The Austin 100
by Anton Zuiker on March 8, 2019
Bronze Radio Return at Cat's Cradle
Nick, my brother, would normally be planning to listen to as much live music as he and Carolyn could during the South by Southwest festival that’s happening next week. They love live music—they live in Austin, Texas, for goodness sake—and they’re always quick with a recommendation for what I should be adding to my playlists. Nick often looks through the Cat’s Cradle schedule to tell which bands to catch here in Carrboro. That’s why Anna and I went to hear Bronze Radio Return a few weeks ago (photo above).
But, Nick and Carolyn won’t be hearing much music this month. They had a baby last month, and they are staying home to dote on the little one. Erin, thoughtful as ever, sent a Tar Heels outfit , and they dressed him in it one day and sent a photo. Given that Carolyn is a third-generation alum for the University of Texas, we were touched that she allowed Carolina blue on her child.
To pick up the music slack, I’m listening to the Austin 100 mixtape from NPR, “six hours of music, highlighting a hundred handpicked highlights from among the thousands of acts playing SXSW 2019.” It’s great so far, broadening my musical tastes, and certainly much cheaper than a SXSW festival badge.
I was in Austin last November to attend the Association of American Medical Colleges annual meeting. Nick, Carolyn, and Matt (another brother) walked me along South Congress Avenue on a beautiful day. I asked to go to Goorin Bros. hat shop and they waited while I selected a blue Fedora, then we enjoyed lunch alfresco at Perla’s, laughing about our Austin Marathon experience in 2016.
When my mother and I had visited Nick, Carolyn, and Matt in 2015, I bought a pair of black Lucchese cowboy boots at Allens Boots, but for years whenever I wore them, I would struggle to get them off, my children laughing at me contorted on the floor. On my last visit, with my new Fedora perched on my head, I stopped back into Allens and paid $15 for a boot jack. What a difference the right tool can make.
To give attention
by Anton Zuiker on March 7, 2019
On Micro.blog today, Joyce Garcia references a tweet from Pico Iyer quoting the French philosopher Simone Weil: “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” (Maria Popova had a Brain Pickings post about Weil in 2015).
That’s a beautiful way of expressing my curiosity advice to Anna the other day, and it’s a a good way to think about the listening that Bobette Buster advocates in her book Do Story. Iyer used the quote to make a point about distraction and incivility. To pay attention to someone means spending time focused on the person. That seems a good recipe for civility in our times.
Another Micro.blog user, Ron Chester, surprised me with an email message yesterday. He wrote to tell he’s been reading my chronicles, and that he was glad I’d made it through my blogging and social media sabbatical. Ron complimented my writing, but what really made me feel good is the sense that he had spent his time getting to know me through my posts and pictures. He had paid attention to me, and then he had given even more time to write me a long, thoughtful letter.
“I’m inspired by the way you approach life, full of love, especially for your family and your family roots, and no bullshit,” Ron wrote. He also asked about the family photo on my about page; it’s a snapshot of us in Big Bend National Forest, one of the trips we’ve taken to far-off corners of the globe. Visiting the remote Rio Grande and the rim of Mount Yasur and the white sands of St. Croix has given me many moments of awe and gratitude. I’ve been lucky to have my family at my side.
Ron’s letter reminded me of the letters I used to receive when I went away for youth retreats. They were letters from my parents and grandparents, reminding me that they loved me and were proud of me for what I’d accomplished, and even for what I’d tried and failed. When my daughters have gone on their school trips, we similarly send letters ahead, or slip notes into their suitcases.
What a gift it is to send someone a well-written message to compliment someone’s writing, or a kindly note to commend someone for being kind, or a lovingly penned card to remind someone they are loved. To take the time to know another person, to reflect on that person’s value, and to take the time to tell that person why they are important. That’s an amazing feeling, whether you are on the giving side or the receiving side.
Thank you Ron. Thank you mom and dad. Thank you Erin and Anna and Malia and Oliver. Thank you to all the other friends and family and strangers who have been a part of this generous equation during my 47 years.
Tomorrow’s another day. It will be perfect for giving attention and sending notes.
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.