It’s July 4, 2011, and the economy has dampened the typical Independence Day Holiday celebration marked by civic displays of fireworks. Chicago and Gurnee, IL, where I live, announced that they would not pay for fireworks displays because of the expense.

So we’ll just have to enjoy this video of a fabulous fireworks display that I and my family recorded on July 3, 2007 while vacationing in South Dakota, U.S.A. One of the better fireworks displays available was scheduled for July 3 of that year at the historic Mt. Rushmore National Park.

Dry weather had threatened to shut down the fireworks display that day, but we were blessed by a sprinkling of rain that sufficiently lowered the risk of brush fires. The event was about one hour in length, including opening singers and a flyby by Air Force fighter jets. The actual fireworks display was 20 minutes long.

One of the BEST fireworks displays that my family has seen in-person. There’s just something about watching and hearing explosions of light and sound, emanating from the stony likenesses of our four most famous U.S. presidents.

Kooks who are Christian, are still kooks. And cynics who hate the truth of Christianity will continue to try to denigrate Jesus Christ and his followers.

Both of the above points are clear on this “Non-Judgment Saturday”—a day when much of the world laughed at a sincere, but sincerely wrong, religious “leader’s” prediction of the world’s demise. Harold Camping, an 89-year-old retired civil engineer, has developed a flourishing ministry based on his doomsday message that Jesus Christ would return to judge the earth on May 21, 2011. That judgment would include destruction described in the final book of the Christian Bible, Revelation.

While a small handful of misguided fools responded to Camping’s prediction by selling their possessions, quitting their jobs and waiting prayerfully to be swept into Heaven, a much larger—and in my opinion—much more foolish collection of mockers used Camping’s folly to paint a prejudiced, hurtful and more destructive picture of Christianity.

The mockers correctly see that no person can predict the Coming of the Lord. Their error is believing that, because Jesus Christ didn’t return on a day computed by a flawed human being, then Jesus Christ is NEVER returning.

Their hatred for Jesus Christ and the Christian faith almost compels them to ridicule any self-professed “Christian” who is more kook than Christian. They want to denigrate the true Christian message of love, hope, and most of all, grace.

Real faith in Jesus Christ means accepting the fact that we are not capable of living a life worthy of eternity in Heaven following our death on earth. It means being realistic and humble enough to accept the free gift of forgiveness that comes with belief that Jesus Christ lived a totally righteous life 2,000 years ago, and purposely suffered a painful and undeserved death to “pay for” the sins of every human being, past present and future.

Real faith in Jesus Christ means believing the eye-witness accounts that he rose from the dead and today is waiting to return to judge the world.

Be discerning, but don’t be a fool.

Laughing at a misguided person like Harold Camping does not change reality any more than covering the sun with your thumb makes the sun disappear. Just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean that it isn’t there.

No one knows when Jesus Christ will return for Judgment Day. But instead of getting some cheap laughs today, accept some important truth: Jesus Christ is returning, and we all need to be ready.

Among the solicitations, updates and other items in my personal email inbox on Thursday, one mattered most:

Subject: [Eiujou] D.T. has died

Professor Emeritus Dan Thornburgh, the founder and former chairman of the Eastern Illinois University (EIU) Journalism Department, died at the Odd Fellow-Rebekah Home in Mattoon, Ill., where he had been in hospice care for a few weeks after undergoing surgery for a broken hip.

As the news spread, my journalism school friends began circulating emails with their reactions to the news, and their memories of D.T. This blog is where I’m most comfortable leaving my thoughts, and I needed a little time to sort through the feelings and to recall some of my experiences with this wonderful man/professor/leader.

In October 1976, I walked for the first time into the office of EIU’s daily student newspaper, the Eastern News. (Its name was changed some years later to the Daily Eastern News.) The newspaper’s editorial, advertising and pre-press production functions were housed at that time in the basement of the Student Services Building.

The newspaper’s faculty advisor, John David Reed, and veteran student editors filled me in over time regarding the history of the EIU Journalism Department. It is not an exaggeration to say that much of what I took for granted as a freshman journalist—the facilities, the faculty, the curriculum, the daily newspaper, even the journalism major and department—derived from the vision and determination of D.T.

The photo of me and D.T. that accompanies this post was taken in April 2009 at the 50th annual journalism student recognition banquet. D.T. was honored that night for his many contributions to the EIU Journalism Department, the university, and the city of Charleston. Speakers included former Illinois Governor Jim Edgar and newspaper publishers, editors and reporters.

It was D.T. who organized the first student recognition banquet 50 years ago, and he was a former Charleston City Council member, served in the local Rotary Club, and was named Charleston “Outstanding Citizen of the Year” in 1971.

Personally, I learned a few important lessons from D.T.; perhaps none as important as his example of being an engaged member of the community. He helped me to understand that a journalist didn’t have to disconnect from the people and organizations around him; in fact, those connections could make a better, more rounded journalist—and a better human being.

D.T. used his understanding of local history, politics and people to bring context to stories and issues. I remember times when he would pull me aside to provide insight into a story I was pursuing. As he spoke, his soft blue eyes, occasionally crackly southern Illinois twang and warm chuckle would mesmerize me. It felt like I was being schooled by a combination of Andy Griffith, my grandfather and Ben Bradlee.

I didn’t get many As in my college coursework. That was partly due to my declining interest in classroom learning, and more likely due to my desire to spend time at the Eastern News office or a local bar like Ike’s, Sporty’s or Roc’s.

But I earned an A in Communication Law, which was taught by D.T. He made the course relevant and challenged us to debate, think and learn. That A is more a testament to D.T.’s teaching style than to my effort.

Before you submit this as proof of D.T.’s case for sainthood, let’s add that D.T. could be stubborn. When his vision for the Journalism Department or the Eastern News differed from someone else’s, sparks could fly. But that passion never led to the kind of gutter-sniping, vitriolic language and insinuations that has marred popular debate in the United States over the past 20 years.

I don’t look back at my time and experiences with D.T. through a rose-colored lens. I use a journalist’s lens, where the pros and cons, facts and half-truths, lies and distortions are sifted, refined and reported with an eye toward truth and accuracy. That’s how D.T. would want it. That’s how he taught it.

This story ends with the death of a good man, a positive contributor to society, and a credit to the journalism profession. But because of D.T., many thousands of important stories will continue to be written in the decades to come.
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CAUTION: This post contains a word that many people find offensive. Because the point of this post is to examine society’s contradictory and confusing attitudes toward the word, I’ve decided to use the word—and to warn you that you will see the word throughout the post.

It’s the “n” word. Nigger. The abbreviated version appears in most recent news articles about a decision by a publishing company to reissue two Mark Twain literary classics and to replace every instance of “nigger” with “slave.”

This Publishers Weekly Online news article uses the word nigger and explains why Mark Twain scholar Alan Gribben and NewSouth Books plan to combine versions of “Huckleberry Finn” and “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” in a volume that replaces the “n” word with the word “slave.”

The announcement already is causing debate among purists who decry changing Mark Twain’s writing, and “social purists” who find the word nigger offensive. According to the Publishers Weekly article, some teachers want to include Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer in their classes, but are concerned about offending students and parents because of the “n” word.

I’ve rarely used the word nigger as a racial epithet—I WANT to say that I’ve never used it that way, but I probably have, at some point in my life. My current view of it was molded in the early 1980s while watching the movie, “Richard Pryor: Live on the Sunset Strip.” Until then, I had laughed and laughed at Pryor’s comedy–which had included a seemingly endless supply of expletives and epithets, including “nigger.”

But I was deeply moved as Pryor talked about a trip he took to Africa in 1979. He said that he was changed after seeing millions of Africans, any of whom could have been his relative or neighbor if it had been in the United States, living as “regular people.” They weren’t “niggers”; they were people, he said. Pryor swore he would never again use the word “nigger” in his stand-up comedy routines, and I also vowed that day never to use the word as a racial epithet.

But that doesn’t mean that I, or you for that matter, should be conflicted or contradictory over whether the word should remain in our literature, music, or everyday conversations.

An interesting point that I learned while researching this post. In 1998, Pryor won the first Mark Twain Prize for American Humor from the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Wikipedia quotes former Kennedy Center President Lawrence J. Wilker as saying:

“ Richard Pryor was selected as the first recipient of the new Mark Twain Prize because as a stand-up comic, writer, and actor, he struck a chord, and a nerve, with America, forcing it to look at large social questions of race and the more tragicomic aspects of the human condition. Though uncompromising in his wit, Pryor, like Twain, projects a generosity of spirit that unites us. They were both trenchant social critics who spoke the truth, however outrageous.

Pryor forced us to look at the social question of race. Twain forced us to look at the social question of race.

What about rappers?

It’s not my favorite music genre—by a long shot. But I have a teenaged son who has fought for years to be able to load explicit rap songs on his iPod. It used to only take one utterance of the word nigger on a song for me to make him delete the song, or at least stop playing it in my presence. But what I prevented when he was 15 is not as easy to avoid now that he is 17. Anyway, I think he gets perverse satisfaction out of making his dad squirm. I know that I did when I was his age.

I know a guy who has recorded rap songs. I downloaded his latest project onto my iPod and gave it a listen. Along with the usual themes of sex, violence and drugs, the lyrics were coated with liberal doses of the word nigger. I wondered why a black artist would want to use this derogatory word…so I asked him.

I probably sounded like the 50-something white suburbanite that I’ve become:

I don’t understand something, and I want your honest opinion.

I read today that a book publisher is changing Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer, to replace the “n-word”—as they call it—with the word, “slave.” Why don’t you and other rappers consider the word offensive, and something not to avoid in songs and conversation?

I'm 1/2 Irish, 1/2 German. I don't call myself a "Mick Kraut" (or McKraut). Perpetuating the 'n' word doesn't remove the sting, does it?

When he didn’t respond immediately, I started to worry that I had breeched some secret racial social barrier that was supposed to keep us from talking about this sensitive topic. Keep white people from understanding some deep pain—or its antidote—that is only shared among black people.

It turned out that he was only waiting for break time to respond. Silly me!

Good question,

As far as changing the book I would have to disagree, the N word is as much a part of our culture as the book…

Hip hop is a form of art and expression there for there are no boundaries… when I was a kid my grandpa and uncles would use that word as a term of endearment like “yea son this willy right here… he my N-word” so I wasn’t raised on the word being bad, only if u use it in a offensive or challenging way dose the word become a problem for most people…

And its funny but the “ER” rule is always in effect, what that means is “it’s not what u say its how u say it.” Like my BFF would say “im a ni##a not a ni##er lol

“Nigger,” “Nigga,” “Slave.”

Words have their specific meanings, and a remarkable author like Samuel Clemens (a.k.a., Mark Twain) knew the subtle, and sometimes not-so-subtle differences.

What was good enough for Mark Twain is good enough for me. If my teenaged son can hear a rapper singing about his “nigga posse,” my son should be able to read the word “nigger” in “Huck Finn” and “Tom Sawyer.” I don’t want to offend people, and if anyone in my son’s class would object to the word, use it as a way to link the past with the present. Talk about what it meant to be a “nigger” in the late 1800s. Talk about why people think it’s acceptable or not acceptable to use the word today. That would be educational.

I believe that Mark Twain, if he were still alive, probably would be heartened that we understood what he was trying to say…and to some degree, what he was trying to stop.

Networking during the holidays Tip #3: Get past it!

This is a construction barrier, used to deter people from moving into a construction area. Its intent is to increase safety at the work site. We’re not meant to get over it, or around it.

This is a high hurdle, similar in shape to the construction banner. Its intent is to increase difficulty during a cross-country meet. We’re meant to get over it, but not around it.

This is a communicator who has become frozen at a networking event, unsure of what to do. My final tip for networking during the holidays is to get over whatever fears, doubts, and/or anxieties are keeping you from getting started. I’m going to share some ideas for getting around those fears, doubts and anxieties.

These barriers are limiting your opportunities to enhance your professional contacts and to increase your opportunities to advance your career. How do you overcome your personal barriers?

1. Recognize your barriers.
You can start with this good article on WikiHow, “How to Overcome Shyness.” It provides advice and tips on how to recognize and overcome shyness in social situations.

2. Make a decision to proactively work on your networking skills.
We often need the accountability and “realness” of concrete goals before we take action to change for the better. That’s true in the resolutions we make at this time of year, the decisions we make in our personal lives, and the planning we undertake to advance our careers. You won’t move forward unless you make a conscious decision to do so. So do it right now!

3. Put yourself in networking situations, and then network, network, network, baby!
Check out local organizations to find networking events. Some events are open to anyone, others are member-only. For example, IABC/Chicago recently held a great networking event that included a presentation on effective networking.

Here are a couple of other resources to help you improve your networking skills:

Barbara Gibson’s Power Networking Tips Former IABC Chair Barbara Gibson is a social media and networking champion, and this tip-sheet offers some practical ideas.

How to Network Effectively This post on eHow contains useful tips for you, as well.

The increasing use of social media is allowing us to make connections in new and wonderful ways. Just remember that networking–in whatever ways you do it–can improve your personal and professional lives. Don’t let the holidays end without making a commitment to putting yourself out there–and get ready to leap over (or move around) those barriers that have stopped you before.




















Tip #2: Remember your place, and circulate past it.

The above photograph was taken in 1998 or 1999. It’s a photo of executive administrative assistants from Fort James Corporation enjoying a holiday meal at the Forge Club in Vernon Hills, Ill. That’s me on the left–the only male in the group.

At that time, that’s what I was: An administrative assistant at Fort James Corporation, a global consumer products company. I’m telling you this so that you understand that my Tip #2 is based on my experiences on both sides of the management divide. It’s directed primarily at managers, but definitely does have application for “front-line” employees.

Just a few years prior to when this photo was taken, I supervised a group of administrative assistants within the Management Services Department of the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago. My later role just before joining Fort James was manager of a small team that provided document production and other communication services to consultants and staff at a Chicago-based consulting firm for the healthcare industry.

I thought I understood how to navigate between the worlds of administrative assistants and front-line employers on one side and “upper management” on the other. I’ve held positions that provided me access to all levels of the organizations for which I worked, and I thought I knew how to “act” with everyone in the organizations.

But somewhere along the line, I forgot what it’s like to be on the bottom of the corporate food chain…until I accepted the executive administrative position at Fort James.

That move occurred a short time after I decided to quit my manager job at the Chicago-area consulting company. I had been working 10 to 12-hour days, seven days a week for several weeks, and for many reasons, had had enough. Although (maybe surprisingly) my wife supported my decision to quit–she knew how the job was affecting me–it was scary to leave a job without having the next one lined up.

To jump-start my job search (I wasn’t a member of IABC at that time, so I couldn’t use its job board), I went to Manpower to apply for communication positions. My thinking was that accepting a temporary position within a company would give the employer a chance to see my value, and me a chance to avoid another bad employment situation.

The phone was ringing when I returned from the meeting with a Manpower recruiter. She was excited as she told me that I would be perfect for a position with a Fortune 250 company that was relocating its headquarters to the Chicago area. The starting salary, if they brought me on full-time, would be exactly the same as the salary I had made at the Federal Reserve. A step backward from the salary I had earned at the consulting firm, but no doubt a better deal on a work/life balance basis, I thought. The situation sounded great…until she told me the position: Executive Administrative Assistant to the Senior Vice President/Controller.

“Administrative assistant,” I remember almost stammering into the phone. “B-but I’ve MANAGED admins in my past jobs.” I ended the call with a promise to consider the offer. The conversation that followed with my wife was very difficult and humbling. This job would provide a decent salary at a company that was doing well. I could prove myself in full view of the company’s top executives, and work toward moving into a more suitable communication role after paying some dues.

On the other hand, it could be a career-ender, with me painted into a professional corner that would keep me from getting back onto the successful career path I had been traveling along.

I’ll talk more about what happened at another time. To bring this back to the original point of this post, I interacted with people from all levels of Fort James. At times, I could clearly see that someone was looking at me as a lowly admin, and sometimes would seem perturbed when I would assert myself based on my overall experience and skills.

Even in my current position, I’ve worked with a couple of management-level people who clearly wanted to limit their interactions with me and others “below them” according to our internal band levels. This kind of “superior attitude” isn’t directed solely at administrative assistants!

The point I’m making is that, during this holiday season and in the year to come, when you have an opportunity to gather socially with coworkers, don’t blow it off if they are either above or below your pay grade. It’s valuable and important for connections to be made throughout the organization, and people on the “front line” do like to rub elbows on occasion with their managers and other leaders.

Circulate within your organization, and circulate “good will” to all employees.

Former Chicago Cubs third baseman and broadcaster Ron Santo died yesterday. While it might be more common to write, “a piece of me died with him,” the truth is that a piece of my heart revived, thanks to Santo.

At least the piece of my heart that had hardened to baseball in general, and the Chicago Cubs in particular.

Yesterday evening, before I heard the news of Santo’s death, I was driving my 17-year-old son home from his wrestling practice. The radio was tuned to a football station, and Kevin commented that he’s lost interest in the sport of football. He thought that was weird, because he had played football from the age of 8 through the end of his freshman year of high school. “I think it’s boring now,” he said.

I replied that I could relate, because the same feelings occurred in me several years ago regarding baseball. I told him that after too many years of having my heart broken by the Chicago Cubs, I made up my mind to forget about baseball. Once I did that, and began to watch football, baseball seemed plodding, dull and uninspiring.

Quite a change from the days when I first watched the sport…and players including Santo. I turned 11 years old in August 1969, the month and year when Santo and his fellow Cubs blew an eight-game lead and lost a chance to reach the World Series.

In the months before the collapse, I spent countless hours watching Cubs games on television, or listening to them on the radio, as I suntanned in my backyard. I got a terrific tan that summer–along with a painful lesson in the emotional danger of giving my heart to the Cubs.

But it was almost impossible for me NOT to love them. Santo was one of my favorites, as he seemed to vacuum hard-hit baseballs into his glove and produce clutch hit after clutch hit. When the Cubs won each game that year, we waited for the WGN-TV camera to zoom in on Santo’s feet. As he headed to the clubhouse, Santo would make a little hop and click his heels. That heel clicking started as a spontaneous outward manifestation of Santo’s inner enthusiasm. It soon became an expected part of the Cubs “mojo,” and finally was derided as a sign of hubris within an organization that didn’t seem to understand what it took to win the championship.

I remained loyal to the Cubs in the years that followed, and decided on a whim to try out in freshman year of high school for the freshman-sophomore (frosh-soph) baseball team. I had never played organized baseball up to that point, only joining in the occasional game of catch or running bases. By all rights, I should have been cut after the first day of tryouts.

But I had learned something from watching players like Ron Santo; I understood the importance of a positive attitude and a strong desire to succeed. Those qualities often make a less-talented individual outperform a more-talented person. When I was asked which positions I could play, I said third base (because I wanted to be like Ron Santo) and pitcher (because I heard that the team needed pitchers and I also wanted to be like Cubs pitcher Milt Pappas).

I made the frosh-soph team as a freshman and a sophomore, and made the varsity as a junior. For sake of transparency, I went to a high school with an enrollment of under 300, so the competition wasn’t THAT great. Also, I spent more time on game days keeping score and “coaching” from the bench.

But in practice and on those rare occasions when I played third base for an inning or two, I tried to mimic the stance and attitude of Santo. He had that much influence on me, in terms of baseball.

Turns out that he still does.

Something I read today in news accounts and commentary on Santo has softened my heart. I didn’t think that was possible.

You see, after the Cubs blew subsequent playoff chances in 1984, 1989, 2003…well, pretty much every year if you think about it…I finally reached my breaking point about five years ago. I had to walk away from the Cubs before they killed me. It was surprisingly easy for me to stop following baseball altogether.

But today as I’ve read about the way that Ron Santo persevered against many things that could have convinced him to stop caring and stop trying, I’ve been rejuvenated. He dealt with diabetes as a player, later lost both legs past the knees because of the disease, and seemed to suffer on-air from CRS disease (Can’t Remember Stuff). Here’s some of the other points about his “faults” addressed in the Chicago Tribune article:

• Santo was the quintessential Cubs fan and made no apologies for his on-air cheerleading or his utter frustration over a bad play.
• Santo mangled names, sometimes lost track of what was going on in a game and occasionally didn't realize a player had been on the roster for months, but none of that mattered because people loved it.
• His toupee caught fire in the Shea Stadium press box on Opening Day 2003 after he got too close to an overhead space heater.
• Last spring in Mesa, Ariz., Santo lost his front tooth while biting into a piece of pizza.
• Perhaps most sadly, he has not been elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame, although his statistics rank him among the top six third basemen of all time.

The news items reporting on Santo’s life and death gave me a renewed appreciation for Santo as a human being. He demonstrated what can be great about baseball and about us: Passion, energy, effort, a positive attitude, and the humility to understand that we are flawed, but that it is ok.

In honor of Santo, I thought about breaking out my 40-year-old Wilson A2000 mitt and playing catch with my son.

But it’s December in Chicago, 27 degrees Fahrenheit, with snow on the way. Opening Day is months away, and for the first time in decades, Ron Santo won’t be there.

Except in hearts like mine.