Life on the Tracks

 

by Steven B. Orkin

 

 

Today, December 26th, 2012 would have been my father Jerome Orkin's 76th birthday. Further, 2012 marks twenty years since his passing. In acknowledgment of these two dates, I wanted to share a story about him as an honor to his memory.

A good portion of my dad's adult working life was spent as a trackman for the Long Island Railroad. Though the guys he worked with provided him with many an entertaining tale that he would often share with us around the dinner table, the job entailed a lot of difficult, physical work, potentially life-threatening at times. Despite his caution, he was injured more than once, on one occasion breaking his leg and arm after being hit by a railroad tie, the long wooden blocks that help anchor the actual metal train tracks in place.

During bad winter storms, he would be called in the middle of the night to clear snow and ice from tracks and platforms. On some of those occasions he would be gone for 2-3 days at a time, sleeping on the work crew’s bus to get the overtime pay. I remember him one time bringing home a strange pair of gloves. They were stiff and shriveled like the hands of an old corpse, far too small for his hands. However, he told us they had indeed been his gloves. After getting some sort of powerful de-icing solution on them, he had felt them shrinking and just barely had time to pull them off before they would have encased his hands to excruciating effect.

Summer had its share of difficulties as well. He and his crew tangled with bees and hornets, removed the bodies of animals that had been hit by trains. They spent every working day completely exposed to the sizzling sun. The heat was amplified by the track itself, which absorbed and continuously radiated it back out through the metal tracks. On the lighter side, we would often tease Dad about the workman’s tan he got every year: chestnut brown from the waist up, bone-white from the waist down.

Because of the intensely physical nature of the work, turnover was relatively high. Further, he was periodically moved to other crews due to redistribution of work or other factors. As a result, he encountered a lot of different guys on various crews over time and many of them knew of him if they didn’t actually know him personally. At 35, Dad was known as ‘The Old Man’ to a great many LIRR trackmen.

Though he was well-liked and the phrase was mostly intended with a kind of good natured respect, there were some that didn’t view him in that way. On one occasion, one of the bigger, younger guys he didn’t know well challenged him, saying, “You wanna lay track with me, old man? Think you can keep up?” My dad wasn’t a proponent of this kind of testosterone-driven braggadocio and wasn’t easily provoked to rash action, but he had a lot of pride and he had a fairly refined moral compass, a desire to see justice done.

Dad considered it and responded, “Sure. But we work at my pace, not yours.”

The younger guy confidently agreed, assuming the actual pace didn’t matter, and they got to it. But by the end of that long summer day, the lesson Dad’s cocky coworker learned was that though the old man was not the strongest guy on the crew and he wasn’t the fastest, he could swing a hammer all day long.

In this story, we find a timeless message of consistency and durability over flash & bang. There will always be someone stronger, faster, smarter, funnier, wealthier, more attractive, more charismatic. But at the end of the day, I’d much rather be the tortoise than the hare.

Thanks for the lesson, Dad. Happy Birthday. I love you and miss you every day.

Thanks for reading.

The Chains That Bind Us

 by Steven B. Orkin

 

The room is dark and silent. There is a sense that this has been the case for some time. The air is still; a light cover of dust has settled over everything. 

After a moment, a click echoes through the darkness as a key is placed in the entry door and it swings open.

Steve steps inside, closing the door behind him. Reaching for the dimmer switch beside the door, he nods in satisfaction as the room lights to a dim amber, then purses his lips contemplatively as he considers the space.

Moving to the small kitchenette, he checks the stove to confirm it’s functioning properly, then opens the fridge, blinking against the harsh light. Sliding a bottled water free from the door, he closes the fridge and picks up the telephone, nodding once again, and places it back on the wall. Next, he walks over to the desk and powers up the laptop, giving it a thumb-up.

"Okay then," he says. "Looks like everything here is still in working order. Let’s get to it…"

~~~

It seems incredible to me that nearly an entire year has passed since I last posted. I continue to be astonished and dismayed by the speed at which time flies. I have no concrete reason as to why it’s been so long, so I’ll spare us all the embarrassment of apologizing and issuing assurances about how hard I’ll try to write again more promptly. I can make no such assurances. It may well be another year before I post again. I hope not, but I can’t in good conscience deny the possibility. I’ll just let these entries speak for themselves, no matter how long they take. 

Though this significant amount of time has gone by, this blog has never been very far from my thoughts. My lack of attendance to it should not be mistaken for a lack of interest. Just the opposite is the case. It is something deeply personal and meaningful to me, and I find the inclination to “just post something” akin to chewing tin foil. As the months have passed, I have continued to deliberate over what I want to talk about next within its confines, but have not been able to focus in on a particular topic. Part of the problem has been my ongoing struggle with what I deem to be the confessional nature of blogging, over whether what I have to say here matters in the slightest, and even if it does, whether anyone cares enough to bother reading it.

As an individual, I am characterized by a rather reserved demeanor. On most occasions, I’m inclined to be silent rather than speak. Despite my sincere fondness for people in general, I’m difficult to get to know well; I have a very hard time investing enough validity in my feelings to warrant expressing them, and have great difficulty articulating them when I do. I have what I consider to be a fairly rich and robust inner world, but this is very likely not evident to a large percentage of the outside world. One of the reasons I so enjoyed acting, and now writing fiction is the ability to become someone else; to see the world through new and different eyes. These outlets allow me to give voice to things I don’t feel I have the power to express in and of myself.

This blog, however, is a step back in the direction of myself. Perhaps it’s a sort of catharsis-inducing self-help tool to help me find my way in this life. Though carefully crafted, there are no characters to hide behind, no music of narrative and dialogue to dazzle and engage you as I make my feelings known through the filter of story.

Perhaps I over-analyze…

Sue me. It’s my nature.

Our capacity as individuals to assess our own lives is limited. Our inevitable emotional involvement mars the clarity of objectivity. Despite this, I often find myself looking through my own windows in an attempt to evaluate what I see. Unfortunately, my objectivity is further marred by what seems to be a largely endemic proclivity of the Human psyche to dwell on the negative. In light of this, my perspective on myself is unreliable, but it can serve as a jumping off point for today’s post.

As we move through our lives, we face challenges. Some of them are generated by external forces, but I think most are generated from within. Very often, we can clearly see what it is we need to do, where we want to be, and even how to get there. In fact, it’s never just one thing. It’s several, of varying levels of importance: personal goals, responsibilities and obligations, flights & fancies, etc. etc. etc. We make efforts in the direction of achieving some or all of these benchmarks. Sometimes, we expend an enormous amount of time and energy achieving them. Sometimes, it works, and it’s all good.

But very often, something keeps those holy grails floating just beyond our reach. Some variable, real or perceived, arises to obstruct our line of sight, drag us down, immobilize us, or even send us sinking back down the hill of progress to where we began, if not further.

Why does this happen? What are these chains that bind us to who we are, rather than who we want to be? What internal forces persistently conspire to keep us down? Why are we more comfortable with stasis than motion? Why do we perpetuate our own negative behaviors even though we know they’re destructive? Why do we stay in that relationship long after it’s over? Punch in at that job we hate? Light up that cigarette? Wolf down that burger or pint of ice cream, blow off that session at the gym, even though we know it’s all going to catch up to us eventually?

There’s a lot of psychology that goes into it, much of which boils down to the power of behavior, which etches grooves in our minds as surely as a rivers carve them into the landscape. Changing those grooves is almost as hard as altering the course of a river, and even after we do, diligent maintenance is required to keep them shifting back into their old courses. Plus, it becomes ever more difficult as we get older. For one thing, our behaviors have had more time to set in; the grooves are deeper. For another, if like me, you’re suffering from a mid-life crisis, it can be very difficult to put yourself in motion and keep yourself there.

As a brief divergence, I’m going to take a moment to talk about that phrase, ‘mid-life crisis’. Most people don’t give the concept much credence. It’s usually sloughed off as a joke. Images of a 50-something guy driving off into the sunset in his cherry-red Porsche with a blond bimbo at his side come to mind. It’s more than that; a lot more, and it’s not exclusive to men. In fact, I have found it to be an occasionally crippling, existential-scope malaise that makes it very difficult to look across to the horizon rather than down into the chasm. It’s a big deal, and should be taken seriously.

Anyway, my point is, you can teach an old dog new tricks, but it’s a hell of a lot harder.

Further, our intellect is ever the bane of our emotions and vice-versa. They have equal clarity at various times, but rarely at the same time, and they routinely overpower each other. We meticulously analyze a given circumstance and deduce how best to proceed, but our emotions wrap themselves around our legs and keep us from striding forward. We are gripped with passion for a particular path, yet our intellect rationalizes us into paralysis. That’s bad enough, but it gets even more complicated because sometimes the opposing force is correct and sometimes its not.

It’s a miracle anybody accomplishes anything.

So, what do we do about it? How do we get these forces to meet and combine in an effort to move us forward? How do we shake off our insidious and debilitating internal demons, reach for the next handhold, climb the next step? Be more than we are?

Check the toolbox. You’re going to need a healthy dose of Intuition, which Merriam-Webster defines as: “The power or faculty of attaining to direct knowledge or cognition without evident rational thought and inference.” (an excellent definition!) It can help temper the combat going on between your intellect and emotions. It’s the unclassifiable force within that tells you to take the other route home, and you later discover there was a five-car pile-up that you probably would have been part of. It tells you to make that phone call to the friend you haven’t talked to for a while, only to discover they were at the end of their rope and really needed to hear from you. It tells you to make that decision you’ve been putting off and follow it through, even though you’re terrified (regardless of whether it’s the wrong one or the right one). I believe that pure intuition is 100% accurate. It’s a near-mystical force, perhaps the closest link we have to the divine. The problem is that it’s not easy to hear clearly. Our ability to receive it unfiltered is routinely compromised by the pandemonium going on in our heads. Even if we do get it, there’s no guarantee we’re going to listen. Learning to hone our intuitive powers is a life-long enterprise, one that scant few ever achieve, but it’s a quest worth taking, regardless.

Next, you’re going to need what may well be my favorite word: Audacity, which Merriam-Webster simply defines as: “Intrepidly daring.” It’s the quality that allows you to look in the mirror and say, “I can do this. I don’t care what’s in my way. I am going the distance!” It gives you the power to get out there and do exactly that. Often, we have an inclination to think “Why me? There’s a million other people out there who can do what I want to do a lot better than me, so why bother?” Audacity enables you to take it from the other end. It’s not a question of “Why me?” It’s a question of “Why not me?”

You’re also going to need another –city: Tenacity, which M-W defines as “Persistence in maintaining, adhering to, or seeking something valued or desired.” It takes courage to move outside your box. Fear of failure and fear of success can be equally enervating. You have to fight on regardless, armed with the knowledge that any motion is better than no motion. Tenacity enables you to disentangle yourself from difficulty and/or defeat and move past it. It gives you the grit to appreciate your small victories and see them as essential components of the big picture, use them to keep moving forward; kind of a “journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” situation.

Let’s add some –ty to the mix: Proactivity, defined by M-W as, “Acting in anticipation of future problems, needs, or changes.” Let’s boil it down a little more: Do it now. For me, the concept is driven home by a scene from the inimitable Rocky III (Yeah, I know. I’m really conveying my vast knowledge of and influence by the classics). In the movie, Rocky Balboa (Sylvester Stallone) is badly beaten by Grade A Badass Clubber Lang (Mr. T). He ends up training with his old opponent Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers) for the rematch, but Rocky is basically suffering from PTSD; he’s totally lost his mojo. He’s sparring or whatever with Apollo, who’s trying to psych him up, but Rocky gives up and says something like, “Tomorrow. We’ll do it tomorrow,” and abandons the session. Furious and disgusted, Apollo roars after him, “There IS no tomorrow!!” 

He’s absolutely right. There is no tomorrow. Do it now. Procrastination is the antithesis of proactivity. It has wrecked more dreams and lives than I’d care to imagine. I sometimes wonder how much farther   along I’d be in this life if only I had better command of my time. And I’m quite confident I’m far from the only person to feel that way about themselves.

Lastly, we need Positivity, defined by M-W as “The quality or state of being positive”; an accurate, if unimaginative definition. I checked a couple of other online dictionaries, and they were equally vanilla about it, so I’d like to take a moment to elaborate, since this principle is kind of a governing force of the others. If you don’t have positivity, the other tools are likely going to give out sooner rather than later. To illustrate the concept, I’ll share an anecdote about Thomas Edison (one of my favorite such stories, actually), who, upon being questioned about the fact that he failed a thousand times before inventing the light bulb replied something like, “I did no such thing. I discovered a thousand things that didn’t work.” This sentiment typifies positivity. It is a fundamental ideological perspective which dictates that the possible is more inherently likely than the impossible. It is pragmatic and elegant; it opens doors rather than closes them. It does not preclude reality; it enhances it. An absence of positivity ultimately leads to entropy. If you do not have it, virtually all endeavors result in failure.

Well, sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?  Simply abide by my blathering and you’re all set!

But here’s the thing. Sometimes, your toolbox is not enough. Sometimes, the forces working against you are too strong. Sometimes that’s ultimately a good thing and sometimes it isn’t, but you must reconcile that failure will sometimes occur no matter how badly you want something or how right it is for your life. It will be up to you and your circumstances to determine whether that failure is just a setback or whether it signifies a need to reassess what you want and need.

The important thing to keep in mind is that you must not allow the prospect of failure to dissuade you from your course. I realize I’m once again displaying my rather flagrant idealism, but I truly believe that it is the journeys that truly matter, not the destinations.

Breaking the chains that bind us is no easy task, no matter who you want to be, what you want to do, or where you want to go. But it can be done. And you’ll never know whether you can free yourself from them unless you step up to the plate, face down that fastball, and take a swing.

Thanks for reading.

Jimmy & Bobby's Hot Dog Stand

 by Steven B. Orkin

 

 

It feels good to be back!  I'm going to try to post more regularly on this thing, but no guarantees. Life is a complex business, and I'm a fairly complex guy. Sometimes, I've just got too much on my mind to get my thoughts down in a productive manner. I'll do my best.

This is a fairly lengthy post, but hopefully, it will be worth the effort. Let's get to it!

~~~

Jimmy and Bobby are brothers. Back in the day, their dad Mike and their uncle Rick owned a hot dog stand called (originally enough) ‘Mike & Ricky’s Hot Dogs’. Eventually, Mike and Rick retired and bequeathed the business to Mike’s sons Jimmy and Bobby, giving them the okay to rename the business ‘Jimmy & Bobby’s Hot Dogs’ (not a lot of imagination flowing through the family genes, apparently).

Jimmy and Bobby make the best dogs in town. Everyone knows them and loves them. Though there are other hot dog stands, nobody comes close in reputation or quality. Word on the street says if you want a good dog, you go to J&B’s.

Though Jimmy and Bobby love each other and want the business to succeed, they have very different ideas about how to go about making that happen. As time passes, they become increasingly polarized in their attitudes. Though they realize on some level that they need each other to maximize the potential of their hot dog stand, their capacity to cooperate steadily deteriorates to the point where they decide they don’t want to work together, but neither one is willing to abandon the hot dog stand.

Eventually, they litigate, each trying to push the other out of power so they can run the hot dog stand solo. Despite its great location, reputation, and potential, ‘Jimmy & Bobby’s Hot Dogs’ begins to struggle financially; its reputation suffers. It even closes sporadically as the brothers fight it out in court to gain the upper hand.

Jimmy wins the first round. Bobby isn’t completely out of the picture, but his influence is now limited. He is helpless to prevent Jimmy from renaming the business ‘Jimmy’s Hot Dogs’, repainting the stand from its trademark yellow to purple and for the most part running things his way. He makes some mistakes, but overall does a pretty good job of it.

Bobby seethes in resentment at losing to Jimmy. Instead of working with his brother to get the business back on track, he spends a great deal of time and energy angling for his moment to turn the tables.  At times, he actively works against Jimmy, despite the damage this causes to the integrity of the business. ‘Jimmy’s Hot Dogs’, though not a failure, suffers yet further.

Time passes. Bobby finds a legal loophole to get back on top. He promptly renames the business ‘Bobby’s Hot Dogs’ and paints it green. He ignores everything Jimmy says and runs things his way. Despite this lack of cooperation, it runs relatively well. But mistakes are made. Aspects of the business suffer. Customers sense the tension and become nervous about what’s happening with the hot dog stand.

Jimmy continues to make suggestions, but Bobby doesn’t want to hear it. Occasionally, he co-opts some of Jimmy’s ideas for his own purposes, but he doesn’t give Jimmy any credit and basically treats him like the archetypal unwanted stepchild.

Jimmy and Bobby’s relationship has suffered sorely throughout this arduous process. They rarely talk, and when they do, it’s to berate each other and point fingers over why the hot dog stand isn’t running as well as it used to. They more or less tolerate each other.

Down the road, ‘Gunter’s Sauerbraten Stand’ opens for business. It performs modestly but steadily. No one can figure out what the hell is going on down at ‘Jimmy & Bobby’s’ or whatever they’re calling themselves this week, but there’s no denying they still make the best dogs in town.

With great effort, Jimmy wins the next legal round. A creature of habit, he renames the hot dog stand ‘Jimmy’s Hot Dogs’ and covers up all that green with purple. He works hard to get the hot dog stand’s groove back, and makes good progress, though he too makes mistakes. He demonstrates little interest in what Bobby has to offer, often demoralizing him. On the rare occasions Bobby comes up with a useful suggestion, Jimmy goes out of his way to reinterpret and re-implement it as though it were his own.

Jimmy and Bobby’s relationship is acrimonious and unhealthy. They are virtually unable to communicate in a productive manner. The hot dog stand is flat-lining because they spend more time working against each other than making the business succeed. The trash is piling up, and the ventilation and filtration systems aren’t functioning properly. If Jimmy and Bobby don’t watch themselves, they won’t have to worry about who’s running the hot dog stand because they’ll end up poisoning themselves with the byproducts of their own wares.

‘Pete’s Dogs & Burgers’ opens nearby. Jimmy and Bobby seem to be too busy fighting with each other to focus on making hot dogs. They still manage to make good dogs, but customers are starting to drift over to Pete’s, as well as to Gunter’s.

Bobby gets back on top. He spends weeks reversing virtually every business decision Jimmy has made. He ignores Jimmy’s observation that maybe they should go back to at least painting the hot dog stand yellow so they have a consistent sense of identity, paints it green, and changes the name back to ‘Bobby’s Hot Dogs’. He likewise ignores Jimmy’s suggestion that they start working together again to make the business more successful.

Seeing the writing on the wall, Mike and Ricky step in. They sit Jimmy and Bobby down, and have a long talk with them about the big picture, about priorities. The brothers nod their heads and tell their dad and uncle that they get it. They tell them they’ll do better, work together, and get the hot dog stand back to where it was.

But they don’t. They make paltry efforts to do so, and things improve a little for a while, but they quickly slip back into old habits, and things get even worse.

Since they’ve been so busy screwing each other over and fighting for control of the hot dog stand, Jimmy and Bobby have not been able to meet customer demand. In a rare show of solidarity, the brothers agree to cut a deal with Pete and Gunter to purchase some of their products to supplement their own hot dogs, though they don’t need as many as they used to, now that there are new businesses on the block.

They also agree to hire Sumira to run the hot dog stand while they continue to wage war against each other. They don’t have to pay her much; she’s cheaper than the locals they talked to, and she seems to have it together. However, though a capable employee, Sumira has no emotional investment in the success of the hot dog stand beyond its capacity to provide her a paycheck. She does what she’s supposed to do, keeps the ball rolling, but that’s pretty much it. The customers are a little unsettled by ‘Jimmy & Bobby’s Hot Dogs’ (Is it Jimmy’s or Bobby’s now?  No one can keep track) being run by a stranger, but they’re still pretty good dogs, so some of them come back.

To save money, the brothers start buying supplies from Alex. They don’t particularly trust Alex. They don’t like his politics and they have a suspicion he gets a little rough with his wife, but he’s available, so they suck it up and buy from him anyway.

The hot dog stand is running a little better to an extent, but it seems to have lost its mojo. No true forward motion. No personality. No spirit.

Shikaru’s Sushi Stand opens up. It caters to a different clientele than Jimmy & Bobby’s for the most part, but it’s another option, and the hot dog stand’s client base further deteriorates.

Where once, Jimmy & Bobby’s Hot Dog Stand was the best and brightest game in town, it is steadily being relegated to being just another player in the big game. Production, quality, and reputation are down, and show few signs of taking an upturn. 

Soon, they probably won’t even be the biggest and best known player because their in-fighting has so deteriorated the fabric of their integrity and credibility as an institution, they can’t renew their momentum and the customers are reticent about putting their trust in them.

~~~

Welcome to the geo-socio-political landscape of the United States of America.

The political party system was designed to stimulate debate and thereby create something better than either side would otherwise have been capable of on their own. Today, it is the equivalent of sandbox brats trying to pull a toy from each other, each one demanding “I want to play with it!” “No, I want to play with it!”.  Their focus has shifted from enacting the will of the people to fulfilling their own ideological agendas, and they’re willing to paralyze or otherwise harm the entire country to make sure they get what they want.

Though I believe the Right has been far more guilty of this than the Left of late, the Left is far from blameless. The way I see it, virtually every member of Congress and every other legislative body on the political spectrum ought to be ashamed of themselves!  They have completely lost their way. They are largely out of touch with what their constituents really want and need, and are often blinded by corporate influence. As a notable example, fairly recently, legislation was passed allowing corporations to make unlimited contributions to political campaigns. I would classify this as among the most obscene events of my lifetime. I’d be willing to bet quite a lot of money that if we asked every citizen of this country if that was a good idea, upwards of 95% of them would respond that it was a terrible and harmful idea. So, how and why did that come about?

The political climate is such that each team is so busy preventing the other team from doing anything, they’re accomplishing little themselves. Under most circumstances, when grown-ups have a disagreement, they sit down, talk it out, hold their ground on some things, give on others, and agree to disagree on the rest. That isn’t happening too often on Capitol Hill, these days. There is no true spirit of compromise or cooperation, and the victims of their execrable behavior are the citizens of the very country they claim to represent. By all means, let’s continue to quibble over gay marriage and dedicate ourselves to de-funding NPR while the planet teeters on the brink of disaster*.

Speaking of the planet, we continue to poison it at a frightening rate. Denying the perils of climate change and the need to shift to biodegradable packaging and cleaner manufacturing techniques is nothing short of delusional. It takes a long time to climb a mountain, but falling off it is a very rapid process. We’re just about at the top. We can’t afford to wait until disaster strikes to make changes in how we do things. The fallout is going to be so catastrophically high it won’t make a difference at that point. If anybody really believes that what’s happened in Japan can’t happen here, you’re pretty much begging to be next.

Though we’re making a certain degree of headway with alternative energy, the bottom line is, we’re not serious about it yet. We’re content to continue paying billions of dollars to nations that steadfastly commit human rights violations, some of whom have large factions that would not hesitate to destroy us given the opportunity. Just so we’re clear: The solution to high gas prices is not drilling in the Arctic Refuge or the ocean. It’s admitting that the combustion engine is not only filthy even with our technological advances, but obsolete. Even if that were not the case, I simply don’t believe we are unable to create a viable artificial oil. Bottom line: There’s a game-changing solution out there. We need to find it and wholeheartedly devote ourselves to making it work. And part of that solution may involve sucking it up and dealing with the fact that our pristine view out the window may be altered by the presence of wind farms or other such solutions. We are in peril. Concessions will have to be made.

On the corporate side, many of our biggest companies show no hesitation in shipping both service and manufacturing jobs overseas to save themselves money. In doing so, they absolve themselves of what I feel is their moral and societal obligation to help strengthen the economic fabric of this nation by giving those valuable jobs to people right here who need them. Yes, the fact is, it’s more expensive to hire American employees, probably a lot more. But (and I plead guilty of being a hopeless idealist, here) I believe that there is inherent value in doing so regardless. I believe the return on that investment is one that will bear invaluable fruit in the future. It’s not all about the bottom line. In fact, it is my belief that Capitalism does not ultimately work unless it is guided by a moral compass.

It seems as though a large percentage of our legislators have become “That’ll never work”-ers instead of “Can-do”-ers. There is so much to be done, and we have such enormous potential to accomplish all of it if we can only get out of our own way, work together, rediscover the adventurous spirit that forged this nation, and focus on the future instead of the next election.

Thanks for reading.







*Note: It is not my intent to minimize either of these issues, particularly gay marriage, which I see as a big piece of THE civil rights struggle of the 21st Century. Why we continue to deliberate over why M-F love is more sacred, beautiful, and valid that M-M or F-F love is completely beyond me. My point is, our legislative bodies often demonstrate poor prioritization skills. Though both these matters are of varying degrees of substance, let's save the planet first. Then, we'll give the gay population the credibility they deserve, and we'll make sure NPR can keep doing their thing. :)

A Brief Note

 

Just to be clear, I have not in fact abandoned my blog. I am busily working on a new post, which I anticipate bringing to a blog near you in the very near future.

Stay tuned...

Little Voice & Kaleidoscope Heart

 by Steven B. Orkin

 

 

Even after several posts and several months of time, I'm still figuring out what I want this blog to be. 

One of the things I've decided is that outside of expressing my thoughts on life in general, I want to use this forum to celebrate my love of music. Music is one of my great passions. I studied voice in college, and though I rarely sing in public anymore, I consider it an integral part of who I am. I love listening to music, figuring out what works, what doesn't, and why. My taste is fairly eclectic, and I can see the value in something even if it's not my cup of tea.

To express this passion, I will periodically post on recordings that have made an impact on me. As with my last such post on Eric Hutchinson's 'Sounds Like This', such recommendations will likely not be recent releases by top-selling artists. There are hundreds of places to find such recommendations by critics far more astute than me. Instead, I will share thoughts about recordings that have touched me, impressed me, or both on a personal level over the years. Some of them may be several years old, but I feel they still hold up well. Great music truly is timeless.

Okay then. Now that I've gotten my expository explanation / justification out of the way, let's get to it!  

One of the real joys in listening to music for me is when I hit on a particular artist or recording that just knocks me over, that's so damned good I can't stop listening to it. On my rather loosely kept top ten list of favorite recordings, 'Little Voice' by Sara Bareilles is safely ensconced. This is quite impressive considering it was her  first high profile release (I believe she had a self-released recording a few years prior). 

She is best known for the single 'Love Song', a rather sardonic title in light of the opening lines of the chorus:

          I'm not gonna write you a love song
          'Cause you asked for it
          'Cause you need one, you see

The song was ostensibly written to her record company in defiance of their demand that she write a 'marketable love song', but it is nevertheless quite representative of her talent and style: Driving piano hooks and articulate, passionate lyrics delivered by a rich, bluesy, sexy voice.

There are many aspects of Ms. Bareilles and her music that I find incredibly appealing. For one thing, she's living proof that shockingly, a young female singer does not have to be a softcore porn star to be unequivocally sexy and feminine. Further, in this Lady Gaga age of consummate pretension (don't get me started; I could spend an entire post on Lady Gaga), Sara Bareilles has none. She can walk onstage in jeans and a t-shirt with nothing but her piano waiting there  and deliver an out-of-the-park listening experience.

As a vocalist, she has an excellent range with a clear, pure tone, and she delivers her lyrics with conviction and confidence. Next, her songs are not for stupid people. They are complex and intelligently written, but are nonetheless accessible and passionate. Many artists either sway into treacly, Hallmark vacuity or are so intensely insular they become inaccessible. Sara Bareilles confidently and capably utilizes the most positive aspects of both sides of that coin. Her music is catchy, sophisticated and appealing. The songs have some bite to them. They're very emotional, and there's a good distribution of those emotions. Listening to the CD, you get a sense that you're spending time with her, hearing about what she's been thinking and feeling over the course of the twelve tracks. Generally, when you listen to a CD, there are a few standout tracks, some good ones, and a couple of clunkers. There are no clunkers on 'Little Voice', which is surprising given the diversity of the songs. She effortlessly glides between catchy, infectious hooks ('Love Song', 'Bottle It Up', 'Morningside') to sultry sensuality ('Vegas', 'Come Round Soon'), to achingly beautiful ('City' and 'Gravity'), to passionate and playful ('Many the Miles', 'Fairytale').

This past September, Ms. Bareilles released her second recording, 'Kaleidoscope Heart', which I recently received as a Chanukah gift (Thank you Nancy and Jules! :) ). I find I have to live with a CD for a while before I really get a sophisticated sense of it, so I'm not going to comment at length, but it's well worth picking up as well. I found myself thinking of Ann Wilson of Heart on a few of the tracks, which is a very favorable comparison in my book. The first single, 'King of Anything', has been getting a lot of airplay, and deservedly so. It's an excellent song, and as with 'Love Song', typifies the rest of the CD: infectious hook, pointed lyrics, more ambitious arrangements and use of syncopation, and an overall greater sense of assurance. Standout tracks for me are the title track, which is brief, but contains beautiful acapella harmony, 'Uncharted', with its infectious hook and trademark introspective, sophisticated lyrics, 'Let the Rain', with its sophisticated structure, driving chorus, and honest, passionate lyrics, and 'Bluebird', with its simple, beautiful melody and exquisite, bluesy vocals.

My initial impression is that 'Kaleidoscope Heart' is not quite as consistent as 'Little Voice', but in my mind, this fact does absolutely nothing to diminish Ms. Bareilles's talent and potential. One of my favorite quotes about the music business is one I heard attributed to Elvis Costello, who said something like, "You've got your whole life to make your first record. You've got eighteen months to make your second one." Given this harsh reality, I believe artists should be given the opportunity to misstep and even fail on occasion. It is in the process of creating that artistic refinement and evolution occurs. The end result, while obviously extremely important in terms of the nuts & bolts of marketing, is not quite as essential to the artist's individual creative process as one might think.  Ms. Bareilles could have easily phoned in 'Kaleidoscope Heart', delivered nothing but more of the same from her first CD and it probably would have been successful. Instead, she rolled up her sleeves and clearly worked very hard to expand her horizons while still maintaining her core sound. She was quite successful in this endeavor, and it is my belief that ten or even twenty years from today, Sara Bareilles will still be out there conducting a successful musical career when many of her peers will have vanished from the scene.

Thanks for reading.

Orkin’s Law of Realistic Romanticism

 by Steven B. Orkin
 

 

 

 

Well, that was quite the break, wasn't it? I wish I could tell you I've been overwhelmed returning phone calls to publishers banging on my voice mail or consulting financial planners on how to spend my lottery winnings, but alas, I've just been too damn busy at work to get to this thing.

Big sigh of relief that my busy season has just about passed. All of my aforementioned MSPE's have been transmitted, my email in-box at work has become relatively sedate, and for the first time in six years, I'm actually getting to enjoy some of October, my favorite month.

Okay then. On to business!

~~~

I'm no self-help guru, and I'm a far cry from perfect, but having recently passed my 14 year anniversary, I feel at least relatively qualified to discourse on relationships.

Despite my largely reserved demeanor, I consider myself a pretty passionate guy.  I'm a strong believer in the power of monogamous relationships. I think love is a rare and remarkable thing that you only catch onto a few precious times in your life. I think that when you find it, love can be life-changing. It can overcome many obstacles, make you more than you are.

But it's not enough.

Life, like love, is beautiful. It is awe-inspiring, fascinating, filled with wonder and possibility. That these things are true does not preclude the fact that Life is nonetheless formidable. It can be challenging, vexing, unjust, even merciless. Though there are times when all the pieces click into place with the elegant simplicity of a final jigsaw puzzle piece, most times, like that stalwart cognitive and perceptual challenge, it requires tenacity, patience, and planning, with healthy doses of audacity and instinct tossed into the mix.

As hard as Life is for one person to get right, aligning two souls on the same path is, as you might imagine, vastly more difficult. Given this, telling someone you love them, regardless of the passion and sincerity with which you do so, is not sufficient. At the end of the day, those marvelous words are only that. It is through action that love is truly expressed. It means having the wherewithal to determine what you want your life together to be and to come up with at least a basic plan on how you're going to get there. It means having a vision for the future, a willingness and understanding that it's going to take a great deal of effort, maintenance, compromise, negotiation, and sacrifice to get there.

Here's a newsflash, my friends: Relationships are not for the meek. They can be hard. Really, really hard. Once the honeymoon phase is over, the pragmatic aspects of life settle in. If kids enter the picture, it gets even tougher. You get caught up in the maintenance of life, paying the bills, taking care of the house or apartment, being a parent. You become more of a team than a couple. The fireworks die down (to varying degrees), the endorphins run lower (and you'd better have something to talk about when they do).

If we make up a pie chart of a successful long-term relationship, around 70% will be good or great, 10% or so will be absolutely amazing, another 10% or so will be quite difficult, and the remaining 10% or so will suck so badly that no matter how much you love the person, you'll wonder why you bothered hooking up with them in the first place.

Every now and then you have to go through your relationship ledger and determine: are the pluses outnumbering the negatives by a good margin? If the answer is no, is there anything you and your significant other (aka SO) as individuals and/or as a couple are able and/or willing to do to address all those negatives? If the answer to that question is no, where do you go from there? The answer may well be that you shake hands and part as equitably as you can. If the answer is yes, you may have some hard miles to travel to make things right again, but I believe ultimately, it will be worth the effort.

Well, that doesn't sound like much fun, does it? In fact, reading this over, a lot of it sounds like top shelf, grade A buzzkill.

But that's just the half-full glass. It's an unfortunate proclivity of the human psyche to veer toward the negative. You have to consciously focus on the good stuff, and there's plenty of it there if you look for it. So, while you probably don't have sex on the kitchen floor as often as you used to, what you get in return is something richer and more meaningful.

There is a profound sense of security in being with someone who knows your quirks, idiosyncrasies , and flaws, and is willing to deal with them (to a point), someone who is going to be there when you need them, someone you want to be there for when they need you. (In the case of marriage, there's a certain security in knowing your SO is for all intents and purposes, legally required to be there :) ). There is inherent value in knowing you can trust that person and they can trust you. It can bring enormous peace of mind to know you don't have to explain or define yourself to someone. They get it. Or can effectively anticipate it.

I think love remains beyond true understanding. It is possessed of near countless facets and shades. And though I believe it is essential to the continuity of any long term relationship, the fact remains...


Orkin’s Law of Realistic Romanticism: Love is not enough.


Thanks for reading.*









*Note: I sense I have more to say on this matter (maybe a lot more) but it's been far too long since I've posted. You may safely consider this topic 'To be continued...'

Orkin’s Law of Supplemental Intrepidity

 by Steven B. Orkin

 

 

"Fortune Favors the Bold"

This phrase has appeared in various permutations for centuries, beginning with Second Century BC Roman playwright Terence in his play, 'Phormio'.  I'm quite fond of it. It brings to mind one of my favorite words: 'audacity'. It's a resounding call to action, a declaration that doing something is better than doing nothing.

But it seems somehow incomplete to me.

For quite some time, I've felt there was an Orkin's Law in it somewhere, but it just wouldn't take hold in my mind, so I placed it on the back burner to simmer for a while.

In my capacity working for St. George's University, I compose a document for medical students known as a Medical Student Performance Evaluation, or MSPE. The MSPE is critical to the students' applications for residency after they graduate, and is fairly complex, containing a great deal of statistical and evaluative information from various sources. Further, using the students' resumes, I incorporate some of their professional and educational history into the mix as well.

Even as twenty-somethings, their backgrounds are often impressive, with multiple degrees, research publication credits, diverse community service experiences, etc. Consequently, most of them have it together. They're organized, motivated, and professional.

Some of them - not a lot, but some - not so much. In fact, I'd go so far as to say they're kind of clueless, which is a little unsettling considering their intended vocation. They don't read the memos I send them. They miss deadlines. They don't respond if I contact them for information. And it's not just marginal students that do this. Sometimes, they're 4.0 students.

Though I do all I can to help them regardless, the simple truth is that the 3.0 student who's got all his or her ducks in a row has a better chance of getting a job than the 4.0 student who doesn't.

Many years ago, I was talking to the mother of my girlfriend at the time, and she was expressing a sort of resigned exasperation about her daughter, who was a brilliant musician. She said something like, "She'll pick the perfect music, find herself a perfect accompanist, practice three hours a day for four months straight until the piece is note-perfect, but forget to send in the application form."

What's the lesson? Talent and skill will only get you so far. True success lies in having command of the fundamental techniques to maximize your potential in any given situation.

Being bold is essential to success in this life. So yes, absolutely, Fortune does indeed favor the bold. But that's not the only tool in the toolbox. Hence:

Orkin’s Law of Supplemental Intrepidity: While it’s true that Fortune favors the bold, it also favors the well-informed and well-prepared.

Thanks for reading.

On Michael Jackson & Freddie Mercury Part 2

 by Steven B. Orkin

 

 

Part II: On Freddie

Though my enthusiasm for Michael Jackson comes through pretty clearly, those who know me well know of my even greater affinity for the late, great Freddie Mercury, lead singer of Queen. There are quite a lot of similarities between the two. For starters, both had unsurpassed vocal instruments with incredible ranges, and even outside of that, both had the interpretive skill to put across songs with incredible power and conviction (I keep a running list in my head of what I call ‘Phonebook Singers’, i.e. singers who could sing the phone book and move you to tears, and those two are at the top of the list). Both were larger than life (Freddie was as flamboyant as Michael was eccentric). Both were consummate showmen with uncompromisingly intense stage personas, and though both had rather colorful personal lives, they were both nevertheless private and soft-spoken, even shy off-stage. Both were possessed of an eerie premonition they would die before their time, and unfortunately, both turned out to be right. I’m sure there are lots more similarities, but I’ll leave the ‘same number of letters in their names’ stuff to the celebrobsessives.

Based on things I've read, the two knew each other and had a good deal of mutual respect. In fact, it was apparently only conflicting schedules that prevented Freddie from appearing on a duet with Michael on 'Thriller', a fact Freddie commented on more than once with rueful regret. One of the songs, a track called 'State of Shock' was eventually recorded by Michael with Mick Jagger, and it's a pretty good tune (which can be found on The Jacksons' 'Victory' album). Demo tracks of the Mercury-Jackson version and two or three other tracks they recorded together can be found online, though being demos, the quality isn't particularly good. Perhaps in the years to come, someone on Michael's team will slide them off the shelf and remix them into something remarkable.

My affinity for Freddie Mercury came about in a very different way than that of Michael Jackson. I knew who he was during Queen's heyday in the late seventies and early Eighties, but I didn't own any Queen records, and had little if any interest in doing so. Though Queen's popularity marched on quite strongly all over the world, America pretty much lost interest in them as the Eighties continued. Outside of a burst of popularity after pretty much stealing Live Aid with a showstopping medley of their best-known songs, by 1990, outside of the enduring classic rock radio standards of 'Bohemian Rhapsody', 'We Will Rock You/We are the Champions', 'Another One Bites the Dust', 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love', and a couple of others, the band had largely faded from the scene.

Somewhere around Spring of 1991, however, I clicked my radio to WBAB, and heard Roger Luce saying, "This is the new single from Queen, and it - is - great!". And he was right. The single was 'I Can't Live With You', and while I can't deny the opening line, 'I can't live with you, but I can't live without you' twanged a rather sharp personal chord for me at the time, the fact remained the single was quintessential Queen, with playfully sardonic lyrics, excellent harmonies, Freddie's powerhouse vocals, and Brian May's muscular guitar work. It really got my attention, and the album, 'Innuendo' (which was to be the last Queen record released during Freddie's lifetime) was the first CD I ever purchased. To this day, I consider it among the most well-produced and diverse albums I've ever heard (Perhaps I'll add it to my growing list of recordings to recommend, as I did Eric Hutchinson's 'Sounds Like This').

Anyway, the artistry of Queen was unmistakable. I listened to 'Innuendo' constantly, all the while becoming more and more fascinated and intrigued by the flashy, passionate, and ferociously talented, but strangely enigmatic Mr. Mercury. I started reading about him, and learned certain details of the band's history: How the reel-to-reel recording of Bohemian Rhapsody had been overdubbed so many times, you could actually see through the tape, how their video for the song was one of the first and most influential music videos ever made, how they'd brought the house down at Live Aid, how they'd taken on the challenge of recording soundtracks for 'Flash Gordon' and 'Highlander', how they'd been all but blacklisted for deciding to play a concert for the people of South Africa, which was still overrun by Apartheid. At that time, the internet was still something of a novelty, and the integrity and accessibility of information was sometimes questionable (some things never change). I learned that it had been two years since the band's previous release, 'The Miracle' (also an excellent recording), and I assumed they would hit the streets with some appearances in support of 'Innuendo', make some buzz, maybe even come to the states for a Tonight Show appearance or something. But there was nothing.

Then, in late November of 1991, I understood why: Freddie Mercury had succumbed to complications from the AIDS virus. He had been battling it the previous few years, but had become substantively debilitated over the course of the two years leading up to the release of 'Innuendo'. I later learned the band had relocated to Switzerland to record 'Innuendo', and despite Freddie's spectacular performance on it, he had been so weak, he could often only record a few bars at a time.

I found myself profoundly taken by the courage he exhibited during this final year or so of his life, forcing himself to record not only the 'Innuendo' tracks, but tracks for the posthumous release, 'Made in Heaven' (yet another excellent recording). What must it have been like, singing into a microphone, committing his voice to tape, knowing he would not live to hear the notes reach the light of day?

I began purchasing some of the band's back-catalog, and they didn't disappoint. The music of Queen is well-produced, theatrical, passionate, intelligent, amusing, and inspiring. All four members of the band are excellent musicians and song-writers (they're the only band in which all members wrote a top 10 hit while together, a feat not even the Beatles matched), and though Freddie's bombastic stage persona inevitably put him way out front, the contributions of Brian May, who is one of the greatest guitarists in rock history, Roger Taylor (drums), and John Deacon (bass) cannot be underestimated.

I tend to like the later stuff better than the earlier, more hard rock stuff, but even there, I found plenty of incredible songs. Further, Freddie stepped out on his own with two solo CD's. The first was 'Mr. Bad Guy', which was eventually remixed with other assorted solo tracks into 'The Great Pretender' (containing his scintillating cover of that old standard, one of the best covers of any song I've ever heard). The second was a distinctive and innovative release called 'Barcelona', recorded with world-renowned Spanish opera star Montserrat Caballe, which successfully mixed opera and pop sensibilities into something remarkable, and served as a precursor to artists like Sarah Brightman and Josh Groban, who have made careers out of doing largely the same thing.

Even back then, I was aware of the fascinating similarities between Freddie and Michael, and after Michael's death, as a sort of personal tribute, I mixed a Mercury-Jackson CD, a virtual sing-off with alternating tracks. I tried to focus on representative songs rather than greatest hits type stuff (I only ended up with one Thriller track, and only a couple of Queen tracks that anyone would know), and though when you mix a CD, you have a pretty good sense of what it's going to sound like, there's nothing like hearing the whole thing beginning to end. The result was remarkable. Hearing these two titans spend close on an hour and a half trying to vocally outdo each other over the course of sixteen tracks, and to do so with a sort of thematic arc to the whole thing, turned out to be damn near close to thrilling.

(On a brief digression into my thoughts on creativity, I realize those last two lines could be interpreted that I'm a little full of myself, but I'm really not. In any creative endeavor, even just mixing a CD, the creator can take a certain degree of responsibility for their creation, but I really believe any artist or creator is a sort of channel for something beyond themselves.)

Having listened to the mix several times over the course of the last year, I found it impossible to resist a more direct comparison of the two artists, and though it's a nearly neck and neck call, the simple truth is Freddie Mercury is a better singer than Michael Jackson. He puts across songs with a little more bite and conviction, and I think his instrument is a little more versatile than Michael's.

Though both men took their craft very seriously, I think Freddie took himself a lot less seriously than Michael. He was willing to be silly and self-deprecating, something Michael rarely did, and many of Queen's lyrics often have a level of sophistication and humor that Michael never reached (though granted, with track names like 'Fat-Bottomed Girls' and 'I'm in Love with my Car', Queen proved quite enthusiastic in aiming a little lower at times :) ).

Sitting here at this moment, I realized Freddie was the same age as I am now when he died, and surely had a lot more to do both creatively and personally. In fact, I would go so far as to say he would have been one of the grand statesmen of Rock & Roll, and would have really come into his own as a solo artist as well as continuing to create great music with Queen. I think he had a acute awareness of the power of collaboration, and I think his willingness (as well as that of the other members of Queen) to do some solo stuff and then come back to together to record as a band is to be highly commended; it's an exceedingly rare thing these days. Most artists get too full of themselves and break away because they want more of the spotlight.

Though he was lesser known here in America, and not as overtly influential as Michael Jackson, the fact remains the loss of Freddie Mercury was a huge one to the world of music. His talent, creativity, charm, style, intelligence, humor, and charisma have few equals and no superiors, and though it has been nearly twenty years since he died, he remains sorely missed.

Thanks for reading.

On Michael Jackson & Freddie Mercury Part I

 by Steven B. Orkin

 

 

I posted a version of this essay a year ago on Facebook, but I wanted to update/expand on it slightly here as the first anniversary of Michael Jackson's death arrives. Further, though I touched on it in the original essay, I find I have further thoughts, some of them related to Michael, pertaining to another icon of mine: Freddie Mercury, one of the most indomitable showmen in entertainment history.
__________________________________________________________

Part I: On Michael
At the risk of adding a 'Who cares?' footnote to the vast volume of material already written about this fallen star, I've decided to add some thoughts.

I followed Michael Jackson's career for most of my life. Even as a kid, I was fascinated by his talent and charisma, and though it might seem incongruous to a rather reserved-demeanor type like me, who is musically a lot more Michael Buble’ than Michael Jackson, he has remained an indelible creative touchstone for me.

I think it’s unfortunate that for many of his final years, Michael’s music took not just a back seat, but a back bumper to his personal travails. Though there is purported to be a great volume of unreleased music ‘in the vault’, some of it pretty recent, his official, public output was virtually zero since 2001’s ‘Invincible’. There’s a case to be made for the idea that this shift in focus from creative to personal/business matters was as much a product of Michael’s mind as it was the public’s; to some extent, the two sort of feed off one another (don’t get me started on the perils of celebrity). To a very good degree, this shift in his priorities was understandable given the nature of the crimes he was accused of, and the apparent magnitude of his financial and other personal difficulties. I doubt we’ll ever truly know whether he was guilty of those crimes or not, but I for one would like to believe he was innocent.

As a bit of a side note, I can’t help but wonder whether Michael was a little intimidated by his own legacy. When you step up to the plate and not only knock it out of the park, but across the state line, as he did with ‘Thriller’, even a grand slam home run isn’t such a big deal. My feeling is that the success of ‘Thriller’ was not only a matter of talent, but timing. For all we know, had it been released a year later or a year earlier, it would have disappeared with little more than a ripple to mark its passing, despite the brilliance of the recording. Something about that unique point in history enabled Michael Jackson to ride a massive wave of success, and it often seemed in recent years as though he spent more time trying to recapture that lightning in a bottle than just using his remarkable gifts to make excellent music, even if it didn’t change the musical landscape the way ‘Thriller’ did.

Regardless, with his anticipated UK concerts (all 50 of which I believe were sold out; a feat any performer on the planet would kill to accomplish at a single venue) he seemed primed and ready to get back to business and put the public’s attention where it belonged: On the Music. To an extent, there was a  bittersweet poetry in the timing of his death. Like any great showman, Michael left us with one final trick up his sleeve. We can only wonder now, how well, or even if he would have been able to pull it off.

Say what you want about him, but once you got past the third-world country-sized mountain of weirdness that was Michael Jackson, you were left with an electrifying performer, musical innovator, dancer, and songwriter. In the year since his death, it has been gratifying to see that much of the focus has been on the magnificence of his talent and the loss his death has brought to the world of popular music and entertainment.

If you haven't seen the film documentary, 'This Is It', it's very much worth watching. Certainly, the film provides some fascinating insight into Michael's creative process, and it quickly becomes clear he was not a 'show up and do his thing' type of guy. He had been interested and involved in every aspect of production of the O2 concerts. If anything, I would have like to seen a little more about the man than the music, but that's more my thing than an objective criticism of the film. Vocally, he sounded as good as he ever sounded, and the performance sequences are quite excellent.

Even after a year has passed, it seems difficult to accept we now live in a world where Michael Jackson doesn’t. Icons like him come along a scant handful of times in a generation (arguably, only Madonna is of comparable power, though I’m not sure she has the same level of raw, musical talent). I have missed watching that slender form undulate like a python, move in a way no one ever has or will again. I’ve missed that fantastic, irreplaceable voice, equal parts silky seducer, heartbreaking poet, feel-good ambassador, and keening banshee. I’ve missed the fire in those eyes when he was onstage, doing what he loved. Mostly, I’ve missed knowing he was out there in the world, his very existence a promise of wonderful things to come. He has flashed across our cultural horizon like a comet, and we will not see his like again. He has been missed.

~~~

Banning the Parents

 by Steven B. Orkin

 

 

Over the last three years (grades K-2), at some point during the school year, I've visited my daughter Julianna's class to read a story to her and her classmates. I love doing it. It's a lot of fun, it's an opportunity for Jules to feel special, it's a means of reaching out and making a connection with the other kids in the class, and thereby the community (i.e. their parents), to her teacher, and even to the school staff and faculty.

What's the message I'm conveying? That I care enough to take time out of my day to make an appearance at my daughter's school and do something for her and her class. I see no discernible downside to this activity.

However, it's extremely unlikely I will be visiting my daughter's school for this purpose this year.

Back in December, Nancy and I did get the opportunity to visit during Chanukah to teach the kids about the holiday. It was an excellent visit. The kids had a lot of fun, and so did we.

Further, there have been a couple of occasions over the course of the year in which parents were invited to the classroom to observe the kids reading essays or poetry, but nothing else individual or interactive.

Before I continue on, I feel it prudent to point out that I think Paul Spinella, Julianna's teacher, is an excellent educator. He's great with the kids, seems very creative and open to new ideas, and has the perfect combination of firmness and compassion in dealing with his students. With regard to my topic of the day, I think if it were up to him, there wouldn't be an issue. Further, Nancy and I have been very happy with the school as a whole. They have proven supportive and helpful on many occasions, and I have a good deal of respect for the principal, John Mullins. I just want to be clear that my intent here is not to bash the school, but rather use it to illustrate a profound issue which I believe is symptomatic of many schools across the country.

Okay then. Back to our story. During my visit in December, I mentioned to Mr. Spinella that I wanted to come in, and he seemed sincerely amenable to the idea. However, when I contacted him a few weeks ago to set a date, he indicated that at a recent grade-level meeting, it was determined that class time for the 'middle' grades (3-5) was too valuable, and therefore, parents were not permitted to visit the class for such purposes.

Being of a rather philosophical bent, I have concerns about this that go any personal disappointment at not being able to visit the class. I'm a grown-up (most of the time, anyway), and I'll get over it. So will my daughter, albeit a little more reluctantly. Further, I completely understand that class time is valuable, but value is a rather subjective thing, isn't it? To my way of thinking, the inherent value of cultivating rapport between the class and a parent outweighs the 'lost' time.

Let's do a little Math. The average class size in Julianna's school is about 20 kids, which means a maximum of forty parents. Let's factor in the single parents and the second parents that aren't able to take time off.  We can also filter out a few parents just aren't comfortable being in front of the class or for whatever reason are disinclined to visit. I would guess the school year is around thirty weeks. The average illustrated story book takes 10-15 minutes to get through, so a 30 minute visit seems sound. When we put all the numbers together, what we come up with is that over the course of the school year, all parents would have an opportunity to visit the class at least once. Total loss of time: One half an hour a week. This does not seem to me to be an unduly extensive amount of time to devote to parental visits.

On the list of international education rankings, which encompasses thirty-one countries, US public schools have been coming up somewhere in the middle. There are legitimate contributing factors as to why this is the case, why places like Japan, Korea, and Finland come up near or at the top, and places like Luxembourg, Mexico, and Brazil are near or at the bottom. The rankings don't really address why each country meets whatever criteria they use. It just reports that they do. In addition, it doesn't address fallout factors associated with the rankings. For example, if it turned out that Japanese children have higher statistical rates of stress, depression, or even suicide than the other countries on the list, this would in my mind mitigate the significance of their ranking to some extent.

Though there are indeed many positive aspects of our education system, we're kidding ourselves if we think there aren't likewise profound problems that need to be addressed (we can start by cutting summer vacation in half.). However, given the more esoteric benefits of the parent to students relationship, of community-building in the classroom, I contend that banning the parents is not a viable solution to any those problems.

Thanks for reading.