About those resolutions

Fruits and Veggies

How simple can this be? Follow through on a resolution to eat more fruit and veggies. Improve your diet and health at the same time, right?

When the year began, I vowed to K.I.S.S. — Keep It Simple, Stupid — when it came to making New Year’s resolutions.

  • Drink more water.
  • Eat more fruits and vegetables.
  • Lighten up on the iPhone.

So how am I doing halfway into 2018?

Honestly, not as well as I’d hoped.

I started off fine — in fact, I’d even say very well — in the first couple months. But if I’m being honest, I’ will acknowledge that I’ve had some slippage in all three areas.

Oh, it’s not like I’ve utterly failed. I’m aware of all three of these pledges. It’s just that I’ve let old habits creep in. You know, going straight to the coffee pot in the morning instead of starting the day with a glass of water — or even a few sips.

resolutionsI’m eating a decent amount of vegetables, thanks in so small part to Lori’s positive influence on my diet. But I could consume more fruits, especially now that summer is here and there’s plenty of fresh, seasonal selections such as watermelon and cherries.

As for the iPhone, I made a conscious effort to leave it behind on neighborhood walks or simple errands, figuring — correctly — that almost any news or personal communication could wait until I’d returned.

I also was very aware of Oregon’s distracted driving law, which prohibits drivers from using any function of a cellphone that requires holding or touching. The new law took effect last fall and raised the penalty for first-time offenders to $260.

But texting or making phone calls while driving isn’t the real issue. It’s simpler than that. It’s being aware that the phone’s mere presence can have a negative influence in situations where my attention ought to be focused on the person or people I’m with, or the event I’m experiencing.

Having a conversation? Put the phone down. Better yet, put it away. Be present. These are the things I need to keep telling myself.

Handheld devices are incredibly useful and helpful. But six months into this year, I’m reminded that I can do better by putting it aside more often when it’s not needed for work.

Photographs: www.active.com; www.thewritelife.com

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Celebrating Som Subedi. Celebrating immigrants.

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Som Subedi: Refugee, community activist, ‘force of nature’

Ten years ago this week, Som Subedi arrived in America with $10 and change in his pockets and a big plastic bag for his belongings. He was a refugee from the Kingdom of Bhutan and had spent years in a camp in Nepal with his parents and three siblings.

On Tuesday, June 19, this brown-skinned man with a huge heart and energy to burn, celebrated his 10-year anniversary of living in the United States.

And how did he do that? By giving back.

Som hosted a community dinner for 100 guests at a Cambodian restaurant in Northeast Portland. I was honored to be among them.

While the food and drinks were appreciated, and we all joined in celebrating Som’s many accomplishments and contributions to the community, there was something bigger to the event. In truth, Som’s gift to all was providing a venue for Portlanders of all races and ethnicities to celebrate the presence of immigrants in our community.

The event could not have come at a better time.

During a week when President Trump was shamed into signing an executive order to stop separating families at the U.S.-Mexico border, Tuesday’s dinner was a grand opportunity to recognize the contributions that immigrants make to the political, social and cultural fabric of our city, state and country.

In Som’s case, it’s an amazing list.

But, first, let me set the scene at Mekong Bistro:

In this spacious restaurant just off 82nd Avenue, you had community elders, families, educators, political activists, college students and friends coming together as if it were a mini United Nations.

I met people from Togo and Russia and Thailand while drinking beer produced in Cambodia and Laos. People from all over Southeast Asia and Africa mingled with North Americans and Central Americans. We listened to music performed by individuals from Nepal and Vietnam.

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Poster boards displayed photographs of Som with Gov. Kate Brown, both of Oregon’s U.S. senators, and several local politicians, as well as from protests, rallies, soccer tournaments and other community events that Som has had a hand in organizing.

Senator Jeff Merkley appeared on video from Washington, D.C., saying, “It’s important to celebrate the important work that immigrants do when they come to this country.”

A representative of Senator Ron Wyden shared her personal tribute and then presented Som with a flag that had been flown over the U.S. Capitol.

Two Portland city commissioners, Amanda Fritz and Chloe Eudaly, were among those who took a turn at the mic. as did some of Som’s co-workers and mentors. Called upon unexpectedly by the moderator, I did too.

A mutual friend, Ronault LS “Polo” Catalani, whom I’ve known since we played basketball at the Salem YMCA three decades earlier, had also moved to Portland. Polo, a Spanish-speaking lawyer and activist from Malaysia, invited me to a lunch with a handful of community leaders in the S.E. Asian community at a time when I was The Oregonian’s Sunday Opinion editor and looking to tap into new voices and new perspectives.

Of the group, only Som stayed in touch. He wound up writing a couple of poignant op-ed pieces that we published, starting with this one in December 2010: Bhutanese refugees: American dream tantalizes, deceives

He also wrote this in November 2011:  America’s proud tradition of generosity to immigrants.

In time, Som would also be published or written about in The Seattle Times, Los Angeles Times, National Public Radio and Oregon Public Broadcasting, plus many more times in The Oregonian and OregonLive.

I commended Som on his record as a community ambassador and wished him well in his next 10 years.

***

As for the man of the hour, he’s accomplished — and given back — more in just a short few years than most people do in a lifetime.

Arriving in 2008 with a limited grasp of English, he met a volunteer ESL tutor with a nonprofit organization that helps newly arrived refugees find work and a level of self-sufficiency with everyday tasks like shopping, banking and using public transit.

Within seven years, Som had not only found work but also bought a home and a new car. He and his wife are raising a young daughter and twin boys.

Som’s first job meant working the night shift at a Popeye’s. He later became a case manager for a social services agency assisting refugees. More recently, he’s worked for the city’s Parks for New Portlanders program, part of the Bureau of Parks & Recreation. Last year, Som was honored as Park Champion of the Year by the National Recreation and Park Association, and traveled to Washington, D.C., to receive the award.

A fellow employee at Parks & Rec described Som as “a force of nature” in terms of what he brings to work — uncommon enthusiasm, a legendary work ethic, and a constantly growing network of politicians and community contacts who can help refugees and immigrants adjust to life in their new country.

His ideas aren’t too bad, either. In 2010, Som organized the first Portland World Cup, a soccer tournament conceived as a way to bring together young immigrants as an alternative to the allure of gangs. It’s grown to include two dozen teams and players speaking at least 23 languages.

In his remarks, Som displayed both a sense of humor and a continued commitment to serve. Laughing, he recalled his confusion over going to Papa Murphy’s and buying a to-go pizza that was unbaked. He said he’s figured out the difference between “hippie” and “hipster” and “realized that ‘Portlandia’ is an exaggeration.”

In the next 10 years, he vowed to sleep more, take care of his health, write a movie script (“I feel strongly I have a story to tell”) and, of course, give back to the community. He called attention to the PDX World Refugee Day celebration this Saturday and, in closing, urged us all: “Vote this November and make a difference.”

In sum, Tuesday was an occasion to celebrate a remarkable man and his personal milestone. I felt privileged to be invited and left with a sense of gratitude to celebrate not just Som but all immigrants who make our community a better place.

 

Gliding to graduation

PSU Comm programJune is a month for graduations — from kindergarten and fifth grade to middle school, high school and, of course, college.

On Friday, June 15, it was my pleasure to be in the room for a Communication Graduation Celebration sponsored by the Department of Communication at Portland State University.

Faculty, parents and friends turned out to show their support for more than 200 students — 180 undergraduate majors, 30 minors and 15 master’s degree candidates — at a Student Recognition Ceremony honoring them and a select group of scholarship winners.

Commencement exercises for most PSU students are scheduled for this Sunday, Father’s Day, but some schools and departments are holding their own, smaller ceremonies in advance of the big event. Such was the case with the Communication Department.

On a campus teeming with 27,000 students, the Comm Department has about 550 majors. Perusing the Class of 2018 list, I was pleasantly surprised to realize I knew almost half of the new majors and minors either from teaching them in class or supervising their internship during the past fall, winter or spring quarter.

There were plenty of star students to celebrate, including:

  • A graduate student who went back to school at age 47 and completed her masters this year at age 55. She is set to teach three classes next fall as an adjunct instructor at a local community college.
  • Another master’s student who inspired her grandfather to return to school this term and take a 2-credit class so he could obtain the bachelor’s degree he’d fallen short of decades earlier.
  • A scholarship winner with an interest in journalism who’s already just completed his junior year at age 19.
  • A home-schooled student who graduated with a perfect 4.0 GPA and is set to marry her fiancé this summer.
PSU jeff robinson

Jeff Robinson, chair of the PSU Communication Department, announces a scholarship winner during Friday’s graduation celebration.

In addition, I was delighted to see a student who labored to get a C- in the first class I taught two years ago as she took on both full-time school and full-time work while struggling with depression. She came to me in near tears when she lost her textbook (they can be expensive, you know) so I loaned her mine to get through the rest of the term. She gave me a handwritten thank-you note back then, and on Friday she recalled the loan of the book. Degree in hand, she has lined up a summer internship and a job at a local construction company. I’m so happy she prrsevered

***

Friday’s program was the first of its kind I had attended since joining the faculty two years ago. As the last day of the spring quarter, Friday also marked the end of my second academic year at Portland State. As milestones go, I suppose that’s pretty modest. But, coupled with a similar two-year milestone at Washington State University Vancouver, where I also teach, it feels pretty damn good to be at this point. And as I look ahead to what comes next, I can’t help but feel excited.

But let’s not get ahead of things. Indulge me with a quick look back at the past year.

Fall 2017:

At PSU, I taught my bread-and-butter class, Media Literacy, while also taking on a new role as internship coordinator in the Comm Department.

People often ask me what I mean by media literacy. It’s not the study of journalism, per se, though it certainly involves the goal of better understanding the historic role of the U.S. press; the enduring news values that fuel the mainstream media; and the changing technology that has ravaged newsrooms and revolutionized the way content — yes, content (text, photos, videos, audios, graphics) — is delivered.

 

Where media literacy once meant being able to read the written word, it now means being computer literate: specifically, being able to access, analyze, create and distribute a message.

It means being able to follow a narrative and character development on TV or in a movie or podcast. It means being able to grasp the meaning of logos, symbols, emojis and hashtags. It means creating your own media — a Facebook post, an Instagram photo, a YouTube video, a tweet, a meme — and sharing it with others. And, lastly, it means being able to discern who is sending which message for what purpose — not such an easy task in a world where manipulation lives side-by-side with the pursuit of the truth.

My class of 50-plus draws a mix of students, mostly Comm majors who take it for credit toward their bachelor’s degree, but also a fair number of others who take it as an elective. Having those extra perspectives — from folks who are studying film, business, criminal justice, advertising, etc. — is what makes for richer discussions and fascinating assigned essays.

Winter 2018:

Along with another section of Media Literacy at PSU, I taught Sports and the Media at WSU Vancouver, a dual load that meant I spent two mornings a week on each campus.

As someone who broke into journalism as a high school sports writer, and someone who follows sports of many kinds, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed teaching Sports and the Media. Again, it’s not a journalism course that’s meant to turn students into novice reporters, photographers or broadcasters.

Rather, it’s a course that I teach from a sociological perspective, with sports as a reflection of society at large. There is no aspect of modern culture that doesn’t touch sports and that’s what it makes the course so compelling. Think of it as sports and the intersection of (fill in the blank) civil rights, feminism, athlete activism, sexual and racial discrimination, crime, technology, economics, politics, Title IX. The list is endless.

In this class, we spend far less time discussing wins and losses and statistics and far more drawing connections from past to present. Examples: The Black Power salutes on the medals stand at 1968 Mexico City Olympics and the take-a-knee movement that spread from the NFL to backlash from the White House. Pioneering athletes like Jackie Robinson, Muhammad Ali, Billie Jean King and Colin Kaepernick. Old-school print media coverage of athletes as heroes versus 24/7 coverage in the age of Twitter, where athletes speak for themselves, break their own news and exercise their rights as free agents.

 

WSUV operates on the semester system, so I had a 16-week term versus 11 weeks at PSU. The extra weeks meant I could invite seven guest speakers to educate my 30 students on what it’s like to work in journalism, media relations, broadcasting or for a professional team. Short version: You need to have curiosity, passion, self-initiative, a multimedia skills set, excellent writing and interviewing chops, a tremendous work ethic, and a very thick skin. Students were shocked, though they shouldn’t have been, by the meanness and sheer volume of vulgar insults hurled at women journalists by irate fans and online commenters.

I owe a big thanks to this semester’s all-star lineup: Lindsay Schnell, USA Today; Jamie Goldberg and Tyson Alger, The Oregonian/OregonLive; Tom Goldman, NPR; Chris Metz, Portland Timbers and Thorns; Rich Burk, Hillsboro Hops and NBC Sports; Casey Holdahl, Portland Trail Blazers.

Spring 2018:

I didn’t teach this quarter at PSU, so once classes ended at WSUV in late April, I was able to take my foot off the gas for the past six weeks. Compared to peak busyness in the winter, it felt like a gentle glide to the end of the term. Still, there was plenty to occupy me as the Comm Department internship coordinator.

During the school year, I had a total of 40 students who registered in the internship-for-credit class. The number rose from 8 in the fall to 14 in the winter and 18 in the spring. Supervising these students was a pleasure because I could see how they were applying lessons learned in the classroom to the workplace. At the same time, I could see their personal, as well as professional, growth develop as they gained insights into their own personalities and working styles, as well as their ability to adapt to supervisors’ expectations and widely differing office cultures.

PSU interns

From left, 2018 winter quarter interns: Laurel Zarcilla, Joryn Harris, Mabinty Olson, Samantha Garcia and Emilee Caldwell. All except Sam are graduating this year. Joryn won the Communication Department’s Outstanding Academic Achievement Award.

The options that are available with a Communications degree were pretty evident as students fanned out across the city to work in public relations, marketing, event planning, social media, video editing, web site design and more. PSU has no journalism major, but that’s fine so long as students leave with a solid foundation of writing, research and communication theory.

Fun facts about the interns: Of the 40, 31 were women (78 percent) and 18 were students of color (45 percent). For the summer term, at least 7 are signed up and there may be two or three more before classes start again June 25.

None of the work I did with the interns this year would have possible without the support and guidance of my Canadian-Ukrainian colleague, Tanya Raomaniuk. She is the Comm Department’s academic and career advisor, and during the previous school year kept the internship program going until it could be handed off to me.

In turn, I am handing off the program for now to Marisa Miller, a well-regarded and newly minted master’s degree candidate with an outgoing personality. Marisa will be supervising the interns during the summer quarter because I will be away from campus.

PSU marisa miller

Marisa Miller knits unicorns for family and friends when she’s not working on her thesis.

And where will I be? Across the pond, teaching Media Literacy in London for two weeks beginning in mid-July.

More on that in an upcoming post.

Thanks, Dream Team

PWA Dream Team Expo

The PWA Dream Team (sans our leader, Kevin Jeans Gail) raises a glass following the NW Youth Careers Expo in March 2018. Clockwise from left: Kristen Kohashi, George Rede, Sherri Nee, Susan Nielsen and Kari Smith Haight.

If it’s true that all good things must come to an end, then today is as good as any to face that bittersweet fact.

After two years of working alongside some of the smartest, most creative and dedicated people around, I’m getting ready to close the books on my time at the nonprofit Portland Workforce Alliance.

I started there in the fall of 2016, just nine months after I had taken a buyout from The Oregonian/OregonLive, intending to transition into semi-retirement. Instead, I wound up getting an adjunct teaching gig at two local universities and falling into a wonderful part-time opportunity at PWA, where I worked in service to a great organization with a great cause: helping local high school students prepare for college and career.

As I explained a year ago on this blog:

“With literally a handful of employees, [PWA] builds relationships with local employers and educators to serve up a steady diet of career-related learning experiences that introduce area high school students to jobs and careers that might have eluded them otherwise. The school year calendar is loaded with career days, field trips, job shadows, internships, mock interviews, classroom visits — and the NW Youth Careers Expo, a signature event that brings 150-plus employers and 6,000 students together for a day of career exploration at the Oregon Convention Center.”

The two years have passed quickly and I’ve been enriched, professionally and personally, by my time with PWA.

Today marks the final meeting of the board of directors during the 2017-18 calendar year. The board will elect new officers, say hello and goodbye to new and departing board members, and welcome a slew of guests to a year-end gathering at a downtown architectural firm.

I’ll wrap up my work in the following days, clean out my desk, return my laptop, and turn my attention to other things, including a busy summer calendar and several loose ends related to my college classes.

But first, a look back at some of the work and all of the people at PWA — our self-described “Dream Team.”

My September 2016 blog post:  “My other job”

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***

I was hired as the communications coordinator, the only part-timer in an office with three other employees: Kevin Jeans Gail, the founding executive director; Susan Nielsen, the program and communications director; and Kristen Kohashi, the program manager.

While Kevin and Susan worked constantly to create and nurture partnerships in the education and business communities, Kristen focused on graphic design (both print and web) and served as a one-woman IT department in addition to managing an after-school mentoring program.

I played a supporting role in the areas of grant writing, social media, database management, and writing for our blog and newsletter. Occasionally, I’d get to represent PWA at local schools and colleges, and other times I’d recruit friends and former co-workers to attend and/or help out at the NW Youth Careers Expo and other events.

Last fall, we were thrown for a loop when Kevin had to take an extended medical leave from work. Susan stepped up as interim executive director and essentially did two jobs  (her own and Kevin’s) for the next several months.

Sherri Nee, a former journalist who helped start two nonprofit projects in Portland, had just joined our team in September, primarily helping with Career Days and recruiting employers to participate at the Expo and a related breakfast event. Shortly after, Kari Smith Haight came aboard as program coordinator, assisting with grant writing and helping Kristen manage the after-school mentoring program.

Sometime during my first year with PWA, we dubbed ourselves the Dream Team. It was tongue-in-cheek, of course, but the nickname really did embrace two things — the fact that we accomplished so much with so few people and resources; and the happy reality that our personalities meshed so harmoniously.

As a group, we tend to be extroverted introverts (except for Kevin, whose outgoing personality and passion for kids makes him among the most well-connected individuals in the city). More importantly, we work efficiently, without ego and in total support of each other and our target audience — the kids.

That dynamic continued with the hiring of Sherri and Kari, who fit in seamlessly with their self-deprecating humor and outstanding work ethic. My personal bonus? Being the only guy in a room with four other women and hearing so many stories about husbands, children, pets, food, fashion and personal foibles, real or imagined.

As for the work, my favorite memories include:

  • Seeing the diverse faces of Portland teenagers light up on a field trip to the PCC Swan Island Trades Center, where they worked in teams to wire a simple electrical circuit, and at Oregon Health & Science University, where they learned about potential careers in radiology, speech therapy and other areas other than medicine and nursing.
  • Speaking to a journalism class at Parkrose High School with Molly Harbarger, a former newsroom colleague who’s half my age and still working as a reporter at The Oregonian/OregonLive.
  • Recruiting caring adults of all ages and backgrounds to volunteer in various capacities, including as writing mentors, classroom speakers, mock interviewers or Expo exhibitors. Some friends came to show their support simply by attending the PWA Expo Breakfast and then making generous financial contributions afterwards.

For all of the above, I am thankful. I’ve had the privilege of working with great people, of  meeting a lot of great community leaders who serve on the PWA Board, and of hanging out with energetic high school kids and their teachers and principals.

george-susan

George and Susan during a Career Day visit to The Oregonian/OregonLive, where we worked together for several years in the Editorial Department.

I’ll miss driving out to the PWA office in Southeast Portland three afternoons a week. But I know I’ll also welcome the opportunity to claim that time for myself. With another year of teaching ahead of me at Portland State and WSU Vancouver, it will do me good to let go of one thing in order to focus on another.

Thanks, Dream Team!

 

Turning up the volume on life

hearing aids

I guess you could say I’m No. 37,500,001.

According to federal estimates, approximately 37.5 million Americans aged 18 and over report some trouble hearing. That’s about 15 percent of the adult population. Of those, only about one in six have ever used hearing aids.

You can now add me to the tally in both categories.

Last week, with Lori’s gentle urging, I went to have my hearing tested. The results confirmed what she suspected and what I resisted: mild-to-moderate hearing loss, primarily with lower tones and somewhat more acute in the right ear.

A few days later, I went back to pick up my newest fashion accessories: a pair of beige electronic aids designed to fit discreetly behind the ears. I’m going back next week to exchange them for some gray-colored ones, the better to blend in with my hair. No harm in being inconspicuous if I’ve already made the more important decision to get them in the first place.

As a male who’s growing older, I suppose it was inevitable that I’d need hearing aids at some point. After all, the research shows that:

(1) Age is the strongest predictor of hearing loss among adults aged 20 to 69, with the greatest amount of hearing loss in the 60-to-69 age group.

(2) Men are almost twice as likely as women to have hearing loss among adults aged 20 to 69.

hearingaidrepairThe hearing aids are extremely lightweight and they’ve made an immediate difference. When the audiology technician crinkled an empty plastic water bottle at her desk,  I nearly jumped out of my chair.

But that’s the point, right? To turn up the volume on life itself.

In the few days I’ve been wearing my little helpers, I’m hearing things with a clarity I hadn’t noticed before, such as the sound of my slippers on wooden stairs or the clickety-clack of the keyboard I’m using to write this blog post.

I can’t say I’ve noticed a big difference yet in watching television or a movie. But I’m hearing conversations much better — and that’s the biggest improvement.

On Thursday, a professor friend and I had lunch at a popular restaurant. Normally, I would have leaned across the table and asked her to repeat herself several times. This time, I noticed, I heard at least 95% of what she said, even above the noise of background conversation.

On Friday, I forgot to wear the aids. As a result, I struggled to hear one soft-spoken student during a discussion I had with six Communications interns at Portland State. Even with the door closed in a small room, it was hard to pick up some of what she was saying.

Now that I’ve got them, I’ve got to establish the habit of wearing the hearing aids every day. Shouldn’t be a problem. In short order, I imagine they will be as indispensable to me as my glasses.

Admittedly, I balked at going in for the initial exam. I’d always associated hearing aids as a tangible, and unwanted, marker of growing older. You hit a certain age and you’re eligible for discounted bus fares and movie tickets. Another couple years and you find yourself eligible for Medicare and Social Security. What’s next? A cane or a walker?

I exaggerate, but the reality is I am growing older.

hearing-624x459

The way I look at it — again, with Lori’s counsel — I’m investing in my health. Failing to treat hearing loss is really no different than ignoring dental health or overall physical health. Put off going to the dentist or the gym and you’ll pay for it.

Invest in hearing aids and the biggest benefit just may be a reduction in the frustration felt by your spouse, who no longer has to repeat herself as frequently to make herself heard or understood. I hear that’s good for the relationship. Pun intended.

More information:  Quick Statistics About Hearing from National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders

Remembering Dad

That’s my dad, holding my infant self, in Oakland. California, in early 1953.

We’ve been here on Orcas Island since Saturday and it’s rained pretty much nonstop. No biggie. It’s what the weather forecasters predicted.

So why am I thinking about the sunny Southwest? And why am I thinking about spring training just as it’s come to an end? After all, the regular Major League Baseball season starts tomorrow.

It’s because of Dad.

My father died a year ago today, six days after turning 91 years old. In the year since then, I’ve thought of him often – and always with appreciation for the man he was and the life he led.

Read “90 years and still kicking”

Read “A son’s remembrance”

A man who valued family and faith and an honest day’s work. A man who could build or fix anything. A man who encouraged me to pursue the college education he never had a chance to dream of for himself. A man who was proud of his service as a Navy veteran and who served his community in Silver City, New Mexico, the place where he and my stepmother Oralia chose to retire.

Time and again at his memorial service, I heard my dad described as kind and generous and, quite simply, as a good man.

***

Dad loved baseball. It was my favorite sport, too, growing up.

At his service, I told the story of how he bought me my first baseball bat – a heavily-taped, too-heavy-for-me Willie Keeler model that cost him 50 cents at a weekend flea market.

We played countless games of catch in our backyard, and watched the Giants and Dodgers go to battle on our black-and-white TV screen.

When I joined a Little League team, he volunteered to be an assistant coach. When I moved up to Pony League as a 13-year-old, he volunteered to be the manager. During my five seasons of organized baseball, I don’t remember him ever missing a practice or a game.

san-francisco-giants-logo-transparentSeveral years after he retired, I made good on a vow to take my dad to spring training in Arizona. I flew from Portland to Tucson, drove 150 miles to his home in Silver City, picked him up and, the next morning, drove back 300 miles to Phoenix.

For three days and nights, we hung out together, taking in three ballgames in three stadiums scattered around the metro area. It was all I’d hoped for as a father-and-son experience. Sleep in, get breakfast, go to the ballgame, grab dinner, relax in our room, sleep and repeat.

I still remember seeing these teams with him:

  • A’s vs. Cubs
  • Giants vs. Padres
  • Mariners vs. Royals

And I still remember how content he seemed, sitting in the cheap seats with a beer and a hotdog, enjoying his favorite sport alongside his adult son.

Now that he’s gone, I hope to take a walk around Eagle Lake today with Lori and keep him close in my thoughts.

Dad and Ora visited us here once at our island cabin, and we took them on a short walk on the Lake Trail. Though he had slowed down some, I know he appreciated the natural beauty of this place.

Yes, my father was a good man.

I miss you Dad. Love you always.

Your son, George

 

I already broke my resolution

smartphone addiction

Who’s in control? You or your device?

I flunked. No doubt about it.

Remember that pledge I made to “lighten up on the iPhone” this year and become “a smarter user about when and where to use it”? Yeah, that one.

Here’s how I fell short:

On Friday night, Lori and I went to see the Trail Blazers. They easily beat the Atlanta Hawks in a lopsided game that had people leaving early. I didn’t want to go, though, because I wanted to stay until the final buzzer, when the confetti rains down to signal a Portland victory. And, truth be told, I wanted to get a couple of photos to post on Facebook after the game.

As the game was winding down, a young man seated to our right began chatting us up. He and his date were friendly and, as one question led to another, we found ourselves talking about our marriage and our three kids. The guy had moved around a bit and was intrigued that our youngest child had moved from the Seattle area to the middle of Missouri after graduating from college

As he and Lori conversed, I found myself checking the remaining time on the scoreboard, wanting to be ready for the game-ending photos. The buzzer sounded and I got my pictures. We said goodnight to the couple and headed to the exit.

After we got home and I’d walked the dog, I selected some photos, wrote an intro and posted them, and went to bed. Next morning I was surprised to see something had gone wrong. No photos.

Was that a sign or what?

I could have taken the time to re-post, but I had to ask myself: Why? Who needs to know that you were at the game? Who cares if Portland won or lost?

And in that moment, I realized I had been a chump.

blazers-hawks

Why did I think it was so necessary to capture this moment?

I’d been handed an opportunity to engage in friendly conversation with a stranger, and I’d chosen to focus on a meaningless photo or two. While Lori seized the moment to be present, I only half-listened because my attention was elsewhere.

Shame on me. I’d broken my resolution one day after I’d made it public.

***

Though I’d already recognized the error of my ways, a column by The Oregonian’s Tom Hallman Jr. popped up in my Facebook feed and drove home the point.

The piece describes the change of heart that Andrew Sullivan, a renowned journalist and author, had after shutting down his blog in 2015, after writing 115,000 posts and attracting millions of readers.

“One of the great mistakes people make is thinking, as I did for a while, that being online and on your phone constantly is a wonderful enhancement, an addition to what you are doing,” Sullivan said. “But over time, you realize you are present, or you are not.”

Sullivan contends that the phone, always accessible, makes us believe we are connected. Instead, it renders reflection and perspective more difficult, and blunts our capacity to capture moments with meaning.

Hallman writes:

I thought about this on Jan. 1 when I stood outside to look at the supermoon, a term for when the moon orbits closer to the Earth and appears to be larger and brighter than normal. Instinctively, I reached for my smartphone to take a picture to capture the moment.

And then I put the phone back in my pocket.

That’s what I need to do more of in 2018.

***

Editor’s note: Thank you, Lynn St. Georges, my friend and fellow Boomer, for sharing the link. Here’s the column: Technology, the smartphone and the battle for our soul

Smartphone photo: i.pinimg.com

3 resolutions for 2018

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According to researchers at the University of Scranton, the three most popular New Year’s resolutions are to lose weight, get organized, and spend less, save more.

All worthy goals, for sure. I’m keeping mine simple this year — simple as 1-2-3.

  1. Drink more water.
  2. Eat more fruits and vegetables.
  3. Lighten up on the iPhone.

The first two need no explanation. The third means I’m going to strive to cut back on habitual use of that handheld device. This means reducing, not eliminating, my use of the iPhone. This means generally just being a smarter user about when and where to use it — and why I’m doing so.

It’s unrealistic to even think about severing the cord. As a communications professional, I rely on my phone for tasks big and small — texting colleagues, doing quick research, taking photos, checking email and keeping up with the news. As a consumer, it’s handy for maps, directions and business profiles, and a gateway to social media.

But there’s a time for everything. And my epiphany came last month as I was getting ready for a massage. I’d just begun to unbutton my shirt when a text popped up. I picked up the phone, paused — and then put it down.

It was from a co-worker. It was my day off. I was about to indulge in the luxury of an hour-long massage. Why would I even read the text, let alone respond to it at that particular moment? What would it hurt to delay reading and responding until after the massage?

It wouldn’t.

At that moment, I knew I’d work this into my resolutions for the new year. No more checking the iPhone before I even roll out of bed. More intentional, less habitual, use of the device.

***

A few numbers to chew on, courtesy of a 2016 study by dscout.com, a Web-based research firm:

Q. How often do we touch our phones?

A. Oh, only about 2,617 times a day?

That means that people tapped, swiped and clicked 2,617 times each day, on average. The heaviest users did so twice as many times —  5,427 touches a day.

Q.  How about sessions—how many separate times a day do people actually pick up their mobile phone to use it?

A. The average user engaged in 76 separate phone sessions a day. Heavy users (the top 10%) averaged 132 sessions a day.

Paul Lewis, writing in The Guardian, says these signs of phone addiction aren’t healthy.

“There is growing concern that as well as addicting users, technology is contributing toward so-called ‘continuous partial attention,’ severely limiting people’s ability to focus, and possibly lowering IQ. One recent study showed that the mere presence of smartphones damages cognitive capacity – even when the device is turned off. ‘Everyone is distracted,’ (34-year-old tech executive Joshua) Rosenstein says. ‘All of the time.’ ”

Read more about the dscout study here: Putting a Finger on Our Phone Obsession

Image: Digital Synopsis

Jordan at 30

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Jordan flashes a big smile after receiving his diploma during commencement exercises at St. Martin’s University in Lacey, Washington.

Today brings yet another New Year’s Eve, but in our family December 31st means something more special: our youngest son’s birthday.

This year, it’s extra special: Jordan Emilio Rede is turning 30 years old.

Hardly seems possible but, yes, our little guy is saying adiós to his 20s.

Distance prevents Lori and I from celebrating with him in person, as he’s now living two time zones away. But that doesn’t lessen our pride and joy as his parents. And I’m sure Nathan and Simone would agree that their little brother has developed into quite a guy.

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The pumpkin patch at Sauvie Island was always one of Jordan’s favorite outings.

Over the years, Jordan has transformed himself from an energetic, physically active, risk-taking adolescent into a solid, responsible young husband and father with a bright future ahead of him.

His trajectory in the last few years has been breathtaking. But let’s not get ahead of the story.

***

Growing up, Jordan was the most physically active of our three. No surprise, considering he started walking at 10 months, well before either of his siblings. He’d climb trees, skateboard and break dance. In high school, he played coed soccer, took up snowboarding and Shaolin kung fu, and wrestled.

When he joined the Army at 21, he took it to another level during basic training. I’ll never forget how trim and deeply tanned he looked when we traveled to Fort Benning, Georgia, in the summer of 2009 to see him graduate and become an active duty soldier.

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Lori and George with Jordan in July 2009 following his graduation from boot camp at Fort Benning, Georgia.

Joining the military isn’t what we had in mind for Jordan, but he was intent on becoming an infantryman and seizing the opportunity to challenge himself and be part of a team in service to his country. Of course, we worried when he was deployed to Afghanistan for a 12-month tour ending in December 2012 — five years ago this month.

That day he returned to Joint Base Lewis McChord, safe and sound with hundreds of other troops, stands out as one of the most emotional days of our lives.

Read “A soldier’s return” here

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U.S. Army Specialist Jordan Rede with wife Jamie and his proud parents in December 2012.

Jordan completed his four-year enlistment the following year and since then, the years seem to have passed in a blur.

Using his G.I. Bill benefits, he enrolled at St. Martin’s University, a small school with a veteran-friendly reputation, and plowed through four years of undergraduate study in the sciences. From their home near Tacoma, he endured a daily 50-mile round-trip commute to attend classes.

In May of this year, at age 29, he graduated magna cum laude in biology. Along the way, he won a National Science Foundation summer fellowship to study at Marquette University, an experience that piqued his interest in science research as a career.

Read “Jordan’s Journey” here

Immediately after graduation, he and his wife and their young daughter packed up and moved to Columbia, Missouri, home of the state’s flagship university, where he began a one-year fellowship aimed at giving post-baccalaureate students more experience in the lab in preparation for graduate school.

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All bundled up in Missouri: Jamie, Emalyn and Jordan.

When we visited Jordan, Jamie and Emalyn earlier this month, we was just hearing back from the first of several top-notch universities he’s applied to in hopes of pursuing a Ph.D in genetics and microbiology. Early next year, if the best-case scenario plays out, he’ll have a choice of where to go. (No specifics here, but we’re talking about Ivy League-caliber public and private schools.)

During our visit, I had a chance to see the lab where Jordan works on the Mizzou campus. Impressive.

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***

In spite of all his academic accomplishments, nothing makes us prouder than seeing Jordan in his element as a husband and young dad.

He and Jamie, sweethearts since he was in high school, have been married eight years now. She has been the wind beneath his wings, offering love and support from Day One.

They were married eight years ago on a crisp fall day in southern Oregon, not far from where Jamie grew up on a ranch. She worked as a licensed veterinary technician for several years but has shelved that for now to focus on being a stay-at-home mom.

Their daughter, Emalyn, was born in July 2016 and we were privileged to be the first ones (other than Jamie and Jordan) to see and hold her as an infant, within hours of her birth. Seeing the three of them together, whether in their cozy townhouse or out and about on a holiday outing, brought smiles to our faces.

So much has happened in the nine years since Jordan enlisted. That was a turning point in his life, for sure, as it gave him purpose while testing him physically and mentally. I would have never imagined he’d follow a path leading from the military to the college classroom to a university lab, but I’m damn proud that he has.

Today stands as a major milestone in his young life. I can’t wait to see what comes next.

2017: A year of transitions

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In a year of transitions, Lori and George celebrated their 42nd wedding anniversary in September.

This year has felt like no other.

Seeing the White House change hands from the most inspiring president of my lifetime to the least qualified and least compassionate was bad enough. Watching that train wreck of a human being proceed to drive even deeper wedges into an already splintered populace — well, that was even worse.

But I’m not here to dwell on politics.

No, not even Trump can take the luster off a year that produced plenty of memorable moments for the extended Rede family.

Yes, there was sadness with the passing of my dad, Catarino Allala Rede, just six days after he turned 91 in March.

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The scene at the funeral home in Silver City, New Mexico.

But even then, there was a silver lining to his passing. I got to do a mini-road trip with daughter Simone to and from the Phoenix airport to Dad’s home in southwestern New Mexico. There, we were reunited with my stepmother, my two sisters, a niece, a nephew, and assorted cousins that I hadn’t seen for several years.

It’s funny how life’s milestones — births, weddings and deaths — are those that bring families together from near and far. But when your siblings and other relatives are spread out all along the West Coast — from Alaska to Southern California — that’s the way it is.

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With my sisters Cathy (from Dillingham, Alaska) and Rosemary (from Oceanside, California).

Aside from Dad’s death, this year of transitions was dominated by our youngest son’s graduation from college, followed just days later by his move to Middle America.

In May, Jordan graduated with a degree in biology from St. Martin’s College, a small Benedictine school outside Olympia, Washington, where he had commuted for four years from his home in Spanaway, near Tacoma. It was a remarkable accomplishment for someone who began college just months after completing a four-year enlistment in the U.S. Army, including a one-year posting in Afghanistan, and who became a father during his junior year.

 

We had barely had time to celebrate before Lori and I returned to Spanaway to help Jordan and Jamie pack up their house for a 2,000-mile move to the University of Missouri. There in Columbia, Jordan would do science research in a fellowship program designed to help students prepare for the rigors of graduate school.

Father and son embarked on a four-day road trip, with me driving a 20-foot U-Haul truck and Jordan driving the family’s Honda Fit, packed to the gills and including their two dogs and one cat. I had envisioned the trip as an upbeat adventure, but it quickly took a dark turn when the U-Haul truck got a flat tire on the first day and again on the second day in remote areas of Idaho and Montana.

We made it on schedule, but only after pounding through really long third and fourth days where sightseeing took a back seat to the urgency of sticking to our schedule. We arrived late on a Friday, unloaded the truck’s contents on Saturday, and I flew home early Sunday.

 

How I wish Dad had lived to see his youngest grandchild graduate from college and become a father, as well.

As for the rest of 2017, well, it’s no wonder it feels like these 12 months flew by. Lots of memories and two end-of-year milestones.

Travel: We stuck close to home with three trips to our quiet cabin on Orcas Island. We always look forward to the week-long respite from urban life. The trips entails a 250-mile drive to Anacortes, where we board the ferry for a one-hour sailing to the island, and then an additional 45-minute drive to our place above Eagle Lake.

Pictures are worth a thousand words.

 

In early December, Lori and I returned to Missouri for a quick pre-Christmas visit. It was a joy to spend time with our sweet granddaughter, Emalyn, and her loving parents.

Books: Literature is a passport of its own, with talented authors opening doors to unfamiliar places, people and experiences. Among those I enjoyed this year were: “Among the Living and the Dead,” a memoir by my Latvian-American friend and former colleague, Inara Verzemnieks; “The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest,” the last in the trilogy of Swedish crime thrillers churned out by the late Stieg Larsson; “Hillbilly Elegy,” a window into the Appalachian hillbilly culture written by one who escaped, J.D. Vance;  “Lab Girl,” a peek into the world of Hope Jahren, a pioneering research scientist; and “Evicted,” the Pulitzer Prize-winning examination of American poverty through the  racist practice of eviction. (Racist? Read the book and you’ll see what I mean.)

 

Music: I like to think I have broad tastes, though family members would disagree.  But, what the heck. I think I did pretty well catching a handful of concerts featuring artists ranging from Janet Jackson and Coldplay to Lady Antebellum, Michelle Branch, Tuxedo, Liz Longley and ZZ Ward.

Movies: No links this year because I wasn’t as diligent as usual. But I did enjoy “Get Out,” “Lady Bird,” “Detroit” and, most recently, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.”

Visitors: We had a surprise visit in early May from Chiho Hayamizu, a lovely young lady from Japan who was just 20 when she came to live with our family during a year of study at Portland State University. Our oldest child, Nathan, was just 13 when Chiho moved in with us in the spring of 1993.

Chiho, now 44 but still looking 20 (and even 30) years younger, was back in town for an unofficial reunion with friends who’d also been exchange students in Portland.

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Lori and Chiho: Radiant smiles, no matter the location or the year.

In October, my best friend, Al Rodriguez, came up from Santa Barbara to spend a few days timed to coincide with the annual Voices of August writers meetup. It was great hanging out with my longtime buddy, whether it was grabbing lunch from the downtown food carts or attending opening night of the Trail Blazers’ 2017-18 season. (They actually won!)

 

In November, two of Lori’s best friends, Terry (Long) Mullaney and Lin Dillon, came up from San Francisco for a long weekend of sightseeing and hanging out. Lori and Terry grew up on the same city block, and the two of them met Lin at the all-girls high school they attended. Nice to see such an enduring friendship.

Voices: For the seventh consecutive year, I curated a month of guest blog posts during the month of August. It’s become something that I look forward to every year, the opportunity to be informed, inspired and entertained by a changing cast of friends, relatives and online acquaintances, with ages ranging from 14 to 65-plus. Each person writes on a topic of their choice and does so in a way that brings variety and texture to the whole.

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This year’s VOA peeps gathered Oct. 20 at McMenamin’s on Broadway. Front row, from left: Gosia Wozniacka, Elizabeth Gomez, Jennifer Brennock, Lynn St. Georges, Lori Rede, Lakshmi Jagannathan. Back row, from left: George Rede, John Killen, Bob Ehlers, Al Rodriguez, Keith Cantrell. Not pictured: Eric Wilcox.

This look back at 2017 wouldn’t be complete without two final notes:

— This is the year both Lori and I moved into a new age bracket: 65. She’s still rockin’ it as the owner of her personal training business and I’m enjoying my work as well, as an adjunct college instructor and part-time communications coordinator for a local education nonprofit.

— Chalk up another year with our two pets: Mabel, the mellowest of cats, and Charlotte, the energetic mutt who’s won our heart with her antics and underbite.

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Up to no good. Again.