"N" for Knowledge

Nine hours there. Nine hours back.

My last road trip of the 2011 Wildcat football season begins tomorrow. My friends and I are caravaning from Chicago, Illinois to Lincoln, Nebraska, to watch Northwestern's first bout against Nebraska, the newest member of the B1G. Bring it on, Cornhuskers.

Medill Dean John Lavine Steps Down

Medill Dean John Lavine is leaving behind some unfinished business.

Medill Dean John Lavine sent an email today to the Medill alumni listserv announcing he's stepping down from his post next August.

He doesn't really offer a reason other than focusing on other initiatives and spending more time with his wife. That's certainly possible, though of course it's curious that he's leaving the program at this point in the transition from pre-Lavine to a realization of his magnum opus, the "Medill 2020" plan (of which I'm admittedly not always a fan).

In fact, Dean Lavine mentions in the letter that "we've accomplished far more than was envisioned in our Medill 2020 plan." I'm not really sure what that means, but I would point out that it's only 2011, so maybe an itemized list of what we've actually accomplished (besides RenameGate) might shed some light on the depth of water we've been treading the last few years. And of course, this amplifies the question of where we'll go from here. A lot depends, I suppose, on who is chosen to succeed him.

We wait with bated breath. The letter is pasted below.

-----

from John Lavine
to MEDILLALUMS@listserv.it.northwestern.edu
date Wed, Sep 21, 2011 at 9:05 AM
subject Future Plans -- A Note to the Medill Community


Dear Colleagues and Members of the Medill Community,

Six years ago, President Bienen and Provost Dumas asked if I would lead the implementation of a new strategy for Medill. In the years that followed, we have joined together to deepen the quality of our curricula, provide our students with the best educational opportunities in the country and strengthen and diversify our offerings and resources.

Now, I’m writing to tell you that I have shared with President Schapiro and Provost Linzer my decision to step down as Medill's Dean on August 31, 2012. I do so knowing we have a faculty, staff and curricula no other school can match.

When I became dean, journalism and marketing communications were being roiled by a digital tsunami, and soon thereafter, by one of the worst economic downturns in a century. In the midst of these difficult circumstances, we adopted unprecedented curricular change. Northwestern supported our plan with the addition of more faculty and staff with new skills, knowledge, and experience than at any time in Medill’s history.

It has been quite an odyssey. Together we’ve accomplished far more than was envisioned in our Medill 2020 plan. Along the way, we’ve faced and overcome major challenges, as well as some controversies; when you undertake seismic change, both are inevitable.

What counts is the progress we’ve made, the foundation for the future that we’ve built, and the validation of what we’ve done from external sources -- including leaders of the industries we serve and the unprecedented evaluation last spring from the Accrediting Council on Education in Journalism and Mass Communications. Our faculty and curricula lead the country. Despite the tough economy, employers here and abroad seek out our graduates, and Northwestern University Qatar, our undergraduate school in Doha, is about to graduate its first class.

You are terrific colleagues. I treasure the opportunity to have worked with you, and I’m excited about completing the big projects we have before us this coming year.

When I step down, I will focus on an initiative that is also close to my heart -- examining how the media can determine if people are truly informed by the content they provide, and seeking out new ways for the news media to remain viable. I’ll have more to share about this work in the future.

I will also spend more time with my wonderful wife, Meryl. As busy as we’ve both been in our careers – and as much as she has been central to all that I’ve done in my professional life – now, more than ever, we cherish having more personal time together.

Warm regards,

John

Blogging NUMB again

Happy Saturday! A quick note to let you know that since football season is almost upon us, I've begun blogging again for the esteemed Northwestern football blog, Lake the Posts. My first post, a Q&A with the band's SpiriTeam about the upcoming season, went up this morning. Check it out! And have a great weekend!

Stephen Colbert at Northwestern last weekend

Northwestern alum Stephen Colbert gave the commencement address to the class of 2011 in Evanston last weekend. There are many, many great pull-quotes...

"[Northwestern] represents humanity at its best. And on Dillo Day, it represents humanity at its worst...today evidently armadillos are honored by drinking Four Loko out of a supersoaker while dancing to the New Pornographers in a drunken mosh pit filled mostly with National Merit finalists."

And it gets better. Totally worth the 20 minutes, I promise.

And if you can't get enough, check out this feature on Colbert from the winter 2010 Northwestern Magazine.

Go 'Cats!

Medill: The Last J-School Standing

This word cloud was created by running Medill's 2008 online course descriptions through Wordle.
See more here.

If you're at all familiar with this blog or the melodramatic happenings at my alma mater, Northwestern's Medill School of Journalism et al, then you've likely formed some opinion of whether a marketing program belongs under the same roof as a journalism program. (Hint: It doesn't.) This week, The Nation's Michael Tracey wrote a 2,000-word piece of despair that places Medill in the center of the downfall of the journalism school (referred to by the affected as "j-school"). He covers a lot of ground, but he makes a few key points: 1) marketing and journalism are "profoundly antithetical enterprises," and their blending in education is not good for the reputation or credibility of journalism; 2) as a leading j-school, Medill's seismic shift spells trouble for the future of all j-schools; and 3) j-schools aren't necessary and we should just do away with them altogether.

(I highly suggest that you read the original article in order to fully appreciate my rage. Look, I'll even give you the link again! Click here!)

Okay, so from the outset, I'll reiterate Tracey's first point, the discomfort with combining marketing and journalism education. Medill has been shoving the two together under the direction of Dean John Lavine, who hit the ground running in 2006 with proposal after proposal that seemed destined to turn Medill into an arm of the Kellogg School of Management. In a symbolic birthing ritual, this spring faculty voted 38-5 to approve a name change from "Medill School of Journalism" to "Medill School of Journalism, Media, Integrated Marketing Communications." (Ugh, it hurts to type.) It's simply a bad idea; just because both journalism and PR/marketing deal with language doesn't mean that they should be lumped together. Tracey quotes director of the Yale Journalism Initiative, Mark Oppenheimer: “We should all be a little concerned that the same schools that teach people to see through bogus claims are also the same schools teaching students how to perpetuate bogus claims.” Right on, totally agreed, no argument here.

The thing that makes me so queasy is that journalism is supposed to be about truth. It's free, it's honorable, it's necessary to functioning society. It is a check on power, a protector of our right to free speech. I loved calling myself a journalist because it made me feel like part of something exciting and cutting-edge and noble. But marketing is about sales. It's about tricking people. It's about convincing consumers they need the newest iPhone, or that a company is socially conscious, or even that this charity is more worthy of your money than another charity. It's about manipulation and persuasion -- a version of the truth, maybe, but not truth. Given, not all journalism is going to clear that bar (hi Bill), but it's at least supposed to try. So that's why everyone (who isn't John Lavine or the 37 other faculty members who voted for the name change) thinks this unholy marriage is a terrible move.

Tracey actually goes off a bit on Dean Lavine, and I felt myself turning into a member of the choir. "Amen," I thought when he recounted the bit of drama a few years ago when an undergrad caught Dean Lavine using unattributed (and very likely false) quotations from students in praise of a Lavine-esque course titled "Advertising: Building Brand Image." It was embarrassing for all involved, and it made Medill look stupid, and I still haven't really forgiven Dean Lavine for that. It was inexcusable.

But I get what he's trying to do. I appreciate that Dean Lavine wants to make sure our $200,000 education is worth it, so he's trying to teach the business aspects of journalism too. How to market your story and yourself to a particular audience. How to manipulate people into reading. It's misguided, but I can see why he thinks that marketing and journalism go hand in hand. But that sort of thing just feels so slimy to a crowd that's being taught to be fiercely objective. We should be talking about paragraph structure and contextual analysis, not branding and pull-quotes.

After fleshing out all the reasons why j-school shouldn't house a marketing program and inflicting some violence on Dean Lavine's reputation, Tracey goes on the offensive against the entire concept of j-school. It's true: you don't need a license to be a journalist. A lot of people who work in the field didn't study journalism, and a lot of people who did study journalism found jobs in other industries. So what's the point? Tracey asks. Anyone can be a journalist, so take that time you're spending "learning" journalism and use it to study other things -- arts, science, whatever you're passionate about. Your proficiency in those passions -- not your knowledge of the inverted pyramid and search-engine optimization -- will make you a good journalist.

I agree that journalists should not be hollow shells resembling people, but active and contributing members of society. Of course we should study other things and become experts in other areas; that's why most people go to j-school, to learn how to tell the stories that interested them in the first place. Some grew up in squalor and dedicate their career to social change journalism; others love numbers and have read the Wall Street Journal cover to cover every day since the age of 11. To each their own. And yes, anyone can be a journalist in the sense that anyone can write words and publish them, usually on the Internet. (Hi mom!)

But Tracey takes an ill-advised leap in suggesting we get rid of j-school altogether. His argument: "Think about the social function of the journalism major. Overtly or not, it creates an implicit regulatory structure, endowing journalism students with the right to manage the university’s newspaper by virtue of their participation in important seminars on media ethics and interview techniques. Conversely, non-journalism students are left with the impression that reporting is best reserved for those who've been formally trained to do it."

To me this is so clear-cut: People who are trained to do something are generally better at it than people who aren't trained to do that thing. You become a better musician by learning about music, you become a better racecar driver by learning about racing, and you become a better journalist by learning about journalism. You don't need a license to practice, but throwing out the entire discipline would be absurd. It suggests that the entire corpus of knowledge -- the history, the ethics of reporting, the art of interviewing and dealing with sensitive subjects, the methods of research, the resources available -- is useless and can be replicated easily without formal training. This would be devolution, a step backward for a discipline that is already so desperately fractured and bleeding. Not to mention it's a slap in the face to me and everyone who majored in journalism, at Medill or elsewhere. I understand that journalism need not be regulated with a gateway fee of a specialized degree, but let's not forget that the specialized degree still has value.

Okay, look. I went to journalism school to learn how to write like a journalist. As luck would have it, the Medill wind shifted as soon as I arrived. Dean Lavine took over at the end of my freshman year from Loren Ghiglione (whose name I had JUST learned how to pronounce, goddammit), and we launched into three years of identity confusion as Dean Lavine tried to basically merge Medill with the Kellogg School of Management. Or at least that's what it felt like. My History and Issues of Journalism course -- a cornerstone of the program -- was reimagined and tag-teamed by three professors in a huge auditorium. We had assigned seats and they actually took attendance -- in a classroom of 150+ students, the entire Medill freshman class. It was a ridiculous exercise and I remember nothing except watching a movie about Edward Murrow.

But Medill does do some things right. The liberal arts education I received at Northwestern was top-notch; most of my peers had a second major (mine was in political science) and we all took courses in art, philosophy, math, science, economics, literature, and so forth. My journalism classes that actually focused on journalism -- literary journalism, magazine writing, law and ethics, and so forth -- blew my mind and forced me to think about the world in a whole new way. I completed two journalism internships, one at an extra-small investigate reporting operation and another at a large consumer technology publication. I got both the breadth and the depth of education that Tracey pines for, and I got it at Medill. You can teach journalism. I know because I was taught journalism. What's much harder to teach is writing, but that's a whole 'nother blog post.

I'm hoping against hope that Medill is going through some sort of teenage phase, but I can't help but feel glum about the future of my alma mater. Like many of my peers, I am not on the journalism track -- but it did directly funnel me in the direction I'm going now as I pursue creative writing. I have friends who work for newspapers and TV stations and magazines, and we still carry on ridiculously nerdy conversations about headlines and AP Style and industry gossip. A piece of me is a journalist, will always be a journalist, and that piece will inform every encounter I have with culture and society and language. For that I thank Medill, and I can do nothing but lament Dean Lavine's agenda and hope it doesn't turn my school into a disgrace.

Putting the fucksaw to bed

The most entertaining (and irrelevant) image to come up when Googling "fucksaw."

The best piece to come out of this fucksaw ordeal was published today in The Awl, written by a former student of Professor Bailey's. Beyond putting this whole stupid thing in perspective, author Joseph Bernstein illustrates why Professor Bailey is to be commended instead of punished.

In fact, my gut reaction to this controversy was to support the professor's decision -- in the name of openness and honesty, in the pursuit of learning -- and now I've pinpointed why: Professor Bailey engages with both his students and the material. He seems to value discovery, no matter the auxiliary (and less important) costs. I loved my time at Northwestern but I realized after I graduated that I spent a lot of time only half-listening, and therefore half-learning. I don't blame anyone -- myself, my professors -- but it's sad to realize that I may have lost opportunities to really transform myself. Graduate school has been a wake-up call in that regard, as I'm sure my increasingly impassioned posts on education in this forum have indicated.

Also, President Schapiro (that's Morty to you) released a nice statement today that happened to mention NUMBALUM President Samir Mayekar. And so this strange circuit, an unholy alliance of Human Sexuality and NUMB, comes full circle, and with a happy ending. (Guffaw.)

Now let's see how long it takes for "fucksaw" to get old. I'm putting my money on retirement around the same time as #tigerblood. At least, let's hope.

--

UPDATE, March 8, 9:16 a.m. - Can't resist one final word from a sex journalist who interviewed the guest speakers at the center of the controversy.

--

UPDATE, March 8, 1:52 p.m. - I mean. I just. I don't know.

Band camp jokes never anticipated this

What a lovely, wholesome photo!

This blog is called Context, and I chose that name deliberately. I think the key to writing, and therefore learning, is understanding the context of a situation. Often misjudgments, misunderstandings and mistakes can be attributed to a lack of contextual consideration.

This week's Northwestern "fucksaw" story is about as good an example as I can conjure.

The background: A much-loved but incredibly controversial large lecture class, Human Sexuality, draws students from all areas of Northwestern because of its promise of titillation mixed with education. It's one of the most candid forums on campus, and the class is intended to provide an environment for discussing even the most taboo sexual topics, from fetishes to the mechanics of an orgasm. I had friends that would discuss the material outside of class, and there was valid educational benefit in the many shocking in-class experiences. (And a lot of snickering.)

On Tuesday the Daily Northwestern reported that a few people were taken aback at a recent live demonstration of a female orgasm in an optional, after-class session. In the process of a Q&A, a guest speaker asked the professor if she might demonstrate, live and in full view, female ejaculation. The professor gave permission, the students were treated to an eyeful, and a woman got off. Other such sessions have featured Q&A's with sex workers and convicted sex offenders, and minutes prior the class watched a graphic video taken of the inside of a woman's vagina. So in context, the spectacle wasn't exactly out of left field.

The Daily's story was picked up by the national press -- notably Gawker (complete with follow-up) -- and the story spread like wildfire, quickly distorting into a story about how "a college professor in Chicago* brought in a woman to masturbate in front of his class." People are up in arms, and the story has made every major news outlet -- MSNBC, Fox News, HuffPo, even the AFP wires.

Hang on. Did you click that last one? Go ahead, I'll wait.

Riddle me this: What the fuck is a picture of the marching band doing next to a story about a sexually charged psychology class?

I can only guess that someone in the AFP wire office was looking for a file photo, and instead of going with a saw of some sort (as favored by Fox & HuffPo, among others) or, I don't know, a headshot of Professor Bailey, they chose a symbol of the university -- the Northwestern University Marching Band, to be precise -- and made a lame attempt at relevancy by citing a "live show" experience. The story with the associated NUMB picture has made it into a few nationwide stories, even reaching across the pond. (Note: It made me really, really happy to not find mention of this story on either CNN or the BBC.)

Now, this probably doesn't bother most people, but as both a journalist and the VP-Publicity for the NUMBALUMS (the alumni club for the marching band), I can't help but feel frustrated. It's twofold: Not only does this represent shoddy, slap-it-together visual reporting, but the story itself has been treated as sensation instead of opening up a genuine dialogue about acceptability in classrooms and the value of experiential education. Maybe I'm being snobby or idealistic, but it'd be nice if my coworkers and even my doctor didn't greet me with a "What the hell is going on at Northwestern??" this morning. People see "sex in a classroom" and immediately (and it's to be expected, I suppose) don't bother to get much further into the story. They don't bother with the context because sex and vilification are more fun. I thought Professor Bailey's letter to the Daily was eloquent and stated his position well. That's the debate I'd like to have.

But all anyone can talk about is the fucksaw.

(By the way, did you know that there's a grindcore band called Fucksaw? Their song titles are delightfully themed. Thanks a million, Google search.)

* And despite our campaign to become "Chicago's Big Ten team," this is still incorrect.

--

UPDATE, 4:58 p.m. - Not so much of an update as an "I should have mentioned" that Professor Bailey received "uniformly positive" feedback from the 100 students (out of the 600-person class) present for the demonstration. Morty, on the other hand, seems to be retracting yesterday's statement that the university stands firmly behind Professor Bailey's actions. It doesn't take a conspiracy theorist to guess he's getting pressure from donors. Stay strong, Morty! Also welcome to the party, WSJ.

--

UPDATE, March 4, 1:51 p.m. - We made it on the BBC. Best write-up I've seen, actually.

--

UPDATE, March 7, 11:30 a.m. - Read it here.

Sometimes it hurts...

...to be a Northwestern fan.


Case in point, the beating we suffered versus Wisconsin last Saturday. Congratulations to Badgers fans; I'm sure you're all excited to go to the Rose Bowl. But 70-23? Bielema, you're a dick.

I'm as hardcore a Northwestern football fan as they come. I've been to every home game since 2005, and I've been to eight out of 10 of our conference opponents' stadiums, as well as this year's season opener at Vanderbilt. (And planning to road trip out to Lincoln next year when we add Nebraska to the Big Ten, er, Twelve, er, whatever.) I was in the marching band for four years. I bleed purple. I got comfortable with seeing our team steadily improve throughout the season, and end on a fabulous note in November. That's typically the month we beat Iowa, after all. Beating Iowa is my favorite.

That's why losing Persa, and then dropping the two games at the end of the season -- Illinois at Wrigley (WRIGLEY) and then Wisconsin over Thanksgiving weekend, both on primetime TV -- really, really hurt. For the first time, 'Cats fans are starting to have real expectations, and when we don't fulfill them, our hearts ache.

But I'll take this opportunity to remind everyone -- and myself -- that this program is on an incredible upswing, and -- if you'll excuse my French -- fuck if I'm going to miss watching Fitz end his fifth season as head coach with our first bowl win since 1949. I am simply not willing to risk it. So I'm putting faith before evidence, fashioning some Bielema voodoo dolls (yes, I hold grudges) and planning a trip to Texas.

Bowl announcements are this Sunday; Northwestern is projected to be given the second-to-lowest Big Ten spot at the TicketCity Bowl in Dallas on January 1st. (The lowest slot will go to a non-Big Ten team, since Purdue, Indiana and Minnesota are not bowl-eligible. As tough as it's been to be a 'Cats fan this year, it's been worse to be a Boilermaker, Hoosier or Gopher fan.) (No love for the Boilermakers this year, though.)

So go 'Cats, beat the Texas Tech Red Raiders (our projected opponents). 2011 is going to be a wicked awesome season -- a (knock on wood) healthy Persa, an experienced depth chart, a non-spastic run defense -- but we've still got business to attend to this year. Fitz, Watkins and crew will just have to figure out how to take care of business.

Until then, I'm just going to watch this on loop:

The Medill School of...oh, whatever

I went to college to study journalism. I chose Northwestern because it is home to the Medill School of Journalism. It's a fantastic school and as a result the name "Medill" carries weight in the industry, and I wanted to be a part of that.

So I've watched with waning interest and waxing exasperation as the Medill administration has been dicking around with the name of the school. At first they announced that it would just be "The Medill School," dropping the "of Journalism," as reflected in the current logo (above). This was done, they said, in consideration of the Integrated Marketing Communications (IMC) program, which is also housed in Medill (and which, in my opinion and that of others, really belongs in the Kellogg School of Management or perhaps the School of Communication).

We wouldn't want the IMCers feeling left out by having the name of a journalism school include the word "journalism" in it. I know, we're so thoughtful. But whatever, I can swallow that. It's not like the value of a Medill degree isn't understood.

But that solution was too simple, and someone* changed their mind, so earlier this month the faculty voted (38-5) to change the name to "The Medill School of Journalism, Media, Integrated Marketing."

Let's just let that soak in for a minute.

The Medill School of Journalism, Media, Integrated Marketing**

Seriously? At what point did we decide that verbose and gawky is better than clean and simple? And also that conjunctions are unnecessary? It just feels like we're trying too hard. It's inelegant. By attempting to list everything that Medill is, we limit ourselves to that list.

As a way to soothe our collective indignation, I did some brainstorming with my unofficial panel of fellow Medill alums for alternative title ideas. (Warning: They get progressively angrier.)

My suggestion: The Medill School of Muckraking, Pandering, Asyndeton
E.D.'s suggestion: The Medill School of Journalism and Not Journalism
T.H.'s suggestion: The Medill School of Whatever D.L.* Wants to Name It, Apparently
B.M.'s suggestion: Medill: Who Gives a Fuck So Long as It Sounds Pretentious

I'm proud to have studied journalism and to have graduated from Medill. But I don't have confidence in what this shift means for the program. I just hope that the word craft doesn't get lost amongst the verbiage.

* That'd be Medill's dean, John Lavine.

**UPDATE, 11:06 p.m. - So the Daily Northwestern messed up the name -- it should actually be the Medill School of Journalism, Media, Integrated Marketing Communications. That's...so much better.

NU @ Wrigley

I've missed you all. Not as much as I've missed NU football.

Obviously.

P.S. I turned in my final assignment for this quarter at DePaul, which means I should have more time to post interesting things for you to read. We'll see how that goes over the next few weeks.

You can take the girl off campus...

Hey Ma, look, they're still publishing me! Somewhere! As in, the forum page of the student newspaper where I went to college!

Letter to the editor: Northwestern football: We'll bounce back.

Oh. That's pretty cool.

I would like it noted that I did include an apostrophe in my spelling of "'Cats" in the copy that I turned in. The Daily editors are apparently not a fan of correct punctuation. Otherwise I'm honored that they ran my letter; I wrote it as a coping mechanism and in response to a friend's plea to flood the paper with letters in support of the team. Pull it together, guys. Let's go 'Cats, beat the Spartans!

Snow

I give you my first piece for my memoir writing class. I'm still working on it, so comments or suggestions are certainly appreciated.

Taken the evening this story is based on.

Snow fell for the first time. It glittered like pixie dust in the light from the street lamps and landed on the ground softly, as if it didn’t want to cause a fuss. But there was no one around to be bothered; the streets and sidewalks were empty, hushed.

I stepped outside and filled my lungs with the cold air, watching my breath slowly leave me in exhale. I smiled. For the first time since arriving on campus I felt at peace, light on my feet. I’d just finished finals week, placing an emphatic period at the end of my first quarter of college. I was giddy, practically euphoric.

I started toward my dorm, where my friends were waiting to celebrate. I hummed. I knew I’d aced that test, and I looked around for someone to rejoice with before remembering that everyone else had gone home for the holidays already. The snow was my only companion.

To be alone in a place that is usually full of people and life and noise unnerves me, but on this night I reveled in it. I soaked it in and I felt like a god, alone atop my snowy mount. I walked with my head back, my face pointed straight up, watching the snow come down. My snow. The sky was a dark gray, almost black, and the white flakes were falling evenly, a perfect grid, as if it had been planned that way. I had planned it that way.

I’d moved to Hawaii with my family right before starting high school, and aside from the occasional visit to family on the mainland, I hadn’t seen snow up close in more than four years. Moving back to the Midwest felt like coming home, though my years on a tropical island had severely depleted my cold weather wardrobe. I owned two pairs of socks when I arrived at college, and no winter coat. One extreme winter clothing shopping trip later, I was fully outfitted for even the most arduous blizzard. My collection of long underwear was something to be envied.

On this night, then, the gentle snowflakes had no chance against my many layers of clothing. Still they landed on my cheeks, in my hair, melting in contact with my skin and dripping down the back of my neck. I shivered as I walked past the arch, the gateway to campus. It looked like a postcard. Untouched snow glazed every tree branch, every surface. It was beautiful. Everything was beautiful. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt as though everything in the world were just perfect.

I considered the fact that I was done with a third of my freshman year. I felt like a little kid, one that counted her age to the closest fraction possible so as not to be mistaken for too young. I wasn’t five, I was five and three quarters. I wasn’t a college freshman, I was one-twelfth of the way done with college. I would go on to harder classes, and a thousand new experiences, and I would walk this sidewalk hundreds of times. I would lead the marching band, join an a cappella group, dance for 30 hours straight (twice), and teach myself how to make giant papier-mâché ants. I would also gain 30 pounds, have my heart broken, and feel utterly lost more often than not. And I’d meet my best friend.

But at this moment, alone in my winter wonderland, I was blissfully unaware of all that lay before me. My life was uncomplicated. College was still a concept. I was still figuring it out. As I walked up the steps to my dorm I realized that, for the first time, I felt ready to handle whatever came next. I’d survived one quarter. I could certainly make it eleven more.

I walked inside and the warmth embraced me.

'Cats are 4-0!

I had a short and late post this week over at LTP. Check it out here.

Feeling really good about my 'Cats this year. (I mean, I always feel good about my 'Cats, but it's an extra special good feeling right now.) I've been saving up already in anticipation of a post-season bowl game; last year's trip to the Outback was absolutely phenomenal, save the last 3 seconds of the game. Still, what a game, and you could almost see the college football scene start to take notice of the program at that moment. At this point we're just hoping Fitz is here for the long haul.

Next week is Minnesota, and I want to win as much as ever, especially because I want to bring back the "5 and 0" high-five from my senior year. So awesome. Go 'Cats!

Monday morning...

...is for 'Cats recaps. I love fall.

It's BAND CAMP

My weekly NUMB post over at Lake the Posts, the venerated Northwestern football blog, was posted today. How many times can I say "post" in a sentence and still have it be legitimate?

Link it up.

EXACTLY ONE WEEK UNTIL NU FOOTBALL

This video. Gives me chills. I can't believe I survived that game without any lingering cardiac problems.

I cannot freaking wait for the 2010 season. Go 'Cats.

What does it say about our society?

I had intended to post one final "retrospective" piece today, an op-ed about homeless veterans that I wrote in the winter of 2009, but thought better of it. It was outdated, and honestly the writing was not up to par. But it's an important issue, so here's the updated, Cliffs Notes version:

In January 2009 a World War II veteran froze to death in his home. The story got national attention, because what the hell, how can that even happen? His power company had shut off his electricity because he hadn't paid the bill. Even so, he might be considered lucky -- after all, he had a home.

Veterans make up a third of the homeless population in America. That's more than 100,000 people that have worn a uniform and fought for our country that are now sleeping in cars, on the streets, in homeless shelters. What does it say about our society when we let our front line, our foot soldiers, our fighter pilots slip through the cracks when they get home? Veterans run higher risks than the rest of the population of mental illness and homelessness. A match made in heaven, no doubt.

Last night the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Adm. Mike Mullen, gave a speech in Detroit in which he addressed homelessness among veterans as a major issue, folded into all the problems veterans are facing as they return home to a troubled economy. Last November, VA Secretary Eric Shinseki presented a 5-year, $3.2 billion plan to curb veteran homelessness. I imagine we'll see news stories this November about whether the program has made any difference. At least Shinseki, Mullen and others seem to be on the right track, but it's a long road ahead -- one that stretches far beyond the next five years.

We simply have to decide that we won't let veterans slip through the cracks. Allowing veterans to freeze to death in their own homes -- let alone on the streets -- is simply unacceptable.

Talk about the definition of "d'uh."

It's a life and death business

To celebrate the fact that my classes begin again two weeks from today, we continue the week of posting pieces written for school that never saw the light of publication. This one is from a writing class I took with Alex Kotlowitz in the winter of 2009. The assignment was to write a profile of someone at work, so I spent a cold January morning with Joe Donnellan of Donnellan Family Funeral Services.

A profile of someone at work

You won’t find a folding chair anywhere on the premises. The rooms are decorated to reflect wealth, with dark wood, heavy furniture, and faded but stately Oriental rugs. Boxes of Kleenex sit on every available surface, and a large bowl of mints – white lifesavers, somewhat ironically – sit on a table to the far right of the door.

Most people only set foot in a funeral home under the unhappiest of circumstances, so it’s easy to forget that the funeral business is indeed a business. Donnellan Family Funeral Services, founded in 1913, has survived war, Depression, and inept nephews to become one of the most well-known locally owned funeral homes on the north side of Chicago, with eight full-time funeral directors. As a child, Joe Donnellan learned to spell his name from the sign outside. More than forty years later, he’s running the business.

At more than six feet tall, Donnellan towers over the other funeral directors, and his thick, white-gray hair is carefully gelled. He moves through the rooms of the funeral home, pointing out all the problems with the building: ugly wiring in this room, water damage in another, misplaced supplies in a third. From his description you would think the place was falling apart, though untrained eyes would not notice the flaws.

Wearing a dark suit with a white tie and crisp white shirt, silver cufflinks and frameless glasses, Donnellan looks oddly modern in a setting devoted to the past. He does not smile often, and his dry and off-putting sense of humor seem as though they would be abrupt when speaking to a grieving family. “Food is a good way to quell emotional problems, if you can’t reach for the bottle,” he says while explaining his business’ policy of providing food at funerals if requested. Still, Donnellan is a businessman in the truest form, and he holds two principles – hard work and quality product – in highest regard.

He stops to discuss with one of his subordinates the funeral taking place that morning. The body of a former Wilmette fire chief lies in the next room, and Gaelic music flows out of the sound system. The daughter of the deceased is stuck on the highway thanks to the heavy snowfall the night before, and Donnellan gives directions to help her circumvent road closures.

Donnellan empties his pockets onto a table – out comes a BlackBerry, some $20 bills, a small ledger book. He finds what he’s looking for and pops a piece of Nicotine gum into his mouth. Donnellan Family Funeral Services handles about 500 funerals a year, and even with eight full-time funeral directors, Donnellan spends a lot of time at the office. “There’s always going to be a golf game,” he says of the long hours. “But there’s not always going to be a time you can serve a family.”

This is the business of funerals – the paperwork, problem solving, hearse designing, arrangement making, talking with people. Donnellan is a licensed embalmer, but he’s never embalmed a body in his life. The company’s crematorium is miles away, and he carries a certain disdain for the romanticized visions of medical examiners and coroners. Joe Donnellan is a funeral director, but his business isn’t the dead. It’s taking care of the living.

FoOtBaLl SeAsOn!!!!!1!!!go'cats!!!

Being a Northwestern fan is emotionally exhausting. I learned early on to shut off the football part of my brain after bowl game season. It lies dormant throughout winter and spring, perhaps with a blip at the spring football game. Summer has never been a problem, since it's usually busy and exciting. But then one day you wake up and realize... It's August. Which means it's officially time to get excited about football. A couple days ago I ordered 34 tickets to the season opener at Vanderbilt. My thirty-three best friends and I will be road-tripping down to Nashville for the game, and I'm excited to the point of jumping up and down and writing a new number one single which I will lovingly entitle "All the Ways I Would Die for Coach Fitz." (There are probably about 48 of them. Maybe one more.)

I'll continue working with the NUMBALUMS to plan events, blogging about NUMB for LTP, and just generally being an all-around, purple-clad nutjob for the next few months. This is gonna be fun.

Northwestern's 2010 season-

9/4/10	@ Vanderbilt	attending (road trip CONFIRMED)
09/11/10	Illinois State	attending
9/18/10	@Rice	maybe attending (Evan?)
09/25/10	Central Michigan	attending
10/2/10	@ Minnesota	attending (road trip plans TK)
10/9/10	Purdue	attending (night game!! ah!!!)
10/16/10	BYE	and on the seventh week, Fitz rested.
10/23/10	Michigan State	HOMECOMING OMGDIFJMIV! (attending)
10/30/10	@Indiana	attending, and organizing a NUMBALUM tailgate
11/06/10	@ Penn State	attending, or Bethany will kill me
11/13/10	Iowa	attending
11/20/10	Illinois	attending at Wrigley (and likely hosting a pregame)
11/27/10	@Wisconsin	TBD, but it'd suck to break a perfect record

TBD BOWL GAME		attending