Sports provide terrific narrative opportunities

I have long been puzzled by the tendency to label sports writing as a different animal, as something so specialized that only true fans would find it interesting. 

It is true that there is a high volume of sports writing that more closely resembles a report filled with clichés and sappy quotes. But when sports reporting goes beyond the stats and the endless quotes about a) giving 110 percent or b) thanking God for strength (as if the deity had money on the game), you often find that sports writing is not really about sports at all. 

Sports is just the excuse or vehicle that allows talented writers to delve into the human condition. 

It is not easy to "keep score" in our lives. After all, if we have a good day on Monday, who's to say that Tuesday will also go well? Most days sort of drift away, with no satisfying wrap up to events. On our best days, we look forward to what we might do TOMORROW to continue our story and advance our goals. We don't think of everyday life as a discrete contest.

But sporting events feature the four elements that all storytelling needs: setting, characters, conflict, and resolution.

The setting brings in not only location but all sorts of fans, traditions, and emotions. The characters are often teams, but teams feature varied personalities and roles, and everyone faces challenges. Conflict is essential, since we keep score. No conflict? No story. And then there is resolution.

Our lives rarely include clear resolutions. Our victories are illusory as are our defeats. Who won? How would anyone know?

But sports result in a final score. Many people find the very idea of a tie to be depressing and unfulfilling, though a number of sports offer that as a result. So we have overtime and sudden death. We crave resolution. Every NCAA tournament basketball game ends with a winner and a loser, but would most people honestly say that the final score captured the spirit, the joy, the agony of the game itself?

But even knowing there will be a final score doesn't quite capture the allure of great sports reporting. Here is a 13-minute video shown on 60 Minutes this past Sunday that I highly recommend as a way to think of sports reporting as much more than games and stats and scores.

This broadcast package focuses on a sports writer, but is itself a great sports story.

And, as usual, we are reminded that great sports stories are about anything BUT sports.

Frustration mounts when progress is slow

We can find crises all around us -- from gun violence to unaccompanied minors at the border to grinding poverty and homelessness, and that's just for starters -- and advocates who possess strong feelings and positions demand action NOW.

Many people feel overwhelmed by the sheer number and intensity of all those crises, to the point where the only way to deal with the stress and guilt is to downgrade them from crises to predicaments. Predicaments can be loosely defined as challenging situations that cannot be "solved," but can only be minimized or made less serious or painful.

The ultimate predicament, I suppose, is death, which all humans must inevitably face. It's tough to define death as a problem when there is no conceivable solution (though science fiction writers often give it a shot). Death is just something we must live with, so to speak.

Weather is a predicament. We talk about it all the time but no one seriously believes that weather can be controlled. On the other hand, we can find all sorts of ways to DEAL WITH weather, from dwellings to seawalls to dams, not to mention clothing and businesses that handle weather events (it's snowing, again, today, and there are a lot of people who make some money moving snow around).

Solving a predicament is doomed if we think of solutions as completely changing some situation, making everyone happy, and endless win-win-win scenarios. 

The trick appears to be a willingness to chip away at predicaments, isolating specific problems within the larger challenge. And problems CAN be solved.

Viruses are a predicament, as far as I can tell. We may effectively eliminate one or two with extensive effort and investment, but more viruses will appear. Making an appointment for being vaccinated against COVID-19 is a problem that can be solved. Viruses are a predicament.

To be able to separate predicaments from problems is an important quality for persuasive writers who are looking for a compelling call to action. 

I guess a possible universal call to action is "please act right." In many ways, all church sermons boil down to, "Do good and avoid evil." Many people have heard that sort of call to action, but they are back the next week hearing the same message and feeling a bit guilty about their failures to do good and avoid evil between services.

It turns out that being human is a predicament. 

NOTE: This is post #50 this semester on this blog, a reminder that there are finite games and infinite games. A finite game has a final score and a clear ending. Infinite games are more like running a business or writing a blog: they are about stamina and improving and adjustments.

If you have gone along on the ride, many thanks. I hope every so often something strikes you as helpful or challenging or provocative. However you feel, I will be back on the final day of March with another post.

Life is full of narrative opportunities

I came across quite the adventure story in Sunday's New York Times, and it was all true. The difference between this story and a short story? Everything in it was based on interviewing and asking for examples and anecdotes.

Here is the lead:

His Plane Crashed in the Amazon. Then Came the Hard Part.
A Brazilian pilot working for wildcat miners escaped death when his plane went down in a remote area. He walked through the jungle for 36 days before being rescued.

By Manuela Andreoni / The New York Times / March 28, 2021

RIO DE JANEIRO — The pilot was 3,000 feet over the Amazon, flying a small propeller plane on his maiden assignment for wildcat miners deep in the forest, when the lone engine cut out.

He took a deep breath and scanned the vast emerald green canopy below. He had about five minutes, he calculated, to bring down the plane and its highly flammable cargo: 160 gallons of diesel fuel.

He reported his imminent crash over a portable radio to whoever might be listening, noting that he was about halfway to his destination, a mine known as California.

Then, as his plane barreled down, Antônio Sena aimed for a small valley lined with palm trees.

“There!” he recalls thinking. “Palm trees mean there is water, perhaps a river.”

Since becoming a pilot nine years earlier, Mr. Sena had heard countless stories about fatal crashes. But while his plane scraped a few trees and then smashed into the ground, Mr. Sena realized something exhilarating as he rolled to a halt: He had survived.

Of course, simply surviving, as the subhead implies, is just the opening scene that puts our main character and the readers into the challenging situation. 

In so many situations, dropping readers into a key scene is a great way to pull them in. It's no different than most opening scenes we see on TV. You know. The ones that make us hang in there to see what happens after that first commercial. 

Some call this "writing cinematically." If you were writing a script, what would be that opening shot. What would the first dialog be?

Three's a charm

Today's close reading of a piece of writing comes is the lead, or first two paragraphs, from a March 25 Washington Post story, and leads readers into a photo essay.  You can find the entire post here.

"At the center of Kabul, a city of traditional bazaars and tattered shopping malls, horse-drawn carts and crumbling streets thronged with automobile traffic, lies a heavily fortified district that is a mystery to most Afghans.

"What was once a cluster of key offices and compounds has evolved into a 21^st-century fortress encircled by blast wall, checkpoints and security cameras, creating what for many is an impenetrable urban void known as the Green Zone."

First off, notice that each graf is one long complex sentence. Starting an essay or report this way requires a strong foundation in mechanics, and risks both losing readers along the way as well as losing control of your sentences.

But both of these sentences worked for me. In the opening sentence, the writers include a very long appositive after "Kabul," designed to provide readers likely unfamiliar with the Afghan city a quick description. It makes use of the always-dependable "rule of three," with three descriptors -- bazaars, carts, and streets. 

Three is usually a convincing number of support items for claims. One example could be random, and two could be coincidence. Three examples indicate a pattern for readers. Four is usually just one too many. Let's move along, the reader thinks.

So when in doubt, consider three examples or adjectives or anecdotes when you want to persuade readers.

The appositive is set off from the primary clause by commas. Using commas or dashes create parentheticals without the parentheses.

The second sentence also uses the rule of three, with the fortress being encircled by blast wall, checkpoints, and security cameras.

An element in rhetoric that could use more attention is that of rhythm. Readers prefer a bit of variety in sentence length, for instance. Incorporating the "rule of three" into more of your writing may help your personal rhythm. 

A bonus is that when you find yourself unable to come up with a third example or third descriptor, you might go back and reexamine your original claim. It may be be as strong as you originally thought.

When rules and rights collide

Elections are complex in our system, and we are in the midst of what promises to be an unsatisfying debate over who gets to vote, how people can vote, who is in charge, and much more.

The politics of this debate, at a glance, appear to pit one political party that desires more control over all these questions vs. a party that desires more access to voting. I know the "nuts and bolts" questions get into all sorts of interesting options and disagreements, but there we are.

At the macro level, the party supporting MORE voting appears to be on the firmer ground, ethically and morally, if not legally.

Look at it this way: Imagine a new nation just beginning its journey with democracy and voting rules. Would that nation start with a premise that only a percentage of the population would be allowed to vote? Wouldn't systems be instituted that would support finding ways for as many people to vote as possible? After all, going the other direction would indicate a lack of confidence in the overall population of the country.

Of course, that less confident approach is precisely the sort of system the United States was based upon, and that starting point has meant that the percentage of people living in the country has slowly and fitfully grown.

I readily acknowledge that one of my basic views on humanity reflects a famous line from Seinfeld: "People. They're the worst." 

But if we live in a nation that has as an overriding precept the importance of the voices of the people in choosing how to solve issues, support neighbors, and provide for the common defense and so much more, then our default has to be that we respect the majority's views through the ballot box.

The majority is not always right or moral but near universal voting would at least better reflect a nation's opinions. And it seems most fair to define the majority as being based on the entire population of voting age.

If that become our guiding principle, the point of politics would be to advance better arguments and better leadership. The current political party that seems most worried about near universal voting seems to mostly be worried that they are having trouble appealing to the majority of American citizens.

So who needs to change gears?

Recreating scenes requires sophisticated rhetorical choices

One of the reasons I decided to try this little blogging experiment was to share random ideas and samples of fine writing with students at Metropolitan State University of Denver. The sheer volume of writing we encounter each day can be overwhelming and it can help a busy student to have someone curate some of that deluge.

Here's a short passage from a sports column written by the Denver Post's Mark Kizla about Monday night's NCAA tournament game between Colorado and Florida State (which the Buffs lost):

"The state fairgrounds are firmly planted on the old northside of Indianapolis, and the yellow brick barn where the Buffs took the court for a Round of 32 game against Florida State feels as rooted in the Midwest as a John Mellencamp song. This gym is curmudgeonly and a little musty, but alive with the rich scents of history in every nook and cranny. Mel Daniels and the Pacers won ABA championships in this place. Way back in 1964, Paul McCartney and the Beatles made young fans twist and shout for joy until the walls shook.

"But in the first half, discombobulated CU players caused Boyle to roll eyes in disbelief and wonder where the magic of the team’s rousing victory against Georgetown two days earlier had gone. In a building that opened back in 1939 for local farmers to show cattle, the Buffs really stepped in it."

There are so many elements of this passage that deserve comment. Let's start with diction, one of the basic choices for any writer. The "yellow brick barn" is not only quite visual but contains a possibly inadvertent reference to the "yellow brick road" to the Final Four. There are few accidents in writing but this one might just result from the writer's familiarity with the Wizard of Oz. 

"Curmudgeonly" is a striking choice, and an example of anthropomorphism, which applies human traits to, for instance, a building. The dictionary definition is "bad-tempered or negative," which might refer to both the age of the fieldhouse and the difficulty of winning.

That anthropomorphism continues when Kizla writes about the "rich scents of history," though we know that history does not emit odors. Yet we also know that smell is the sense that produces the most vivid memories. If you think of how your grandparents' home smelled when you first walked in, you know what I mean.

There is a basic writing rule that it is more powerful to place the key word or phrase at the END of a sentence. In rhetoric, we would call that a choice that has to do with syntax. That last sentence of the passage is a nice illustration. The team really "stepped in it," and that is a clear image for us, though no specific mention of cow excrement is included. Of course, that metaphor of "stepping in it" is quite well-known, which Kizla taps into.

I also admired the perhaps accidental connection between "the rich scents of history" and what the team stepped in. 

Similes can be quite effective when your readers are familiar with your reference. There is a simile about a John Mellencamp song in the passage. That is a rich reference for a guy my age, but might be lost on young people who don't have that singer's music in their personal iTunes list. 

There are many more rhetorical elements we might analyze, even in these two short paragraphs, but my general point is that we as writers need to immerse ourselves in lots of great writing to eventually be able make our own prose more compelling, descriptive, and satisfying.

As I keep repeating: analyzing HOW the diction, syntax, figures of speech and tone choices were cobbled together can lead to better writing.

Killers in our midst

Because this is America, the massacre in Boulder yesterday will bring out not only a chorus of "thoughts and prayers" but also unsupported arguments either advocating for everyone to be armed or no one to be armed... and within a few weeks the news will take us to another community and another mass shooting.

I knew that the shooter was a male -- really, it always is -- and was anything but shocked that some wack job in body armor and carrying an AR-15 could brazenly park his RAV4 and blaze away at a bunch of innocent strangers. 

Colorado does not have any state laws banning "open carry" of weapons, though the related news will have to be about the court decision a week ago calling the city of Boulder's local ban on automatic weapons unconstitutional.

The killer waited six days, though I know logic says that one thing had little or nothing to do with the other. 

A common refrain is, "This is not America. This is not who we are." 

To do better, we as a nation need to get over this myth. America is most definitely a place where mass shooting happen routinely. We have lots of damaged people and lots of working firearms, and we refuse to acknowledge basic cause and effect, or at lest the clear indication that both those factors come together, day after day, and year after year.

And now, back to March Madness.

 

The best sports stories go beyond winners and losers

"Excuses are for wusses."

That's the in-your-face statement Iowa wrestler Spencer Lee made to TV cameras following his revealing that he had just won the national championship with a torn ACL. I assume there will be t-shirts inscribed with those proud words, and the video clip has gone far beyond the small band of devoted wrestling fans across the nation.

Of course, those sorts of statements are easier to say when you have just overcome the sort of injury and pain that would leave most of us hospitalized. The guy appears to have an iron will to match his wrestling prowess.

Those four words have a John Wayne ring to them, extolling rugged individualism (which lies at the heart of the wrestling mindset) and the "no excuses" persona that most people admire.

There really are excuses for the times we encounter challenges or failure, and some are clearly more compelling than others. But many of our favorite stories involve someone overcoming obstacles and refusing to fall back on even the best excuses.

This sort of rising above reasonable expectations happens all the time in sports, which is one reason we find sports so compelling. If the story we want to tell is about a blessed athlete who has never encountered injury or losing or pain... well, that's not much of a story.

Remember what we had to memorize sometime in school: stories include setting, characters, challenge/obstacle, and resolution. 

We are currently in the midst of spring sports "madness" and one reason we might be riveted to our screens to watch one basketball game after another is the surety that one team will win and one will lose, and that sheer talent and ability may not be enough. 

Most of our lives are not like sporting events, with a clear winner and loser in the end. Sports are like heightened life. I'm not really a wrestling fan, despite my ties to Iowa, but it's tough not to admire a fellow human being who simply refused to be stopped or beaten.

Public writing means your audience may be everyone

This may not be biggest deal in the overall scheme of things, but yet another young person (I know, young is relative) has been forced to leave a job due to past tweets.

Alexi McCammond was one week away from taking over as editor of Teen Vogue but resigned because various controversies from offensive tweets and videos just would not go away. We can debate just how much a 17-year-old should be made to pay for being dumb or simply being ignorant, but staffers at Teen Vogue pointed out that their magazine is based on elevating the ideas and knowledge of the young and that ignoring old tweets would be hypocritical.

Two thoughts: Ms. McCammond will find a new gig and she is clearly talented. I hope she will be OK, though chastened by her exposure of being insensitive some years ago. She is more enlightened now -- as is her boyfriend, who was in the news when he had to resign as a White House staffer due to sexist threats against a woman. 

That couple must be having some interesting conversations over dinner.

My second thought is that we all need to more fully comprehend that what is shouted into the cesspool of the Internet (of course, THIS blog is an exception) never goes away. There are companies that collect EVERYTHING, just in case, so simply deleting something stupid from your junior year of high school isn't going to save you.

Schools don't pay much attention to ethics -- they are more comfortable with clear rules and pressuring kids to conform to sometimes nutty standards -- but they SHOULD do more with ethics. Schools are pretty good at highlighting the perils of illegal actions, but most of the issues we see today are ethical, not legal.

Ms. McCammond did not violate any laws. She made mistakes, as kids often do.

My advice to people is to let their more passionate tweets sit for awhile before posting. Then, when in doubt, use the most powerful editing tool we possess: hit the DELETE key.

A timely reminder that loud, shrill voices are usually wrong... about everything

A new addition to my morning reading routine is the New York Times Morning Briefing. I subscribe to the Kindle edition of the Times, so all I needed to do was supply my email to receive this weekday newsletter. I'm not sure why I didn't do this some time ago.

I was reminded today of how reality often can be found somewhere between extreme positions. The lead article in the Morning Briefing highlighted the fact that Republicans tend to underestimate how dangerous Covid is while Democrats often overestimate the danger.

For instance, the actual percentage of Covid sufferers who are hospitalized is about one percent, but 41 percent of Democrats thought the percentage was 50 percent or higher, according to a New York Times poll.

On the other hand, one third of Republicans thought that the seasonal flu and car crashes killed more Americans than Covid. The truth is that Covid has killed about 15 time MORE people this past year than either flu or auto crashes.

There were more examples of being ill-informed on both sides, but the some effects of all this "fog" are that Republicans are more reluctant to wear masks or even be vaccinated, while Democratic states have the highest numbers of remote learning students (despite the American Academy of Pediatrics favoring reopening schools ASAP). 

The good news is that both sides are willing to moderate their views when they see the actual data.

The bad news is that Americans don't already know the truth.

It occurs to me that most of us intuitively understand that the truth about some trend or problem or challenge or triumph is rarely found in the extremes. But I also know that notoriety is found in those extremes, and social media and cable TV love those controversies.

A thought experiment: What if social media and cable news were shut down for a week? For a month? What if people were forced to rely on their own observations and relationships with family and neighbors? 

I suspect that the good would far outweigh the bad. 

Take a second look before posting

Today's edition of "everyone needs a copyeditor" features this large headline in the Denver Post: "Voodoo Doughnut coming to Denver International Airport in 2020."

I know. We can all make the quick correction to 2021 in our heads, and we can all sympathize with writers everywhere who make an error or miss a typo. 

These errors happen in headlines more often that you would imagine. My theory is that the people creating pages have a default that larger type MUST be right. Sort of a "can't see the forest for the trees" situation.

Many errors are due to the disconnect between how fast we can think and how fast we can type. Most researchers have found that, although strictly speaking we don't seem to think in "words," our average speed of thought comes out to about 400 words per minute. 

That is so great for conversations, where we can devote one portion of our 400 words to listening and another portion to analysis and even formulating a response or a follow up question. Of course, even in a conversation we can foul things up, missing a key point or word as we prepare for our clever riposte.

Really fast typists can hit 100 words per minute, but they are rare, and most people tend to compose at the keyboard. I have no solid research on this but I would guess that most of us TYPE about 20-30 words per minute.

That leaves a LOT of potential activity in our brains and we hate to waste all that capacity, so our minds continue working even as our fingers are clacking away on the keyboard. Is it any wonder that we sometimes glance at the screen and wonder how that particular combination of letters, words and phrases actually showed up there?

"Hey! Give me a break. I was THINKING."

On a related note, did you know that reading speed appears to SLOW with more education? It seems crazy, but a high school sophomore usually reads faster than a college student, and graduate students read slower than undergrads. The theory is that this is due to a person with more education bringing more to the experience of reading, connecting with other books or articles, looking for deeper meaning, etc. This doesn't mean those with less education are not as smart, but that the more context we bring to our reading the more likely we are to slow down.

You can imagine how this all conspires to make it MORE likely that the faster you are thinking and the more you are bringing to the process pf writing, which involves typing or handwriting, the more likely mistakes are.

At least in first drafts.

One of my favorite writing teachers would say, "Lower the bar on your first draft." Then he followed with "All writing is rewriting."

Get something on the screen so you can work with some ideas and some specific language.

But anyone who settles for posting that first draft is gambling with their credibility, and the odds are not good.

Every time a reader sees an obvious mistake like the one in the Post headline, the credibility of the publication drops a bit. After all, how many other errors are in the smaller type?

The difference between timid and wise can be quite small

I have finally gotten around to reading Adams, a biography of John Adams that won the Pulitzer Prize some years ago. The bulk of the narrative takes place in the 1700s, but I am continually surprised to find clear parallels with life in 2021.

The most dangerous and widespread virus of that time was smallpox, which after killing millions over hundreds of years, has basically been eradicated. I read that the last person to die of smallpox was a woman in 1978.

The world eliminated this terrible disease (30 percent died) though the very first vaccines, but until nearly 1800 the best available tactic was to purposely give people a bit of the pus (yuck!) from a person with smallpox by putting it in healthy people's arms (usually through a small incision). Most of the time (but not even close to all the time), the inoculated person would get sick but with a mild, non-lethal case of smallpox. There would be residual scars (from the pus modules) but within a few weeks or months they would be safe from reinfection. 

More soldiers died of smallpox than actual combat in the American Revolutionary War.

Science depends on experiments and building on prior knowledge and eliminating confusion about "cause and effect." After all, lots of problems can occur when we pursue a course of treatment that is not REALLY the cause of recovery, in the case of diseases. 

I read today that many nations in Europe have suspended the use of the Astrazeneca Covid vaccine because an incredibly small percentage of those who have received that shot developed some blood clotting issues. It is unlikely that there is a clear cause and effect between the vaccine and the clotting problem, but scientists and health officials always err on the side of caution.

Ironically, that very caution can cause the virus to spread and mutate. But the alternative is "full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes." To choose that course would be quite macho -- and that appeals to many proud American males -- but the costs in lives and suffering might be immense.

I often think of how much of life is bound up in people discovering "cause and effect" and thus making rational best choices. The bigger our challenges, the more complicated we find cause and effect relationships to be. 

And that's why progress is relatively slow. 

When the guest arrives late

Here's how spoiled we are (as Coloradans and Americans): when the big storm did not arrive by noon Saturday, people took to social media to taunt and insult meteorologists (mostly from TV stations).

I had the feeling, listening to the weather folks' comments on Saturday, that they felt like they were being deluged with criticism and name-calling. I don't feel too bad for the weather people -- they don't HAVE to read Twitter, it turns out -- but our default of looking for someone to blame for just about everything is disheartening.

By Sunday at noon, however, those same people were calling "Uncle" and wishing the blizzard would leave them alone.

Maybe it is really a positive sign that so many people have that much faith in science and actually expect the weather models to be quite accurate, from amount of snow to exact timing. 

I was thinking that there are times when Nature smacks us in the head with reality, whether it is the nearly two feet of snow at my house or being hit with a debilitating virus -- not me, but I read that nearly half of white Republican males plan to avoid vaccination -- or remembering just how heavy frozen water can be (at least for an old-timer trying to shovel out the front steps).

Longing for a recipe for success

This weekend marks the midpoint of the spring semester for both my college online courses. That's a good time for students to do some thinking about how they have been doing (and promising that THIS time they will not blow off any more assignments). 

It's also a good time for the teacher to think about how things are going, and to make adjustments, if needed. I have often wished there were some magic resources I could share with students that would inspire them and provide insights that could push them to that next level. 

There are almost limitless resources, but it turns out that wishing for a "magic recipe" that can produce consistently good writing is pointless. After all, if there really were a recipe that we could all follow, then wouldn't we just DO THAT? 

But on this Friday, awaiting Snowmageddon, my midterm analysis comes down to a fairly simple statement, and one that I have been thinking about for many years: Show, don't tell.

I know these three words have become a cliché, but a cliché persists due to some basic truth it contains. Over the years I have found all sorts of more sophisticated strategies and tactics for writers, but the simplicity of the "show, don't tell" directive just becomes more appealing each year.

Here's a small portion of one recent essay written as a reaction to a short video by Simon Sinek that discusses Millennials and how the workplace needs to adjust to that generation's unique views:

I personally see some Millennials as "entitled, lazy, self-interested, and unfocused." This generation lacks leadership and accountability.

That's it. After that provocative claim, which promises personal observations that support those four adjectives -- quoting the video -- and ends with the sort of thesis that might lead to entire books... nothing.  The writer, who clearly has a lot of supporting data in mind and who has a decent command of language, chose to simply move on to another part of the analysis.

I have been repeating, "No claims without support," for eight weeks now, and I suspect that few college students have not heard those words or something related many times in their previous education. Yet this young writer felt comfortable with those two sentences making the point. This writer is hardly alone.

So why do so few writers (of any age) supply the all-important supporting details, statistics, anecdotes, and research to make their excellent claims persuasive?

One possibility is that most people hate writing so much that they just can't wait to finish, post, and forget the whole sorry business. "How many words do you want?" is the most common question I get from students about assignments. 

Another possibility is that the tools that successful writers take for granted, such as routinely adding a phrase like "for example" after a claim, have not yet been added to their "writer's toolbox." It seems likely that past teachers, from whatever subjects, have approved earlier writing by students that settles for claims and demands no expansion or explanation.

Since I have been observing this tendency to proudly share bold claims without evidence over nearly 45 years, maybe I should just get over it. 

But, as the old saying goes, "Lost causes are the only ones worth fighting for." 

"I personallyI personally see some millennials as “entitled, lazy, self interested and unfocused”. This generation lacks leadership and accountability. P

I personally see some millennials as “entitled, lazy, self interested and unfocused”. This generation lacks leadership and accountability.

I personally see some millennials as “entitled, lazy, self interested and unfocused”. This generation lacks leadership and accountability.

Hoping for something a bit different, even feet of snow

I find myself actually hoping for a big snowstorm this weekend, at least two feet. That seems nuts on first glance. Who really wants an entire portion of Colorado to shut down, even for one weekend?

But the past year of various lock-down levels has robbed most of us of life's little dramas, of news that binds us together -- even the most ardent Q cult member has to acknowledge the reality of lots of snow. 

Colorado also gets enough sunshine that a big March snow is likely to be gone within a few days, though there will be some stubborn piles of snow created as we clear walks and drives that will linger for weeks.

Vaccine distribution will be delayed, but so will most spreader events. 

If you need to venture out to a bar or restaurant during a blizzard, you are REALLY feeling cooped up (or thirsty). 

Sometimes Nature takes care of the bad options humans often choose. We can get back to poor choices next week.

Not that I'm cynical about people, but one of my favorite Seinfeld quotes is, "People. They're the worst."

Let's not get ahead of ourselves

It's just so American to jump the gun... on almost everything. 

We want everything to be normal RIGHT NOW. We want that movie download to arrive within one minute (or less) to our iPads. We want to know how many feet of snow will fall this weekend while the storm is still off the coast of California.

I estimate that nearly half the newspaper stories I read in opinion pages consist of "OMG... this bad thing MIGHT happen if certain things occur." What if AI takes over accounting jobs? What if a mutation of the virus causes the infected to grow and extra finger? What happens AFTER the next couple years, when the soon-to-be signed federal rescue money is not longer propping things up? What happens if 30 percent of Americans refuse vaccinations, though it won't be until summer that we will be in a position to do much counting?

You get the idea. We want our news yesterday and we want some reassurance that the near and far future are going to be OK. 

I, on the other hand, quickly skip over those stories. How much does it help me, or anyone, to spend time wondering if things will change around Buckingham Palace after the big Oprah interview gets pushed aside a bit? 

I was thinking about the looming snow coming to the Front Range this weekend and how people often try to outwit nature. For me, I had no travel plans and wasn't going in search of fresh powder, so being stuck inside while feet of snow pile up around me is not all that different from what's been going on for the past year.

I'll be mostly in the house, working on my classes and various small projects, taking breaks to look at other screens to watch movies and Netflix and Prime and even network shows on the DVR. 

Pandemic effects will ripple through our future

Just this morning I found out that two young and talented English and journalism teachers are leaving the profession when the current school year ends. I know one of their stories, and she was clear that being forced to teach in-person all school year (at a school near the ski resorts) had put her in a difficult position concerning her own health and the health of her father, who has cancer.

I don't know the particulars of the other teacher but assume that leaving mid-career was a tough call for her.

I also know that most teachers are "hitting their stride" after teaching 8-10 years, as both these teachers are, and that the loss of such expertise and experience is nearly impossible for a school to overcome, at least in the next few years.

Both of these teachers have worked hard over at least the past 6-8 years to develop strong media programs at their schools along with strong bonds with students and the community. They will be missed.

Here is something I do NOT know, but strongly suspect: a large number of experienced teachers are likely having the same sort of thoughts as these two who have made their official decisions. And teachers who are in the last few years before they can max out their pension benefits (usually with 30 years of total experience) might be doing some calculations as to whether 100 percent of possible benefits or 90 percent (or less) is enough to provide a solid retirement.

Something else I suspect: if you happen to be a person just finishing up a college degree and considering public school teaching as your first career, the next year or two may provide a LOT of options and (maybe?) a bit better compensation. 

For every business that suffered during the pandemic there are businesses that grew or found new products and services to offer, but the overall movement has likely been to larger, better-connected businesses and away from smaller businesses (see Amazon, for instance).

Larger, better-funded school districts will offer some tempting opportunities for teachers in smaller, rural districts. Rural school districts are often like the minor leagues for teachers (not that there aren't plenty of educators who prefer that environment and who would never leave).

This is the time of year teachers have always announced retirements and made decisions about alternative futures, so I shouldn't exaggerate the effects of the pandemic just yet.

But who can doubt that changes are likely accelerating in all areas of life -- education, business, entertainment, and more?

I wish I loved liberty as much as native-born Coloradans

The latest column by George Brauchler in the Denver Post reinforced the lack of intellectual honesty  that surrounds most political "talk" today.

Here's a couple lines that capture the essence of the argument of this former district attorney and one-time Republican candidate for his party's nomination for governor: "Coloradans should not be reduced to panhandling for liberties. They are ours by birthright and we want them back."

A couple thoughts: Are Coloradans that unusual among American citizens in desiring liberty? After all, only about half of all Coloradans (as of last July) were actually born in the state. Logic would suggest that about 2.8 million Coloradans must have brought their backgrounds with them from elsewhere.

I am among the latter group of "non-natives." 

A second thought: Brauchler was demanding that all pandemic restrictions imposed by the governor be lifted immediately, just as Texas will do in two days. His assumption is that the pandemic is winding down (it probably is, by the way) and that people should be trusted to "do the right thing" without governmental orders (does anyone think that is a serious view?).

In a perfect world, I suppose his logic should apply. We should all be glad to do the right thing without any external push.

But the news around here is full of video and other reporting from the student riot in Boulder this past Saturday evening, with 800 or so of our "best and brightest" overturning and damaging vehicles, throwing rocks at cops, trashing a neighborhood... all without masks and with everyone jammed together in a sort of COVID mash pit. 

It's easy to shout "Freedom!" in this country. After all, "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" is in our DNA. 

What's hard is taking rational precautions to protect our neighbors -- even non-natives -- from a nasty virus that science still does not completely understand.

I would guess that there must be some rational middle ground that Brauchler supports, but he has appointed himself as a spokesman for the Republican party and compromise is not in vogue. 

A season that sprinted and challenged

Saturday is the final day of the JV basketball season for Arapahoe HS girls basketball. The season ended up two months long, which is about half the normal season length. 

I was disappointed to not be able to attend any games -- the perfect outing for us when Arapahoe is only three miles up University and we can be home by 6:30 -- but delighted that one parent with an iPad and a tripod was allowed to sit in the stands and livestream the games.

I often wished he would add some color commentary to the visuals, but he rarely broke his ghostly silence. I did appreciate a few moans and "get her off the back!" (one of my personal favorite referee criticisms) that made it to YouTube.

Unlike college players and most states, Colorado athletes wear masks to practice and play, and that just can't be very comfortable. I admire all the athletes who sacrificed a bit of freedom to simply play games, even in empty gyms. Well, two parents could attend but none of their friends or teachers or even grandparents could cheer them on.

The players will likely never know how much their efforts were appreciated. Kathleen and I are glad that Grace, our Arapahoe sophomore granddaughter, should have two full years of 95 percent "normal" high school in her future.

Just like those athletes who found a way to play a high-energy sport wearing masks, students will find ways to make whatever "new normal" is in their future work. I could get into the woods about testing and learning and whether kids are "falling behind" in the race to become adult citizens, but let's save that for another time.

I simply know that I will miss those two games a week on TV. 

Hoping to engage in important arguments -- no such luck

Yesterday I put on a suit and tie (for the first time in a year) and ventured up to the state capitol to testify in support of HB21-1103, which will provide resources for K-12 educators and add media literacy skills to Colorado state standards.

The bill is not really controversial, though all three of the Republicans on the committee of nine ended up voting against it. 

They did not make any arguments about media literacy itself -- in fact, they seemed in favor of it, and how could they not? -- but they clearly have bought into a narrative of teachers (controlled by teacher unions) being liberals and distorting children's minds. 

One representative stated that his discomfort with fact that the compiled resources that the bill references did not include input from any farmers (!). He claimed to value common sense and salt of the earth reactions. The bill's sponsor pointed out several times that the study committee completed its work late in 2019 and that she wasn't sure what the guy's objections really were (other than time-traveling).

The rep had no response when asked if he favored "people off the street" to consult on a patient's medical condition. After all, shouldn't everyone have a chance to chime in?

But logical arguments are on the table much, at least from one group of politicians. In Colorado, Republicans have so little power that the only tactic they have to even be heard is to drag things on while trying to create fears among as many people as possible. 

Hey, it worked for Trump.

We did get to hear a passing reference to cancelling Dr. Seuss, which will clearly be a reference we will hear from Republicans for months. Again, there was no true argument, since anyone seeing the offending pages from just a few books would recognize the racist images and language. Heck, even Seuss recognized that.

A foundation controls the 45 books Seuss wrote and illustrated himself. The remaining 39 will continue to be available. 

The Republic will stand.

Keeping score with money is tricky

My first regular paid job was as an Airman when I enlisted in the U.S. Air Force in 1971. There is a long, twisted tale about how that came to happen, but my point today is that I was paid $100 per month. Uniforms, housing in a dorm, and food were paid for by Uncle Sam, of course.

I'll just mention that again: $100 per month.

Imagine the joy I felt when my pay was TRIPLED in January of 1972, part of a large military pay bill signed by Richard Nixon. He briefly became my favorite president when I heard the news. Things were about to go very badly for the guy, that's for sure.

I suddenly was raking in $300 per month (plus $100 per month for my wife as her dependent allowance). 

In April of 1973, when Kathleen gave birth to Lesley in the RAF Lakenheath base hospital, the total bill for the delivery was under $8 (for food, I think).

This lengthy preface is to my observation this morning about the controversies about exactly how much annual income a person or couple could have and receive the full $1,400 emergency checks ($2,800 for couples). 

And my first thought was that our ideas about the economy and about who "deserves" what, and how much have changed quite a bit just within my lifetime. Part of that is due to something most people under age 25 don't know much about: inflation. For reasons that no one is able to fully explain, inflation has napped for the past few years, and the Fed doesn't expect that to change even with nearly $2 trillion about to be "printed" by the government.

Here's something else I can't really explain: No matter how how money my wife and I have earned over nearly 50 years of marriage, it was always enough. 

Except that one day in December of 1971 when I drove to Gatwick Airport south of London to pick up my wife who was flying in to join me in England. I arrived with only a few pence in my pocket. Not even enough to pay to exit the car park at the airport. 

Kathleen tells me the story of my first words when she stepped into the hall of Gatwick: "Do you have any money at all?"

She did, as the government had mailed her a couple dependent checks while she was still in Iowa. So we were able to pay the parking fee and drive to our temporary home in Newmarket, in a building that was about to be condemned. 

I guess I have always been a romantic.

Country over profits can serve us well

I am so tired of always having the pandemic on my mind and constantly modifying or eliminating "normal" behavior to not only stay safe and healthy, but also to demonstrate solidarity with the larger community.

But people should approach life differently during a war, so I persist.

The language of war has been used somewhat loosely when government officials discuss programs and policies to combat the virus, but the "war effort" does not seem to be uniting people against a common threat. In fact, millions and millions of Americans are finding they can't even agree on the enemy.

But today I saw this story about Merck and Johnson & Johnson agreeing to work together to up the amount of the newly approved J&J one-shot vaccine. Merck's own vaccine ideas didn't work out, but the company has lots of production capacity and pausing the competitive nature of pharmaceutical companies makes perfect sense.

In a real war effort (like WWII), there would be no competition between, say, tank manufacturing companies. The competition would have been with the enemy and in blasting past previous limits on how many tanks or planes or guns or tires could be churned out each day.

The 1940s were not some paradise, now lost, and people treated one another at least as poorly as they do today. But that concept of suspending rivalries and striving for riches that allowed Fortress America to be created almost overnight is what is missing from our current "war."

A guy can dream, can't he?

If you have been paying attention to the constant updates on the pandemic, how vaccinations and hospitalizations and deaths and everything that stems from the plague are going, you could be forgiven for feeling a bit anxious.

All the bad indicators are dropping and there are some guesses that the entire adult population of the U.S could be vaccinated by mid-summer. 

Shouldn't that produce joy and unbridled GOOD news?

Nah. Health experts are reluctant to be unreservedly optimistic about any health information. After all, doctors and other health professionals are eventually going to lose EVERY patient -- and they can't save themselves, to boot. So we get a lot of warnings and caveats and hedging. Things COULD be great, but we can't let our guard down. You look healthy but don't get too cocky. 

I, on the other hand, am just one guy, concerned with a very small corner of the world, and I prefer to think that this summer is going to be great. 

Yes, I will be happy (?) to keep wearing a mask and distancing and generally not putting those around me in danger. I myself have had my shots and even at age 70 don't worry about personal safety. I do wonder how I will react sometime down the road to simply getting a stomach bug or a cold. Will I freak?

But until then, I don't see the down side of planning for some fun, social activities this summer. If everything goes south, so to speak, I have plenty of experience in staying home.