Good
evening, 919 Gang. Help me out, please. Tonight a good friend (and a member)
wrote asking for email addresses on some members. Obviously, I have addresses
on everyone, but I don't feel I have the right to share them without your
permission. If you have included your email in your bio in the 919 Gang
Directory, then I will share it. Otherwise, I won't.
If
you want other members to be able to reach you, please tell me so, and I will
add your address to the directory. But there are no circumstances in which I
will share your address with non-members.
------------------------------------
REBER: Some members have apologized for being
slow to express condolences to Ray Kipp on the death of his wife Nancy. No
problem. Many people do not read these messages daily. Every few days
(sometimes weeks) they catch up, so we understand delays.
RAY
KIPP writes:
Nancy's services are scheduled for 11
a.m., Saturday, Sep 7 at the El Camino Mortuary 5600 Carroll Canyon Road, San
Diego 92121. Mortuary phone is (858) 453-2121. My postal address is 3245 Welmer
Place, San Diego 92122. My phone is (619) 922-5690 cell, (858) 453-0982 home. I
appreciate your help on 919 and the many calls and cards we already have received.
Best to all.
JONATHAN HELLER writes:
Just catching up on my 919 reading,
and was very saddened to hear of Ray Kipp's loss. I only worked with Ray for a
short time, but I'll always remember our lively exchanges while working the
weekend shift. My thoughts are with you, Ray.
JOHN MARELIUS writes:
Let me add my deepest condolences to
Ray Kipp on the loss of Nancy. I always found Nancy to be a delightful person.
And Ray is an old friend. I had the rare good fortune at the U-T of having
great editors to work for and Ray was the first. In fact, Ray was instrumental
in getting me to the U-T, for which I eventually forgave him.
MICHAEL BURGE writes:
Condolences to Ray Kipp on the loss of
your wife, Nancy. My thoughts are with you and your family.
TERRY RODGERS writes:
Ray Kipp was one of the finest people
I ever worked with at the Union-Tribune. I just want to let him know how sorry
I am about the loss of his wife and that I am sending positive vibes his way.
We all love ya, Ray, stay strong.
PHIL LaVELLE writes:
Ray, so sorry to hear about Nancy's
passing. Thinking of you and your family.
-----------------------------------------------
JOHN
MARELIUS writes:
I should add a word about two recent
topics of conversation here: If there's anything that interests me less than
Miley Cyrus, it's who Doug Manchester is dating.
CAROL SOTTILI writes:
Re: Jay Johnson's discussion of the
math of acceptable age differences in heterosexual dating, does that mean it is
OK for this 58-year-old woman to date a 123-year-old man?
REBER: Well, why not? Jay asked for feedback, and
mine is I'm not going to tell anyone whom they can date or marry. If the people
involved don't see a big age difference as a problem, why should I?
DAVID OGUL writes:
All this talk about Miley Cyrus
prompts me to write about a rather astute observation from my 15-year-old
daughter -- who, by the way, is no Miley Cyrus fan.
What hypocrites the critics are
showing themselves to be, says my daughter, in jumping all over Miley Cyrus,
yet not a peep about a married father grinding rather provocatively with a girl
half his age.
Smart kid, my daughter is. She must
get it from her mother. BTW, if you haven't seen it, the following link says it
all....
JONI CALVANO writes:
I know this job includes tasks other
than news and information, but many of our members have acquired so many
different skills that this job might make sense for them. I sent one job
description to you from this organization before, but I don't know if it ran,
since I was away from email for a time. I think that as we watch journalism
adopt new forms, our members who need jobs might want to reach out for
positions that are include journalism skills as a core but rely on a vast array
of communications skills as well. If you think this job is appropriate, perhaps
you can post it.
Office and Marketing Manager
The
California Reinvestment Coalition (CRC) is a statewide organization with 300
nonprofit organization members whose goal is to expand access to fair financial
products, and fight predatory lending. CRC
is a small, dynamic organization offering opportunities to grow professionally,
and your position is integral and important.
Responsibilities:
$ Maintain office organization, files, and
supplies;
$ Coordinate annual fund-raising events;
$ Manage and social network with web site;
$ Marketing to coalition members and
potential allies;
$ Coordinate and produce monthly E
newsletter;
$ Assist with check writing and
bookkeeping;
$ Facilitate weekly staff meetings;
$ Maintain databases of member organizations
and corporate contacts.
Qualifications:
$ Two years experience in office management
or marketing;
$ Event planning and desktop publishing
experience helpful;
$ Minimum of Associates of Arts degree;
$ Demonstrated capacity to staff multiple
projects;
$ Excellent communication, organizational
and computer skills;
$ Competency with word processing,
spreadsheet and database programs;
$ An interest in affordable housing,
economic development, and low-income consumer issues.
Salary: Depending on experience.
Excellent benefits.
See CRC web site at
www.calreinvest.org.
Send résumé to: Search Committee
California
Reinvestment Coalition
474
Valencia Street, Suite 230
San
Francisco, California 94103
Tel:
(415) 864-3980; Fax: (415) 864-3981
Closing Date:
September 27, 2013.
-------------------------------------------------
DAVID FARMER writes:
I was reading an introduction to
Marcel Proust's "In Search of Lost Time." (Don't be impressed. I've
repeatedly tried to read the book--actually, series of books--and haven't
succeeded yet.)
But the introduction included a quote
from Oscar Wilde that is too good not to share. Wilde observed, "In old
days books were written by men of letters and read by the public. Nowadays
books are written by the public and read by nobody."
If that was true in Wilde's lifetime
(1854-1900) imagine how much truer today, when online self-publishing literally
allows anyone to issue a book. Which doesn't mean they get read, or even
purchased, by anybody.
------------------------------------------------
BOB RODRIGUEZ writes:
Jack, wanted to add my praise for
Ernie Cowan's most excellent desert scenics. "Nice shooting Ernie!"
Would have sent the note sooner, but got tied up looking for a lost cat (she's
still out there), going to Cody for shopping and banking (many tourists there),
writing articles for two weekly newspapers (actually get "paid" by
one), drinking Coors and some Merlot (not mixed), and generally goofing off
except for working in "the yard." (Some 47 acres of rocks, brush,
large bushes and a handful of trees, not to mention working mightily to change
the course of our creek to some degree. Otherwise, I'm bored. It never occurred
to me that after retiring that I'd be so busy. But I bet that you and others
have the same situation.
---------------------------------------------
ELIZABETH
GABRIEL writes:
To Alan Drooz about the warning on
stories that might give offense: There's no faster way to get readership. Back
in the day when I was a wire editor, some stories came across with a
"contains content that may offend some readers" banner. Of course the
first thing we did was scan down for the juicy part, it's called human nature.
And about How Southern Women Talk, the
video link: I am a 4th-generation Californian, but most of those catch phrases
are familiar. Of course, I grew up in the San Joaquin Valley, where lots of
Dust Bowl folks had settled. Must say it was nice to hear "month a
Sundys" again.
-----------------------------------------------
REBER: Tonight we send Happy Birthday (Aug. 29) wishes to Patricia Dibsie
and Frank Green.
---------------------------------------------
JERRY
WINDLE forwards:
It has been
said that paper is dead. It’s only 39 seconds so please watch it all...the
irony won’t be lost on you.
GENE
CIECHANOWSKI forwards:
Kinda ruins the old ego.
-------------------------------------------------
REBER: The next
post is pretty lengthy. I'm running it at the end to not discourage the
short-attention-span people.
JOHN
SWEENEY writes:
Another Maine treatise, if I may:
Many locals here in the Bangor, Maine,
region ask us why we moved here from the comfy West Coast. I usually respond
with "Oh, that's a simple one word answer: lobster". This is nearly
always met with "Oh sure, that makes sense".
The real reason that my wife and I
made a considered decision to relocate was our concern that our then 7-year-old
daughter could potentially receive a greater education, given Maine's
reputation for quality in that area. It was pure luck that we chose this
locale. Our daughter is now a sophomore honors student at the #1 high school in
Northern New England (Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont) designated as such by the
Washington Post last fall. The school is John Bapst, named after a Swiss Jesuit
missionary and founded in 1928. It was forced to close by the diocese in 1980,
but re-opened that fall as a non-religious college prep facility, still
operating in the original building. We pay a hefty tuition because we're not in
Bangor proper. Thanks for allowing me to share this. I was quite impressed.
It's the opening-day convocation speech given by a faculty member Tuesday.
Each year John Bapst begins the semester
with a Convocation. The entire school gathers as one body to be welcomed and
hear wisdom by a member of the school staff.
This year Mr. John Emerson, Chair of
the Department of English and a member of the John Bapst faculty for 27 years,
was introduced by Head of School Mel MacKay to give the annual address. Below
is the speech he delivered in strong and passionate voice this morning. Students
responded to his words with a standing ovation.
An
Ethic of the Spirit—Convocation Speech, August 27, 2013
Good Morning John Bapst Memorial High
School.
Thank you Mr. Mackay for honoring me
with this opportunity—on this beautiful morning, this advent of the 2013-2014
school year—to give the opening semester’s Convocation Speech.
I am going to attempt to rise into
high mindedness in the course of this speech, but I have some things of a very
common nature to say first in support of Bapst’s overall ease of operation and
quality of life: Girls could you please not make dress code such a hassle for
us all. And faculty, really, wet white-out on the scanner of the copy machine?
Finally, boys—boys, boys, boys—for the rest of the school year please lift the
toilet seat before you pee; please flush the toilet when you finish; and please
hit the trash barrel with your paper towels.
There’s actually a theme here, and for
many years you could find it in the Student-Parent Handbook: ”We expect . . .
That every individual who comes to John Bapst Memorial High School will study,
work, and participate with consideration for every other individual . . . .”
Small survey: Raise your hand if you
did not want to get out of bed when you had to get out of bed this morning.
I understand: If someone were to ask
me at 6:00 or 7:00 a.m. on a Tuesday morning when I was your age what my
favorite place is, I would have answered “Bed.” I did not want to leave my bed
in the morning, but I did not know then that simply getting out of bed and
showing up solved most of life’s problems.
Here’s a story: Stonington,
Maine–who’s been there? Stonington is as far as you can drive downeast; if you
want to travel farther, you have to get on a boat. Land’s End is nowhere more
beautiful, and though the place endures a lot of summer people, it is so remote
it just does not get too many tourists. Stonington itself is a collection of
several small working harbors, and its primary residents are fishermen, dock
workers, and craftsmen, and for them getting out of bed early is the difference
between poverty and prosperity.
At the main pier of the central harbor
near the fisherman’s co-op is a small business called the Harbor View Market;
it opens at 3:30 a.m.–3:30 a.m. – because that is what the lives of fishermen
require. For me, now an early riser by long habit, it is a sweet convenience. A
month ago, I woke up in the waterfront bed and breakfast at my usual 4:00 a.m.,
lamented a moment that its coffee time was a lazy 7:30, but then quietly
dressed–my wife sleeps until 6:00–slipped into my sneakers and gratefully
walked to the Harbor View. I followed a very broad shouldered man in, got my
coffee, he got his; he also stopped at the hot food kiosk and grabbed four
breakfast sandwiches. Coming out the door behind me, he was greeted by a couple
of men on their way in. The closest one said, “Hey Jimmy, how’s it going?” and
Jimmy answered without missing a hurried step to his pickup truck, laden with
lobster traps: “Same thing, different day.”
I laughed. In the Maine speak that I
have learned to love, a downeast fisherman bluntly and humorously captured one
shade of a universal truth. Certainly at some moment this year, all of us will
be able to say not untruthfully, “Same thing, different day.” But our lives are
not the life of a downeast lobsterman, and we will not, for as long as we are
at Bapst, ever be able to say, categorically, “Same thing, different day.”
I am in my twenty-seventh year at
Bapst, and every year has been different. True, I will teach five classes, all
of which I have taught before, in the same room where I started teaching in
1987, and, as always, that room will be filled by students, some of whom, my
class lists tell me, have been with me before. But these, like many other day
to day events, are mere material constants; they are not part of the real game
that I will play this year—which is a concept that I think most of you also
understand.
When the sun rose this morning, it
rose not only on a new day for Bapst but on a new day for all of us
individually, on a new day on which we can all begin to remake our lives. Of
the 478 Bapst students in this room, 161 are new to the school. Of the 441 who
were here last year, 119 very big, even overshadowing personalities are gone.
And all of you have different classes. The building and the address are the
same, but Bapst is different because you are different, and most of you want to
be different; some of you even have dreams of glory. You want to be
better—better athletes, more involved citizens, better artists, better
musicians, better actors, better writers, better students, better friends,
better people—which means you believe in the possibility of personal change. I
do too—sometimes almost desperately. For us today and tomorrow and for every
tomorrow to come life can be not only a “different thing and a new day” but a
better thing and a better day because we ourselves know that with a little more
work we can be better in every way that we live.
How many of you have resolved to have
that better year? (Apparently, church attendance is down; the correct answer is
Amen or Hallelujah. How many of you have resolved to have that better year? )
I want to be a better teacher this
year, and I have colleagues who I know also want to be better teachers—who want
to reach with you greater depths of knowledge, who want to challenge you more
meaningfully and originally, who want to be fairer and more disciplined
evaluators, who want higher AP Exam scores. Some of us are resolved to do the
best work we have ever done.
This vision of life—that we can be
better than we are—is not, of course, original, but everybody’s particular
commitment can be authentic.
Our core values are integrity,
achievement, and respect; everybody agrees that these are important values, and
few will argue against the other values named in the student handbook:
courtesy, kindness, helpfulness, mutual support, and friendliness; tolerance,
acceptance, understanding, and fairness; honesty, dependability, responsibility,
and maturity–whoa. All together, they compose a sturdy ethic—proper, sober,
dignified, and rational.
But we are not these values because we
have named them in a handbook, and though we will see them in practice every
day, we will also see soon enough in this all too human community their regular
(and, usually, unnecessary) violation.
Stay with me now; I am not casting
Bapst in a negative light. What the heck? You’re just a bunch of kids. And we
adults know that experience mostly allows us, merely, to recognize mistakes as
familiar.
A minute ago I used the word “work,”
and I also asked, who is resolved to have that better year. I need you for a
few moments to hang on to those words “work” and “resolve.”
I am in my twenty-seventh year at
Bapst, but not until Mel Mackay, your Head of School, the man who just
introduced me, did a Bapst administrator have the vision and courage to use the
word “excellence” in his sense of what Bapst is about. He also is the first
administrator to use the word “virtue,” a beautiful word. (From a classical
ethics perspective, the terms excellence and virtue are virtually synonymous.)
When he did, a decades-long fight for the soul of the school was won: at the
same time, he invited into our lives an ethic of a different order, an ethic of
the spirit. It has a small presence on pages 11 and 12 of the Student-Parent
Handbook, but it needs to live larger in our community, and it is up to us to
fully form it in the consciousness of our school, although implicitly the more
thoughtful among you already live by it every day.
At best, all of us all our lives are
apprentices to excellence. As determinedly as we pursue it, it naturally moves
to a more distant horizon—of course it does, for the human spirit is
infinite—yet if we genuinely aspire to reach our potential, we accept the
reality and begin to strive toward that more distant horizon.
Now, I need you to hang on to five
more words. Add to “resolve” and “work,” the words “vision,” “courage,”
“determination,” “aspiration,” and “striving.”
These words, and others like
them—”curiosity,” “engagement,” “creativity,” “service,” and “enthusiasm,” for
example—name the values that compose this ethic of the spirit. These values, if
I may borrow terms from physics and math are kinetic; they are vectors. They
are the values upon which you will have to ride to reach excellence, to reach
the staid values of Bapst’s motto and every other value named in the handbook;
they are values that will deepen and strengthen your character by building in
you resilience, endurance, even grace; and they are the values by which you
will succeed. Here is the great truth of Bapst: It is a place where character
succeeds. Achievement requires aspiration. Integrity requires courage. Respect,
in its deepest sense, requires work, service, merit; you earn it.
A high SAT score is good, but alone it
does not succeed; talent is good, but alone it does not succeed. You have to
dignify your gifts. Vision, curiosity, engagement, aspiration, enthusiasm,
striving, resolve, determination, service, and work succeed. Character
succeeds. Bapst is, has been, and always should be a place where character
succeeds, for life, all of life, is an enterprise in which character succeeds.
You chose to attend John Bapst
Memorial High School. Reflect on that for a moment. That choice is you
exercising your freedom, and the question now is whether you are going to man
up, or woman up, to the choice? You are free to be excellent in a place that
makes excellence possible. Man up, woman up to the choice. You owe yourselves
the best of yourselves. Live this ethic of the spirit. It is the way that you
will make yourselves better and make yourselves new; it is the way you will
make Bapst better and make Bapst new.
We, too, your administrators, your
teachers, the school staff at all levels are also free to be excellent;
arguably, because we are adults we are obligated to be excellent.
I am on a committee this year charged
with the task to improve teaching. We have had some pretty heady discussions so
far, and we shall make progress. You have a role to play.
Bapst offers a product in the free
market, and you and your parents are purchasers and consumers of that product,
and therefore you have the the right to judge the quality of the goods. But our
society understands that rights are attended by responsibilities; this concept
is the full equation of integrity.
You will have a day on which you
formally evaluate your teachers and classes. It is an awesome right and therefore
an awesome responsibility, one that, if you take it seriously, can shape your
education while you experience it and one that can directly improve the school.
We owe you the best of ourselves, and
you owe us an honest report on whether you are getting it. Judge us by our
preparation, by our expectations, by whether we engage and challenge you, by
our fairness, by our discipline and consistency, by our love of the subject, by
our enthusiasm, by whether you do meaningful work everyday, and by whether you
have in hand at the end of the year a harvest of work that shows that you have
learned, that meets the terms of the course.
Make Bapst better. Make it new.
Finally, let us also make it our
common mission to fight negativity. It is a virus, insidious and paralyzing,
paralyzing especially to our drive toward excellence, and it is human created.
I will fight it wherever it shows up because it is the enemy of the ethic of
the spirit and because it is my job to believe in you. If I did not believe in
you, I could not teach. You may experience the strife of failure, whether of
performance or of character, you may fail in ways that will haunt your
conscience for years, but so long as you are honest with yourself, so long as
you take or, better, assert your responsibility, so long as you want to be
better, you will be able to hold on to your self-respect, which is far more
important than your self-esteem. But in any event, I will not stop believing in
you, and keep in mind that the game works best if you also believe in
yourselves.
We are awake; we are out of bed; the
game is afoot. Play hard, play unrelentingly, choose excellence.
(It
was at this point the students rose in a standing ovation and filled the room
with applause. When the sound concluded, Mr. Emerson continued.)
Can you listen to me for another
moment? I have an epilogue of sorts, and I have been fighting with myself for
this whole speech about whether I should say it, partially because it has an
emotional dimension which I may not be able entirely to control. In a few
moments I will go to a class that includes six students who were in a sophomore
class with me two years ago. Also in that class was Owen Krause.
Last year, we, but especially you who
are seniors, lost him–swiftly, brutally. And in losing him, you also learned
how deeply you loved him. I did too.
Those of you who came to Owen’s
memorial service heard Owen’s father give a eulogy for his son. No one would
have asked him to do this in the midst of his overwhelming grief. No one would
have expected him to. He asked this of himself, and I have not seen a finer
moment of courage. It transcended even excellence. The deep love he showed for
his son, the enthusiasm with which he celebrated his son, the joy he could not
help but feel in celebrating this beautiful boy—despite the almost paralyzing
grief he felt—is among the most poignant experiences of my life.
Let’s honor Owen this year by
emulating his father’s courage, his father’s excellence, by asking something
extraordinary from ourselves, by living this ethic of the spirit.
P.O.
Box 2239
Ramona,
CA 92065
U.S.A.
