Category Archives: reflection

Thanksgiving

For this Thanksgiving weekend, if I had the right super powers, I would grant you community
and fellowship, fun and games, food for feasting, smiles and hugs, calm, and rest.

Since I’m not a magician, these are my wishes for you.

the word "thanksgiving" in white on dark blue background, with a surrounding border comprised of leaves, acorns, and berries

Sharing as Connecting

Is it my imagination or are there more memoirs today than there were 20 years ago?

The last couple of books I listened to on Audible were memoirs—one about a current celebrity and one about a very rich woman from two generations ago. While we used to call books like these autobiographies, it seems that people who want to tell their story today write memoirs instead. The definitions of autobiography and memoir highlight a distinction between the two, but not enough to quibble over.

In a conversation with a friend about the two recent memoirs I listened to, I mentioned that I had planned to write an autobiography or memoir when I retired. My friend asked me why I had changed my mind. Without hesitation, I responded: “I didn’t want to hurt people who would not want the negative parts of their lives shared. I thought it would be selfish of me to sacrifice the feelings of others to tell my story.”

Why did I want to tell my story? Why do those who write about their lives feel compelled to tell their stories?

When I think about why I wanted to create a book about my life, I want to think that it’s because by sharing my story—that of being an ordinary person who exceeds expectations— others may gain some insights and be encouraged. Stories about transcending obstacles and limitations and triumphs over despair have always appealed to me because they signaled that if someone else could do the extraordinary, then I might also aspire for something more.

Truthfully, I really don’t know why I have felt the need to write about my life. Being an observer and notetaker is just who I am. I like to reflect on what happened, how I felt, and possible meanings of the events. When I read notes or remember the significant and often insignificant events in my life, I think they make a story. Sometimes they make me smile and sometimes they make me sad. These memories are the ingredients that make up my life. I hold them as precious and want to share them generously.

Holding the events of our life as precious is probably a human thing. Wanting to share them with others is perhaps more idiosyncratic. Ultimately, for me, sharing is connecting.

Dousing the Fires of Inhumanity

I woke up and looked at the clock. It really was 3:00 in the morning. “Oh no,” I thought. “I hope I can get back to sleep.” Because I usually sleep well, I tried to recall my activities from the day and evening to try to figure out what could be causing me to wake up and not get back to sleep.

After about an hour of tossing and turning, searching for the best position to invoke sleep and playing mind games equivalent to counting sheep, my mind was pulled toward the ubiquitous, never-ending negative news stories of the day.

Wars and their devastating physical and psychological human toll and our inhumanity to one another as exhibited through political maneuverings, the cutting cruelty of social media, and random killings, some out of a belief that some people are worthy to live and others are not. As I ruminated about these things, I was overwhelmed by a deep sadness and tears slowly leaked out of the corners of my eyes.

My sadness caused me to think about the title of my website: The F.I.R.E. This Time. Inspired by Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time, the title I chose in some ways reflects my pessimism about us humans.

Though there are ebbs and flows, there is always Fire. Sometimes there are Fires all over the world and little fires everywhere all the time. What are these Fires?

What I call Fires is what David Brooks describes as “the rising culture of dehumanization . . . tribalism, racism, ideological dogmatism, and social media.”  (“A Humanist Manifesto: The world feels like an awful place right now. Here’s how to make it better.” The Atlantic, October 24, 2023.)

Brooks describes dehumanization as “any way of seeing and acting that covers the human face, that refuses to recognize and respect the full dignity of each person.”

Described as such, dehumanization is the root cause of all the Fires. What ignites these Fires is humans thinking that there is only one right way, one right answer, one point of view and other ways of thinking or viewing are wrong or bad and must be vanquished, destroyed, and annihilated.

Some ideas Brooks suggest for conserving humanity that resonate with me are what he calls humanistic wisdom and empathy.*

Brooks shares that it takes humanistic wisdom “to be able to understand one another to some degree, to see one another’s viewpoints, to project respect across difference and disagreements.” If this is all we must do, why do we feel helpless to confront the problems we see and hear about? What can we do as individuals? How can we exhibit humanistic wisdom and empathy?

It’s obvious that we can’t contain world Fires, but we can contribute to dousing the flames of little fires. While even controlling little fires is no easy task, it is something that each of us can do in our everyday interactions, even our casual encounters. Instead of accusing as a first instinct, we can practice the habit of first accepting and hearing.  

An attitude of acceptance and hearing sets the tone for humanistic wisdom and is a meaningful step toward empathy. Brooks’ understanding of empathy is “first mirroring—accurately reflecting the emotions of the person in front of you. Second, mentalizing using your own similar experiences to project a theory about what the other person is going through. Third, caring…. To care, you not only have to understand another person: you also have to perform an action that will make them know that you understand how they feel.”

We should be grateful for the many good people who try to be empathetic by mirroring and mentalizing in their encounters with others. It’s the third part of Brooks’ description of empathy—caring—that is often missing from our relationships with “the other.” If more people could care about “the other” because it’s the humane thing to do, we could chip away at the kindling that keeps these Fires of hate and aggression smoldering and eventually bursting into flames.

Our history demonstrates that there was fire last time, and sleepless nights cause us to ruminate on the fire this time. Sadly, if there are not more demonstrations of humanistic wisdom and empathy, there will undoubtedly be Fire the Next Time.

word cloud in shape of two hands reaching toward each other with primary words in one being "I HEAR YOU" and "CONNECT" and the primary word in the other hand being "EMPATHY"

*In fact, the FIRE in the title of my blog is an acronym that’s long been a touchstone for me, of which ‘empathy’ is a component, so I guess I’m not entirely pessimistic. Following are the components of the acronym:

  • Fate/Faith
  • Integrity/Initiative
  • Reflection/Respect
  • Energy/Empathy

First-Generation High School Graduates

Maybe you attended a high school reunion recently or talked with someone who attended one. Most likely these reunions are commemorating graduations that occurred 20-50 years ago. It’s likely that the majority of those classmates attending these reunions were the first in their families to receive a high school diploma. Graduating from high school was quite an accomplishment and source of pride for these graduates’ families.

What is stunning and puzzling to me is the number of young people born in the United States who—in 2023—are the first in their family to graduate from high school.

These thoughts led me to these notes from my mother:

What Gwen’s Graduation from High School Meant to Me

Yes, her graduation meant much to me in terms of my life and the chance to make up for disappointments and lost opportunities. It meant that the naysayers and name-callers were wrong about me and my child. It meant that despite the circumstances of her conception and the mess her father and I made of our lives together after her birth, through faith, I knew that God was watching over her. His eyes were on her as he watched over the sparrows.

What Gwen did not know was on the occasion of her high school graduation, I remembered my Grandpapa Agnew, my daddy’s father, who was a slave. With joy in my heart, I thought about how far we had come to finally have someone in our family graduate from high school.

Grandpapa Agnew in a suit and hat with a building in the background
Grandpapa Agnew

I recalled the times when I was a little girl and Grandpapa Agnew stayed with us. I would sit on his lap and he would tell me stories about when he was growing up. The message I got from his stories was about how much better things were for us Negroes now than when he was born and how it was so important that we worked hard to find opportunities to better ourselves and our race.

When Mama and Daddy moved to Memphis, Grandpapa Agnew stayed in Mississippi with his daughter. He visited us when we lived in Memphis and Gwen was a little girl. He had the most beautiful silver, not gray, hair; walked with a cane, and wore a suit and a dress hat. It was such a blessing that he could see his great grandchild, one who would accomplish what he could not have had the imagination to realize.

Banned Books: A Response

Guest post by Marguerite M. (Maggie) Culp in response to “Banned Books” post (10/12/2023).

You got in trouble for reading Gone With The Wind in a physics class? Gone with the Wind?!? Although that is the last book I would expect you to be surreptitiously reading in school, the fact that the story intrigued you—and you were willing to take some risks in order to finish reading it—was a great way to make your point.

Children, young adults, and hopefully a significant number of adults are naturally curious. A good love story set against the background of a war captures everyone’s imagination, even if the story is an attempt to rehabilitate the image of the Confederacy and reframe the Civil War and Reconstruction. Your mother, by the way, showed admirable restraint in the way she handled the situation.

As you know, I was born, grew up, and attended college in the Boston area, so banned books were part of my life from the day I was born. The church to which my family belonged and various civic groups periodically published lists of banned books. When I was old enough, I was asked to raise my right hand in church and swear never to read a banned book. Naturally, the first thing I did was try to locate some banned books, but they were kept in the back room of the local library and unavailable to the general public.

At 14 years of age, I was hired to work part-time at one of the branch libraries in my hometown. After I worked there for a year or so, I decided to slip into the back room and explore a few banned books. I quickly discovered their quality and content varied. Some seemed an absolute waste of paper, others simply did not interest me, and a few were absolutely disgusting. For the life of me, though, I could not figure out why some people considered these books so dangerous that they had to be locked away and people forbidden to read them.

Yes, Catcher in the Rye was disappointing because it had nothing to do with baseball, but it did motivate me to ask my dad a lot of questions about how boys viewed girls and why a writer who presumably had a good vocabulary used so many swear words.

I flat out loved To Kill a Mockingbird and could not understand why anyone would want to stop me from reading it.

Although The Prince by Machiavelli was troubling on many levels, its content did not keep me awake at night the way the headlines in the evening newspaper did.

It was only when I stumbled on a banned summary of the works of Martin Luther during my senior year in high school that I realized there probably were four reasons that governments, churches, or community groups tried to control what other people read: the banned books contained ideas that threatened their world view, their power, their financial security, and/or their sense of self and place in the universe.

I cannot imagine today’s young people are any less resourceful or less curious than we were, which means I share your optimism that they will find their way to the truths contained in many a banned book. It may take them a bit longer, and I think the road will be a bit more complicated than it was for us, but enough will get there in the end to make a positive impact on this country and its future.


Marguerite M. (Maggie) Culp is a higher education consultant and former faculty member, counselor, dean, and senior student affairs officer. She is co-editor of six books including “Student Success in the Community College: What Really Works?

Banned Books

A book worth banning is a book worth reading

Last week was Banned Books Week. In my opinion, most books worth reading have been banned or censored at some time during their circulation. Notice that I preface the previous assertion with, “in my opinion,” because I don’t claim to be an arbiter of what others read. By contrast, it seems that those who seek to censor and ban books think that their opinions matter more than others’.

It’s more than troubling to think that in this century in the United States book banning and censorship are not only tolerated but increasingly sanctioned. I have no quarrel with those who want to restrict access to books, games, movies, or anything they deem inappropriate for those within their guardianship. I think it goes too far when outsiders seek to extend those judgments as to what is appropriate for those with whom they have no relationship.

When I was 16 or 17, I was suspended due to my insatiable desire to continue reading the library-restricted novel Gone With the Wind. The trauma of the suspension is probably blocking me from remembering the exact details of whether it was from school entirely or only from my physics class, but the condition for my return was for a parent to meet with my physics teacher. My mother couldn’t believe that she would have to miss a day of work to come to the school for some kind of foolishness that was so unlike me, who always followed the rules. Although my grades put me in excellent standing in my graduating class, not completing the physics course would have delayed my graduation.

After being warned more than once not to bring the book to class, I could not put it down. In an attempt to hide what I was doing, I positioned myself at a back table in the physics lab and held the book on my lap under the table. I was so engrossed in the novel that I didn’t realize when my teacher was standing next to my lab table. I can’t say what was most fascinating to me about the novel. Whatever it was, it was absorbing enough for me to risk the ire of my teacher.

In contemporizing the narrative of this work of fiction, by all accounts I should not have relished reading it. In retrospect, I wonder how my 16- or 17-year-old-self felt about the contrast between what I was reading and the factual reality of the American Civil War, the elaborately drawn nobility of rich White Southerners, and the portrayal of favored slaves. As damnable as the mythologizing is in this book, I would not be in favor of banning, censoring, or restricting it.

To truly educate for a changing and evolving world, many banned books ought to be required reading with analysis and discussion of the historical, social, and cultural context in which the book was written, as well as the more recent and contemporary thinking in regard to the subject. However, in the current climate of suppression and falsities, teachers dare not attempt to teach students what would certainly broaden their perspectives and require them to interrogate the truths that they have been led to believe. Despite the pessimistic outlook for the social, cultural, and political landscape, I continue to have faith that youth will clear the path to their own enlightenment. It may not come early because of access, but I’m encouraged to think that young readers are the same now as they have always been. Just as I took a risk to read Gone With the Wind, a library-restricted book, they, too, will find a way to read banned, censored, and restricted boo

What the “Fantastic” Thing Is All About

Guest blog by Laurence N. Smith

Since Gwen Dungy’s fantastic blog about me, I have heard from several former colleagues who just wanted to say hello and catch up, and some who wanted to know what the fantastic thing was all about. Among the callers were some who asked what I thought would be the best advice to a new or aspiring student affairs vice president. And since my daughter, a prominent business consultant, unknowingly to me shared Gwen’s blog with some individuals in her network, it opened the door for a few who asked for advice for their own future success.

My first vice presidency was at Chicago State University in 1969. At 29 years of age, I was the youngest administrator by many years. Times were difficult, and especially difficult for students of color who comprised 80 percent of the student body!

Among students, faculty, and administrators there existed a downbeat atmosphere concerning just about everything. The president was focused on bringing in new young talent to change that condition. The litany of what was wrong with the University was a long series of frustrations. I learned very fast never to ask my colleagues, “How are you?”  

It was then that I decided that when anyone asked \how I was that my reply would be “fantastic.” I realized that in the culture of the University it was an unusual reply. I decided to make it even more energized to have greater impact. The simple “fantastic” was replaced by a vigorous “FAANTASTIC!”     

In the early years the reply shocked people and opened the door to exploring change when they asked me why I felt fantastic. It didn’t affect everyone, but even those who thought it was an over-the-top reply were curious why I felt that way or wanted to test if I was in touch with reality.  It enlarged the view and discussion about the University.

Where it had the most significant impact was on students.  For student leadersthe student newspaper reporters and editors, the captains of athletic teams, and others—my feeling fantastic helped them feel fantastic. It fostered a new level of enthusiasm and discussion about the opportunities that were ahead if they embraced the efforts necessary for getting a college degree.   What they experienced, they shared.  It caught on.

And when I became vice president for university marketing and student affairs at Eastern Michigan University, it had the same impact. 

It still sparks curiosity and engagement. Try it out for yourself. When you are asked, “How are you?” respond “fantastic” or “FAANTASTIC.” No matter who you are and what you do, it still works.


Laurence N. Smith is a founder and Senior Partner of New Campus Dynamics with 40 years of experience as a senior university administrator and as a national leader in higher education. He is emeritus Vice President for University Marketing and Student Affairs at Eastern Michigan University. Among his extensive activities, he was founder and chair of the NASPA National Academy for Leadership and Executive Effectiveness and executive editor of NASPA’s online management magazine. In 1999, he was named a NASPA Pillar of the Profession, and in 2002, he was the recipient of the Fred Turner Award for Outstanding Service to NASPA, the equivalent of a Lifetime Achievement Award in the student affairs profession.

WORD

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

John 1:1

As the Writers’ Strike continued toward the 100-day mark, I thought, “If the industry cannot afford to compensate writers adequately and provide new rules regarding work requirements and the industry’s use of AI in the future, they should just shut down.”

I understood the need to withhold the goodsthe talentif those who use the talent do not compensate in what the writers think is a fair and just exchange.

It’s not just the strikers and their kindred supporters, we consumers have a role in this tug-of-war between the talent and the industry. As the box office revenue from summer 2023 demonstrates, we love the movies. If we can’t go to the movies, what’s the use of having time off work or being retired?

Our big screen televisions bring us a cornucopia of entertainment choices. Now that we have brought these streaming services and networks into our homes and on our portable devices as essential parts of our lives, we imagine ourselves yoked to them. Whether we are consciously aware of it or not, the television has become as necessary and normal in our homes as a bathroom. We just take both for granted until the toilet is stopped up and the writers stop writing.

As the Strike dragged on and there were stories about the hardship writers and attendant talent were experiencing, it may have appeared that the writers were at a disadvantage in the negotiation struggles. But you and I knew it would be just a matter of time before the tug-of-war would end.

Because “…in a culture where words are all that is left as weapons, it’s words that make the universe.” (How the Authors of the Bible Spun Triumph from Defeat. Book Review of “Why the Bible Began: An Alternative History of Scripture and its Origins” in The New Yorker, August 28, 2023, by Adam Gopnik)