All For One And One ...

The faculty at Utica College is organized for Collective Bargaining purposes - which is to say we have a union, the AAUP-UC. That's not common at independent colleges.

In my first year here (1975-76) we voted to establish it, and there are only a couple of us left from that era. As a young professor I served as an officer in the union, but then things got weird.

Contracts usually ran for three years and were then renegotiated with the labor specialist from Syracuse University. Utica College, until recently, was one of the dozen or so schools that made up Syracuse University, but today we are separately chartered.

In the late 1990s the usual SU negotiator was unavailable, and the president discussed with me possible replacements who might lead the administrative team. At that time I was Vice-President and Dean of the College and knew all of the players. The list was short, and all of the choices but one would have been disasters. That one was me, and I took over as lead negotiator for the College. It was a very awkward position to be in - the symbolic leader of the faculty negotiating against the faculty. At least I was able to make sure that nothing really stupid would happen.

A decade later the tables turned. I had returned to the faculty ranks and was asked by the union to be on their negotiation team. I was reluctant but ultimately decided I could help the cause.

I think it's safe to say I'm one of the few who has negotiated on both sides of the table at a single company. I know it's true here, and I'm certain it will never happen again. Both sides here have now resorted to hiring lawyers to do their negotiating. Sad commentary.

Anyway ... as part of one campaign, I developed a series of cartoons by "repurposing" old political cartoons. My first effort is below. "Surely we can add one more" - as the administration further increases our workload until we get to the straw that breaks the camel's back.

TGB   

{this memory} 67

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

Oh my, where to begin. First, let me assure you there were no psychotropic substances involved here - in spite of the psychedelic appearance. It does relate to the sixties in way though. That was when I bought a pair of rose colored prism glasses. You can see a picture of them in Hippie Feat.

I placed the glasses in front of my camera as it lay on my desk at work, and I photographed the row of figures on my window sill. This image shows only three or four of the dozen or so that are there. Freud had a similar penchant.

On the left, perhaps you can make out The Argonath, also known as The Gates of Argonath. It is a monument comprising two enormous statues standing upon either side of the River Anduin and marked the northern border of Gondor.

In the middle is a carved soapstone figure my daughter bought for me in Cuzco. We have never been certain what god it represented.

On the right is the goddess Selket from the canopic shrine in the tomb of the pharaoh Tutankhamun.

So what is the wonderful memory? Well ... I think most fondly of my undergraduate days, which is when I purchased the glasses, and I reminisce about the wonderful students I've encountered over the 38 years I have worked at this desk.

I have many wonderful memories, and I remain a most fortunate man.

TGB

{essential truths} Legendary

You decide. It's your life,

but I recommend being legendary.

{this moment} 67

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past - sometimes a place with many moments - but somewhere along my life's Journey over which I wish to linger a bit and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

Archaeological Interpretation

A team of archaeologists was excavating in Israel when they came upon a cave. Across the wall of the cave the following symbols were carved, in this order: A woman, a donkey, a shovel, a fish, and a Star of David.

They decided that this was a unique find, and the writings were at least three thousand years old. They chopped out the piece of stone and had it brought to the museum where archaeologists from all over the world had come to study the ancient symbols.

They held a huge meeting after months of conferences to discuss the meaning of the markings.

The president of the society stood up and pointed at the first drawing and said "This looks like a woman. We can judge that this race was family oriented and held women in high esteem. You can also tell that they were intelligent, as the next symbol resembles a donkey; so they were smart enough to train animals to help them till the soil. The next drawing looks like a shovel of some sort, which means they even had tools to work with. Even further proof of their intelligence is the fish which means that if a famine had hit the earth whereby the crops didn't grow, they would take to the sea for food. The last symbol appears to be the Star of David, which means they were evidently Hebrew."

The audience applauded enthusiastically.

Suddenly a little old man stood up in the back of the room and said, "Idiots! Hebrew is read from right to left. This is what it says: 'Holy Mackerel, Dig the Ass on That Woman!!'

Author Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

{essential truths} Obscene

You will have days

you can't begin to describe with words.

That's why it's important to know

a variety of obscene gestures

{picture perfect} Sculpture

Mother and Child
on the quad at Utica College

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

Don't Step On The Ducks

Three fellows died together in an accident and went to heaven. When they got there, St. Peter said, "We only have one rule here in heaven ... don't step on the ducks."

So, they entered heaven, and sure enough, there were ducks all over the place. It was almost impossible not to step on a duck, and although they tried their best to avoid them, the first guy accidentally stepped on one.

Along came St. Peter with the ugliest woman he ever saw. St. Peter chained them together and said "Your punishment for stepping on a duck is to spend eternity chained to this woman!"

The next day, the second guy accidentally stepped on a duck, and along came St. Peter, who doesn't miss a thing, and with him was another extremely ugly woman. He chained them together with the same admonishment as he had for the first guy.

The third guy observed all this and not wanting to be chained for all eternity to an ugly woman, was very, VERY careful where he stepped. He managed to go months without stepping on any ducks, but one day St. Peter came up to him with the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on ... a very tall, tan, curvaceous, and sexy blonde.

St. Peter chained them together without saying a word. The guy remarked, "I wonder what I did to deserve being chained to you for all of eternity?" She said, "I don't know about you, but I stepped on a duck.

Author Unknown

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

50 First Drafts

The is the time of semester when the hallways and offices are filled with advice. Course scheduling for the spring semester is upon us, and our students are asking us questions to confirm they will be enrolled in the courses they need to achieve their goals or too often, sadly, the goals of their parents. They're also asking their peers what courses to avoid or, more likely, what professors to avoid.

It's an interesting time, especially for our newest students - mostly freshmen. We are a few weeks past the point of no return when they can no longer withdraw from a class to avoid an anticipated "F." They are worried about how they are doing and frequently uneasy about the challenges ahead. So often I hear a student remark, "but I have never received a 'C.'" Or a "D." Or whatever. "It's terrible." They are being intellectually challenged and perhaps genuinely so for the first time.

I am thinking of one student with whom I spent some time last week. He was concerned with the high cost of college and the work load, and he was very anxious about whether he would get the high grades expected of him, grades that would make the investment worthwhile.

Searching my own experiences, I tried to find a story which would help ease some of those concerns and remembered a story I had read nearly two decades ago. I told him about a time when Henry Kissinger, the former Secretary of State, was a professor at Harvard and had asked an assistant to prepare an analysis on some incident that had occurred in the Viet Nam War.

This assistant worked night and day for a week and had the document delivered to Dr. Kissinger’s desk only to receive it back within an hour. Attached to the report was a note asking that it be redone.

The assistant dutifully redid it and supposedly slept a total of only nine hours for a week. The document again went to Dr. Kissinger’s desk, and an hour later it was returned with a note from Dr. Kissinger asserting that he expected better and asking that the work be done again.

And so the assistant went back to the drawing board once more. Another week of intense work. Then the assistant asked if he might present it personally to Dr. Kissinger. When he came face to face with Kissinger, he said, “Dr. Kissinger, I’ve spent another sleepless week. This is the best I can do.” The professor said, “In that case, now I’ll read it.”

I told the student not to worry about the grades. Just do the best that he could - that was all that mattered. And if he did his best, his parents would be proud of him, and so would I.

I hope he and all our students remember this is what is really important. It's not about the grades; it's about what you learn. Just do your best. Give it 100%. Everything else will follow, and it will all be worth the investment.

TGB   

{this memory} 66

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

Nice backhoe, lady. Okay - that lady is my lovely wife inspecting the building lot we had purchased. That makes this October of 1984 in Central New York, and a great adventure is about to unfold.

I had already surveyed and marked where the top of the basement wall should be, and in a few days, the positions of the corners of our home-to-be would be determined. Then the digging would begin in earnest.

I functioned as the general contractor and did most of the interior finish work myself. What I remember is it took almost nine exhausting months as I worked all day at the college, and then after dinner I'd work on the home until eleven or midnight. And ... there were some incredibly cold days and nights in January and February before I got the home sealed up enough to be heated.

We finally moved in on July 1, 1985. It's still standing, and we're still here.

I have many wonderful memories, and I remain a most fortunate man.

TGB

Some Of Us Stayed

Hajra's post Where Did Everybody Go? has me thinking a bit. As has she, I've noticed some writers just disappearing completely from the blogosphere. It's a puzzle. I assumed they just got tired of it. Most of those I interact with are sometimes more, sometimes less active, but that's life. It intrudes every so often, but that isn't the case here. These folks never come back.

I've been blogging for just about 28 months. My first post was on July 1 of 2010. It still seems quick, but there are times when I need less involvement. My commitment to posting something every day has necessitated my developing a few brief format themes for those times when there just isn't enough time, but that's what is nice about the general blog category. It allows great flexibility. Unfortunately during those busy times, I fall behind on commenting although I do continue to read and like my colleagues' posts.

I have posted over 700 times -- although I have since deleted some and republished some after revision. Two days ago this blog passed the

100,000 

pageview mark with readers coming from 167 countries. Cue the balloon drop! :) By the numbers, that strikes me as a quite a ride, but I have no comparison. I was once asked what my goal was when I started -- I didn't have one. I was writing primarily for myself and for the expected small handful of friends and family who might read my musings. That was it.

Today, however, I think what is most important to me are the fellow bloggers whose friendship and encouragement I have enjoyed immensely. That's why when we lose someone, as Hajra describes, it's troubling. I am positively thrilled to be in the company of so many talented authors, especially my two dozen colleagues at Personal Bloggers Are Us. They are, for the most part, hesitant to call themselves writers or authors, but that's what they are. They should embrace the labels.

Do yourself a favor and check out their sites. I assure you that you will find more than a few to which you will eagerly return, repeatedly.

TGB

{essential truths) Dance

No one ever really cares

if you can't dance well.

Just get up and dance.

(this moment} 66

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past - sometimes a place with many moments - but somewhere along my life's Journey over which I wish to linger a bit and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

The Creation Of Man

The account of Man's creation in the book of Genesis is so familiar and so entrenched in our cultural heritage that many accept as actual historic fact the assertion that Woman was created from one of Adam's ribs.

Science has railed against such simple beliefs for centuries. Last week at a dig in the escarpments along the western shore of the Dead Sea, archeologists uncovered ancient, original texts that pre-date these writings by 1,300 years. Translated, their account of life's beginnings on earth are much more scientifically plausible.

Some passages read as follows: "... and God created Woman, giving her three breasts to succor her young."

"And God spoke, saying to her, 'I have created thee as I see fit, but mine is no longer the only opinion in the universe (sigh). Is there anything about thee that thou would prefer to be different?'"

"And Woman spoke, saying, 'Lord, I am not made to birth whole litters. I do not need but two breasts.'"

"And God said, 'Thou speak wisely, as I have created thee with wisdom.'" There was a crack and a lingering odor of ozone, and it was done. Woman stood holding her third breast in her hand.

"'Now just what am I going to do with this useless boob?' Woman exclaimed."

And so it was, and God created Man.

Author Unknown

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

See Me - Feel Me - Touch Me - Heal Me

I'm not really sure why, but I've been thinking a lot about music over the last few weeks. Well, actually I'm always thinking about music. I fire up my iTunes as soon as I get to my office, and I listen until I go home. Lately though, it's been consuming. I've tried to make a mental list of every concert I have ever attended, I've replayed in my mind some of the sets I used to perform in my coffee house/folk singing days, and I've had dreams about my three guitars that have slept unplayed in their cases for years because of disability. In spite of that, these are mostly happy memories.

Invariably at some point in these reveries I end up in the 60s. There were so many talented performers offering us genuine melodic wonder - measure after measure, song after song! The quality of their accomplishment is obvious when we see how much of it has remained popular many decades later. Even my daughters like it.

And it's difficult not to think about Woodstock. I wasn't there although I do have a colleague who attended; he decided to leave well before the end. I don't watch it from start to finish, but whenever the film runs on television, I sit transfixed by whatever song, whatever performer I happen to catch. I sometimes wish I could have been there, but I doubt I would have enjoyed the mud. Instead, I spent most of the summer of 1969 with the US Navy in Guantanamo Bay. No mud there. I don't want to go back to that era, but I do love the music. It moves me, wild thing.

My kind of opera.

TGB   

See Me
Feel Me
Touch Me
Heal Me

See Me
Feel Me
Touch Me
Heal Me

       Listening to you, I get the music
       Gazing at you, I get the heat
       Following you, I climb the mountain
       I get excitement at your feet

       Right behind you, I see the millions
       On you, I see the glory
       From you, I get opinion
       From you, I get the story

{this memory} 65

This is the story behind last Monday's {this moment}.

Not long ago -- about 18 months. At the Farmington Country Club in Charlottesville, Virginia.

Huge celebration. It was the 50th anniversary of the founding of my fraternity -- the Beta Upsilon chapter of Pi Kappa Phi. A few hundred of us from all of the intervening decades gathered to mark the occasion.

In this photo we have the four who attended from the Class of 1970. Left to right: Thom Brown, Ralph Main, Bob Sheppard, and Steve Mischen. Steve had been my room- and apartment-mate for a few years. One has to marvel that after not seeing each other for decades we all show up in navy blue blazers and light pants.

I have many wonderful memories, and I remain a most fortunate man.

TGB

The Vast Picture Show

Isn't that the way it is? It's always a matter of perspective, a matter of point of view. It's just amazing how we can each sometimes see the world in such dramatically different ways. Our biases lead us to notice some details while ignoring others. There could be no better illustration of this than in our polarized political debate.

Thank goodness it's over for a while. The voting is complete, and the campaigns have stopped spending billions on media buys. Our job as citizens is not finished though, so don't let your  guard down. Now more than ever we need to pay attention.

Unfortunately, we are often prisoners of the details to which we do attend, and they block us from seeing the "big" picture. You know the old saying about not being able to see the forest for the trees.

We need both abilities (seeing details versus seeing the big picture), I suppose, but it is rare that one has both. I don't know if it is a personal strength, but I seem to have a preference for looking for the big picture, and that, of course, reminds me of a story.

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson went on a camping trip. After a good meal, a bottle of wine, and a smoke around the campfire, they lay down for the night and went to sleep. Some hours later, Holmes awoke and nudged his faithful friend.

"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."

"Sir," Watson replied, "I see millions and millions of stars."

"And what does that tell you?" pursued Holmes.

Watson pondered for a minute. "Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful and that we are small and insignificant. Meterologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Why? What does it tell you?"

Silent for a moment, Holmes finally replied, "It tells me that someone has stolen our tent!"

Holmes was able to see the obvious by looking beyond the details. There are voices today whose goal is to continuing to blind us with details. All too often in the past they were successful so I expect they will continue to try. It's like waving a flag at the bull, and enraged, we are diminished. There are only a few who encourage us to see the larger picture, the whole picture. We should listen to them - if for no other reason than for the sake of our children, but there is ample reason to do it for ourselves too.

Listen carefully to what isn't being said.

TGB  

{poetically plagiarized} 15: Nin

And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to Blossom.

Attributed to Anaïs Nin, 1949   

{this moment} 65

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past - sometimes a place with many moments - but somewhere along my life's Journey over which I wish to linger a bit and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

Italian Confession

The elderly Italian man went to his parish priest and asked if he would hear his confession. The priest assured him that he would, and the two took up the customary positions on either side of the divider.

"Well, Father," began the old man, "At the beginning of World War II a beautiful woman knocked on my door and asked me to hide her from the Germans. So I hid her in my attic, and they never found her."

"That's a wonderful thing," interjected the priest, "but it's certainly nothing you need to confess." "It's worse, Father," continued the elderly fellow, "I was weak and told her that she had to repay me for hiding her in the attic -- by providing me with sexual favors."

The priest contemplated this disclosure for a minute and then responded, "Well, it was a very difficult time, and you took a very large risk. You would have suffered terribly at their hands if the Germans had found you hiding her. I know that God, in his wisdom and mercy, will balance the good and the evil of your acts and will judge you kindly."

"Thanks, Father," said the old man. "That's a load off my mind. Can I ask another question?"

"Of course, my son," said the priest.

The old man asked, "Do I have to tell her that the war is over."

Author Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2012 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.
For the 2012 collection of images, click here.

Well, Blow Me Down

We got through Sandy with ease. In my area there were some trees or limbs down but not a lot of rain, although a few folks lost power for a hour or two. Not so elsewhere, and I began remembering my thoughts from a few years ago.                               Air Force Photo

That time it was about 5:00 AM when I heard my phone vibrate on the nightstand. Hmmm. This can't be good. After all, any celebs wanting to tell me I won a sweepstakes would just show up with camera in hand, and I'd already received the news that Obama actually was an American. Phew!

"SEVERE WEATHER ALERT: Tornado alert for Southern Oneida County until 5:30 AM."

Okay - not worried in the least. Far too unlikely. So I lay there in the semi-darkness of early morning - wide awake. As I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts ran to the "what if." Not enough to fret actually, but I considered that I could just be lying here in bed when the Finger of God reached down to poke my house. Hurricanes are no better -- you just know when they're coming.

I began to consider the outright terror some folks who live in tornado-prone areas feel -- doing just what I was doing - lying in bed in the dark wondering if tonight would be the one. It's hard not empathize with their situation -- especially when surveying the destruction we see on the nightly news. Those who choose or are chosen to "ride out" the hurricane know the same feeling.

We don't get weather that severe here, but we do get rain, just not this time. Holy buckets can we get rain! I live on a hill so I don't worry much about flooding. There is a culvert 3-4 feet deep on either side of my driveway, but I have driven through water running over my driveway to get to the street - which is sometimes littered with enough debris that I have to weave back and forth to get through because some stones are too large to drive over. Water is an amazing force.

I once managed to hit one with my tire which then started bulldozing it down the road. I had to stop, back up, and go around the rock. Bumpy ride all the way to the bottom of the hill. The rest of the way to work that day all I encountered was water running across roads -- seven times! Something's wrong when driving to work is an adventure.

I was reminded of a song -- Days of Rain -- by Rod MacDonald, a very talented American singer-songwriter and fraternity brother.

He sings "Thank God we're alive." I hope you remain safe when the weather is otherwise.

TGB   

Not the best quality. Sorry for that, but he's still good.

{essential truths} Crisco

If it's just a kiss you're after,

leave the leather straps and Crisco at home.