something that has made me a better and more well-rounded person. There is no place that does not offer something of value. Too often we merely take that space (and the people) for granted or as just merely what is, but we miss out on so much by doing so. When I left Pennsylvania in 1992, I never expected that I would return to the state. I was a Midwestern boy. Now it is the state in which I have lived the longest since I was a child. I am beginning a 9th year at Bloomsburg and it is the longest I have been at one job also. I have certainly been the itinerant, but somehow this place changed that. I must give my friends the Deckers a great deal of credit for that. They made me feel welcome and made me family from the beginning. I have watched them change so much since I came to Bloomsburg. Second, I am grateful to that Friday Afternoon Club as I call them. I was introduced to a group of colleagues with whom I am still connected. In fact, I was with some of them last evening. While there has been some metamorphosis in the group, that is normal and people come and go. I think that is the most fundamental truth in our lives. People move in and out of our lives, and sometimes that change is needed; even when it is a painful change. One of my frailties is I try to hold on to everyone, and through that I leave myself vulnerable to hurt. Even when I have let someone or something go, I always feel the loss. While I am not trying to list everyone or everywhere that has significance, certainly my educational experiences have been important. All of them. There are people from each place, but it is somewhat ironic to me that this is the place I probably have less connection than many other parts of my life. I need to ponder that more, but not at this moment. The role of my Dominican family cannot be understated either. It is amazing that it was 4 years ago yesterday that Jordan showed up in my class that first day. Little did I know what that would begin. I can certainly write an entire blog about the 5 of them and how much they have changed my life. Their willingness to make me part of their family is another gift. There is my first host family when I was a 23 year old traveling on an LYE team. They are still in my life and have become more important to me than I could have ever hoped or realized.

If I can single out one person who has most influenced me as I ponder, it would be my undergraduate advisor, Dr. John W. Nielsen, who recently turned 92 years old. He took me to Europe as a sophomore in college. I had not an inkling how much that 30+ days would fundamentally change my perception of the world and of what it meant to be educated and learn. He is the one who taught be to actually learn. Up until them, I did what all too many do . . . . memorize/regurgitate, and I could do it well when I put my mind to it, but there is so much more to becoming an educated person. I hope I can somehow emulate for my students what he did for me. His inquisitive mind, his keen ability to make you want to learn, his willingness to share his experiences, and his desire to do what he did because it was the right thing to do set a standard that few are able to match, and perhaps even fewer would understand. Things he taught me as both a Humanities major and as a student/citizen have shaped much of what I believe should happen even now whether I be in a typical classroom, online in the classroom, or in Poland (and other places in Europe). I was blessed to have the opportunity to visit with him a little over a year ago and his mind was as sharp as ever. It was an outstanding opportunity to be in his presence once again. I have received notes from past students and it is both gratifying and humbling when they offer some praise for whatever occurred in the class they attended. It is for me another type of calling, not all that different from that ordination that occurred almost 30 years ago. Where does all that time go?

There is a lot more I could write, but I think I would feel like I am babbling . . .  what I am noting is that much like Puck in Shakespeare’s amazing play, sometimes we are visited by things and I share Neil’s recitation from A  Midsummer Night’s Dream scene in Dead Poets Society. I offer these words:

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

Sometimes we need to return to our beginnings. Sometimes it is when people from our beginnings come back into our life that we realize how it fits together. I leave you with one of my favorite songs by the great lyricist and musician, Kenny Loggins . . .  indeed, it is hard to explain how some things follow us throughout all our lives.

 

 

Good afternoon to you all and thank you for reading. I am blessed by the part each of you have played in my life. Bless you.

 

Michael

Never Stopping . . . Or the Energizer Bunny Rides Again

Good early morning,

Going to bed at 8 o’clock last evening has had a consequence. It is 1:20 in the morning, and I was wide-awake as I can be. I had planned on a two hour nap, but somehow I slept almost four.  So since waking up an hour and a half ago, I completed some other work for our little travel company, because I do not feel I am wide awake enough to grade, I will/dictate//write another blog to do what generally do when I blog, clear my head and make sense of my world, if there is any making sense of this world at the moment.  I must admit it is hard to believe that I am finishing my eighth year here at Bloomsburg University. So much has changed since I first came out here that first May 8 years ago after having been hired and in a tenure-track position. I set up a bank account; I got an apartment; and I began to realize the change this would create not only for me, but for Lydia. Well I was quite sure I could manage the change for myself,  helping her manage the change was going to be something quite different. And quite honestly that scared me. As I finished my last semester at Stout, there was a sense of relief,  and a sense of excitement for what was yet to come for me professionally. There was certainly a sense of sadness and that I would be moving from the little carriage house and from the circle, from the Lacksonens become so important to me. There was a tremendous sense of guilt and trepidation that I was leaving Lydia behind. I also struggled with leaving Erica and knowing and how we supported each other and her life would be much tougher when she had to deal with Lydia on a daily basis. To be honest with you Lydia was not always the kindest, particularly when it came to females. To this day I am grateful to Nathan and his helping my move and beyond.

In the eight years that I’ve been in Bloomsburg, the changes have been monumental; they have been profound. I reconnected with the Deckers.  I know them so much better than when I was in Wisconsin, but  I think they would say the same. I watch Grace go from beginning middle school to being ready to enter college. Mary from elementary school to high school.  Max from starting school to middle school.. Caroline took her first steps when I was here that first May, and Rosie did not exist. Through it all somehow neither Mark or Gayle seem to age.  I am the other hand have aged significantly. How is that? How was it for two people they seem to age more gracefully than any other couple I’ve ever known. And while people still tell me I don’t look my age and that for all the trouble I’ve had with my health I look quite good,  I know I look significantly older and sometimes I feel even older than that. While the work here has been wonderful, and the position in the department rewarding,  there’s always more to do, but barely enough time. I’ll get back to that in a minute. The most profound change my life has been the loss of an entire handful of people. Certainly the most significant change was Lydia. I remember how difficult it was the first day Nathan and I moved her into the memory care unit at Comforts of Home. I think it was as dramatic for us as it was traumatic for her. While she had certainly faded and her struggle with dementia, that was only the beginning of what would come. I learned more about the complexity of that disease that I ever imagined possible. I met amazing people who care daily for those who cannot even remember their name. And some of those amazing people have become my friends. The amount of travel between Pennsylvania and Wisconsin over those four was far more than I ever anticipated, but I do not regret any of it. Memories of Lydia still surround me,  in my home and in my office. Seldom a day goes by when I’m not reminded of her.  I believe it was in the fall of 2013 when I received a call from my closest and best childhood friend, informing me of his diagnosis with ALS. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately I don’t know,  Peter’s battle with this terrible disease, while horrendous as it often is, did not last as long as some. To be honest, I was still reeling from Lydia’s passing when Peter would lose this battle. He was lost too early, somehow again it seems that I need to be reminded of the fragility of life and yet more unexpected and unfair manner. In both the case of Peter and now Rebekah, their losses were much more tragic for their families, but these losses have had a cumulative affect. And now again I’ve lost a mentor. My last blog speaks of him. Throughout my time here I’ve continued to have health problems, surgeries, unexpected diagnoses,  and more complications from Crohn’s than perhaps I have fingers.

All too often I’ve been hit with the cliché of if it doesn’t kill you it makes you stronger. Let me go on the record once and for all. Dammit, just quit it. I have no desire to be that strong. As I often tell people, if someone would’ve told me I could go through all this over 30 years, I would ask unapologetically, “Screw that, may I take what’s behind door number two?” And I’ve had to deal with how things more often and more intentionally and I just want to. I detest having to think about it. I detest having to make allowances for it. And I detest that it has control of my life and my conversations more than I would ever hope. It is forced me into situations and corners I don’t want to be in. . . .

How ironic this is where I was when I was last writing. It seems my title is either prophetic or fortuitous. Last Wednesday I had a cardiac stress test. While I thought it had gone relatively well (I was on the treadmill for over 11 minutes, and while there was some slight pain, I did not have to stop and I never got to the point where breathing seemed labored.). However, that is not exactly the case. It seems my heart was both adding and skipping beats in the echo afterwards. By the next morning my PCP was calling and cardiology was calling shortly thereafter. I had a follow up with cardiology in less than 24 hours (which was Friday) and tomorrow (Monday the 22nd) I will be having a heart catheterization performed early in the morning. While this is not something that comes totally out of left field because of my cardiac genetics, I will admit it is disconcerting. It is certainly my hope that getting things figured out will be perhaps a stent or two, but I am not hoping for anything more complicated, though I know that is a possibility. When I consider the genetic propensity for this, I should be surprised that I made it this far before having something trigger an incident. Speaking with a doctor for whom I have the utmost respect this morning, he, as seems to be the case more often than not, walked me through what is likely happening in my heart and why. What I always appreciate is he is willing to go in depth with me and push me to ask questions and figure out more about my own health. I imagine my diet is going to go through yet another change.

I have another blog to work on (more to edit and revise) yet tonight and there are other things I want to get accomplished. I am planning, though it might be wishful thinking, that this is going to be a couple day speed bump and then I can get back to things, though I am willing to assume there might be a new normal. I will also admit if we need up needing bypass surgery, I will be more than a little concerned, but I also know that has become more routine. I am hoping they do not have to do crazy things, and that includes sawing through a sternum. I have heard they can do it a bit less invasively, but I am not sure if that is available here at Geisinger. They are pretty advanced, however, and cardiology is one of the things they do very well. That is a comforting thing for me at this point.

What I am forced to anticipate, regardless, is my mortality. I am certainly not ready to cash things in and I am not trying to be morbid, but going into my heart is a bit more invasive for me than all the things they have done to my intestines. I remember when my father had a heart attack. He was 57 and this was before bypass and angioplasty. It was a very different world. What would I want people to know at this point. What I hope is that people from whom I might still need forgiveness might find it in their power to forgive. What I also hope is that people will know how deeply blessed I am by the friends and colleagues I have both presently and in the past. I have been richly blessed by so many and I am fortunate. I do not doubt this in any way. I have a wonderful job and I love coming to work. That puts me in a minority. I have tremendous people in my life. Earlier tonight I was speaking with a family I referred to as my Wisconsin family (and misplaced Iowa family). The three of them are so wonderful. He is the epitome of what every man should hope to be, intelligent, strong, gentle, and steady. If I could be half the person he is I would be astounding. She is the most wonderful and thoughtful person. She is talented beyond compare, inquisitive and sensitive at the same time and she as a beauty that sneaks up and overwhelms you. Then there is the next generation of the family. He is beyond brilliant. He is also incredibly talented both in academics and in sports. He can and should be one of the persons who can change the world if he focuses and harnesses the amazing abilities he possesses. Yet, more importantly, they have accepted me into their lives and that is the best gift of all. I am always stunned when I take the time to step back and merely look at what I have around me. So many people have reached out by phone, Facebook or other ways and for that, again, I am only say thank you.

Well, there is much more I could write, but I am going to stop and focus on a couple of other significant things I need to get done. Tonight I will leave you with this song to ponder. While I have posted it before, it is still my favorite song. While I have many pulling for me and I know that. I know there are prayers and other good thoughts and for those things I am grateful. However, tomorrow, I will be on a table and they will be working their way through my heart to figure out what needs to be done. At that point, I am dependent on their care and the grace of something much bigger than me. In the wind is the spirit and I believe in that wind and spirit. Indeed, “nothing lasts forever  but the earth and sky.” While I am certainly not desiring to become dust quite yet, I am ready.

 

Thanks as always for reading, and bless you all.

Michael

So Much More Than a Memory

Good early morning,

It seems to be that no matter the time I choose to call it a day, I will find myself awake at 2:30 a.m., pondering more than Trump’s tweets. Perhaps that is because he’ll soon be up composing the latest 140 character blasphemy or alt reality, while casting accusations of fakery at everyone else. Perhaps, at least tonight, it is because my modified GI tract has decided to work in warp speed. Perhaps, and even more likely, it is because I am feeling the loss of a mentor and the passing of a giant influence, to my very core, on whom I have become as a professor and colleague. Dan Riordan was the chair of the committee who hired me at the University of Wisconsin-Stout. It was his unique and indescribably affable voice that first reached out on the phone and asked me to come to a little town in West Central Wisconsin in April of 2003. It was Mary and he who welcomed me into their home for a Sunday evening dinner with Bruce Maylath, and it was Dan, who excitedly pointed out a pair of bald eagles in a giant nest over their bank, caring for the eaglets, whose squawking and less-than-majestic looks stunned me beyond words. Dan’s welcoming and kindly smile, his ability to make you feel comfortable from the first moment, made my first foray into tenure-track academia a comfortable experience versus another John Belushi lying on the floor in Animal House reprisal, lamenting the loss of 14 years of college. Dan and Mary graciously hosted me in their home that spring and summer as I moved my life from the U.P. to Wisconsin, and it was Dan who gave Maggie a reference so I could rent my first apartment. Dan even gave me a temporary job working on the latest edition of his textbook, providing me both experience and cash as a still struggling new faculty person.

During my first year, the adjustment to becoming a faculty member was difficult. What I know now was coming out ABD created more than a difficulty of time management. It created a difficulty, perhaps crisis, of identity. While I was still a student, I needed to transform into a professor, a respected faculty person. Simply put, I failed in a rather epic way. I was working hard to figure it out, or so I thought, but during that first semester, my Internet Writing class was, and perhaps still is, the most complete failure in any classroom situation I had ever experienced. There were some outstanding students in that class, and not only did I fail them (and there were mitigating circumstances), but my response for that failure was to blame them and take little blame myself. It was not a good rhetorical strategy, but more importantly, I created a dilemma for myself, one from which I would never really recover. If not for one specific Technical Communication student, who was a single mother with a young daughter, whose moral support meant more than she ever realized, I might’ve quit at the end of that first year. There was another student who begged to get into my first year composition course. She too was a wonderful student and someone with whom I am still fortunate enough to be connected. They helped me survive. However, at the end of the first semester, it was Dan who sat down with me in the Acoustic Café and offered insight and comfort as I reeled from the serious ass kicking that semester provided. While the second semester went marginally better, I made some foolish mistakes outside the classroom. Most of those mistakes and downfalls were the consequence of alcohol, both in Menomonie and back in Houghton. To this day I probably have not apologized as completely as I should for a stupid voice message I left during Winter Carnival. This is where my being the student in one place and a faculty in another created a predicament that would have long-term consequences. In the infamous words of Dean Wormer, “drunk and stupid is no way to spend one’s life.” This is not an exact quote, but truer words have never been spoken. Ironically, one of those students would become part of our advisement board, and rightly so, because she had been a brilliant student, was certainly an outstanding employee, and one who had actually helped me in the business place. I treated her unfairly when I said something in front of that very board, somewhat calling her out. She had every right to dismiss me as unfair and rude. I am sure to this very day, she is as brilliant and as valuable an employee was she was a student. She is a phenomenal person, and a person to whom I will never be able to make amends as well as I wish I could. Indeed, my first year in Wisconsin should be deemed a serious learning-lesson. And while I did recover on a number of fronts, somehow getting an outstanding teaching award 5 years later, there are still things I regret deeply.

The group of students Dan had created through his commitment to each and his superior ability in the classroom is still something to remember. As your  former student, Priscilla Fugar, also one of that amazing group who rightly took me to task, noted so aptly, you had this way of listening and hearing them (and us your colleagues) and then smiling and responding, “yeah, right.” I can hear it as clearly as if you were here speaking it. As we continued to develop programs, internships, and other ideas, you continued to look for new ways to learn, but also so teach, always giving back, not only to your students, but also to all of us, your colleagues. Through the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning (SOTL), I got to know other faculty, some who became my most valued colleagues and friends. Dan, your insight of the Stout history and culture was unprecedented, but your willingness to help others understand it was invaluable. You understood the struggles of new faculty and unselfishly gave to so many. I not only watched it, I experienced it. Your desire to keep achieving and then bring it back for others is a rare gift and one I try to now emulate here in Pennsylvania. As you never “siloed” what you knew, you taught me the value of cooperation/collaboration and it is something that has influenced everything I have done here at Bloomsburg. Yet, that brings me to your influence and help, both in getting me here, 998.6 miles from Menomonie, but also how you supported me in these last eight years.

As noted, my first year’s missteps created an exigency from which there was no reasonable escape, and the position of a dean made any such consideration moot. As I went through the summer of 2008, again you were there in ways no one else would even consider. You listened and even in your amazement of what the dean had done, you reached out, noting that we should meet on a regular basis or schedule. You listened carefully and your responses were always measured and thoughtful. That year could have ruined me both professionally and personally because of the stress, but you were my sounding board, you were a life jacket for me. You helped me see beyond the immediacy of the circumstance. You helped me walk a tight rope and you provided a quite stellar recommendation for my eventual position here at Bloomsburg. When I left Wisconsin, you did not leave me. You were always kind in taking my phone calls, of reviewing my abstracts, and sharing your wise counsel, offering insight and support from the inexhaustible wealth of knowledge and experience, yet always in a folksy and unassuming manner that delighted in helping another. You took time to fly to Bloomsburg and offered yet again your valuable and unparalleled advice, serving as an expert evaluator of our nascent program. You were kind enough to stay at my house and share both your expertise and joyful company. While I did get the Dean’s office to foot some of the bill, and you made me promise to get reimbursed, I never kept the promise. The investment in the program and the chance to bring you to my new world was repayment enough. As you worked through the process of seeing and building a program, your willingness to speak with my  colleagues, being with my students, as you had done so many times at Stout, meeting with my Dean all made more difference than you could have ever known, but I was so proud to tell you when we had completed what we had and send you the emails. In some ways you became my experiential post-doctoral father. That is no simple thing. When I came back to Menomonie to manage issues, either visiting Lydia and then finishing up things after she passed, again you were always there. You cheered me on and the last time I drove back in January, within hours of returning from Europe, even as you faded, you welcomed me into your home (both of you). It became a sort of inclusio. It was an opportunity to bring something full-circle. I remember standing in your driveway after our wonderful two hour visit and I held my hands in front of me across the driveway as tears filled my eyes and I told you thank you and that I loved you. You told me you loved me back. What a gift of words, a gift of colleagues, but more importantly a gift of mentor to student and, if I can be so bold, a gift of wonderful friendship. It was followed up by the most wonderful email in which you complimented my spirit and humor. I believe I still have that email.

Dan, you are so much more than a memory, you have nurtured and created someone who has come far since that fall in 2003 when I was a fledgling and failing first year tenure-track ABDed professor. When I imagine possibilities, indeed, even now I will ask myself what I would imagine you offering as wise counsel? What are the insightful, piercing, probing, but important questions you would ask in your supportive and visionary manner? I was once told that if you profoundly touch 5 people in your life, you are a successful person. What happens with the number of students, colleagues, friends, and professionals is profoundly larger, exponential of the mere handful (and that is not hyperbole) What is the term we might use appropriately? I know how you would respond. It would be self-depricating, a sort of “shucks, how kind of you to say so . . .” I can see you tilting you head and smiling, but being as gracious and gentlemanly as always. As you have touched my life, as you have transformed me, you are so much more than a memory. If I can somehow even begin to be noted, to pattern my life within the classroom after you, I will be honored. I know that there are times I have considered assignments, and in fact, I have bounced some of those off you. You always smiled and again noted, “how neat; tell me more about that.” Again, the interest, the support, the willingness to push me in perception and pedagogy. Your work with the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning would come shining through, once again helping us to imagine the consequences of what we did to make our students better, more prepared, more thoughtful.

I am sitting in Fog and Flame, one of the coffee shops that has appeared since you were here. You would like it. I can see you at the table helping yet another person, taking time out of whatever you might need to do, putting another person first. Yet, there was that other side of you, the father and husband. The way your eyes would light up when you spoke of your children, your grandchildren, or Mary, your wonderful wife and partner of 50 years. You were more of a model there too than you realized. Your class as a father, grandfather, and husband taught us more than you know. As I have sat here and reflected, there have been smiles and tears, but most of all there is gratitude, an overwhelming sense of humility because I know I learned from one of the best. I hope to share with my students, with others who might follow me. While there was barely a decade difference in age, it seems that I found a master who belied his age. I found a friend who supported me in ways too many to count. I found a mentor and doctoral father who was able to meliorate this struggling, but well-intended beginning academic. Well done good and faithful friend . . .  I promise to keep working to take all you have so graciously given and become even better. I am so blessed that you called me to come to Menomonie and UW-Stout that April 14 years ago. While it is hard to let you go as we once again were in the month of April, it was time for you to finish your amazing journey. As I looked at that last picture of you and Mary, my heart was breaking, but her face said it all so well. We all struggle to let you go, but in my case, those are  moments of my own selfishness. We love you deeply and that will not change. You are much more than a memory because you did so much to change of us all. Not because you wanted to change anyone, you merely wanted to be supportive of us, regardless of our place in life. No person was unimportant, you listened and you cared. In the process, you not only changed us, you became part of us and we are better for it. Bless you, Dan; I love you. You were an amazing leader and you created a band of many who carry on for you.

Thank you to everyone for reading this.

Michael

Thinking Critically in a Spontaneous World

Good early morning,

It is 3:43 a.m. And I went to be around 10:00 or so, and in a pattern that is more normal than what I have done lately, I am awake though it is early. This past week I have had nights where I have slept more than 8 or 9 hours straight, which is beyond rare for me, and one night, with little more than opening my eyes and rolling over, I slept 13. That has not happened  without the help of alcohol (which was earlier in life) for probably 40 years. Yet, I do feel rested and after reading the news and pondering the rather bizarre range of events for this day, I find myself waking up on this 4-20 completely unadulterated, which again is a change from earlier in my life. Spending most of my days around late-teens and early 20-somethings, I can assure your many will consider the significance of this date in a rather fuzzy state. In spite of that fact I was in Hawaii in the service, where more potent herbal matter was available, I think our options for vegetarian smoke were not nearly as dynamic or capable or changing our day as the current green matter readily obtained for general usage. I should also note it is 8 years ago today I interviewed before and with my current colleagues. The plethora of events and significant changes in my life during this time make it seem much longer. I might also note that 4-20 was my parents’ wedding anniversary. In addtiton, if you do not know the origin of the present 4-20 celebratory rationale, it might be interesting to look it up. Fox News, ironically, had a news clip on it today.

The connection, and conversations of late, which transport me back to my Iowa town have also been reminiscent of a sort of time-warp experience (and I am not a sci-fi person – am not, nor was I ever a Trekkie), but that has been helpful, revealing, healing, cathartic, and simply enjoyable. It has taken some thinking and careful (but not difficult) reflecting. Amazing how some of our most essential traits never change, but we can understand how they affected behaviors or actions from our earlier life. While somewhat, at least initially, shocking, time and distance allows the rose colored glasses to lose their tint, thereby exposing our pitiful failures in those moments we were most vulnerable. As noted in a previous blog, the maturity aspect of my being always seemed to be bringing up the rear in my human development. Perhaps what is happening in this current situation is the opportunity for me to make amends for my earlier deficiencies or my completely irrefutable bungling. What I know is it has been helpful to accept or own that significant defalcation from 40 years ago.

Understanding or accepting our missteps or inadequacies is never easy, but I believe that is because introspection is frightening. True introspection leaves us bare before ourselves, and when we are completely, totally, unabashedly honest, there is no where to hide. We are simultaneously frightened and freed. We are allowed to come face-to-face with both the inadequacy of our humanity and yet understand the miraculous nature of what and who we are, something given by a creator, and you can understand that in whatever terms you find most helpful. It is sort of like those students who will be walking across the platform receiving degrees. The number of seniors who have come into my office a bundle of emotions and thoughts during the past few weeks is substantive. They are frightened. They are excited, but most of all they are sort of laid bare. They are uncertain of their futures and this uncertainty forces them to think a bit more intentionally than some will during this Block Party Weekend. The world into which they “launch their little barks” (and they are Huskies) is a very different world than the one I was entering in 1983 as an undergrad. We were in an economic downturn as I was graduating. In spite of the misguided belief that the Reagan White House had us economically humming, reality was something quite different. Look up the interest rates or unemployment and a few other things. What students are understanding is their missteps in that EGGS’s class, or PSYCH class, or MATH class has come back to haunt them. That GPA was hurt more than they expected or imagined. That semester where they sort of took a dive did not disappear and the long-term result of those extra beers or other mind altering issues, or perhaps the stress of external factors, took its toll.

The past couple of days there have been actual articles in the national news about the complexity of being a millennial. It is true that it is harder to be an 21 or 22 year old now compared to 1977 when I was there. An article noted that “[i]n 1975 only 25 percent  of men (which is an interesting gender note) ages 25-34 had an income less than $30,000 per year. By 2016 that share rose to 41 percent of young men” (Ali 2017). Articles I have read note that more than 1/3 of all college graduates “plan” to return to their parents house to live after graduation. This is something we would have never considered. Living at home was the worst of all possible options. I was so determined to not be at home by the end of high school graduation (1973) that I entered the Marine Corps,  not a typical decision for a 12-year-old-looking-17-year-old-barely-100-pounder-with-overgrown-ears. While there was little critical thought that went into that decision, I was fortunate that the long term consequence was much more optimal than I ever anticipated. I had opportunities because of that decision never thinkable Even to this day, that honorable discharge from the Marine Corps means something more powerful than I ever perceived possible. In my rhetoric class this week, I noted the rhetorical concept of proairesis, the power we have of “considered decision making.” That considered decision has been demonstrated to me again as I continue to manage some things that have been a long time coming. That considered decision as I watch from 1,000 miles away as my mentor and friend somehow manages to wage war against that which works so hard to take him, but he wages that war in a manner that all I see is grace, strength, and inspiration. Mary noted how they are supporting Dan in every aspect of his remaining moments. It is so difficult to read and yet, I know how important it is for them at this time. Life is the most amazing oxymoronic thing we have. We love it and hate it. We wish for it and deny it. We plan for it and we neglect it. As some of you know, my dissertation was a rhetorical analysis of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Bonhoeffer is an interesting theologian for a multitude of reasons, but when he was a pastor in London, he noted the following when speaking about death.

He wrote, “Why are we so afraid when we think about death? … Death is only dreadful for those who live in dread and fear of it. Death is not wild and terrible, if only we can be still and hold fast to God’s Word. Death is not bitter, if we have not become bitter ourselves. Death is grace, the greatest gift of grace that God gives to people who believe in him. Death is mild, death is sweet and gentle; it beckons to us with heavenly power, if only we realize that it is the gateway to our homeland, the tabernacle of joy, the everlasting kingdom of peace. How do we know that dying is so dreadful? Who knows whether, in our human fear and anguish we are only shivering and shuddering at the most glorious, heavenly, blessed event in the world? Death is hell and night and cold, if it is not transformed by our faith. But that is just what is so marvelous, that we can transform death” (Bonhoeffer). Can we transform it? Can we see it as an ally rather than an enemy? To make this transformation requires more than merely faith, or so it seems. It takes thinking, planning and accepting. It requires us to imagine something better than what we know in our partial and limited perspective. There is something good about knowing the hour or the time, but, if we are aware, we often retreat to denial of the inevitable. We would rather imagine anything other than our finitude. Perhaps the gift of these past months for me has been to consider the reality of beyond life as we know it. Perhaps the gift of seeming to regularly question my mortality of late is to be less frightened of what many feel is the alarming question of “what if?” Before you think I have fallen off the deep end of morbidity, please reconsider. I still have plans, and even long-term plans, but I think what the last months have reminded me of is that adage of no guarantees.

The spontaneity of our world should work to remind us of this very adage. Things are changing, progressing, or reconstructing so quickly that we are generally unprepared for what is coming. As a consequence, we will grasp onto anything we can, hoping for some sense of security. Yet through our grasping, our desperate gropings, we miss the significance of the moment; we fail to realize that it is in that very moment we need to pause and take stock of what is essential. We need to think. Too many would rather we do not think. Too many would rather we get caught up in our desperation, merely trying to survive. Without critical thinking, which requires time and effort, we are like the bottle that has been tossed into the proverbial sea. Without critical thinking, we are simply bouncing along, hoping and praying someone else will find and save us from our lack of thinking. From our obsession with needing to know everything at every instance, we have little time to step back and consider what is important. Through our capabilities to know almost everything, anywhere, anytime, we find ourselves overwhelmed with data and information. Ironically we know very little, almost any place, and at every moment. When we are overloaded with images, words, sounds, and (you can add the next thing), we have no time to think and ultimately we have even less time to realize either who or what we are. We are more interdependent than we think. We can listen to nationalistic pronouncements of putting  ourselves first, but there is a consequence. We can claim we have things under control, but seldom is that the case. While I am sure this sounds a bit cynical to some, I believe there is something within us that offers a different option. There are times when we find our way to see the bigger picture, and thank goodness we do. There are times when we realize, by thinking, that all is not lost. There are times we can be reminded that there is goodness in both the other and in our creation. Those are the moments to which I cling. Those are the moments when I am compelled to dig down and, in faith, believe there is something larger, better, and more salvific than we might readily see. Indeed, I believe in, and have, hope. I am reminded of a video and an amazing group of musicians that once remembered our responsibility to each other. That is the video I offer. It reminds me to once again think, and to think critically. In the midst of our spontaneity, take time to pause; take time to think critically, and then believe in the better. The artists here have reminded me of the amazing life I have had.

Thanks as always for reading.

Dr. Martin