Promoting diversity in music
by Anton Zuiker on March 6, 2019
Today I received an email message from Rob Deemer, a good friend in high school. Now Rob is associate professor and head of composition in the School of Music at the State University of New York at Fredonia, and he was writing to all of his family and fiends to give an update about the project he’s been working on for the last couple of years. It started as a spreadsheet project listing a few hundred women composers for his students at Fredonia, and grew into the newly-formed Institute for Composer Diversity. Rob and his team have an Indiegogo campaign to raise funds for the institute.
Rob and I collaborated on a fun project in high school. I was editor of the New Pennis literary journal, and I asked him to contribute something musical. He offered an arrangement of the folk tune Scarborough Fair, and we included that as a page spread. Our issue won a national award. (I blogged about this in this 2004 post.) I’m proud of our innovation, but even more happy to hear that Rob is helping lead the way in advocating for composers from historically underrepresented groups. That’s cool.
What distance allows
by Anton Zuiker on March 5, 2019
Margaret Samuels, chair of the Chapel Hill-Carrboro City Schools Board of Education, resigned today. She (along with two of the other board members) was facing a possible recall election because of her support for the Mandarin Dual Language Program—at first approving the district administration’s proposal to expand Glenwood Elementary School into a magnet school, and then, upon vigorous pushback from parents and teachers, tempering the plan to grow the program, which is based at Glenwood.
Oliver, my son, has been in the Mandarin program for the last four years. I’m proud of him and his ability to learn in two languages, happy about our decision to expose him to this style of instruction, and thankful to the school district for offering this opportunity. (The district has a long-running Spanish dual language program, too.) I hope for Samuels to find peace, our community to come to common ground, and Oliver to gain fluency.
Five years ago today, I stepped away from a position of community service and leadership during a time of pain and confusion and contentiousness. (A few days before, I’d ended the conference sobbing in the empty auditorium, a friend sitting next to me with his hand on my shoulder in consolation.) Publicly admitting my faults and failures was hard, but I was burned out, and I needed the space and time to focus on my health, my family, and my job.
It’s been a good five years. As I’m trying to convey in these daily blog posts, I’m feeling renewed, and grateful for my wife and our children and for my work and its opportunities. These years have taught me to listen more intently and attentively. When Oliver sings in Mandarin or writes with Chinese characters, I don’t understand the meanings of the language, but I do hear a world of possibility.
When I came out of my blogging and social media sabbatical, I explained how I’d been reminded to be kind to others, and “to stand up, stand tall, and stand for something good.” As I step outside each morning, I look up to the towering oak trees and I begin my day, ready.
Curiosity as cure
by Anton Zuiker on March 4, 2019
This weekend, Anna accompanied me on a short drive to the hardware store to buy a shovel, an axe, a sledgehammer, and a San Angelo digging bar. Along the way, we talked more about her university options and about what kind of roommate she prefers. I reminded her that, when she meets her fellow college students, she should strive to be interested in them and to be curious about them.
“That’s how people will find you interesting and want to know about you, and that’s how they’ll want to be your friend.”
It also leads to other connections.
A colleague at Duke recommended I meet with Neil Prose, a pediatric dermatologist who teaches medical students about patient communication, humility, and empathy. He spoke about that at TEDxDuke last year. I met Dr. Prose today, and we talked about Voices of Duke Health and his Keepers of the House poject. He suggested I read this essay on curiosity by Faith Fitzgerald.
“I believe that it is curiosity that converts strangers…into people we can empathize with,” she writes. That’s why nearly every day at work, I ask visitors if I can help them find their way through the hospital. As I walk them to a clinic or the elevators or toward the food court, I ask where they’re from, about their work, and how their family members are doing. I try to be curious, and I listen.
Dr. Fitzgerald finishes her essay with a delightful anecdote about a seemingly boring elderly patient who reveals a remarkable connection to an historic event. It’s worth reading for just those 25 lines.
Another worthy read is today’s blog post from Josh Bernoff, In praise of ignorance and being wrong. He argues that you need to embrace the discomfort of feeling stupid if you want to learn anything new.
“There is no shame in ignorance, only in failing to act to cure it,” Bernoff writes.
Bob Gadbois
by Anton Zuiker on March 3, 2019
Claire Gadbois wrote to share this video tribute to her late husband, Bob Gadbois, that was shown at the Our World Underwater convention evening film festival last month. (Bob was my father’s cousin.)
I last saw Bob and Claire at the 2017 Zuiker Family reunion in Tennessee. As with previous family gatherings, they came prepared to show photos of their world travels. That summer, they especially wanted to share their excitement for the solar eclipse that was coming up. We gathered in one of the cabins, and they explained what would be happening when the moon moved between the sun and Earth. I snapped a photo and posted it that day to my microblog.
The next day, Bob and Claire were part of the family’s excursion down the Little Pigeon River. I slid into my tube and kicked down the river and was sipping bourbon from my flask as I glanced back to see Bob, sick with cancer but suited up anyway and camera around his neck, sit onto his tube. Oliver was already speeding down the river ahead, so I went after him, inspired by Bob’s love of the water.
In the crosswalk
by Anton Zuiker on March 3, 2019
I took my regular Sunday walk into town to get a cup of coffee at Gray Squirrel. The two-mile stroll, down the hill and back up into Carrboro, gives me time to think and plan and dream. I walk without music or headphones, and try to notice what I’m noticing along the way. Today the blue jays were most vocal.
On my way home, I waited for the signal at the Smith Level Road crosswalk near the elementary school. The light turned red, the walk sign went white, a Honda hybrid slowed to a stop, its engine went quiet. I began to cross the street, but then heard the rapid revolutions of tires getting louder. I paused in front of the Honda, looked up to see an approaching pickup truck, and waited for the drier to see my bright orange jacket and jolt to a stop before I continued to the other side.
I’m back in the house now, where it is still and calm and safe.