The Price of a Present

It’s a bit of a minor mystery.

Over the past few weeks, 15 colleges and universities have received the gift of money. Lots of it. All told, it’s amounted to $76 million dollars. Michigan State University has received the most ($10 million), while Kalamazoo College has received $1 million.

No, I am not referring to a new bailout or stimulus initiative from President Obama. I think we’ve had quite enough of those for a while, thank you. Although to be honest, the educator in me thinks it would be great if there were such an initiative. What better way to improve the long-term prospects of our economy than to blow the doors off the hinges of higher education and allow more individuals than ever before to obtain a quality education at a low or discounted price? And all as they learn how to create, manage, or work for the businesses of the 21st Century? The real estate and mortgage industry gave everyone and their dog a house and look where that led us. Why not indulge another, less-prominent part of the American Dream and give away college educations?

Anyway, there are strings attached to the gifts. First: the money has to be used to establish scholarships. Second: the recipient institution cannot make an effort to track down the donor(s).

So far, all of the schools have complied with the requests. But people have become curious and the clues and commonalities are sparse enough to spur numerous theories. Consider the facts: All of the institutions have female presidents. 14 are public institutions. The overwhelming majority are located either in the Midwest or the East Coast.

Interesting, but what does it all mean? Your guess is as good as mine.

The usual suspects have all been contacted and the appropriate denials have been issued. It’s not Oprah, Bill Gates, or Ted Turner. It’s not Donald Trump, Warren Buffett, or any of the remaining Waltons. With those bases covered, the media (specifically ABC News) has done what it usually does when they don’t have a clue: assembled a team of experts and tasked them with the development of a profile projecting the identity of the donor. Call it forensic philanthropy. Of course, part of the process means canvassing the colleges, returning to the scenes of the crimes and asking the schools what they might know about their benevolent donor(s).

But the schools have remained silent. They didn’t see anything, they didn’t hear anything, and they don’t know anything. Good for them.

In this age of war and recession, where some of us have suffered the losses of Job, it’s good to know that silent Samaritans are behind the scenes doing good works. Their efforts can and will change the courses of countless lives, destinies and maybe the country itself. And if all they ask of me is my silence, and my willingness to let a single sleeping dog (or two) slumber, then I am all too happy to comply.

Right after I say, “thank you”.

Boldly Go

I blame Steven Spielberg. Or maybe Francis Ford Coppola.

In the 1970s, Hollywood became obsessed with the concept of the sequel. And why not? They were cash cows. 1975’s Jaws made so much money it was almost mandatory that it be followed by Jaws 2, Jaws 3D, and Jaws 4. Most of the time, a sequel is like a mimeograph; yes, the basic elements are all there and the document is legible, but even the most casual viewer knows it’s a copy. And a bad one at that. Outside of The Godfather II and a few other gems, sequels are rarely as good as the originals they succeed. That doesn’t stop them from making money at the box office. As a result, we have Smokey and the Bandit 3, Leprechaun 4, and Flight of the Living Dead.

Anyone who knows me knows there are two things I’m really into: lighthouses and Star Trek. The lighthouse conversation will have to wait for a day far, far away. Today, it’s all about the Trek.

Yes, I’m a geek. I grew up watching the original intergalactic swashbuckler, Captain Kirk, smirk his way through the galaxy, blow things up and bed green women. In college, I fell in love with The Next Generation because it was science fiction that could hold my attention right up to the commercial breaks. For a college student contemplating thousands of dollars of student loan debt, the idea of a society where money didn't exist was appealing.

I must have watched those episodes dozens of times. It’s a little sad to think that I have tied up vital gray matter creating and maintaining a mental compendium of Next Generation episodes, but c’est la vie. I can't tell you where my dress socks disappear to when I'm not looking, but I do know my 23rd Century.

To my wife’s dismay, other Trek incarnations cropped up and I’ve watched those as well. Some, admittedly, have been better than others. For the record, my favorite series is Deep Space Nine. I have my reasons, of course, but I’d sound ridiculous articulating them.

On Friday, the J.J. Abrams Star Trek reboot drops and I have been impatiently waiting like a kid counting the days ‘til Christmas. And I will be there. Oh, yes. I will boldly go.

This Trek is a prequel and apparently creates new backstory for key characters. As someone who dabbles in stringing words together on the page, the idea of a do-over can be freeing. Sometimes you just gotta scrap what came before, no matter how extensive, and start fresh. It usually turns out better.

Will Abrams succeed in creating a grittier, edgier, cooler Star Trek? And if so, what will that mean for the shows I've come to know and love?

I have no idea. Probably nothing.

One thing’s for sure: I won’t be standing in line wearing some silly costume. I may be a geek, but even I have limits.

This Is the Way

It’s getting a little difficult keeping track of all the different ways I could die.

As a child, teenager, and even through a good chunk of my twenties, I believed I was bulletproof. I swallowed thumbtacks and chicken bones (long stories, those two), shook off colds, sprains, and broken bones as though they were nothing. I could run for miles at a time and enjoy the feeling of walking home drenched in sweat. I could burn the candle at both ends, grab a couple hours of sleep and wake up ready to do it all over again.

Those were heady, hearty days.

Now, in the latter part of my thirties and with a birthday around the corner, I must accept a new reality: threats exist everywhere.

Some are internal. My own body has the potential of becoming a turncoat. It’s the cycle of life, I guess. As a result, I now do things I never thought would be such a concern when I was younger. Things like eating vegetables, consuming vitamins, supplements, and taking hard looks at food labels.

Other threats are external. In the 80s, AIDS was the bogeyman and there were all kinds of wild myths and rumors about how it could be contracted. Over 20 years later, though, AIDS is barely mentioned. It’s still out there, but has fallen a few notches on the list of urgent national issues. Who needs AIDS when there’s Kim Jong Il?

Last week, I read that an asteroid will come so close to Earth we’ll be able to see it without a telescope in 2029. There are mixed opinions on whether the rock will miss us entirely since there is a 1 in 500 chance of it striking our planet. I found it somewhat humorous when an astronomer noted that although the odds were slim, they had never been worse. Yet another way I could die.

In recent years, I’ve been introduced to flesh-eating bacteria, SARS, Avian Flu. Now we have Swine Flu. Funny how something you’d never heard of before can quickly become all you hear about no matter where you turn. I suppose I already knew pigs could get sick. I didn’t know they could pass viruses on to humans. This knowledge doesn’t particularly improve my quality of life. It mostly means reading emails from University Health Services telling me to wash my hands and stay home if I’m sick. I suppose I knew that already, too, but I’ll play along.

I try to take all these health threats seriously, but with each new potential epidemic, a part of me grows a little more cynical. Kind of like that old, hardened Gulf Coast resident who knows a hurricane is coming but refuses to leave because they’ve lived through so many others.

It’s been a while, so maybe we’re due an epidemic. Or pandemic. I just can’t bring myself to believe that the way the world ends is not with a bang, but a sneeze.

The Bias of Beauty

We all do it. Although we might say we don’t, the truth of the matter is that we all make judgments about one another based on appearance. For proof, we need only look to our national fascination with Susan Boyle, the latest YouTube and Britain’s Got Talent singing talent.

Without a doubt, the woman can most certainly sing. But it isn’t merely her voice that’s garnering attention. It’s the observation that such an unassuming- both in personality and appearance- woman can not only sing, but sing well. I would expect such a thing from a panel of judges on an audition show; they are, after all, television personalities paid to reveal their thoughts on talent and appearance. In the television industry, appearance can be cold, hard currency. Talent is secondary because if there’s anything Dancing with the Stars has shown us, it’s that given enough time and training, anyone can be taught to do just about anything. Not everyone can be attractive. Even the stars have difficulty managing their public appearance.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Beauty is currency in just about every area of life and we are our own private Simon Cowells, issuing split-second opinions about everything and everyone around us.

The Susan Boyle phenomenon is fascinating to me because it challenges an assumption regarding appearance: the more attractive a person is perceived to be, the more likely we assume the person to be kind, good, and talented. Conversely, the less attractive a person is perceived to be, the more likely it is that we will assume that person to be cruel, bad, and untalented. It is, of course, a stereotype and it is one that has been studied extensively. I call it the Beauty Bias.

Would there be as much discussion about Ms. Boyle if she was perceived to be attractive? Maybe. Yet the cynic in me tends to think that the excitement would have died down long ago, maybe wouldn’t have even reached the heights it has if this was only an international conversation about ability. But let’s face it: the world is full of talented individuals, most of whom will never get the opportunity to showcase their abilities.

No, I suspect that there are a number of things at play, things I believe go beyond appearance. Here’s my take on just a few of them.

One: Ms. Boyle reminds us that talent can come in the most unlikely of packages. This isn’t some new revelation; ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ is a phrase most kids are well-acquainted with long before they graduate high school. The vast majority of us simply choose not to live by it. Maybe that’s because of our Society of the Instant. There’s so much instant information coming at us from so many different sources that we have to create ways to filter out what is or isn’t credible or important, lest we be consumed by useless, unimportant data from unreliable sources.

I find it fitting that the first video played on the fledgling MTV in 1981 was ‘Video Killed the Radio Star’; indeed, it was not long before image did triumph over voice. We can debate whether that was a good or a bad thing for the music industry, but all these years later, it is refreshing to see a singer’s voice triumph over her image.

Two: Ms. Boyle’s story, I think, touches on the belief that there are a lot of square peg people wedged into uncomfortable round holes. It’s no secret that more than half of us hate our jobs, particularly in today’s economic environment. How many potential opera singers are out there living quiet, ordinary lives as plumbers or insurance agents? I suspect that there are more than we may ever know. But it is the desire to break out of the box of the ordinary that compels people to audition for shows like American Idol or America’s Got Talent, to rush tryouts for America’s Next Top Model when they can’t sing a lick to save their lives or walk a runway if their very soul depended on it. On some basic level, we know we’re meant to do more than we are currently doing. We are Superman masquerading as Clark Kent, biding our time for a clarion call that may never come.

Finally, Susan Boyle highlights the importance of pursuing our dreams. If a self-admitted “short and plump” 47-year old Scottish woman with bushy eyebrows can stand in front of judges and an audience of people she’s never met before to act on her life-long goal of performing for the Queen of England, then maybe there’s a Second, Third, or even Fourth Act in store for the rest of us as well.

And so, whether she’s aware of it or not, Susan has become our latest feel-good story. In the same way that the plights of guests on morning and afternoon talk shows help us feel better about the quality of our own lives, Ms. Boyle makes us feel good about the quality of our own potential.