Let's face it: Dems need a new leader... and right now.

Last night was the moment Joe Biden lost the presidential election, mostly because he committed the cardinal sin of American politics: he simply came across as very old and tired and confused. 

Not that he often spoke gibberish. That appears to have little to do with what people want in a president (people may have somewhat highers standards for public servants in their own communities... though that might also be debated). 

Not that he couldn't instantly refute every outrageous lie that Trump uttered... and there were so many, delivered with not a shred of shame or self-reflection. No one really expects someone to have so many counterarguments ready to roll out at a moment's notice.

Not that he appeared to lack awareness that he was on TV, mouth agape and glassy eyed, often in a split-screen beside a fat old man who appeared to be enjoying the moment (particularly once he realized that the debate moderators really were not going to challenge him on basic facts).

In a nation that values style over substance and pictures/video over logic and facts, the CNN spectacle was devastating. 

My rational self says, "The man is effectively leading the nation right now in an increasingly chaotic world. He doesn't really need to prove that he can do the job. It is right there in front of us all."

But is that enough to get a majority of votes in the eight states that matter this November? 

To do the job you have to win the job.

I have read and heard some analogies like, "Time to take the keys from grandpa," and that seems apt. I remember my own grandfather refusing to stop driving his giant boat of a Plymouth all over Iowa City. He carried wads of cash with him to pay off anyone -- on the spot -- who he sideswiped or bumped. Outside mirrors were particularly vulnerable. 

What I don't remember was when, or even if, the keys were confiscated by my dad. Perhaps only the final stroke did the job.

Another analogy is that Democrats just need to "stay the course" and count on the innate wisdom of the American people to bring the election home. "Fight through the pain" might be the bumper sticker. 

But sometimes we need to listen to the pain, so to speak, and avoid injuring ourselves further. And is anyone really confident in the "innate wisdom of the American people" at this point in history? 

Next week we will celebrate Independence Day, and that would be the perfect occasion for Mr. Biden to stand at a press conference and announce that he is withdrawing from the race and releasing his delegates so the August DNC can choose a candidate to take on Trump and his shameless lies and bigotry. 

There would be confusion and shouting, but there would also be energy and focus... and the Democrats could immediately seize the narrative, contrasting a younger and smarter and more charismatic candidate (and that would be almost anyone on the current "farm team") with the old news of Trump and his cult of grievance. 

Yes, Trump might still win in the end, even with a different candidate, but it's a sucker's bet to continue with Joe Biden as his punching bag. 

It's time for action. Time to shake things up. Time to forcefully shed the weight of the past.

It felt like dawn broke a minute later than yesterday...

Yesterday was the Summer Solstice, the longest stretch of daylight of the year (in the northern hemisphere) and a day that both signifies the start of summer but also traditionally is a time to celebrate the life-giving nature of the sun.

The sun, of course, could not care less.

The hottest days of the year are still to come, ironically, despite the fact that daylight now diminishes just a bit each day until December. I only mention this because much of the United States is sweltering in record heat for this early in late spring/summer.

The science says that the heat grows due to the continued accumulation of the Sun's energy. It's a big planet and it takes some time to get all those molecules speeding up.

The day after the Summer Solstice has another symbol, at least for me. I am reminded that we are all on an inexorable path toward the cold and dark of winter. Around here we likely will still enjoy hot to mild conditions for another four months, but the "end" of summer looms.

You might wonder if I simply enjoy melancholy or am feeling depressed. Why not enjoy the warmth and the sun and the extended daylight? Can't we all just be happy?

You would be right to prefer focusing on "now" versus a somewhat vague (if inevitable) "then." But the Solstice comes fairly close to my July 12 birthday, when I will be turning 74. 

Today, that got me wondering about when my personal Solstice might have been. Life expectancy for a college-educated American white male is about 83 years, which puts me startlingly close to that looming number. Plenty of people live longer, of course, and I plan to be one of them.

I guess my personal Solstice would have been about age 42 or thereabouts (though if I live to 100, it would be 50). That was 1992 for me, and my less-than-reliable memory is that those "golden" years were quite good. I could spend some time reminiscing about them but "Glory days, they'll pass you by..." echoes in my head. And our time on earth can't be scientifically determined like a seasonal calendar.

Raw numbers have little relationship with happiness or satisfaction, of course. 

For instance, yesterday Kathleen and I were talking about how weird it is that we were able to buy a $25,000 CD without much discussion this week. For much of our younger married life, we didn't have that much money in the bank... of even close to that. Now we have enough to consider doing what REALLY rich people do: make money without doing, well, anything. 

That money is locked up for seven months (without penalties for early withdrawal). The only risk we have is that something unforeseen might arise that would demand the use of that money. That risk is quite small, even for a couple who are past their Summer Solstice. 

The Summer Solstice has a very different meaning for our grandsons in Seattle, who today are celebrating the last day of school (I know, going this late seems unspeakably cruel). 

For them, summer beckons and may never end. 

Time to whine about the end of a term... again?!

We are about four days the end of the four-week summer course I am teaching, and it's like we just began. The way the course is structured means that most of the 23 students of this online sprint will be earning A's. Grades seem to pile up on autopilot.

In fact, the students are doing exactly what they are asked to do while having too little time to research, to draft, and to publish... but they will be sharing their final report, an analysis of some controversial issue within their academic major (usually) by Sunday night.

For most of those students, this is their only current course and they have shown that when they can focus tightly on one course, they are smart and quite good at the academic world's requirements.

I have often mentioned in this blog that I did not invent the course (Strategic Writing and Communication) and have almost no input on either the content or the assignments. Rubrics come with each assignment. There are online quizzes tied to e-text readings that students can take multiple times. There are two multiple choice exams (a midterm and a final). 

The course is so brief that there isn't time to comment on a rough draft, though there was a proposal that each student created to sort of "map out" what they intended to do. That was my chance to influence content and approach.

Let's face it: this course mostly checks the box on having an "advanced writing" course among the CSU graduation requirements. My job is to not mess things up, I suppose, and no one in the department will spend a moment wondering about 90 percent plus of a class receiving A's. 

Tuition has been paid. I am being paid (though pitifully). Transcripts will be generated. 

I have tried to push students to write their report to someone not "Jack," with the idea that no one in their right mind researches and writes reports unless someone has hired them to do so (beyond college campuses). I have emphasized that from the first day of this course, based on my experiences with students writing for a "real audience." 

Journalism courses are great places to explore communicating with real audiences, of course. Most academic writing has a fixed primary reader of a teacher. One teacher. Journalistic writing often gets responses from a wide range of readers.  

I have long tried to convince high school and college writers that writing for the teacher is fine as far as checking boxes is concerned but that their future writing has to focus on what an overscheduled CEO or local owner or a harried manager or legislator might respond to.

I saw an article in the Denver Post about a program funded by the state legislature that teaches a small group of high school students how to create a piece of legislation, from clearly defining and researching the issue through drafts, and eventually to the proposed bills. 

The program is newish, but at least two bills, written by high school students and sponsored by individual legislators, were signed into law in the last two weeks. 

I know a tiny bit about writing laws, trying my hand at amending a state statute in order to include journalism teachers just doing their jobs from retribution by angry or embarrassed administrators and school boards. The total number of words added to the existing statute added up to about 110.

But each had to be analyzed and supported (in case someone challenged with questions). The good news is that the amendments passed without objection in both houses of the legislature (just before the pandemic).

The quickly (and often poorly) researched 12-page reports from my intrepid CSU students will not be going anywhere. But maybe they could be writing clear revisions, improving statutes that could make their lives... Colorado citizens' lives... a little better. 

Gov. Polis signed a new law yesterday that requires all secondary schools in the state to provide free menstrual products in buildings NLT 2028 (some rural districts requested time to find additional money, facilities, etc. -- sounds weak to me, but...). Most larger districts already provide those products, but it seems unfair to allow smaller districts to leave young women to their own devices.

I sat in a committee meeting in 2019 on an earlier version of the bill. The facts and the arguments were quite clear and no one spoke against the bill. It still took until 2024 for it to become law. Each word was parsed and stroked and judged... and there may be future amendments.

Now THAT is real world "strategic writing." 

I'm afraid universities are not where that happens.