My Muse is Missing
My Muse is Missing
A little writing for Rich Rusk and Juan Carlos Folino
Margherita Cilantro Foustanella
“I’m sure there is a book in you,” my friend Rich said to me when we were driving home from the Atlanta Airport. Then my friend, Juan Carlos Folino, who had just finished his first book, said exactly the same thing, “When are you going to write a book?” The truth is the muse has never shown her flashlight on me. Probably the batteries have rusted. When you are fifty-five almost all the women you know have convinced themselves they must “write” a book. They remind me of teenagers who stay in the shower for days wasting water – what do they have to wash that I’ve overlooked? What do these women have to say that hasn’t been said a zillion-million times? When Barbara Kingsolver wrote High Tide in Tucson she said just about everything I would wish to say, and she said it much better than I ever could. Other people do the Apostle’s Creed, I do High Tide in Tucson.
[WASHINGTON, D.C. (Reuters)
Early this morning, a devastating fire burned down the personal library of President George. W. Bush. Tragically, both books were lost in the conflagration. More poignantly, the President, due to his hectic schedule, had not found time to color in the second one.]
And that brings me to another pet peeve – who is reading? Well, yes, my sister-in-law Addie and my dear friend, Heather, are the voracious readers in my circle. As a matter of fact, we are starting to behave like women who live together in dorms and our phernomes smell one another or something and we find ourselves cycling together even in menopause. (see The Red Tent). Heather and Addie, who share my cycle, live hundreds of miles apart and see one another a few hours a year. Yet they will often advise me to read the same books as if they had been matching their lists for months. Both planned to give me Kingsolver’s Small Wonder for my birthday. Anyhow, as I started to say they are reading and definitely a lot of people in the Oprah book clubs [note: on NPR there was a show about people who join book clubs but don’t have time to read the books. Fear not, Cliff Notes marketers are coming to the rescue.] and the other book clubs around the world, but for the most part people aren’t reading much. I know because I boldly ask a lot of people what they are reading, or I watch their eyes glaze over when I start to wax on about something I’m reading. Most of the eye glazing behavior happens in conversations with so-called academics. When I was part of that society, they used to say to me, “How do you find time to read fiction?” I didn’t answer their question, but I should have – I just should have told them that I wasn’t using up much of my life reading their epistemological, theory-laden, truly boring, relatively useless, dense journal articles. David Mathews once said these “scholarly” articles were at best read by about three people, and at least two of them were journal reviewers, so they were forced into it. I liked what Addie used to tell people when she was asked, “How do you find so much time to read?” She would say, oh it is easy I neglect my family. I toss peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at my children. I had this great picture of Addie in my mind, Patricia Hampl-in-hand, throwing sandwiches at Rafe and Kate, while other kids’ moms were cooking those nutritious balanced meals with the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. [The truth is Rafe insisted on having plastic cheese with Miracle Whip on Sunbeam sandwich bread.]
February 10, 2003
People addicted to reading naturally are attracted to others with the habit. After they meet and build a little trust in one another’s taste and probability for book returns, they start exchanging. It is not uncommon for me to have five or more books in a stack that are non-library loans. Take right now for example, here’s my what’s on my stack:
· Cracking India by Bapsi Sidhwa. Pam Kleiber has advised me this is a must. She’s met the author and has a tremendous admiration for her message.
· Roumeli: Travels in Northern Greece by Patrick Leigh Fermor Addie Holt sent this with one of those notes “I don’t know if this is any good, but you’ll be able to tell.”
· The Soprano Sorceress by L. E. Modesitt, Jr. Mary Agnes Larson sent this. Neither of us suspect it will be one we would share with anyone else, but we are connected to it in an absurd way. A man we work with on one of our projects (a music director in Texas) told us that it is written by his ex-wife’s husband. Names and details of feelings of the previous relationship surface. So this one is a little like sleazy gossip.
· Skipping Christmas by John Grisham. Mary Agnes loaned me this one too. It will only take an afternoon, and I’m well along the way – Grisham is not someone I read, but I am enjoying the “story” to be sure. All who have assumed a leadership role in Christmas (like my niece Kate promises for 2003), completely find joy in the title.
· Bell Canto by Ann Patchett has been loaned to me by my fellow Mediterranean reader Joan Curtis. She just returned my copy A House in Sicily which I in turn loaned to Tess Loewen who had led me to my first checkout ever at the Athens Public Library of A House in Cofu.
· Scaramonuche by Rafael Sabatini (this one I’ve had the next to longest) from Mary Agnes. She takes the prize for the most loans.
· The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. Heather Kleiner gave this to me so long ago, she’s forgotten I have it. I just can’t get into a roll with it yet. She’s going to loan me Atonement, which I definitely am anxious to read based on reviews.
· Before I get to the last loaner, I’ll mention that Addie gave me The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen for Christmas. It’s one of those books that is embarrassing to me, because now that I have it, I’ve discovered the rave reviews. Why didn’t I know about it? I guess that is why I have Addie to keep me up to speed. I’ve also discovered in reading about this book that I want to next read his newer one, How to Be Alone by Franzen.
· The Balkans by Misha Glenny. Malcolm Sumner (curiously the only man who loans me books- I don’t want overdue credit to him, though. This is the only one he’s every loaned me.) made a special trip to bring this 700 pager to me before leaving for South Africa. Today I’ve read the first 134 pages, so I’ll make some observations:
I’m glad I was born in Ohio and not the Balkans. Pam and Doug Kleiber initiated my reading with The Balkan Ghosts by Robert Kaplan several years ago. (I became a Kaplanite, and have just loaned his The Ends of the Earth to Malcolm). Glenny’s writing is quite similar to Kaplan but he doesn’t reach back as far historically (thank God!). I hope Malcolm won’t give me a test on the Balkan tribes and their centuries of skirmishes, because it is impossible to keep it straight let alone remember the names. Bulgarian, Croat, Hungarian, Serb, and Dalmatian first and last names make Greek easy as pita. They speak in vowels. Words can end with “str” and this isn’t an abbreviation for street.
One of my first observations in reading these opening 134 pages is there were no good people. The only objective and perhaps moral perspective on what was going on in the Balkans wasn’t said until Lord Byron spoke. I haven’t found a single character with whom I would like (or feel safe) to have dinner.
Of course my reading is completely jaded by several things – being married to a Greek and being in a country that is about to be an aggressor in a war with Iraq. These two situations are not equal, however. People in the Balkans paid little or no attention to Europe until recently (recently meaning the mid l800s). With the exception of a few Jews, Armenians, and Greeks, people stayed on their farms. The big themes (I’m treating this as though Malc is going to give me the test) are power, control, and identity. Although you might jump at the idea that the church was central, the guys in control didn’t appear to be reading the Bible or the Koran or many religious tracts (may have not gone to Sunday School), but they used the Orthodoxy and Christianity when it was convenient to their causes. Oil was not leveraged, but pigs (Austrians had a love affair with pork. Go figure?), weapons, salt and silver were at stake. The few rich guys were in the cities (traffic wasn’t a problem, and there were no real transportation issues – maybe a pothole here or there, but nothing like Shirley Franklin is facing in Atlanta), and the peasants were being feudal in the country.
To survive a necessary capacity would be your ability to shift loyalties as soon as you could figure out who was winning. They were so confused about identity that one paragraph describes a war in which everyone in the fight was carrying the same flag and supposedly fighting for the same leaders. It didn’t matter for a long time if you were illiterate, because until Kemal discovered public opinion in Europe and brought it home to Turkey, there really weren’t any newspapers.
These 134 pages are full of brutality, inhumanity – no matter who is leading the parade. The torture is as insane as lynchings in the U.S. – the Wild West approach, mob scenes, compete with anything you’ve read about here only magnified in horror and number. They had a jump on different systems of law for different races and classes, too.
A big part of the problem, I think, was there extensive history of isolation from other parts of the world – they probably could say “we haven’t had a new idea here for a hundred years” and that would be true. However, again, the (diasporas) Greeks (especially from the Islands), some Jews, and the Armenians were beginning to encounter some new ideas.
If you were a peasant (and most people were) let’s hope you liked the people in your own family, because the relationships you encountered most of your life weren’t much more extensive. I think I did discover that the Greek word kumbara (your best man or best woman) originates in this region of the Balkans. The Greeks, I know, feel much more strongly than I’ve seen expressed in the States. “Most importantly was the institution of the kum, whose first function was as the bride or groom’s personal witness at the wedding. The kum immediately became an integral part of the new family and assumed special duties as a protector of the family’s interests. The betrayal of kumstvo was an unpardonable sin.” (page 10).
Other findings for Malc: Getting from feudalism to nationalism can move slowly. May not happen in your lifetime. These feudal agrarian systems were largely self-sustaining – the peasants had no opportunity, and no evident expressions of desiring a wider commerce. The struggles for emerging educational and legal systems were difficult. The powerful were self-interested and “constitution” was a dirty word at their dinner parties.
The assaults on one another go on for pages – one very bad feature of these people was/is a capacity to romanticize their past. Maybe television or gameboys, in this case, would be better. They have this perpetual infatuation with conquering stuff that belonged to their great-great-great-and not-so-great relatives. Yet, sometimes there would be these long stretches of time when they seemed to be holding hands and singing Kumbaya, and then the climate would suddenly turn menopausal and the whole place would be in an ethnic uproar (like Bosnia, Kosovo). The Greeks even had this “Great Idea” of re-conquering Istanbul and that Anatolian territory. Have they looked at these places lately? Pollution, people, traffic . . . . who wants LA?
(Aside: I found it really worked well to begin this book on a bleak and dreary day. The atmosphere meshed with the text.)
Of course, the Greeks will always lead you to believe that the Turks were brutal in the War of Independence, but now with the accounts from non-Greek and non-Turk reporters, it is made clear that the Greeks were every bit has barbaric in this war. In my opinion the Greeks and the Turks would have no problem in a competition with the Chinese torturers. And it was no advantage to be a woman in these circumstances. Ohio is a superior climate.
Of course, if you like a book with age-old tensions this one is for you:
Tensions between central and local control of territory
Tensions between economic vitality and justice
He writes very well – like Kaplan. Here’s a useful sentence from page 121 that anyone can use just by substituting a few words:
“Serbia became a state with an elaborate administrative skeleton but not much economic flesh on its bones.” ( page 21)
Try this: The University of Georgia became an institution with an elaborate administrative skeleton but not much academic flesh on its bones.”
I’m sure you can find other handy ways to use this sentence in your own writing.
Finally, toward the end, I thought of Madelyn Albright and Schwartzkoff on CNN last night saying unkind things about Rummy Rumsfeld. Well, they don’t appreciate his dismissal of the Europeans related to the forthcoming war with Iraq. Mad Albright (Heather will help me spell her name right later), says we need a draft. Otherwise young people who don’t have a commitment one way or the other, will be spared the honor of protecting our freedoms. Those out there will be folks already marginalized by race and socio-economic class – much like Vietnam. Glenny says at every opportunity, the peasants took to their heels when the first shots were fired. That is not so easy for the young on the ships headed to Kuwait (even though many of them and their families survive on food stamps and other forms of government aid to make ends meet.)
Don’t worry Malc, more to follow. Margaret on Mars Hill
All of this is to say that a couple of reasons I don’t write much is because, writing could get in the way of reading, and if what you want to say has already been said and published then what’s the point? But if I would write, I can tell you what six of my topics would probably be:
· Adults who do not take responsibility for their own lives. I think a lot of the people who are writing about this topic are calling what I mean here “victimization.” People who think they have gotten a raw deal in life and it’s not their fault. Of course, I know plenty of people who have had bad things happen that were out of their control. I’m not referring to them*. I mean adults who have passed 30, 40, 50, and even 60 and want to blame their parents or some other people for their lot. Give me a break! If they are looking for someone to blame, they could start with the one they see in their mirror. "God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know it's me." --Anon.
*Some of the kinds of people who I think are real victims are the man who worked in one of our public schools and was arrested for stealing. Here’s my only understanding of the story from the police blotter. Teachers reported in the school that money was missing from their desks. The school principal installed some type of surveillance camera in a room. A male employee was viewed taking two dollars from a desk. On the same video he was shown two more times, each time returning one of the dollars. He was fired. Now, how should we think about this? First, he was guilty of taking the money, second it was a miniscule amount of money, and third he reversed his actions and returned it. All I’m saying is that there is more to this story – a deeper story, and that is not revealed in the police blotter. In today’s paper there is a story of two men arrested at a local grocery store for stealing two carts of groceries at Kroger near my home. Now for sure, they were stealing, but then I have to say to myself just what were they stealing? Groceries. They are guilty of a crime, I accept, but is there a deeper story when the objects stolen are groceries and not a Mercedes or jewelry? Maybe, maybe not. What does stealing groceries mean to our community? Is the community’s problem that we have thieves or is it something else?
I have encountered many people in my life older than 25 who are quick to blame other adults in their lives for their circumstances – spouses, parents, various significant others. They often feel decisions were made about their lives by these people, and the outcomes were not favorable. They somehow miss the piece about taking control of and responsibility for their own choices. They often fill the coffers of shrinks and therapists. They are seeking confirmation that they are right to blame others at least and to seek some type of revenge at best. I think it would be more healthy for them to wake tomorrow morning and say something like: “I am an adult. I have continuing decisions to make about my life and those for whom I bear some responsibility. I will try to make wise choices that are beneficial to others and myself, and I will recognize and accept that I will make mistakes along the way. I’ll seek consultation of people I believe caring and wise, when gaining advise makes sense. When the sun sets I will acknowledge my individual and personal responsibility for the choices I have made. I won’t blame my Mom, my Dad, my spouse, my siblings, my children, my teachers, my boss, the government, or the stock market for my fate. I will delight in good decisions and try to adjust positively to less successful ones. I will intentionally reflect on and attend to my decisions without brooding or incessant dwelling. I will be kind to myself, sometimes humoring, in all of this.” Tony Wharton raised the question in October 2000: “Is the ‘cult of the individual’ crowding out the idea of a public?”
From: RFroleiks@aol.com
To: Allen1927@aol.com
Sent: Friday, December 27, 2002 2:46 PM
Subject: (no subject)
She is 92 years old, petite, well poised, and proud. She is fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coifed, and her makeup perfectly applied, in spite of the fact she is legally blind.
Today she has moved to a nursing home. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making this move necessary.
After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, where I am employed, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided
a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet curtains that
had been hung on her window.
"I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.
"Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room...just wait," I said.
Then she spoke these words that I will never forget:
"That does not have anything to do with it," she gently replied. "Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. WhetherI like my room or not, does not depend on how the furniture is arranged. It is how I arrange my mind. I have already decided to love it. It is a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice. I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or I can get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do work. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open, I will focus on the new day and all of the happy memories I have stored away...just for this time in my life.
Old age is like a bank account. You withdraw from what you have already put in.
I believe-
that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.
I believe-
that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.
I believe-
that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
I believe-
that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.
I believe-
that it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.
I believe-
that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.
I believe-
that you can keep going, long after you can't.
I believe-
that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.
I believe-
that either you control your attitude or it controls you.
I believe-
that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.
I believe-
that money is a lousy way of keeping score.
I believe-
that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.
I believe-
that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down, will be the ones to help you get back up.
I believe-
that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.
I believe-
that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.
I believe-
that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.
I believe-
that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I believe-
that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.
I believe-
that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.
I believe-
that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.
I believe-
that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.
I believe-
that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.
I believe-
that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.
I believe-
that the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.
· Adults who are keen on oppressing other people. I’m not thinking about Israel-and Palestine. I thinking about the kind of people who like to boss waiters and waitresses around in restaurants, hotel staff, anybody they consider “minimum-wage.” They operate with some false sense of “power and control” and get some satisfaction ordering others who they determine are in a box or more below them in life’s organizational chart. They get some kind of rise out of giving orders to other people. It usually only takes me one lunch to move out of their orbit. Barbara Ehrenreich does a great job of describing them in her book Nickel and Dimed. I will be the first to support the type of uprising of such people she proposes will occur in the future.
A related recent and passionate discussion with colleagues in the Community Leadership project surfaced attention to the “equity” of participants in any group. I enter any group with a belief that all participants in the group deserve equal respect and dignity, and they should enjoy equal human rights. However, I don’t think that all ideas presented in any group are “equal”. For me that is a big part of what we mean by deliberation, weighing ideas. For example, the idea that it is acceptable to go to war with Iraq does not weigh the same as the idea that it is unacceptable to go to war with Iraq. When I listen to ideas about this, or read ideas about this, I weigh these ideas. Some have greater weight than others. This does not, however, change my sense of the equity for the respect that I feel should be granted to people presenting either position.
· People who are missing a sense of humor. I think some of the psychological-types say they have a “flat affect.” I believe that part of the joy in life can come in finding that using your “intrapersonal intelligence” you recognize that you are funny, your dumb mistakes are hilarious, and the last person you would ever take too seriously would be yourself. And further, all the significant people in your life spend a lot of time laughing about you with you.
· The tremendous importance in having people and work in your life that is sustained over decades. Addie and Heather both stay in touch with friends from their youth.
Imagine a reunion with friends from the first grade!
At the "absolute end" of January I send this to so many "keepers"
Last night Joan Curtis and I went to see About Schmidt. Afterwards we had a glass of wine and enjoyed a good long talk. One of the things we talked about were things people saved. I'm always after Stell because he can't throw anything away. Joan recalled people washing and reusing saran wrap, and I told her that a friend from the Fellowship told me about an older woman in our fellowship who turns envelopes inside out to reuse them. I was thinking this morning how most times even if we grew up with conserving parents, we think some of these practices were mighty silly. If we go to war, we might need to reinstate some of them. Something to think about. My friend Rella Zachariah was secretary to the chaplain at Ohio Northern University. She relocated me on email last year, and sent this today:
Rella Zachariah wrote:
Some things we keep...
I grew up in the fifties with practical parents - a Mother, God love
her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it.
She was the original recycle queen, before they had a name for it...
A Father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones. Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a housedress, lawn mower in one hand, dishtowel in the other. It was the time for fixing things -- a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, and the hem in a dress. Things we keep.
It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, reheating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful.
Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant there'd always be
more. But then my Mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any 'more.' Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away...never to return.
So...while we have it...it's best we love it ... and care for it ... and
fix it when it's broken ... and heal it when it's sick. This is true ... for marriage ... and old cars ... and children with bad report cards ... and dogs with bad hips...and aging parents ... and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep... Like a best friend that moved away -- or - a classmate we grew up with. There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special ... and so, we keep them close!
Here are two emails to illustrate this type of friendship (with a little background.)
This is a story about two men I know and love, who met serendipity in the Village during the summer of 2002. They discovered they both knew me. One is David Heath, a friend from my undergraduate years (mid 60s) at Ohio Northern University. The other is John Doble an incredible colleague I’ve known since l981 with mutual Kettering Foundation work. When they discovered they both knew me, David explained to John that he used to babysit my son Nic, so I could go to class. All true.
John called me in October 2002 and said he’d met a friend of mine who used to babysit Nic. He made me guess. I guessed David on Guess No. 1. So the first email is one I sent to David, and the second is his reply;
David,
How incredibly exciting to know that you met my colleague, John Doble, in the Village. For me it was one of those stories of two men I adore meeting serendipity. I trust all goes well for you, Ann, and the "kids" (who definitely aren't kids). I'm busy with Kellogg and Kettering Foundation work. Had a wonderful time in Greece. Met Jules Dassin, who was married to Melina Mecuri and produced Never On Sunday, and had my photograph taken with him. Charming, charming man, but not any more charming than you and John Doble. Best from Georgia (and check in with me), Margaret
Of course, I'm attaching the photo with Dassin! And some reflections.
David’s reply:
Subject:
Re: My babysitter
Date: Thu, 24 Oct 2002 23:52:11 EDT
To: agkefalas@charter.net
How incredibly ironic that I hear from you today!! As I write this, I'm sitting in the guest suite at McIntosh Center on the campus of Ohio Northern in lovely Ada, Ohio. What's going on, you ask?
They now offer a "professional writing" major here in the English Dept., and I was invited to do a workshop with the students. Today, I had lunch and dinner with Tom Banks. He is the department chair and is retiring at the end of this academic year. Anyway, at lunch with Tom and Dr. Pitts, who heads the professional writing program, Tom started talking about how you, Steve, and I made a major impact on the English department in the late 60s. How the three
of us "shook things up" and made the faculty sit up and take notice. Dr. Pitts, who has only been at ONU for two years, said that he had heard stories of "those students from the 60s" who made such an impact on the English dept.
Tom said, "Well, you're sitting with one of the three."
Later, when Tom introduced me at the workshop, he went into some detail, talking about "Margaret Tritt, Steve Tiger, and David Heath--the triumvirate who shook up the campus and really started changed things." He then went on to say that several professors who were on the faculty at the time, who are now retired, (Clyde & Todd, among others) have all agreed that the three of us were the most memorable students who ever passed through the halls of ONU's English Department. Quite frankly, I'm not surprised!!! :-)
Pretty heady stuff, huh?
You know, I've always said that the four years or so that someone spends at undergraduate school is like a lifetime. You're born into the world when you enter as a freshman, and graduation can be equated with death. Only the people who were freshmen, sophomores, and juniors remember "those who went before." The metaphor is that a class year is like a generation. After a few generations, all but the "historic figures" are forgotten. Apparently, you, Steve, and I are historic figures. Again, I'm not surprised!!
Anyway, it is so amazing that I heard from you on this particular day. But then again, maybe it isn't. I'll see Tom in the morning and say HI for you.
Love,
David
· Renewing the concept of apprenticeships. The reason young people are adrift in so many ways is because some foolish adults think that the next generation will learn to run society later by reading the minutes that have been filed. (Dream on, keep smoking whatever it is you are smoking, if you are looking for Cliff Notes on how to run this society.) Remember what I said earlier – people don’t like to read and something they really don’t like to read are organizational reports and minutes. So maybe if we want younger adults to learn how the system works, we should consider inviting them to the meetings. What a concept! The more young people Heather and I see at the Jeannette Rankin Foundation annual dinners, the happier we get. Another friend who is very savvy in this regard is Pam “Athena” Kleiber. Her middle name means “knowledgeable”. She’s a smart cookie about a lot of stuff, but she’s really insightful when it comes to working with young adults. Fortunately, she’s in a job where she can establish contemporary apprenticeships.
"To highlight my own dedication to student learning, and to ensure that external audiences become aware that this trait is an important institutional hallmark, I am taking this opportunity to announce the formation of the President's Ambassadorial Corps at Westminster College. Presidential Ambassadors are a small cadre of students selected through a highly competitive process, who will take turns accompanying me whenever I leave the campus to represent the college. Along the way I will teach them everything I have learned, more often than not the hard way, about how best to represent oneself and one's institution to different audiences. Their representation of the college is sure to convey the value of the Westminster experience in more authentic and memorable ways than any President could hope to do."
Excerpt from Michael Bassis Inaugural Speech, "Some Things I Believe," October l9, 2002, Westminster College, Salt Lake City, Utah.
· Finally, and with great credit and tribute to my husband, Asterios, I would add the topic of staying calm and cool when you find yourself in a stressful situation that is reversible. His message is this: There is absolutely no reason to come unglued in situations that are reversible. This advice served me extremely well years ago when I was robbed in Warsaw, and it has served me time and time again when minor crises find their way to my door. Most of the stuff we get in a swivet about is completely reversible, and most of the deadlines that cause us some level of anxiety don’t mean a hill of beans to anybody but us. Pogo had it right.
The End for Now
A little writing for Rich Rusk and Juan Carlos Folino
Margherita Cilantro Foustanella
“I’m sure there is a book in you,” my friend Rich said to me when we were driving home from the Atlanta Airport. Then my friend, Juan Carlos Folino, who had just finished his first book, said exactly the same thing, “When are you going to write a book?” The truth is the muse has never shown her flashlight on me. Probably the batteries have rusted. When you are fifty-five almost all the women you know have convinced themselves they must “write” a book. They remind me of teenagers who stay in the shower for days wasting water – what do they have to wash that I’ve overlooked? What do these women have to say that hasn’t been said a zillion-million times? When Barbara Kingsolver wrote High Tide in Tucson she said just about everything I would wish to say, and she said it much better than I ever could. Other people do the Apostle’s Creed, I do High Tide in Tucson.
[WASHINGTON, D.C. (Reuters)
Early this morning, a devastating fire burned down the personal library of President George. W. Bush. Tragically, both books were lost in the conflagration. More poignantly, the President, due to his hectic schedule, had not found time to color in the second one.]
And that brings me to another pet peeve – who is reading? Well, yes, my sister-in-law Addie and my dear friend, Heather, are the voracious readers in my circle. As a matter of fact, we are starting to behave like women who live together in dorms and our phernomes smell one another or something and we find ourselves cycling together even in menopause. (see The Red Tent). Heather and Addie, who share my cycle, live hundreds of miles apart and see one another a few hours a year. Yet they will often advise me to read the same books as if they had been matching their lists for months. Both planned to give me Kingsolver’s Small Wonder for my birthday. Anyhow, as I started to say they are reading and definitely a lot of people in the Oprah book clubs [note: on NPR there was a show about people who join book clubs but don’t have time to read the books. Fear not, Cliff Notes marketers are coming to the rescue.] and the other book clubs around the world, but for the most part people aren’t reading much. I know because I boldly ask a lot of people what they are reading, or I watch their eyes glaze over when I start to wax on about something I’m reading. Most of the eye glazing behavior happens in conversations with so-called academics. When I was part of that society, they used to say to me, “How do you find time to read fiction?” I didn’t answer their question, but I should have – I just should have told them that I wasn’t using up much of my life reading their epistemological, theory-laden, truly boring, relatively useless, dense journal articles. David Mathews once said these “scholarly” articles were at best read by about three people, and at least two of them were journal reviewers, so they were forced into it. I liked what Addie used to tell people when she was asked, “How do you find so much time to read?” She would say, oh it is easy I neglect my family. I toss peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at my children. I had this great picture of Addie in my mind, Patricia Hampl-in-hand, throwing sandwiches at Rafe and Kate, while other kids’ moms were cooking those nutritious balanced meals with the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. [The truth is Rafe insisted on having plastic cheese with Miracle Whip on Sunbeam sandwich bread.]
February 10, 2003
People addicted to reading naturally are attracted to others with the habit. After they meet and build a little trust in one another’s taste and probability for book returns, they start exchanging. It is not uncommon for me to have five or more books in a stack that are non-library loans. Take right now for example, here’s my what’s on my stack:
· Cracking India by Bapsi Sidhwa. Pam Kleiber has advised me this is a must. She’s met the author and has a tremendous admiration for her message.
· Roumeli: Travels in Northern Greece by Patrick Leigh Fermor Addie Holt sent this with one of those notes “I don’t know if this is any good, but you’ll be able to tell.”
· The Soprano Sorceress by L. E. Modesitt, Jr. Mary Agnes Larson sent this. Neither of us suspect it will be one we would share with anyone else, but we are connected to it in an absurd way. A man we work with on one of our projects (a music director in Texas) told us that it is written by his ex-wife’s husband. Names and details of feelings of the previous relationship surface. So this one is a little like sleazy gossip.
· Skipping Christmas by John Grisham. Mary Agnes loaned me this one too. It will only take an afternoon, and I’m well along the way – Grisham is not someone I read, but I am enjoying the “story” to be sure. All who have assumed a leadership role in Christmas (like my niece Kate promises for 2003), completely find joy in the title.
· Bell Canto by Ann Patchett has been loaned to me by my fellow Mediterranean reader Joan Curtis. She just returned my copy A House in Sicily which I in turn loaned to Tess Loewen who had led me to my first checkout ever at the Athens Public Library of A House in Cofu.
· Scaramonuche by Rafael Sabatini (this one I’ve had the next to longest) from Mary Agnes. She takes the prize for the most loans.
· The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. Heather Kleiner gave this to me so long ago, she’s forgotten I have it. I just can’t get into a roll with it yet. She’s going to loan me Atonement, which I definitely am anxious to read based on reviews.
· Before I get to the last loaner, I’ll mention that Addie gave me The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen for Christmas. It’s one of those books that is embarrassing to me, because now that I have it, I’ve discovered the rave reviews. Why didn’t I know about it? I guess that is why I have Addie to keep me up to speed. I’ve also discovered in reading about this book that I want to next read his newer one, How to Be Alone by Franzen.
· The Balkans by Misha Glenny. Malcolm Sumner (curiously the only man who loans me books- I don’t want overdue credit to him, though. This is the only one he’s every loaned me.) made a special trip to bring this 700 pager to me before leaving for South Africa. Today I’ve read the first 134 pages, so I’ll make some observations:
I’m glad I was born in Ohio and not the Balkans. Pam and Doug Kleiber initiated my reading with The Balkan Ghosts by Robert Kaplan several years ago. (I became a Kaplanite, and have just loaned his The Ends of the Earth to Malcolm). Glenny’s writing is quite similar to Kaplan but he doesn’t reach back as far historically (thank God!). I hope Malcolm won’t give me a test on the Balkan tribes and their centuries of skirmishes, because it is impossible to keep it straight let alone remember the names. Bulgarian, Croat, Hungarian, Serb, and Dalmatian first and last names make Greek easy as pita. They speak in vowels. Words can end with “str” and this isn’t an abbreviation for street.
One of my first observations in reading these opening 134 pages is there were no good people. The only objective and perhaps moral perspective on what was going on in the Balkans wasn’t said until Lord Byron spoke. I haven’t found a single character with whom I would like (or feel safe) to have dinner.
Of course my reading is completely jaded by several things – being married to a Greek and being in a country that is about to be an aggressor in a war with Iraq. These two situations are not equal, however. People in the Balkans paid little or no attention to Europe until recently (recently meaning the mid l800s). With the exception of a few Jews, Armenians, and Greeks, people stayed on their farms. The big themes (I’m treating this as though Malc is going to give me the test) are power, control, and identity. Although you might jump at the idea that the church was central, the guys in control didn’t appear to be reading the Bible or the Koran or many religious tracts (may have not gone to Sunday School), but they used the Orthodoxy and Christianity when it was convenient to their causes. Oil was not leveraged, but pigs (Austrians had a love affair with pork. Go figure?), weapons, salt and silver were at stake. The few rich guys were in the cities (traffic wasn’t a problem, and there were no real transportation issues – maybe a pothole here or there, but nothing like Shirley Franklin is facing in Atlanta), and the peasants were being feudal in the country.
To survive a necessary capacity would be your ability to shift loyalties as soon as you could figure out who was winning. They were so confused about identity that one paragraph describes a war in which everyone in the fight was carrying the same flag and supposedly fighting for the same leaders. It didn’t matter for a long time if you were illiterate, because until Kemal discovered public opinion in Europe and brought it home to Turkey, there really weren’t any newspapers.
These 134 pages are full of brutality, inhumanity – no matter who is leading the parade. The torture is as insane as lynchings in the U.S. – the Wild West approach, mob scenes, compete with anything you’ve read about here only magnified in horror and number. They had a jump on different systems of law for different races and classes, too.
A big part of the problem, I think, was there extensive history of isolation from other parts of the world – they probably could say “we haven’t had a new idea here for a hundred years” and that would be true. However, again, the (diasporas) Greeks (especially from the Islands), some Jews, and the Armenians were beginning to encounter some new ideas.
If you were a peasant (and most people were) let’s hope you liked the people in your own family, because the relationships you encountered most of your life weren’t much more extensive. I think I did discover that the Greek word kumbara (your best man or best woman) originates in this region of the Balkans. The Greeks, I know, feel much more strongly than I’ve seen expressed in the States. “Most importantly was the institution of the kum, whose first function was as the bride or groom’s personal witness at the wedding. The kum immediately became an integral part of the new family and assumed special duties as a protector of the family’s interests. The betrayal of kumstvo was an unpardonable sin.” (page 10).
Other findings for Malc: Getting from feudalism to nationalism can move slowly. May not happen in your lifetime. These feudal agrarian systems were largely self-sustaining – the peasants had no opportunity, and no evident expressions of desiring a wider commerce. The struggles for emerging educational and legal systems were difficult. The powerful were self-interested and “constitution” was a dirty word at their dinner parties.
The assaults on one another go on for pages – one very bad feature of these people was/is a capacity to romanticize their past. Maybe television or gameboys, in this case, would be better. They have this perpetual infatuation with conquering stuff that belonged to their great-great-great-and not-so-great relatives. Yet, sometimes there would be these long stretches of time when they seemed to be holding hands and singing Kumbaya, and then the climate would suddenly turn menopausal and the whole place would be in an ethnic uproar (like Bosnia, Kosovo). The Greeks even had this “Great Idea” of re-conquering Istanbul and that Anatolian territory. Have they looked at these places lately? Pollution, people, traffic . . . . who wants LA?
(Aside: I found it really worked well to begin this book on a bleak and dreary day. The atmosphere meshed with the text.)
Of course, the Greeks will always lead you to believe that the Turks were brutal in the War of Independence, but now with the accounts from non-Greek and non-Turk reporters, it is made clear that the Greeks were every bit has barbaric in this war. In my opinion the Greeks and the Turks would have no problem in a competition with the Chinese torturers. And it was no advantage to be a woman in these circumstances. Ohio is a superior climate.
Of course, if you like a book with age-old tensions this one is for you:
Tensions between central and local control of territory
Tensions between economic vitality and justice
He writes very well – like Kaplan. Here’s a useful sentence from page 121 that anyone can use just by substituting a few words:
“Serbia became a state with an elaborate administrative skeleton but not much economic flesh on its bones.” ( page 21)
Try this: The University of Georgia became an institution with an elaborate administrative skeleton but not much academic flesh on its bones.”
I’m sure you can find other handy ways to use this sentence in your own writing.
Finally, toward the end, I thought of Madelyn Albright and Schwartzkoff on CNN last night saying unkind things about Rummy Rumsfeld. Well, they don’t appreciate his dismissal of the Europeans related to the forthcoming war with Iraq. Mad Albright (Heather will help me spell her name right later), says we need a draft. Otherwise young people who don’t have a commitment one way or the other, will be spared the honor of protecting our freedoms. Those out there will be folks already marginalized by race and socio-economic class – much like Vietnam. Glenny says at every opportunity, the peasants took to their heels when the first shots were fired. That is not so easy for the young on the ships headed to Kuwait (even though many of them and their families survive on food stamps and other forms of government aid to make ends meet.)
Don’t worry Malc, more to follow. Margaret on Mars Hill
All of this is to say that a couple of reasons I don’t write much is because, writing could get in the way of reading, and if what you want to say has already been said and published then what’s the point? But if I would write, I can tell you what six of my topics would probably be:
· Adults who do not take responsibility for their own lives. I think a lot of the people who are writing about this topic are calling what I mean here “victimization.” People who think they have gotten a raw deal in life and it’s not their fault. Of course, I know plenty of people who have had bad things happen that were out of their control. I’m not referring to them*. I mean adults who have passed 30, 40, 50, and even 60 and want to blame their parents or some other people for their lot. Give me a break! If they are looking for someone to blame, they could start with the one they see in their mirror. "God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know it's me." --Anon.
*Some of the kinds of people who I think are real victims are the man who worked in one of our public schools and was arrested for stealing. Here’s my only understanding of the story from the police blotter. Teachers reported in the school that money was missing from their desks. The school principal installed some type of surveillance camera in a room. A male employee was viewed taking two dollars from a desk. On the same video he was shown two more times, each time returning one of the dollars. He was fired. Now, how should we think about this? First, he was guilty of taking the money, second it was a miniscule amount of money, and third he reversed his actions and returned it. All I’m saying is that there is more to this story – a deeper story, and that is not revealed in the police blotter. In today’s paper there is a story of two men arrested at a local grocery store for stealing two carts of groceries at Kroger near my home. Now for sure, they were stealing, but then I have to say to myself just what were they stealing? Groceries. They are guilty of a crime, I accept, but is there a deeper story when the objects stolen are groceries and not a Mercedes or jewelry? Maybe, maybe not. What does stealing groceries mean to our community? Is the community’s problem that we have thieves or is it something else?
I have encountered many people in my life older than 25 who are quick to blame other adults in their lives for their circumstances – spouses, parents, various significant others. They often feel decisions were made about their lives by these people, and the outcomes were not favorable. They somehow miss the piece about taking control of and responsibility for their own choices. They often fill the coffers of shrinks and therapists. They are seeking confirmation that they are right to blame others at least and to seek some type of revenge at best. I think it would be more healthy for them to wake tomorrow morning and say something like: “I am an adult. I have continuing decisions to make about my life and those for whom I bear some responsibility. I will try to make wise choices that are beneficial to others and myself, and I will recognize and accept that I will make mistakes along the way. I’ll seek consultation of people I believe caring and wise, when gaining advise makes sense. When the sun sets I will acknowledge my individual and personal responsibility for the choices I have made. I won’t blame my Mom, my Dad, my spouse, my siblings, my children, my teachers, my boss, the government, or the stock market for my fate. I will delight in good decisions and try to adjust positively to less successful ones. I will intentionally reflect on and attend to my decisions without brooding or incessant dwelling. I will be kind to myself, sometimes humoring, in all of this.” Tony Wharton raised the question in October 2000: “Is the ‘cult of the individual’ crowding out the idea of a public?”
From: RFroleiks@aol.com
To: Allen1927@aol.com
Sent: Friday, December 27, 2002 2:46 PM
Subject: (no subject)
She is 92 years old, petite, well poised, and proud. She is fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coifed, and her makeup perfectly applied, in spite of the fact she is legally blind.
Today she has moved to a nursing home. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making this move necessary.
After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, where I am employed, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided
a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet curtains that
had been hung on her window.
"I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.
"Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room...just wait," I said.
Then she spoke these words that I will never forget:
"That does not have anything to do with it," she gently replied. "Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. WhetherI like my room or not, does not depend on how the furniture is arranged. It is how I arrange my mind. I have already decided to love it. It is a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice. I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or I can get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do work. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open, I will focus on the new day and all of the happy memories I have stored away...just for this time in my life.
Old age is like a bank account. You withdraw from what you have already put in.
I believe-
that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.
I believe-
that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.
I believe-
that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
I believe-
that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.
I believe-
that it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.
I believe-
that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.
I believe-
that you can keep going, long after you can't.
I believe-
that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.
I believe-
that either you control your attitude or it controls you.
I believe-
that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.
I believe-
that money is a lousy way of keeping score.
I believe-
that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.
I believe-
that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down, will be the ones to help you get back up.
I believe-
that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.
I believe-
that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.
I believe-
that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.
I believe-
that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I believe-
that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.
I believe-
that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.
I believe-
that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.
I believe-
that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.
I believe-
that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.
I believe-
that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.
I believe-
that the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.
· Adults who are keen on oppressing other people. I’m not thinking about Israel-and Palestine. I thinking about the kind of people who like to boss waiters and waitresses around in restaurants, hotel staff, anybody they consider “minimum-wage.” They operate with some false sense of “power and control” and get some satisfaction ordering others who they determine are in a box or more below them in life’s organizational chart. They get some kind of rise out of giving orders to other people. It usually only takes me one lunch to move out of their orbit. Barbara Ehrenreich does a great job of describing them in her book Nickel and Dimed. I will be the first to support the type of uprising of such people she proposes will occur in the future.
A related recent and passionate discussion with colleagues in the Community Leadership project surfaced attention to the “equity” of participants in any group. I enter any group with a belief that all participants in the group deserve equal respect and dignity, and they should enjoy equal human rights. However, I don’t think that all ideas presented in any group are “equal”. For me that is a big part of what we mean by deliberation, weighing ideas. For example, the idea that it is acceptable to go to war with Iraq does not weigh the same as the idea that it is unacceptable to go to war with Iraq. When I listen to ideas about this, or read ideas about this, I weigh these ideas. Some have greater weight than others. This does not, however, change my sense of the equity for the respect that I feel should be granted to people presenting either position.
· People who are missing a sense of humor. I think some of the psychological-types say they have a “flat affect.” I believe that part of the joy in life can come in finding that using your “intrapersonal intelligence” you recognize that you are funny, your dumb mistakes are hilarious, and the last person you would ever take too seriously would be yourself. And further, all the significant people in your life spend a lot of time laughing about you with you.
· The tremendous importance in having people and work in your life that is sustained over decades. Addie and Heather both stay in touch with friends from their youth.
Imagine a reunion with friends from the first grade!
At the "absolute end" of January I send this to so many "keepers"
Last night Joan Curtis and I went to see About Schmidt. Afterwards we had a glass of wine and enjoyed a good long talk. One of the things we talked about were things people saved. I'm always after Stell because he can't throw anything away. Joan recalled people washing and reusing saran wrap, and I told her that a friend from the Fellowship told me about an older woman in our fellowship who turns envelopes inside out to reuse them. I was thinking this morning how most times even if we grew up with conserving parents, we think some of these practices were mighty silly. If we go to war, we might need to reinstate some of them. Something to think about. My friend Rella Zachariah was secretary to the chaplain at Ohio Northern University. She relocated me on email last year, and sent this today:
Rella Zachariah wrote:
Some things we keep...
I grew up in the fifties with practical parents - a Mother, God love
her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it.
She was the original recycle queen, before they had a name for it...
A Father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones. Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a housedress, lawn mower in one hand, dishtowel in the other. It was the time for fixing things -- a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, and the hem in a dress. Things we keep.
It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, reheating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful.
Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant there'd always be
more. But then my Mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any 'more.' Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away...never to return.
So...while we have it...it's best we love it ... and care for it ... and
fix it when it's broken ... and heal it when it's sick. This is true ... for marriage ... and old cars ... and children with bad report cards ... and dogs with bad hips...and aging parents ... and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep... Like a best friend that moved away -- or - a classmate we grew up with. There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special ... and so, we keep them close!
Here are two emails to illustrate this type of friendship (with a little background.)
This is a story about two men I know and love, who met serendipity in the Village during the summer of 2002. They discovered they both knew me. One is David Heath, a friend from my undergraduate years (mid 60s) at Ohio Northern University. The other is John Doble an incredible colleague I’ve known since l981 with mutual Kettering Foundation work. When they discovered they both knew me, David explained to John that he used to babysit my son Nic, so I could go to class. All true.
John called me in October 2002 and said he’d met a friend of mine who used to babysit Nic. He made me guess. I guessed David on Guess No. 1. So the first email is one I sent to David, and the second is his reply;
David,
How incredibly exciting to know that you met my colleague, John Doble, in the Village. For me it was one of those stories of two men I adore meeting serendipity. I trust all goes well for you, Ann, and the "kids" (who definitely aren't kids). I'm busy with Kellogg and Kettering Foundation work. Had a wonderful time in Greece. Met Jules Dassin, who was married to Melina Mecuri and produced Never On Sunday, and had my photograph taken with him. Charming, charming man, but not any more charming than you and John Doble. Best from Georgia (and check in with me), Margaret
Of course, I'm attaching the photo with Dassin! And some reflections.
David’s reply:
Subject:
Re: My babysitter
Date: Thu, 24 Oct 2002 23:52:11 EDT
To: agkefalas@charter.net
How incredibly ironic that I hear from you today!! As I write this, I'm sitting in the guest suite at McIntosh Center on the campus of Ohio Northern in lovely Ada, Ohio. What's going on, you ask?
They now offer a "professional writing" major here in the English Dept., and I was invited to do a workshop with the students. Today, I had lunch and dinner with Tom Banks. He is the department chair and is retiring at the end of this academic year. Anyway, at lunch with Tom and Dr. Pitts, who heads the professional writing program, Tom started talking about how you, Steve, and I made a major impact on the English department in the late 60s. How the three
of us "shook things up" and made the faculty sit up and take notice. Dr. Pitts, who has only been at ONU for two years, said that he had heard stories of "those students from the 60s" who made such an impact on the English dept.
Tom said, "Well, you're sitting with one of the three."
Later, when Tom introduced me at the workshop, he went into some detail, talking about "Margaret Tritt, Steve Tiger, and David Heath--the triumvirate who shook up the campus and really started changed things." He then went on to say that several professors who were on the faculty at the time, who are now retired, (Clyde & Todd, among others) have all agreed that the three of us were the most memorable students who ever passed through the halls of ONU's English Department. Quite frankly, I'm not surprised!!! :-)
Pretty heady stuff, huh?
You know, I've always said that the four years or so that someone spends at undergraduate school is like a lifetime. You're born into the world when you enter as a freshman, and graduation can be equated with death. Only the people who were freshmen, sophomores, and juniors remember "those who went before." The metaphor is that a class year is like a generation. After a few generations, all but the "historic figures" are forgotten. Apparently, you, Steve, and I are historic figures. Again, I'm not surprised!!
Anyway, it is so amazing that I heard from you on this particular day. But then again, maybe it isn't. I'll see Tom in the morning and say HI for you.
Love,
David
· Renewing the concept of apprenticeships. The reason young people are adrift in so many ways is because some foolish adults think that the next generation will learn to run society later by reading the minutes that have been filed. (Dream on, keep smoking whatever it is you are smoking, if you are looking for Cliff Notes on how to run this society.) Remember what I said earlier – people don’t like to read and something they really don’t like to read are organizational reports and minutes. So maybe if we want younger adults to learn how the system works, we should consider inviting them to the meetings. What a concept! The more young people Heather and I see at the Jeannette Rankin Foundation annual dinners, the happier we get. Another friend who is very savvy in this regard is Pam “Athena” Kleiber. Her middle name means “knowledgeable”. She’s a smart cookie about a lot of stuff, but she’s really insightful when it comes to working with young adults. Fortunately, she’s in a job where she can establish contemporary apprenticeships.
"To highlight my own dedication to student learning, and to ensure that external audiences become aware that this trait is an important institutional hallmark, I am taking this opportunity to announce the formation of the President's Ambassadorial Corps at Westminster College. Presidential Ambassadors are a small cadre of students selected through a highly competitive process, who will take turns accompanying me whenever I leave the campus to represent the college. Along the way I will teach them everything I have learned, more often than not the hard way, about how best to represent oneself and one's institution to different audiences. Their representation of the college is sure to convey the value of the Westminster experience in more authentic and memorable ways than any President could hope to do."
Excerpt from Michael Bassis Inaugural Speech, "Some Things I Believe," October l9, 2002, Westminster College, Salt Lake City, Utah.
· Finally, and with great credit and tribute to my husband, Asterios, I would add the topic of staying calm and cool when you find yourself in a stressful situation that is reversible. His message is this: There is absolutely no reason to come unglued in situations that are reversible. This advice served me extremely well years ago when I was robbed in Warsaw, and it has served me time and time again when minor crises find their way to my door. Most of the stuff we get in a swivet about is completely reversible, and most of the deadlines that cause us some level of anxiety don’t mean a hill of beans to anybody but us. Pogo had it right.
The End for Now
posted by Margaret Holt | 1:35 PM
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