I don’t read the Sunday Review of Books each week, but I should. There’s always something to learn in there. For instance, I just learned that Conan O’Brien went to Harvard, wrote a thesis on Flannery O’Connor and William Faulkner and spoke at Harvard’s commencement in 2000.
Here’s some of what he shared with those about to depart Harvard in 2000:
I’ve dwelled on my failures today because, as graduates of Harvard, your biggest liability is your need to succeed. Your need to always find yourself on the sweet side of the bell curve. Because success is a lot like a bright, white tuxedo. You feel terrific when you get it, but then you’re desperately afraid of getting it dirty, of spoiling it in any way.
I left the cocoon of Harvard, I left the cocoon of Saturday Night Live, I left the cocoon of The Simpsons. And each time it was bruising and tumultuous. And yet, every failure was freeing, and today I’m as nostalgic for the bad as I am for the good.
So, that’s what I wish for all of you: the bad as well as the good. Fall down, make a mess, break something occasionally. And remember that the story is never over.
I can relate. I’m coming off a huge year earnings wise in 2008 and I know 2009 isn’t going to match up. Yet, I’m now free to write and pursue the things that matter most to me. Maybe I’ll make a mess of things as Conan suggests; maybe there’s no need for all that.
The story is never over and the music never stops.
Diego Rodriguez, partner at IDEO and blogger at Metacool, got to hang out in Philip Johnson’s Glass House with RISD’s President John Maeda and other big thinkers.
One of the topics that day was the power of simplicity.
I read the book Ecotopia by Ernest Callenbach many years ago. In the book, the Pacific Northwest secedes from the nation. I’ve been a bioregionalist ever since.
Now I see in “Sunday Styles” that the book—which sold over 400,000 copies in the 1970s—has caught on with new audiences in churches and classrooms around the nation. A fact which has led Bantam to reissue the title this month.
Scott Slovic, a professor at the University of Nevada, Reno, said, “You hear people talking about the idea of Ecotopia, or about the Northwest as Ecotopia. But a lot of them don’t know where the term came from.â€
The green movement’s focus on local foods and products, and its emphasis on energy reduction also have roots in “Ecotopia,†he said. In fact, much of Portland, Ore., with its public transport, slow-growth planning and eat-local restaurants, can seem like Ecotopia made reality.
Which must be why the copy editor of this section titled the article, “The Novel That Predicted Portland.”
Cross the Burnside Bridge into downtown Portland and you will be greeted by one of the most iconic neon signs in existence. It says, “Made in Oregon” and features a leaping stag whose nose cheerfully turns red during the holiday season.
The sign was first constructed by the White Satin Sugar Company in 1940. It was changed in 1957 to read “White Stag” by White Stag Sportswear. The Naito family, owners of the Made in Oregon chain, again rebranded the sign in 1995.
This is where it gets interesting. Made in Oregon is a brand name and prominent retail business in Oregon. But the phrase “Made in Oregon” is a mantra that all Oregonians can relate to and embrace. So, it’s a particularly positive piece of branding that has transcended commerce and become a civic landmark.
Now, University of Oregon, a tenant in the White Stag Building where the neon sign is perched wants to modify the text of the sign to read “University of Oregon.” See WWire for a sketch of the proposed changes.
According to Portland Business Journal, there’s resistance to the change from residents of Portland and city officials, some of whom attended Portland State University (presumably Oregon State grads would have a say in this, as well).
It’s hard to fault O of U for pursuing the change. It’s a bold move, but one that would clearly help build their brand after the dust up washes out to sea. At the same time, it’s hard to support U of O in this, since the existing sign works for everyone, not just Ducks.
I cherish the election maps offered by the design team at The New York Times.
It’s good to see the overlap of these bubbles because it shows that red and blue co-exist in the same places. It’s a finer distinction than the red state/blue state point of view.
Another striking map is the Voting Shift map which shows where each party received more votes in 2008 than they did in 2004. There’s a very identifiable red streak from Texas to West Virginia that’s interesting because it’s so well defined, localized and contained.
Bill Moyers appeared on NPR’s Fresh Air today. He is one of our best journalists and he served on LBJ’s staff in the 1960s, so he’s well qualified to speak on the historic events transpiring in America today. He says “he felt a great stone lifting from our neck” but he also recognizes the racism that continues to exist in many parts of the American South.
Things About Portland That Suck is kind of funny, I have to say. There are so many nice things about living here that you can forget, or simply choose to overlook the not so good things. Like the site’s Reason #56: Wannabe Suicide Girls.
Contrary to the beliefs held in the hearts of hundreds of scantily dressed, overly inked, dyed and pierced girls in Portland, they are in fact not ALL Suicide Girls.
I know it’s shocking… but not all of these “gorgeousâ€-yet-alternative girls actually get paid to take it off for the camera.
Some other zingers include Street Kids With Pets; Moped/Scooter Gangs; McMenamins’ Service; Dixie Tavern; Your Band; and White Guilt.
This site is on its way to becoming Portland’s version of the smash interweb success, Stuff White People Like.
SEVEN DAYS: How was the Times-Picayune perceived before Hurricane Katrina?
CHRIS ROSE: We’ve always been a very vital and vigorous part of the community here . . . What did not happen before the storm that happens now is that, when you get introduced as being from the Times-Picayune at a Chamber of Commerce luncheon, people stand up and clap for you. We’re treated as heroes.
Katrina brought back that very poignant, meaningful mission of journalism — like it really, really mattered every day what came down on people’s doorsteps. Suddenly, high school students to folks 90 years old were reading the paper because we were the only ones people could trust.
The storm brought down a quintessential dichotomy in the community: There were those who cut and run, and there were those who stepped up, at great sacrifice. There’s no question, no question, the Times-Picayune stepped up. And in the vacuum of political and corporate leadership, we carried the fucking day in this town.
There’s also this bit:
The writers and the photographers were in the city and management was relocated to Baton Rouge by virtue of our building flooding. You take management and move them 70 miles away from staff, and we win two Pulitzer prizes. You think that’s a coincidence? That’s not only a paradigm shift to follow in journalism, but in any corporate structure.
Rose’s collection of columns, 1 Dead in Attic is now available from Simon & Schuster. Rose originally sold 65,000 copies of a self-published edition.
I’m glad we had the opportunity to visit Alaska in August of 2007. Having been there, I feel better equipped to understand some of the thinking emanating from “The Last Frontier” that now shapes our news cycle.
Salon founder David Talbot, concerned with the right wing attacks on Obama that question his love for country, writes:
The Republican ticket is working hard this week to make Barack Obama’s tenuous connection to graying, ’60s revolutionary Bill Ayers a major campaign issue. But the Palins’ connection to anti-American extremism is much more central to their political biographies.
It’s a revealing article and I enjoyed reading it, but I have some issues with it. For one, I’m not ready to say the Alaska Independence Party–which Todd Palin once belonged to, and Sarah Palin recently gave a shout out to–is an “anti-American extremist” organization.
The fact that AKIP sent a Governor to Juneau in 1990 is one argument against this derisive labeling. Unless, of course, a majority of Alaskans are anti-American extremists.
Honestly, I know little about this political party or the people who support it. From what I can see in their platform, it’s essentially libertarian, with some “extreme” views on property rights thrown in. The point is I don’t need to agree with AKIP’s platform to agree that third party politics is of value to the citizens of this nation. Also, the idea of Alaska as a separate nation is not hard to conceive. It’s hard in that Imperial America would never let those natural resources go without a fight. But if you skip over that part, and see it from an Alaskan’s perspective, it makes some sense.
I’d actually take it much further and suggest that America could be divided into a group of nation states defined by its natural bioregions. If states’ rights hadn’t been so severely trampled by Reagan and company, this might not be as necessary as it is today. But they were trampled, and the homogeneous federalism that we endure today is no answer for a nation with many distinct cultures tied to place. For sure, all Americans have things in common, but not like they do with the people who share a climate, a dialect, water and food sources. I’m sure many in Alaska wonder what elected officials and bureaucrats in Washington, DC know about their lives. I wonder this all the time, but I don’t consider my views to be anti-American.
We need wild ideas and extreme points of view to help us stretch. It’s the way to a better future. America is often touted as “the cradle of democracy,” by political figures of all stripes. Great, then let’s push the envelope and find new ways to increase our personal liberties while also securing sustainable paths to energy, food and water. Can you think of a better time to reinvent ourselves and the way we do things in this country?
We just completed a nine day journey cross country by car from coastal South Carolina to Portland, Oregon. On day one, we stopped for lunch in Asheville, NC to say “hi” to Gary and Katie. We then pushed on to Lexington, KY for the night. From the hotel we walked first to Mexican food and top shelf margs, then over to the historic Red Mile for harness racing. In the morning we found our coffee place downtown, before heading out to horse country for a tour of the distillery where the world’s best bourbon, Woodford Reserve, is made.
From the limestone hills of Kentucky, we headed north for Cincinnati where our wonderful hosts, Dave and Tera Ackerman, plus their kids, dogs and friends entertained us in their fine Craftsman-era home. That was fun. Day three took us northwest to Chicago where Casey and Gwen opened their Ravenswood apartment to us for the night. Stef came over and we walked down to Pizza D.O.C. on Lawrence to meet Liz and Buban for dinner. Pizza D.O.C. rocks, as does having dinner with friends one hasn’t seen in years. There was more drinking at two Lincoln Square bars after dinner–hey, this is Chicago we’re talking about here–before retiring to Casey and Gwen’s.
Sunday we dropped in on Evil Vince for a visit, before heading west. When Chicago started to give way to the fields of corn, I started to feel good. I felt even better when we crossed the Mississippi River and drove through the picturesque hills of Iowa. The sunset and simultaneous moonrise, as we were pulling into Omaha on night four, was stunning. We grabbed some salad, pizza and wine for dinner at a patio table in the Old Market before heading over for a free night on points at Hilton Garden Inn. In the morning I met with Shawn at his work place and had a chance to talk to his boss about picking up some copywriting assignments. We then met my aunt Leanne for lunch at Kona Grill in West O before heading for the Sandhills on Highway 2. We stopped in Halsey–where my grandpa and I used to go deer hunting–to mail some letters. At Seneca, we pulled over to see the Middle Loup River up close. A local gentleman directed us to his “rickety” cable and plyboard bridge over the river, a kind gesture we greatly appreciated.
We looked for a dinner spot in Alliance but decided to head on to Scottsbluff for the night. When we got there places were closing, but The Gaslight in Gering took us in and made steaks for us. I love Nebraska and Nebraskans. On day six we took the back way to Laramie, seeing the North Platte River near Fort Laramie. In the college town of Laramie we ate a kind hippie lunch at Jeffrey’s Bistro before heading over to Martindale’s for some new pearl snaps and a straw hat. That’s Laramie in a nutshell–part hippie, part cowboy.
We pushed westward on I-80 to Salt Lake City, where DK was entertaining his family rooftop at American Towers. DK and Anina recently purchased a truly outstanding 19th floor apartment in American Towers, with south-, west- and north-facing views. In the morning we headed up City Creek Canyon for a hike, then ventured across the tracks to Red Iguana for a mole festival at one of the nation’s best Mexican joints.
We were tempted to stay another night in SLC, but opted instead to drive five hours further west on I-80 to Winnemucca, where I thought we’d rent a cute little cabin or roadhouse room for the night. Instead, we looked at several flea-bitten options before settling in to the Days Inn. Thankfully, the grocery store had a Peet’s Coffee in it, so we fueled up in the morning and headed onto one of the loneliest stretches of two-lane road you’ll find anywhere in America. North of Winnemucca about 40 miles, we turned left onto Highway 140, which goes for many miles before delivering one to Oregon and the homey little town of Lakeview. Jerry’s Restaurant in Lakeview made us perfectly prepared hash browns to go with our sandwiches and iced tea. We then took more country roads toward Crater Lake National Park, a park we’d never visited before. After you enter the park, you climb up several thousand feet to the rim of the ancient volcano and peer into the pearl blue otherworldly lake. Wow.
We took Highway 138 north from the park and wound down the canyon with the North Umpqua River as our guide. Another major wow. We caught up with the interstate highway system again in Roseburg and punched it up to Eugene for the night, where we dined on Thai food and infused ginger-cranberry cocktails. We made it to Portland by mid-day on Friday and began to settle in.
