02
Oct 25
Oct 25
A specific elegance
Here’s the view from the campus office, where we live next-to-corner-office wishes and sixth floor dreams. Also, I share this office with my lovely bride, though we are seldom there at the same time. Offsetting office hours make that happen this semester.
Anyway, just look at those clouds. There’s a certain elegance in the clouds when they thin and march out like that. I wonder if that’s how earlier artists were inspired to take on the challenge of forced perspective.
The office has lights, but I do not know if they work. Plenty of natural light comes through that window, and I’ve never tried turning them on.
The office has the four travel posters that commemorate our honeymoon. And there are a few other framed things on the wall. I should add some of my own. And there’s a bookshelf, but I should add some books that are currently sitting in the basement, looking awesome. We have a rug we need to bring in.
I have also been collecting vintage local sports pennants. I’d all but completed the set when countries started shipping things to the U.S. The baseball pennant I bought two months ago from someone in Canada is somewhere stuck in that morass, so I’m getting a refund. But I need a new vintage baseball pennant, so back to E-bay, I guess. Then we can get a giant frame and hang that on an office wall.
In my mind, this will look really classy and cool.
The first problem is that there’s a lot of cool stuff I could put on a wall. The second problem is the nails. Or, more precisely, the nail holes. It feels very permanent, and I don’t mean in the photo that’s been on your grandparents’ wall your whole life sense of permanence. This is silly, there are several high quality putties and sealants and a fresh coat of paint goes a long way, but puncturing drywall is a real commitment.
This also explains all of the things not hanging on walls here at home, where I could also put up some other cool stuff.
In Criticism today we watched the new documentary on British Olympian Tom Daley.
It left something to be desired, from a critical perspective, but Daley was an executive producer, and I’m sure that figures into it. He’s going to tell his story his way — and why not? With that in mind, much of it felt a lot like a sort of oral history he was recording for his children.
It’s also an unconventional documentary in some respects. He’s watching footage of himself on a big screen, footage from throughout his life, because there have always been video cameras. And he was such an incredibly high profile athlete throughout his diving career, there were always broadcast cameras, too. Plus, I’m a big believer in the need of time and space away from the subject of a documentary. Maturing, evolving, crystallizing perspectives and all of that. This doc ends with his Paris Olympics. (And it felt rushed at the end.)
It got a mixed response from the class, now I’ve just got to get them to explain aloud why. But criticism is a learned process, and we’ve got some time yet to go this term.
In org comm my god-brother-in-law came to talk about his work. He’s a professional mountain biker, a filmmaker, a storyteller. Brice is also pretty great at all of those things. So he talked about niche storytelling. He was great at that, too. Here’s one of his films.
What was gratifying to me was to see how so many of the students were engaged in what he was saying, even though he is in a niche field, and this was not their niche. Well, most of them. One guy in the room, turns out, rides a bit, and they got nerdy with the vocabulary in a hurry, which was amusing to watch. There were suddenly industry specific terms flying all over the place and everyone else in the room came to realize they had no chance of catching up, or even catching on. It’s a niche kind of storytelling.
And look, I ride bikes. I tell stories. I do niche things. I teach this class. I was taking notes on what Brice was telling us.
I have some more things to grade, but if I did that tonight, what would I do tomorrow? Plenty of other things, of course. So I’ll just grade (tomorrow) instead.
See how I do that? There’s a certain elegance to it.
01
Oct 25
Oct 25
Welcome to Catober
Welcome to Catober, where, every day, we share a photo of one of the kitties. It’s a big hit and we all look forward to it every year.
Tomorrow we’ll have a photo of Phoebe, Friday, a picture of Poseidon, then another of Phoebe on Saturday, and so on. You’ll want to come back every day to see the cuteness and/or hijinx. You might also like this category to catch up.
We went to a local diner for breakfast this morning. We took my in-laws, and there we met my god-parents-in-law (just go with it). This was planned. They were all down to see their granddaughter, and granddaughter-in-law, play field hockey last night. But they each had to head back to their respective hometowns today. It was a brief trip extended by a leisurely breakfast.
My father-in-law and godfather-in-law met when they were five and six years old. My mother-in-law and godmother-in-law met in nursing school. My godparents-in-law met one another at my in-laws’ wedding. And so for these many years they’ve been tight. And each is godparents to the others’ kids. Hence all the go with its.
Across from my seat was this photograph.
It was taken in 1922, on the occasion of the first air shipment of produce in the U.S. It was asparagus.
The first commercial flight was in Florida in 1914. I’m a little surprised that it took eight years before anyone thought they should throw some veggies on a plane. I’m disappointed the first choice was asparagus. Kids across the country were too, imagine, this new technology, and that’s what we’re using it for? Asparagus?
And I’m writing about asparagus because that’s better than discussing how I spent a full day grading. I needed to do it. I was oddly looking forward to doing it. I did it.
This evening we went for a bike ride. One of our neighbors went with us. Here I am trying to chase down two All-Americans.
I was not an All-American, so this was difficult. Our friend was a swimmer and a legitimate, I mean legitimate track star. She’s got all the cardio you want, and now she’s just taking up tris and bikes, as you do. And that she’s just getting started is probably the only reason that this happened.
She better not get good at this, or by this time next year, I’ll be well off the back.
I hurt the big toe on my left foot somehow, and it isn’t exactly pleasant to walk on at the moment. Not too bad in shoes. But I made the mistake of trying to stand up on the bike and I immediately sat back down. I’ve never gotten out of the saddle a lot anyway, but I’ll need this little ache and/or pain to go away soon for just general use, and also in case I need to lean out and sprint.
Sprint. That’s funny.
Classes tomorrow. And more Catober! Come back for that!
30
Sep 25
Sep 25
2ENI6S
We went to see a big field hockey game tonight. It was senior night for my god-niece-in-law (just go with it.) My in-laws came down to see their god-granddaughter. (I guess that’s how it works? The field hockey player is the daughter of their goddaughter. This would get confusing pretty quickly after that.) So we all went to her high school together. Her sister is on the junior varsity team, and they played first. The younger Jaguars won their game, and fans trickled in all night. By the time they dragged out the balloon arch for the senior night festivities both sets of her grandparents, her god-grandparents, her god-aunt-and-uncle and a bunch of her friends were there. They made signs and posters and had big Fathead-style faces. It was all quite cute.
She was, I think, the third athlete through the balloon arch. The guy on the PA introduces her and her parents and her little sister. He read off her career highlights, which at this point is something like 10-plus years of field hockey. He had a little sentence or two from the player thanking her family, and a note about what’s next, where she’s going to school, what she’s planning to study.
The sun was going down about that time.
And then, when all the seniors were introduced they went out there and played a game against the Lions. And the seniors went out in style, winning 5-0.
The cool thing was, after dinner, she said she got a piece of the ball on the last goal, though it was credited to one of her teammates. But she was glad for that. The other player hadn’t yet scored this year.
She’s always been a thoughtful girl; she’s going to be a pretty spectacular woman.
Though I guess we’ll do this again during softball season. How many senior nights do you need?
All of them, if you’re the senior.
I mentioned this the last time we went to see her play, but they host their home games on the high school’s football field, which is actually a multipurpose field. They also play their soccer there, and some of their track and field events are held there, too. If you’re sitting on the home side you see the high school in the background. And off to your left is a little building that is probably a field house. The side that faces the parking lot is painted red, and right in the center is the word:
2ENI6S
The graduating class all signed their names in a bit a of condoned graffiti. Though I wonder how the teachers feel about that treatment of the word. And how the class of 2027 will mangle it.
I visited the concession stand tonight and bought a handful of things for various members of our section of fans, a sandwich, three drinks, two pretzels. The students staffing the concession stand could not calculate the price. (It was $16 I told them.)
All of this gives me a great deal of material. So I pointed at this new construction in the western corner of the sports field.
“I hope it is a learning center!”
It is, of course, a new field house. Athletics first, and at all cost. Even at a good school — and their school scores in the top four percent of the state. But still, 2ENI6S, simple math.
We all went to the star players’ for dinner and family revelry. It was a wonderful evening.
In class today we discussed The Concussion Files:
The Post reviewed more than 15,000 pages of documents relating to efforts by more than 100 former players to qualify for settlement benefits, including thousands of pages of confidential medical and legal records. The Post also interviewed more than 100 people involved with the settlement — including players, widows, lawyers and doctors — as well as 10 board-certified neurologists and neuropsychologists for their expertise on how dementia is typically diagnosed.
Among The Post’s findings:
The settlement’s definition for dementia requires more impairment than the standard definition used in the United States. Several doctors who have evaluated players told The Post that if they used the settlement’s definition in regular care, they would routinely fail to diagnose dementia in ailing patients. “I assumed this was written this way, on purpose, just to save the NFL money,” said Carmela Tartaglia, an associate professor of neurology at the University of Toronto.
At least 14 players have, like Cross, failed to qualify for settlement money or medical care and then died, only to have CTE confirmed via autopsy. Eight of these players were diagnosed in life with dementia or a related memory disorder but still failed to qualify for settlement benefits.
In more than 70 cases reviewed by The Post, players were diagnosed with dementia by board-certified doctors, only to see their claims denied by the administrative law firm that oversees the settlement. While the NFL has often blamed denied claims on fraud, none of the denials reviewed by The Post contained allegations of fraud. Instead, records show, settlement review doctors simply overruled physicians who actually evaluated players, often blaming dementia symptoms on other health problems also linked to concussions, including depression and sleep apnea.
The NFL’s network of settlement doctors has been beset by systemic administrative breakdowns since its inception. Former players suffering from dementia wait, on average, more than 15 months just to see doctors and get the records they need to file a claim. Maynard was one of two players The Post found who waited more than two years to get paperwork and died before they could get paid.
In total, court records show, the settlement has approved about 900 dementia claims since it opened in 2017. It has denied nearly 1,100, including almost 300 involving players who were diagnosed by the settlement’s own doctors.
It’s an aggravating story, and it should annoy readers. And some of my students were aggravated by what they read — which leaves some questions about a few other students.
We also talked about this story.
On the face of it, playing chess and competing in the NBA couldn’t be further apart.
One requires monk-like levels of silent concentration – particularly in classical chess – while the other demands physical dominance, peak athleticism and the ability to stay composed in a frenzied atmosphere.
But it seems there is more that links the two sports than initially meets the eye – just ask NBA legend Derrick Rose.
The 2011 NBA MVP has been leading a new and unlikely collaboration between the worlds of chess and professional basketball.
That story didn’t seem to connect, but for different reasons.
Those were in my criticism class, of course. In org comm class we wrapped up the unit on branding. The students broke up into their fantasy football franchise groups and had to do an assignment which asked them to assess the sort of star power that each of their players possess. Then they had to pick three players from their team which would be the most likely pitchmen, and then assign them products or brands they would advertise for. It went well, and it all just goes on the now large stack of things I need to grade.
And that starts tomorrow. I am able to devote an entire day to pecking away at the computer and I am weirdly looking forward to it.
