The old/new way to listen to live music

Posted on May 4, 2013 by

There’s something humbling and heart-warming about being invited into someone’s home. Hospitality stirs a powerful response of gratitude.

Kate Campbell, photo by Suzannah Raffield.

Kate Campbell, photo by Suzannah Raffield.

Every time I sit down to a meal or stand around eating finger foods in someone’s home, I know they have gone to a tremendous effort and expense. I feel valued.

Now, add in the experience of live music, and the occasion moves up the rungs of memory a few notches.

Carla and I had the great pleasure of receiving the hospitality of our friends the Mackeys last Friday night. They treated us to a spread of food and the stirring strains of our favorite musician, Kate Campbell, in our first-ever house concert.

For the first hour or so we caught up with old friends, met new ones and generally enjoyed adult conversation without having our children in tow. For the next few hours, we sat in Brittany’s and Joe’s living room listening to Kate tell stories in word and song.

I was thrilled she sang “New South,” the unofficial anthem of this blog, in her opening set which also included her Southern lament “Look Away.” I beamed with pride when she elected to sing one of my requests in her second set, “Visions of Plenty.” She stuck mostly with the guitar, but at the end of her first set, she did give us one or two tunes on the piano.

Still, I couldn’t get over the mixture of awkwardness and excitement over having such a personal experience in such an intimate setting. I’ve seen Kate perform at church, at large-scale religious gatherings such as CBF’s General Assembly, in songwriting workshops, and even Eddie’s Attic, the Decatur, Ga., landmark venue that routinely hosts outstanding singer-songwriters. I’ve enjoyed her and her music in each setting, but I have to say that the house concert was the best.

I wouldn’t exactly call house concerts a new trend. Back in the 16th century it was called “chamber music.” Nobles would have musicians play in their homes for their friends. Maybe the contemporary trend is a revival of that practice. Curious, I went in search of information about this trend in live music and found several pieces online from CNN to the New York Times, both dated 2010. Three years is about average for me to experience a trend that the rest of the world begins to notice.

You don’t have to be a music promoter to recognize house concerts are a win-win for the performers as well as the patrons. House concerts provide a powerful experience of the arts and a livelihood for the musicians. The latter part of that equation is why home concerts are making a comeback. Constant touring is a rough way for a musician to make a living: playing in bars where the music is just a backdrop, paying out of pocket for travel expenses, being away from family and friends for weeks at a time. All of these factors and more make the home concert an appealing way to earn a living and share music.

CIYHlogoIn my research, I quickly found two sites dedicated to the proliferation of house concerts: Concerts in Your Home and Dinner and Song. The concept behind these sites is that they offer you the opportunity to buy tickets to home concerts in your area. dnsLogoSlightly riskier in terms of social awkwardness – paying to go to someone’s home you may not know to spend time in close proximity with complete strangers – than going to a show in a more impersonal venue, these sites make a compelling case for the house concert.

We were able to get Kate's latest release, "Live at the Library" which was recorded with Southern historian Wayne Flynt during Samford University's Homecoming in October 2008. This limited-pressing CD will be available May 15. I'll spare you the full review and say it's amazing.

We were able to get Kate’s latest release, “Live at the Library” which was recorded with Southern historian Wayne Flynt during Samford University’s Homecoming in October 2008. This limited-pressing CD will be available May 15. I’ll spare you the full review and say it’s amazing.

And that’s what made last Friday night so special: it was a gift. Brittany and Joe didn’t ask anything in return. Yes, we bought the one CD of Kate’s that we don’t already have, but otherwise, we didn’t have to contribute anything.

I’m sure your musical taste will dictate whether or not a house concert is for you. I can’t imagine experiencing Metallica or Guns ‘N Roses in a living room. But if singer-songwriters are your preferred genre, I highly recommend a house concert. It will be an experience you won’t soon forget.

Have you ever been to a house concert? Who performed? What was it like? Did you enjoy it? Leave a comment below and share your experience.

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Robertsons taking the New South by storm

Posted on April 20, 2013 by

They’re bearded. They’re quotable. They’re camouflaged. They’re armed. They’re wildly popular. They are the Robertsons.

Unless you manage to completely avoid all media – other than New South Essays, of course – then you have probably seen or heard about the Robertson family. The pride of West Monroe, La., the Robertsons are self-proclaimed rednecks who have turned a duck call manufacturing business into one of the most popular reality shows on television.

From left, Jase, Si, Willie and Phil Robertson are bearded Louisiana rednecks who are ruling the reality TV airwaves.

From left, Jase, Si, Willie and Phil Robertson are bearded Louisiana rednecks who are ruling the reality TV airwaves.

We discovered the Robertsons last year when my dad turned us on to “Duck Dynasty” while it was still in its first season. Not typically an early adopter, Dad was on board from the beginning after finding their duck hunting show “Duck Commander” on the Outdoor Channel. It seems that while searching for his beloved fishing shows one day, he stumbled onto the wise-cracking Robertsons . Although he cared nothing for duck hunting, he found them so compelling he started watching.

The Robertsons then found an unlikely TV home on the Arts and Entertainment channel when they premiered in March 2012. A little more than a year later, “Duck Dynasty” is A&E’s highest rated program. Renewal for season four is currently on hold until new contracts can be negotiated. The Robertsons are reportedly seeking $200,000 per episode.

The season finale airs this week on April 24 to mark the end of the third season. I’m trying to figure out why “Duck Dynasty” has caught on in the New South like no other redneck reality show, and there are many.

So why are the Robertsons so popular?

Not since The Waltons has a TV family consistently shared a prayer of thanksgiving at meal times. The Robertsons end each episode with a blessing, pronounced by Phil, the patriarch. They are obviously people of faith with their involvement in their church featured regularly on the show.

They also demonstrate a strong commitment to their family. The brothers squabble and their Uncle Si is a foil to all their well-laid plans, but in the end, they embrace, pray and pass the victuals.

Conservative Christians gravitate to the Robertsons because they finally feel represented. A family with their general beliefs is on television, and they are drawn to them.

Truth is, there aren’t many shows that we watch as a family. The kids watch their typical fare of Cartoon Network, Nickelodeon or Disney Channel, but with “Duck Dynasty,” we can and want to watch together.  There’s no cursing, and only the occasional expression of marital bliss between Phil and Kay can be considered “adult content.” It may be gross, but there’s a lot worse on television than an affectionate older married couple showing that their love still burns brightly.

The Robertson women, from left, Jessica (goes with Jep), Missy (goes with Jase), Miss Kay (Goes with Phil) and Korie (goes with Willie... or the other way around.)

The Robertson women, from left, Jessica (goes with Jep), Missy (goes with Jase), Miss Kay (Goes with Phil) and Korie (goes with Willie… or the other way around.)

My wife, Carla, fully admits to enjoying the segments of the show that include the younger Robertsons’ wives and children. She particularly likes seeing their homes, their choices in clothing, and how they parent their children, who just happen to be a mix of biological and adopted. She is fascinated by these beautiful, thin, well-coifed women and what drew them to their redneck husbands. Photos are circulating online that prove under their massive beards there are men who were once handsome enough to woo these lovely women.

Despite all these reasons for watching, the real reason for their success is that they are funny. We never fail to laugh when watching the Robertsons. I’m not so naïve as to think everything that happens is unplanned, but even with a sense that scenarios may be contrived, I can’t help but giggle.

Uncle Si trying to earn enough tickets at a local pizza arcade to win a stuffed purple gorilla is funny. Godwin, a co-worker at the duck call plant, shirtlessly scurrying across a path on all fours to see if he resembles a panther from a distance is funny. Willie and Jase taking their wives hunting and Korie dousing herself in doe urine is funny. I could go on and on, but you get the idea.

“Duck Dynasty” may not be everyone’s blue Tupperware cup of iced tea, but the Robertsons have become heroes to a segment of the population that can’t find many in the media these days. We can debate whether or not they are role models, but you cannot deny they are trending.

It remains to be seen how many seconds are left on their 15 minutes of fame, but when the season finale airs Wednesday, as Si would say, “I’m down like a rodeo clown, Jack!”

What’s your take on the Robertsons? Do you watch and laugh out loud or do you cringe and avoid them like the plague? If you are a fan, what are your reasons? Leave a comment and make us “happy, happy, happy.”

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Goofy Southern Golfers: A New Tradition Unlike Any Other

Posted on April 13, 2013 by
The Masters Tournament, the first of professional golf's four major tournaments each year, is played at the stately Augusta National Country Club in Augusta, Ga.

The Masters Tournament, the first of professional golf’s four major tournaments each year, is played at the stately Augusta National Country Club in Augusta, Ga.

Based on in-depth demographic research, I’ve determined that New South Essays readers may not know that this week is the Masters Golf Tournament in Augusta, Ga. As a public service, I am writing to let you know that this is happening , and it is important.

Or at least it is to some people. Like CBS. And Augusta, Ga. And Tiger Woods.

As I scoured the Professional Golfers Association (PGA) headlines for some New South nugget to pull from the array of staid and stodgy story lines, I found and discarded the story of the 14-year-old Chinese phenom, Tianlang Guan. No New South angles there.

Then there’s Tiger. Trying to win a fifth Green Jacket (that’s what they give the winners. Not very practical. They can only wear it at Augusta National Country Club) might be interesting to some folks, but in the New South, it’s about as exciting as watching Alabama play Georgia State in football. Oh, and there’s a lot of hullabaloo about Woods breaking some arcane rule and needing to disqualify himself, but that will never happen.

Before you judge, admit it, you've been known to slouch around school classrooms, too, haven't you?

Before you judge, admit it, you’ve been known to slouch around school classrooms, too, haven’t you?

Then, I found this: the latest trend among pro golfers is called “Dufnering.” Named for 36-year-old Jason Dufner, an Auburn grad currently tied for 7th at the Master’s, who had his picture taken by journalists while sitting awkwardly in a school classroom back on March 28.

Bubba Watson mocked Jason Dufner with a Dufnering pose in his garage with his beloved Gen. Lee.

Bubba Watson “Dufnering” in his garage with his beloved General Lee.

The photo quickly went viral, and soon, Dufner’s golfing buddies proliferated the image through Twitter and named the pose “Dufnering.”

It doesn’t appear to be hurting his game.

Then there’s Bubba Watson, the 2012 Master’s champion. Much was made of his victory last year, and the 34-year-old Bagdad, Fla., native and University of Georgia graduate has quickly become one of the bright stars of the golf world with his buttoned-up golf shirts and pink drivers.

Bubba in his 2011 debut music video "Oh, Oh, Oh."

Bubba in his 2011 debut music video “Oh, Oh, Oh.”

He and his buddies have taken to making music videos. Yes, you heard me correctly: music videos. Perhaps you’ve seen the 2011 rendition of “Oh, Oh, Oh”? Watson and fellow golfers Ben Crane, Rickie Fowler and Hunter Mahan followed up that effort with  “2.Oh,” another in their series of madcap musical mayhem.

An argument can be made that Watson’s musical exploits could be interfering with his game as he currently sits at four-over-par, 10 shots off the lead.

In the Old South, golf was a genteel game practiced by wealthy gentlemen. In the New South, it’s a bunch of rambunctious frat boys seemingly taking it all in stride and having fun. Not since John Daly – the chain-smoking, long-driving, overweight, alcoholic everyman – was competitive have Southerners had someone they felt they could truly root for in a tournament.

Is it me or is Davis Love III "Dufnering" back in 2008 on the cover of Garden & Gun?

Is it me or is Davis Love III “Dufnering” back in 2008 on the cover of Garden & Gun?

Yes, I know, lots of golfers hail from the South. You’ll even see such stalwarts as Davis Love III gracing the cover of Garden & Gun magazine. But will you ever see Davis Love III “Dufnering” or performing in a rap video?

Sometime in the last 10 years, golf… or I should say golfers… stopped taking themselves so seriously. Whether this makes golf more accessible to the public and ultimately more popular remains to be seen. What I think you can predict is that whether people watch the tournaments or not, they’ll feel a stronger kinship with the athletes, and that has to be a boon to the sport.

OK, let’s all assume the position and do some “Dufnering” while we watch the final two rounds of the Master’s. It’s a tradition unlike any other.

Who’s your favorite PGA star? Do you think it disgraces golf for players to be dancing around in overalls and sitting awkwardly in school classrooms? Leave a comment below and share your reaction to the current crop of crazy Southern golfers.

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Pollen counts

Posted on April 6, 2013 by

Nothing says springtime in Atlanta like piles of facial tissues, billowing clouds of yellow dust and an encouraging addition to the weather forecast known as the pollen count.

I heart pollen

Not really, but you get the point.

Simply defined, the pollen count is the number of grains of pollen in a cubic meter of air. It is measured by placing a silicon-covered rod outdoors for a 24-hour period and then analyzing the particles caught in the silicon. The higher the number, the worse conditions are for allergy sufferers.

Perhaps no other element of forecasting is as exciting to meteorologists short of a Doppler-enhanced, VIPIR II-detected bow echo in their severe weather center. As it rises into the tens of thousands, the smiling, suited, well-coiffed purveyors of climatological abnormality tell us with glee how miserable we are likely to be on any given day.

It never matters what the calendar says. I don’t care when the first pitch of baseball season is thrown.  I know that spring doesn’t officially begin until allergy season gets into high gear.

For those of us living in the New South, the pollen count has become an important consideration in how we plan our day. It influences whether we wash our car, visit a park, pack a wad of tissues in our purse before we leave the house, how far we plan to drive under the influence of an antihistamine and even what we wear.

I clearly remember trying to close my car door last spring with my derriere because my hands were full. My navy pants bore the yellow emblem of my foolishness throughout the workday, and my car door had the unique and FBI-database-traceable imprint of my rear end in yellow dust for several days. This is the real reason Southerners wear yellow in springtime. Khaki hides pollen pretty well, but maybe it’s time I invest in some yellow or even light green pants. Perhaps I should consider accessorizing my spring wardrobe with a gas mask.

Doesn't the sight of a pollen cell just want to make you sneeze?

The sight of microscopic pollen cells induces sneezing.

On Wednesday, I could tell the pollen count was high even before I rolled out of bed. The gurgling of fluid in my ear, the coagulation of mucus in my nostrils and the irritation in the back of my throat all told me that it was going to be a 10,000+ kind of day. Just writing that last sentence made me sneeze.

A couple of cold, rainy days have brought some recent relief, but that’s a high price to pay. Is it better to have a beautiful spring day or the last vestiges of winter just so you can breathe? It’s a Hobson’s Choice really. We get what we get, and we don’t pitch a fit.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-pollen. I understand all about the birds and the bees. Pollen is a necessary part of the beauty of Southern springtime. Spring in Atlanta is really beautiful. The redbuds and Bradford pears have come and gone, our dogwoods are budding, the neighbor’s Yoshino is in full, glorious bloom and the azaleas are out. It is a spectacle that I anticipate each year.

I just wish I didn’t have to sacrifice breathing to enjoy it.

How do you cope with pollen season? Which variety attacks you the worst? Share your allergy cures and favorite spring blooms by leaving a comment below.

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Etiquette just clogs your inbox

Posted on March 30, 2013 by
Please and Thank You are still magic words

Are they really? Maybe if they’re said and not texted or emailed.

In the South, we are taught to thank everyone for everything, even when we don’t mean it.

In the age of digital communication, Southern manners are annoying.

Whether you know it or not, we are now being conditioned to say only what’s absolutely necessary. Well-mannered professionals in the New South are being encouraged to let go of the rules we were taught growing up in favor of brevity and clarity.

Last week I came across a piece in the New York Times that debated the efficiency of sending a “Thank you” reply to the receipt of an email. On one hand, it is nice to know the person appreciates whatever crucial piece of work you sent.  On the other hand, it’s just another email clogging up your inbox.

This prompted deep, internal reflection: I am a gratuitous email thanker. I even send a “thx” to texts. According to the New York Times, I am super annoying.

Not sure if should send a thank you email or not bother them with an extra email

Many Internet memes, like this one involving the character Fry from the animated “Futurama” television series, decry annoying email habits.

I can be annoying for lots of reasons – at least 10 come to mind immediately – but it’s sad that having good manners is now deemed bothersome. As someone who struggles to keep up with two email accounts, three Twitter feeds, two Facebook accounts, two LinkedIn accounts, a Pinterest page, and, of course, a blog, I get it. Have we gotten so busy, though, that we don’t have time or even appreciate a common courtesy such as “Thank you?”

If “love means never having to say you’re sorry”, then in the New South being comfortable in the relationship means never having to say “Thank you.” Thinking about my own texting and email habits, I tend to say “Thank you” to people with whom I don’t have a well-established relationship. Since changing jobs, I’ve found that I do it a lot more than I used to with my former colleagues.

I had no ill will towards my former colleagues. It’s just after working with many of them for 10 years, I became very comfortable in my relationships and didn’t feel a need to thank them for every little email. But now, I am so eager to get off on the right foot, that I thank everybody for everything. And the New York Times tells me I am super annoying by doing so.

I'm somewhat skeptical you're laughing out loud as much as you claim

When you care enough to send the very best, someecards can express the unexpressable.

Sometimes, a brief “thx” or even an “lol” can be used to help gently land a seemingly endless text or email conversation. It’s a way to put a punctuation mark on the interaction and allow you to get back to work. Overuse, however, can be just that much more annoying.

I think the healthy balance is found in the secret of all good communication: consider the audience. It’s not just novelists or bloggers who need to ask “What does the reader want?” After all, isn’t etiquette, at its root, about making others feel comfortable?

If you are texting your brother, “thx” isn’t necessary. If you are emailing your boss, it’s not a bad idea to include a quick reply to confirm receipt. This isn’t universal. Don’t thank your boss if he or she hates email and doesn’t really know you. We live in an era of situational etiquette.

Taking a split second to decide how your message will be received and interpreted can save you grief. That momentary and tiny bit of thoughtfulness will be appreciated more than a thoughtless response, no matter how cheery.

And if it’s really important to thank someone, send a note. Yes, they still exist.

Now, I’m going to queue up some “Thank you” emails for everyone who read this post.

Do you like getting “Thank you” emails or “thx” texts or do you prefer the silent treatment? Are you an annoying thanker, too? Share your thoughts by leaving a comment, and I promise not to thank you for doing so.

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Bracing

Posted on March 23, 2013 by

You cannot bear your children’s burdens for them.

On Wednesday, our 12-year-old son, Barron, began a two-year journey with orthodontia. My wife and I can commiserate, but we cannot take away the discomfort and self-consciousness. As one of my former editors used to say, it’s his bear to cross.

I'm sure Barron is under no such delusion.

I’m sure Barron is under no such delusion.

By the grace of God and my mother’s good dental genes, I avoided braces altogether, but I remember coming of age in the ‘70s and ‘80s when a prescription for braces as a teenager was a death sentence for popularity. I can clearly recall several instances of friends who had to undergo the painful process of orthodontics, erasing their smiles for two to three years and earning such unflattering nicknames as “metal mouth,” “brace face” and “jaws.” It was even worse for the kids who had to wear headgear attached to their braces.

In reading up on orthodontia, I learned that braces are now nearly ubiquitous. From 1982 to 2008, the number of teenagers with braces has increased by 99 percent. Gone are the days of the snaggletooth Southern stereotype. In the New South, wearing corrective braces is a rite of passage common to nearly every teen and pre-teen.

My wife is the one with orthodontic experience in our household, and she has offered reassurances that there is life after braces. It’s probably better that she be the parent with empathy because I suspect our boys would rather have her for comfort than their often less-than-sympathetic old man.

Willy Wonka's braces

After having watched or listened to the Wonka remake about 150 times, I couldn’t help but picture these braces when I first learned Barron would have to be subjected to orthodontia.

I don’t know how normative her experience is, though. She reported to have desired braces so much in her pre-teen years that she used tin foil to pretend to have braces. To her, orthodontics was the status symbol of cool, teenaged girls.

Barron will not be alone in his misery. One of his buddies has already been through braces, getting them at the age of 10 and recently having them removed. Another friend has them now and has been a good peer guide through the process. His younger brothers, though, haven’t been as sympathetic.

“Uh, Harris, you know you will be going down this road yourself in a couple of years,” I reminded our 7-year-old.

Thoughtful silence.

“I’d be a lot more sympathetic if I were you.”

“Well, I better make fun of him all I can while I have the chance.”

Epic parenting fail.

After the first week with braces on his top teeth – the bottom braces will be installed in about six months – he’s managed to deal with the soreness, find a way to keep them clean and work around the new protrusions to make his requisite trumpet embouchure. More adjustments are coming, I’m sure, but at least for now, we’ve not had to deal with any questions about kissing.

Again, wisdom from his younger brother:

“You won’t be able to kiss any girls,” Harris rejoined with a wide smile.

“That’s the least of my worries,” Barron said.

No, that’s the least of OUR worries.

Probably at the top of our list, right under his pain, is our financial pain. Braces aren’t cheap. I’ve used installment plans and credit to purchase everything from mattresses to cars to homes, but I never imagined I would be employing these financing tools to make my kids’ teeth straight. This isn’t the first nor will it be the last time I am surprised by a big-ticket expense in raising children.

So as my expedition with orthodontia begins, I welcome the collective wisdom of you who have traveled this road before me. What do I have to expect? What do I have to dread? What do I have to celebrate? It may not take a village to raise a child, but it certainly takes a bank.

Leave your comment below and share how you coped with your own braces or your child’s braces. We’ll all benefit from your experience.

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My little brother the leprechaun

Posted on March 16, 2013 by

Tomorrow is March 17, a date that looms large for my family.

My little brother, Lee, turns 39 tomorrow. He's slightly bigger now.

My little brother, Lee, turns 39 tomorrow. He’s slightly bigger now.

No, we’re not Irish. Well, we’re a little Irish, but not THAT Irish. You see, 39 years ago on St. Patrick’s Day, my little red-headed brother was born. He would end up being my first little brother, but none of us knew that at the time.

Arthur Lee Wallace, named for my mom’s father, proved to be a handful then and continues to enlighten and entertain us with his witticisms and misadventures. I was a mere 3 years and eight months old when Lee was born. When he came home from the hospital, I tried to hold him in my lap but failed to properly support his neck and head.

“His head is falling off!” I yelled as his fuzzy noggin lolled across my knees.

Lee, seen here on his first Easter, also survived my fashion disasters. Although to be fair, this wasn't my fault.

Lee, seen here with me on his first Easter, also survived my fashion disasters. Although to be fair, I didn’t choose this outfit.

He survived my fledgling attempts to hold him – though any damage he sustained may explain some behavioral eccentricities – and much worse at my hands as the years went on.

I will never forget the sick feeling in my stomach when I looked into the rear view mirror on my parents’ van and saw him rolling across the pavement of our driveway after I gunned it up the hill with him clinging white-knuckled to the spare tire on the back.

And then there was the time we fought. OK, well, we fought a bunch. In fact, the last whuppin’ I got from my dad occurred when I was 13. Lee and I we were hitting below the belt in a knock-down, drag-out tilt. I’m still not sure if we were punished for fighting or for fighting dirty.

Lee has also survived many a tongue lashing from my parents for following through on ideas I may or may not have planted in his mind.

“Lee, ask Dad if we can stay up and watch TV.”

“OK!” he eagerly responded.

Minutes later, after my father erupted at his post-bedtime appearance in the den, Lee returned, crying.

“Oh well. Guess that was a ‘No.’ Thanks, Lee. Good night!”

Lee is a talented musician and choir director. He sings WAY better than me and plays several instruments.

Lee is a talented musician and choir director. He sings WAY better than me and plays several instruments.

We shared a bedroom from as far back as I can remember until I left for college. We had long late-night chats about important topics like the Dallas Cowboys’ chances of winning a Super Bowl with Gary Hogeboom as the quarterback and how Darth Vader could possibly be Luke Skywalker’s father.

The conversation Lee likes to remind me of happened one night when I was 16. I professed to have found the woman of my dreams. Really, really, really wish I never shared that. Now Lee uses it to great comedic effect at family gatherings. He has a way of keeping me grounded if I ever get too full of myself.

Lee and the girl of his dreams, Karrie. What a handsome couple.

Lee and the woman of his dreams, Karrie.

Many years later I eventually found the woman of my dreams, and so did Lee. He actually preceded me in marriage by a full three years.

Although I would never tell him, I’m very proud of all that he has accomplished. He has been a youth and music minister for nearly 20 years, impacting the lives of hundreds of teenagers. He helps his wife, Karrie, run a very successful business in Lake Wales, and is excelling at selling nutritional and weight loss products. He and Karrie are raising an intelligent, beautiful and talented 11-year-old daughter, Kalee.

Our infrequent opportunities to catch up are treasures for me, and I enjoy following his exploits from afar on Facebook. My life changed forever 39 years ago tomorrow, and despite what I may have said in the heat of arguments during our childhood, I’m glad he was born.

While everyone else is donning the green tomorrow in honor of St. Patrick, I’ll be thinking of Lee, our family’s own lucky leprechaun. Having him in our lives is worth more than a pot of gold.

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My cheatin’ foot

Posted on March 9, 2013 by

When you try a different hair stylist or dental hygienist, don’t you feel a little bit like you’re cheating on the relationship?

Since the mid-1990s I have been buying my running shoes at Phidippides, the first-ever specialty running store which opened in 1973 in Tallahassee, Fla., and now operates at Atlanta’s Ansley Mall. Even when I lived in Macon, I would drive to Midtown Atlanta to buy my running shoes from real runners who knew what they were talking about as opposed to the teenagers in referee uniforms at those shops in the mall or the big box stores.

screen image of my high arches

I have a high arch… so says the computer screen and the eyeball test.

For at least the last three years as I have dealt with a number of injuries, a running buddy of mine has been trying to convince me to visit Big Peach Running, an Atlanta running store chain that opened in 2004. He talked about their fit process and how they looked at your feet on some sort of scanner and then videotaped your gait and foot falls on a treadmill to determine your needs in a running shoe.

I stubbornly protested, saying I preferred the low-tech approach of Phidippides where they watch you run with their eyes and tell you the same information. I said I didn’t want to succumb to the “soul-less, technology-driven” approach of the new-fangled Big Peach.

After logging WAY too many miles on my shoes, I decided it was time to get some new ones. I had been complaining about my shoes to anyone who would listen for several months. Finally, my wife had heard enough.

“Go buy some shoes already!” was her less than sympathetic response.

Now that I work in Midtown, I made plans to slip over to Phidippides during a lunch hour. Before I could go, though, my running buddy made one last appeal for Big Peach. This time when I launched into my old school argument, he was ready.

“Wait, don’t you work at Georgia Tech? Why are you so afraid of technology?”

Touché.

I looked up Big Peach’s locations and found a brand new one on Peachtree Street, 1.7 miles from my office. Resistance was futile. I was assimilated.

During lunch last Friday, I drove over to the new Big Peach location, feeling guilty for abandoning my beloved Phidippides. The clerks, who, like at Phidippides, were clearly very knowledgeable runners, asked me the same diagnostic questions I used to get at Phidippides:

  1. How much are you running these days?
  2. What are you are currently running in?
  3. Are you having any problems?
  4. Are you training for something specific?
screen image of food landing in stable position

My foot lands in a stable position. Extra cool shot of my ankle, too, with my dress pants rolled up.

Because I knew all these answers so readily, they started to just pull some shoes they knew would work and go from there. But I sheepishly said, “Aren’t you going to do all that high-tech stuff to my feet?”

Embarrassed, they backtracked and had me step on the sensor pad to measure my arch. I have a high arch, by the way, which I already knew.

Then, they put me on the treadmill with the little camera aimed at my feet. I took off and actually got it going a little too fast (on accident, not to show off) so that my foot fall images were blurry. They found a clean frame and showed me how my stride is stable. I neither over- or under-pronate. I have a stable foot and need a neutral shoe. Again, this was information I already knew.

They let me trot around in the newest model of the Asics Gel Cumulus, which I’ve been running in for the better part of 10 years. They felt great, like rubber-soled comforters for my feet.

For grins, they showed me perhaps the ugliest shoes I have ever seen in my life. Newtons, they were called, as in Sir Isaac. And, no, they were not of the fig variety. They were of the $170 variety. They had little rubber blocks on the sole under the ball of the foot designed to induce proper running form. In case you’re not keeping up, these days proper running form is to land on the mid-foot or ball of the foot rather than the heel-to-toe technique most of us grew up learning.

My new Nike Flyknit Trainers.

Money, it’s gotta be the shoes. Nike Flyknit Trainers will get me over the hump in qualifying for Boston.

I donned these hideous shoes and trotted around a bit. They felt good and actually did make me run on the balls of my feet. But it wasn’t $170 worth of improvement, so I tried out the sports car model. These chartreuse Nike’s Flyknit Trainers were the lightest shoe I had every picked up. Made with engineered fabric, the shoes weighed just 1.2 ounces each. For legs that aren’t getting any younger, I swallowed my pride and bought the brightest pair of shoes I will ever own.

I am officially in the 21st Century of running. I wear neon green shoes that have a little pocket in the insole for a microchip (which I did not purchase) that can sync via Bluetooth technology with my iPhone to record my runs. I shop at a store that scans your feet electromagnetically and uses video cameras to record your running motion. I have officially moved to the New South of running.

I may not be the six million dollar man, but with these new shoes, I am the $145 man. I just hope they will help me qualify for Boston soon or else I may go back to my Luddite ways at Phidippides.

How hi-tech are your trainers? How do you buy your shoes? Have you succumbed to the technological generation and go for every GPS, heart-rate-monitor, sensor and microchip available?  Leave a comment and sure your running technology preferences.

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The Yahoo Policy

Posted on March 2, 2013 by

Once upon a time there was a place people went in order to complete tasks and earn a paycheck. This place was called an office.

Marissa Mayer, Yahoo CEO

CEO Marissa Mayer rescinded the Yahoo “work from home” policy. She may not be laughing long.

About the time commutes, family needs and office culture conspired to nearly eliminate productivity 10 or more years ago, companies began letting their employees telecommute or work from home. The new work place is distributed – it can be anywhere your laptop or tablet can get an Internet signal: coffee shops, airports, hotels, public transit or even your kitchen.

This reality of the contemporary work place was challenged this week when Yahoo’s CEO and new mom, Marissa Mayer, issued a new directive requiring employees to work from the office. Flying in the face of recent corporate trends, the move has set off a firestorm of criticism.

My own experience with working from home was a gradual progression. When I first took the CBF communications job in 2002, I commuted from Macon to Atlanta four days a week and was allowed to work from home on Wednesdays until I relocated to the Atlanta area. It lasted four months, but with laptops and cell phones, my Wednesdays were as connected and as productive as any other day of the week.

But I didn’t like not being physically there. While I was glad to avoid the 90+ minute commute, it was difficult to build rapport with new colleagues, learn a new culture and be a part of essential meetings and conversations. Doing this remotely was a challenge.

My boss didn’t have hang-ups with working from home. In fact, he encouraged it. He worked from home on Fridays as a way to catch up, particularly after a busy week of travel. As my role evolved into more of a “No. 2” in the office and his proxy, I began to feel a real internal conflict over working from home. I felt I needed to be there to answer questions and collaborate, but because I was attending so many meetings and had so many interruptions, I was having difficulty getting my work done.

So I started working from home one day a week during the school year, when the house was empty. It was a good catch up day, and with my trusty laptop and mobile phone, I was always accessible.

Now that I am in a new job learning a new culture and building new relationships again, I feel a need to be in the office. I have worked from home once or twice, and the option is certainly available to me at Georgia Tech. But I find once again the need to be physically present.

productivity

Where are you most productive? Work there.

This is where I resonate most acutely with Yahoo’s policy. Deep down I really do believe “Speed and quality are often sacrificed when we work from home,” to quote Mayer’s memo. But I also understand and need for flexibility for myself and my employees. There are some tasks that are better suited for working at home, and there are some times when working from home solves a lot of personal/familial scheduling problems.

A story on the policy change from NPR this week quoted one worker as saying she appreciated the ability to work from home because it sent the message that the company trusts its employees. Yes, that is a powerful morale boost. As long as the trust is rewarded with performance, it’s hard to argue against a work from home policy. But when work from home becomes “work at home” and an employee spends his or her day doing laundry, watching children or surfing the Internet, I believe that is theft.

Yes, I’m a little old school. Yes, I am also extroverted and like the interaction with people. Yes, I waste too much time getting involved in interacting with colleagues in the work place.

But no matter what Yahoo decrees, I believe work from home is as much a part of the modern workplace – as much a part of the culture of the New South – as being tethered to the office through mobile devices. I have yet to hear if Yahoo will rescind all of the laptops and mobile devices it gives its workers or alleviate them of the responsibility of responding to phone calls or e-mail while at home.

If it does make this radical shift, I might believe the move has merit and the company respects work-life balance. Because Mayer is having a nursery built next door to her office, a perk no other employee at Yahoo can pull off, I believe the company is blurring the lines between work and life even further, and the draconian “no working from home” will be a failed policy that is scrapped before the end of the year.

Now, I need to get back to some email. It’s Saturday morning and the kids will be up soon. What’s that about work-life balance?

Where is your favorite place to work? Do you prefer to work in the office, at home, a coffee shop, in nature? Where do you get the most done? Leave a comment below and enlighten us as we achieve maximum productivity.

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Southern Oscars

Posted on February 23, 2013 by

Sunday night is Hollywood’s annual tribute to narcissism, hedonism and voyeurism known as the Academy Awards.

Oscar statuette

Southern trophies typically have antlers. This one ain’t from around here.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I have only watched the Oscars a couple of times in my whole life, and I don’t think I’ve ever watched a complete broadcast. I have no plans to watch it this year. Depending on what time the Daytona 500 finishes, you may or may not switch over and catch a little of it.

But because three of the nine films nominated for best picture are either set in the South or have Southern themes, I began contemplating Southern movies.

What makes a movie “Southern?” Is it as simple as a being set in the South or does it revolve around Southern characters regardless of geographic location? Are there a set of themes that make a film Southern? What is the difference between Southern movies and New South movies? What milestone movie marked the change? Why are Southern accents always so bad in movies?

So while the Oscars have little to interest me, these questions intrigue me. Let’s take them in order.

Pure chick flick, this non-Southern, Southern movie didn't win an Oscar.

Pure chick flick, this non-Southern, Southern movie didn’t win an Oscar.

First, what makes a movie Southern? I don’t think it is a function of geography or character or theme. I believe it can be any of the three, but those films we most strongly identify as Southern have at least two of three. A movie can be set in the South and not be Southern. Just look at all of the movies being filmed in Georgia these days thanks to the gracious tax breaks and active recruitment of production studios.

A few years ago, Carla and I rented “Life as We Know It” staring Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel. It was set in Atlanta, but there was nothing particularly Southern about the characters. It did have a strong theme of family woven throughout. I would consider it a Southern movie, but not as much as, say, “The Blind Side,” which had all three, complete with bad Southern accents.

Next, what constitutes a Southern theme? Here, I think you have to look to Southern literature. Some universally-agreed upon Southern literary themes include, but aren’t limited to, the aforementioned family, history, tradition, community, justice, faith, race, agriculture and the land, social class and hardship.

If you ain't first, you're last. This one wasn't exactly Academy material.

“If you ain’t first, you’re last.” This one wasn’t exactly Academy material either.

There are plenty of films that have these themes that aren’t Southern in any way, but it’s hard to find the reverse – a Southern movie that doesn’t employ these themes. Even something as ridiculous as, say, “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” has multiple themes of family, faith, class and hardship, not to mention the whole dialect thing.

That brings us to the question of whether Southern movies are any different in the New South. I think so. Historical epics aside, I think New South films portray race in very different ways. Gone are the days when archetypes veer into stereotypes. One example is the 2012 remake of “Steel Magnolias” with an all African-American cast.

New South movies take traditional Southern themes and either approach them in an unorthodox format or reverse the perspective and look at a narrative from other angles.

Had to rent this one for my wife last year. I couldn't believe she had never seen it.

Had to rent this one for my wife last year. I couldn’t believe she had never seen it.

For me, this began with 1991’s “Fried Green Tomatoes.” By moving back and forth between the past and present and making the societal underdogs triumphant along the way, what may have been a maudlin and superficial Southern film brings a thoughtful edge that ultimately endorses radically different worldviews from the Old South.

As for the bad Southern accents? Well, I’m afraid it’s just part of the territory. There is no overarching Southern dialect, and too many movies seem to ignore the subtle differences within the South. Those of us with well-trained ears will wince when a character set in a movie in Virginia breaks out in an Alabama drawl. Occasionally, the actors themselves hail from Southern locales and grew up immersed in the dialect bringing an authentic sound. Think Conyers, Ga.,-native Holly Hunter in just about anything she’s done.

Cannibalism is just one of the surprise "isms" in this New South movie.

Cannibalism is just one of the surprise “isms” in this New South movie.

So whether or not Lincoln, Beasts of the Southern Wild or Django Unchained win best picture, it has been a high-profile year for Southern films. Given the rise of the New South in all forms of media, I don’t think it will be the last.

What’s your favorite Southern movie? Check out this list on Wikipedia for help, and a leave a comment with your vote. We’ll call it “The Southern Oscars.”

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