And while I'm on this hockey kick . . .

Here's my little guy,

a boy conflicted.


Well, at least maybe he'll grow learning how to appreciate and negotiate diverse and conflicting perspectives . . .

or he'll keep a good counselor in business.

Cheers!

Man up, boys.

Game 3 ended just moments ago, Pens 3, Wings 2. As I mentioned at the start of the series, I am conflicted. I’m becoming less so as the series continues.

See, this is the first game I’ve actually been able to watch. Believe it or not, I could not find Game 1 when I was in Seattle. It wasn’t broadcast on any of the channels I had in my hotel room. It wasn’t shown on the televisions in the bar downstairs. We even went to an awesome brewery that night and no Game 1?! They had basketball. They had poker (WTF?). They had soccer. They had no hockey. The trip was awesome. The city was awesome. The RSA conference was beyond awesome (more on that later). But I could not find hockey in the city of Seattle. Thank goodness I have such a great husband, who sent me text and cell updates.

My flight through Kansas City was delayed a bit on Monday, so I didn’t get home until after Game 2 had ended. But I’ve been hearing . . . things. About the games. About the Pens. Not so much good. Then tonight I saw it for myself. The Pens were playing dirty. Not just tough. Not just physical. They had a few moves in there that were plain uncalled for. Unsportsmanlike. Disrespectful. A damn shame.

These boys are talented, but they are looking like . . . I don’t know what. In sports, I want to see talent matched with class. Don’t laugh–class is what sets apart the champions. Champions show respect. Respect for the game. Respect for the fans. Respect for skilled opponents like the Detroit Red Wings. I’m just not seeing that right now in the Penguins. I really want them to do well, and it was great to see them play well tonight, but in Games 1 & 2 they were outplayed . . . in each game of this series, even tonight, they were seriously outclassed.

Still, I’m hoping this series goes all the way. I’ll always be a Pens fan. I’ll always be a Wings fan. But I do think the former could learn a little something from the latter.

Q: What’s Black and Gold and Red All Over?

A: The Stanley Cup finals.

I think my head is going to explode.

When the Pens put it away Sunday afternoon, I was elated . . . and I immediately issued a snarky-yet-good-humored taunt to my cousin and a good friend who are both Flyers fans-—-and who had both been giving me a hard time the whole series. I have also had a slightly altered version of George Clinton in my head since Sunday, singing

“We want the cup! Gotta have that cup!
~YAOW~
We need the cup! Gotta have that cup!”

It’s been a LONG time. It’s been a LONG, UGLY 16 years for the Pens. I started college in Downtown Pittsburgh immediately after their back-to-back Stanley Cup victories in the early ‘90s. These were the days of Jaromir Jagr, Mario Lemieux (generation I), Tom Barrasso (I LOVED Barrasso!), Ron Francis, Phil Bourque, Paul Coffey . . . so many rockin’ ice men. Duquesne University, my school, was literally just a couple of blocks from the Civic Arena, and if you presented your student ID 30 minutes before game time, you could buy whatever seats they had left for, like, $11. Of course, I started college in ‘93, and we were always hoping for a repeat of their championship seasons . . . but the games were always exciting nonetheless, and the atmosphere was unparalleled.

I was in grad school in Michigan by the time Lemieux (generation II) shook off retirement and returned to the ice, and everybody hoped the mighty Pens would be reborn-—-came close, but during the playoffs they lost in quadruple overtime to . . . the Flyers (are you beginning to understand why I’m so dang excited . . . and why I couldn’t resist the aforementioned taunt?). Since then, with the escalating threats that the Pens would leave Pittsburgh, etc., etc., it’s been tough to get behind the team.

But now, with Lemieux (generation III) still at the helm (thank goodness!), new ice in the works, and the security of the team’s permanence in da ‘Burgh, I am so ready for the ultimate victory.

BUT

In the middle of all the Penguin strife, and during Lemieux II, I was (as I noted) in Michigan. It was there that my appreciation for the game itself deepened, in part because hockey is a part of the culture there, in part because I was able to watch the Canadian coverage of the games (which is far, far superior to the U.S.’) and in part because we had an awesome college team to follow: the NMU Wildcats. It was also there that I met—and I am sure this is a contributing factor, too--- my Michigan family and the two biggest Wings fans I’d ever encountered-—-the ladies who would become my sister-in-law and mother-in-law. And during the Wings’ 2002 Stanley Cup series victory, I sat at my soon-to-be in-laws’ house, watching the Wings and putting together wedding favors. Sentimental? Yepper. But I’ve been a fan of the Wings ever since—certainly not in the same category as my sister-in-law and mother-in-law, but a fan just the same. Last night’s victory pretty much sent me over the moon.

So here we are, the PENS against the WINGS for the Stanley Cup. I had prepared myself for the possibility that one day the Steelers might meet the Packers in the Super Bowl, but for some reason I’d never really mentally prepared for this NHL scenario. Even as I watched the Eastern and Western finals, knowing in my gut what the outcome would be (despite Dallas’ hometown officiating), I just hadn’t prepared. Come Saturday, I’ll be cheering for every goal, every assist, every save . . .

. . . and don’t even get me started on the power plays-—-will I root for a short-handed goal or be screaming for this-one-or-that to take advantage of the situation? Man, folks are gonna think I’ve lost it. But at least it should be an amazing series. Here’s hopin’ for a Game 7!

GO PENS! / GO WINGS!
GO WINGS! / GO PENS!

Yup. Folks will definitely think I’ve finally lost it. Lord Stanley have mercy.

Keening o’er My Mountain Mama

Oh, how it pains me to criticize my beloved West Virginia! But in light of recent happenings, I have to say to the folks back home,

Some a' y’all don’t seem to have the sense God gave a goose!

This brief but scattered catalogue of thoughts will, hopefully, illustrate what I mean:

I suppose it began with the–ahem–departure of West Virginia’s (former) favorite son, Coach Rodriguez. Real class act, this guy, ditching his boys following an embarrassing, devastating, and season-changing loss to Pitt . . . but before finishing out the season in the Fiesta Bowl (ah, that victory was the sweetest of all victories, and coupled with the raw emotion and Mountaineer Spirit demonstrated by Bill Stewart, Pat White, and the rest of the ‘Eers in the face of what had just gone down, that particular moment-in-sports was damn near poetic—but I digress . . .).

Real bum move, if you ask me, Rodriguez leaving the team before the season ended, but given the questionable leadership at WVU, I can’t help but wonder about the other side of the story.

Which brings me to my next rub:

What the heck is going on at WVU anyway?

First there’s the Executive MBA scandal involving the Governor’s daughter . Really, why not just award her an ‘honorary degree?’ Then they could avoid the scandal that comes with the falsification of transcripts and jump right to the gratuitous conferring of degrees; it seems the two actions are a mere hairbreadth apart these days, though—theoretically—they differ in principle.

Brief aside: my friend and colleague William Bradley has addressed the issue of honorary degrees more thoroughly on his blog in recent weeks, so if you’re interested I’d encourage you to visit The Ethical Exhibitionist/Academia.

Okay. Then there’s the push for proprietary rights over the work of creative writers at WVU by requiring students in the creative writing programs to make their masters’ theses available online. I realize that ownership/authorship of written work is complicated, and intellectual property is further complicated by the writer/researcher/institution dynamic; as I understand it, the university owns all intellectual property created by any member of the university community using university resources (understanding, too, that members of the university community themselves are resources, from an organizational standpoint), and therefore the university has the right to retain, reproduce, and distribute the work. I also understand that while individuals are permitted to copyright the same work, the university retains the additional intellectual property rights.

Another aside: U of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign put together a handy little at-a-glance guide to this intellectual property chaos.

Complicated though they may be, there are plenty of good reasons for these protections, and most assume a certain reciprocity between author and institution; at the most basic level, an author’s copyright can protect his or her unique arrangement of words/symbols and the institution can protect his or her ideas. This works fine in the sciences where methods, procedures, practices–in essence, ideas—must be replicated for disciplinary integrity. But creative writing presents a different problem: it is here that the unique arrangement of words/symbols—the craft, process, and ‘finished’ work itself—does different work than the lab report or even the scholarly treatise, and the value—or at least part of the value—of a creative work is not that it can be replicated, but that it cannot. Further, these traditions belong to two different publishing cultures and two discrete philosophical paradigms. The concessions made by WVU administrators to allow students a five-year window to publish their creative work before posting it to the Web is not sufficient. It can be that a work is complete for the purpose of fulfilling degree requirements but is still in process in terms of its art, and it may take some time—even more than five years!—for the artist to refine and revise the work until the writer’s vision is actualized.

Regardless, what WVU has proposed for its creative writers is bad policy—and as a proponent of said bad policy Director of Creative Writing Mark Winegardner’s absurd argument, as quoted in the Chronicle of Higher Education, that “it looks like the weird creative types are asking to be let out of gym class,” falls woefully short.

And finally, Clinton by a landslide? Pshaw. You know, only around 23% of eligible voters turned out for the Democratic primary (and, sadly, only roughly 12% turned out for the Republican primary back in February), and when only (roughly) a third of the voting population turns out, theirs are the voices that are heard—-but they may not be representative of the whole of the state, despite "random sample" arguments to the contrtary. Still, seeing Clinton win in West Virginia by such a margin is unsettling---and for a whole variety of reasons, but that's more than I really want to get into at the moment.


Besides, I really do believe that all of these instances that I’m bellyachin’ about—from the academic to the athletic to the political to the social—are the exception and not the rule in the great Wild, Wonderful. Of course, it is discouraging that only about a third of voters made it to the polls during this primary season, a trend hardly unique to West Virginia . . . but that’s another can of worms.

"That was neat, wasn't it?"

We bought a new laptop a few weeks back, so I have been slowly replacing and/or updating our software. The new machine runs Vista, so not everything is compatible. Case in point: my scanner, which is old but in perfect shape, is now obsolete. Most of our hardware and software have patches and driver updates available, but when I clicked on the 'Vista' button in search of a driver for the scanner, no dice. Instead of a download, I got a nice little note that said something like "regrettably we we no longer offer service updates for your device. Please consider buying a new product." B00.

[Insert sad commentary here.]

Today, the tech world gave me another little, mildly amusing, slap with its kid glove or, rather, a blast of canned air to the face: see, I prefer Corel WordPerfect over MS Word because, well, I just do. We can talk about it another time. Anywho, in the interim between the purchase of the new computer and the arrival of my new WordPerfect software (which still requires a Vista service pack to run), I downloaded the free trial version so I wouldn't be SOL when working on any of my going-projects-of-the-moment (i.e. fellowship apps, the dissertation 'package,' LORs, poems, E201 Undergraduate Writing and Research Exhibition, conference papers/proposals, etc.). Well, the trial period expired, and instead of a dry notice and the expected information about converting to the full version, I got this:

"That was neat, wasn't it?"

Who wrote that?! Nelson Muntz?! Even now, I can hear his trademark "Heh!Heh!" Still, I gotta admire their approach and pluck, glove/canned-air-to-the-face or no.

The Simplest of Pleasures

You know, I’m not much for summer weather: after all, I moved to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula nine years ago—and to Wisconsin four years ago—on purpose. I’m also probably the most intense ornithophobe you’d ever care to meet. Yet, I cleaned and hung my hummingbird feeder today, and seeing it—this Symbol-of-Summer and Beacon-of-Birds—suspended just outside my kitchen window brings me such silly, uncomplicated, quiet happiness. Paradox or no, everyone should feel this nice every once in a while.

So here’s wishing you a little moment of your own, even—or perhaps especially—if it doesn’t make any sense at all. Cheers!

A few thoughts about CHANGE and Senator Obama’s Hubris

I’ve been thinking: when one considers the dynamics of CHANGE as a political platform, it becomes clear that Senator Obama’s comments last week regarding the lives and values of small-town Pennsylvanians are not at all inconsistent with his message of HOPE and CHANGE.

The way I see it, HOPE makes lemonade out of the lemons of desperation and dejectedness. It gives folks a reason to persevere, to become empowered agents, and to give thanks even in the darkest of times. It is a powerful, beautiful, transformative force. It allows one to overcome difficulties, to seek CHANGE. So HOPE leads to CHANGE. And even better, widespread HOPE leads to widespread CHANGE. Shame on anyone who would sincerely wish to argue against positive CHANGE born of HOPE. But . . .

this transition from HOPE to CHANGE depends on one very important variable: one’s general dissatisfaction with one’s situation—one’s need for CHANGE. Anyone can have HOPE, and for a variety of reasons, but to turn that HOPE into action takes initiative; thus widespread HOPE and widespread CHANGE as a campaign platform—or at least the particular brand of HOPE and CHANGE that Senator Obama is peddling—depends on a pervasive sense of widespread dissatisfaction among the constituency. What a swell time, then, to capitalize on the constituency’s rancor and run such a campaign: there seems to be a lot of dissatisfaction in the air—and it smells like springtime in farm country.

Perhaps, then, this odious and familiar scent was still swirling in his nostrils when Senator Obama addressed his devout supporters in the golden City by the Bay, far removed from those broken and rusted patch towns of rural Pennsylvania—such poetic juxtaposition!; perhaps it was this scent he contemplated as he flew over the patchwork farm fields of the Midwest and came up with the idea that he could not only capitalize on the discontent that often inspires HOPE and certainly drives CHANGE, but that he could cultivate it, too, like farmers cultivate their crops, by simultaneously (and indirectly) reminding folks just how bad they really have it—reminding them all the while that he understands—and by capitalizing on this misfortune in disparaging terms to those whose local culture and lifestyle could not be further removed from those about whom he spoke as a means to explain away views and values he and his polished audience find naive or objectionable.

The arrogance of his assumptions is compounded by the fact that by pointing out the misfortune of those who have been making their way off the vestiges of an economy two-decades gone to an audience who is completely economically, culturally, and ideologically removed from them smacks of condescension. Back home, we call that tellin’ tales out of school, and it is not honorable. It is not honorable to affect a posture of sympathy and pity and superiority, to congratulate oneself for one’s depth of understanding in the company of one’s peers. It is not honorable to affect temperance and generosity of spirit.

I’ll not condemn Senator Obama’s recent remarks as “elitist”: I’ll leave that to the misguided populists who seem hell-bent on perpetuating such an unhelpful dichotomy in American life. I will say, however, that his comments are reminiscent of the attitudes of 18th century British colonizers upon encountering indigenous populations, those for whom ‘primitive’ behaviors suggested a want of understanding.

Senator Obama’s remarks were not mangled, nor was this a syntactical mistake, as he has claimed, but it is a perfect example of a logical fallacy: nothing Senator Obama said was untrue—that is, until he reached his damnable conclusion. To say that small-town Pennsylvanians are bitter, disheartened, frustrated, perhaps angry—this is not the issue. To claim that it is misses the point. The point is that his assumptions about those who “cling” to what is often described as “small town values” because they have nothing left to hold on to suggests ignorance, simple mindedness, and a lack of sophistication. Thus his is a fallacy of the most confounding sort in that he built a reasonable argument on the foundation of valid premises, only to advance a faulty conclusion—a conclusion that, paradoxically, seems all the more true because of the accuracy of his premises.

At once brilliant and unethical, this seems to me a calculated risk that afforded him the ability to excuse himself for his poor locution (whoops!) without actually apologizing for his own hubris and damaging, hurtful assumptions about the lives and values of those with whom he clearly does not align; it allowed him to draw out his opponent (and, by the way, is anyone really surprised at how Clinton has conducted herself during this primary season?); and it has rallied his supporters, placing them in a position to defend his intent, arguing to give him a pass—after all, who among us has not experienced verbal blunders of our own?