Professor Bergh - marketing, public relations, journalism, careers

I couldn't agree more, @HeatherWilhelm

2019-03-11T14:25:00.002-07:00

Thank you, Heather Wilhelm.

#CaptainMarvel and Today’s Exhausting Feminism http://bit.ly/2UpQkQs via @HeatherWilhelm

Hello Monday podcast to launch March 4, 2019

2019-03-01T07:30:00.003-08:00

I was a marketing director in a Big 6 accounting firm when that was still a foreign idea, telecommuting in 1993 before it was cool, working as a business coach before the coaching industry was born, and have voluntarily left the workforce several times in my career over the past 40 years because I wanted my job to fit my life better. This topic, loving your work and “making it,” whatever that means in your terms, is a favorite topic of mine so I was interested to see that LinkedIn has launched a podcast on the topic. Welcome, “Hello Monday.”

http://dcs.megaphone.fm/DGT3576038213.mp3?key=92a610323ea592036d1c0426addca079&listener=03e57e17-520b-41cd-a07a-d8acd8fcd60f

Dec. 26, 2017: Love rules

2018-12-11T10:35:00.001-08:00

My Southwest adventure/”soul” vacation – December 2017

Day V

It is a rich blessing in life to travel to distant places to explore and experience a variety of cultures. Interacting one-on-one with people who may not be like me, and who view the world differently, is a challenge I relish. In a word, it’s perfect.

I am then exponentially rewarded when I return to my quiet solitude. I am able to relive those experiences through writing.

Santa Fe is full of people who celebrate their existence through color, music, and food. The day after Christmas, I decide to investigate The Pantry for breakfast. I had been told by the clerk at El Rey Court that I could walk to it, it was right next door, and that it was “pretty good” for a longtime, locally owned restaurant.

From the instant that I walked into The Pantry, I had the sense that it was more than “pretty good,” and was inspired with a desire to capture and preserve its spirit in words.

I waited 10 minutes or so (groups waiting maybe 30 to 45 minutes to get a table) to get a seat at the bar. It had an old diner feel—low stools, a crowded dining room, additional rooms in the back for overflow diners, and short order cooks doing their magic within sight through an open window behind the bar into the kitchen.

It isn’t their art that inspires me, again, so much as their lives, themselves. I am fascinated by the choices people make in order to pursue their bliss.

I walk the less than 100 steps next door to El Rey, and finally sit elbow-to-elbow at the diner counter, watching the wait staff adeptly process food orders and seating customers, seeing them call diners by first name, watching the food come and go from the kitchen, taking in the menu and daily special choices, always some blend of American and Southwestern fare—with red or green chili sauce toppings, and institutionally-specific renditions of local dishes.

I opt for the daily special which is a thin-sliced prime rib covered in peppers, sautéed onions, and accompanied by two eggs, over “medium,” wheat toast, pantry fries, and green chili gravy. Oh my. The pantry fries are a specialty, red potatoes pan-cooked with onions and two kinds of paprika, and some secret seasoning.

The food orders kept flying out incredibly fast considering how many customers were seated or waiting. It was another A-plus experience. I decide I will have to go again, during my short visit – and hopefully, in future visits.

While seated, I met the young man who sat next to me on the bar stool. He had dark curly hair and a beard, and introduced himself as Noah. Noah volunteered that he was originally from New York and Connecticut, and had moved to Santa Fe a dozen or more years ago, following a fellow musician. They play in the local music scene. By day, Noah is a bartender at Santa Fe Bar & Grill, and age 40, said he was satisfied with his life. Except on one measure, he added. The relationship part.

That, of course, launched a discussion about the relationships we had just ended. Mine almost three years, his two. He astutely gauged that he has invested “in the wrong girl.” He said she had alcohol and drug issues, that he had seen as a warning sign but had chosen to ignore. I laughed, and noted that “she must have been very pretty!” He laughed, and replied that “yes, she was.” He explained that looks were very important to him, and that he tended to be attracted to women younger than him. She was 28.

Noting the age difference, and the obvious red flags, I brought up that I had been reading “Attached,” a book by psychologist Amir Levine that provided a practical approach for people to understand adult attachment styles in order to improve their intimate romantic relationships.

Noah was interested, so I told him more. I suggested he pick up a copy of the book, and to “choose wisely” next time. He recommended several local places to eat, from his resident perspective. He also offered that he was working the lunch shift at the Santa Fe Bar & Grill tomorrow, Wednesday, and that it was a good place to eat and meet other locals as a solo traveler, suggesting that I would be comfortable there. I thought this was a good option, so I said I’d see him there.

The rest of the day, I went back downtown, toured the Georgia O’Keeffe museum using the audio app on my phone, with the earbuds I had brought with me. Renowned painter O’Keeffe was an enigmatic figure—who was mentored by famed American photographer Alfred Stieglitz (1864- 1946) who was 23 years her senior and ultimately became her life partner—and bucked the male-dominated art world at the time.

Stieglitz gave O'Keeffe her first gallery show in 1916 and the couple married in 1924. Their winter-spring love, by the way, has been chronicled in movies and their many years of letter writing to one another have been preserved, studied, and shared as they reconciled the desires for work, their art, with a marriage, and are considered laced with the humanity and fragility that makes for a passion far more interesting than fiction. Considered the "mother of American modernism," O'Keeffe moved to New Mexico after her husband's death and was inspired by the landscape to create numerous well-known paintings. Georgia O'Keeffe died on March 6, 1986 at the age of 98.

A seven-minute video in the Museum was worth watching, as well, with footage of interviews with O’Keeffe in her elder years. She was remarkable, and though some locals commented during my visit that she was known to be “rude,” friends who knew her—and who were interviewed for the biopic video—said she was “witty, warm, and very human.” I thought that was a nice thing to say about someone. In addition, it caught my attention that O’Keeffe’s voice was recorded and played back on the video, saying, “here, I felt more like myself,” regarding her move to New Mexico from New York at age 62. I thought to myself, “wow, she made that move at ’62,’ maybe there is hope for me yet!” Of course, the images of O’Keeffe in her New Mexico surrounds are also iconic, as she was photographed in black-and-white images, and made herself available for these throughout her storied and prolific years in the high desert.

Here is a photo of O’Keeffe, at home in one of the two ranches she renovated to suit her, this taken in 1956 at age 69:

I also walked to visit the New Mexico Museum of Art, which was a disappointment to me except for the discovery of native artist Gustave Baumann, whose exhibition of life works included woodcut prints (like Everett Ruess’s chosen artform), as well as paintings, marionette creations, and sculptures. The pieces on display intrigued me, though I was most captivated by his prints, and I promised myself that I would keep an eye out for more information or a book about him. Best-known for his work as a printmaker, Baumann arrived in Santa Fe in 1918 and lived there until his death in 1971. Here is a link to a 2014 article about him: http://www.santafenewmexican.com/pasatiempo/performance/theater/wood-stock-gustave-baumann-s-marionettes/article_3527ea39-ed13-5b90-8f6b-991c9498789d.html

And a photo, circa 1969, of Gustave Baumann with his marionettes:

Day V also included encounters shortly thereafter with Anita (who later emailed me that her real name was Donna XX) at the local coffee shop, and with Kate Wheeler, owner of the Savory Spice Shop, who Anita introduced me to. In the short time that I engaged with Kate while making my purchases, she shared with me that she had moved and her demons had gone with her, when she went to Australia, but since moving to Santa Fe had encountered several major life challenges, convinced investors to back her spice business, was a former chef, teaching cooking classes and told me “I like you.” Thanks, Kate. And thanks, Santa Fe.

Dec. 25, 2017: Have faith, will travel

2018-12-11T10:31:00.001-08:00

My Southwest adventure/”soul” vacation – December 2017

Day IV

Christmas Day.

I took all day of Day III on my journey to drive to Santa Fe, arriving at my destination well before dark—on Christmas Eve. I had chosen the El Rey Court, a delightful adobe motel that has historic roots and even though is on the outskirts of town, on Cerrillos Road, was still central to every place I wanted to visit while in Santa Fe for four days. It was beautiful, cozy. I set up my “writer’s garret,” and got myself oriented so I knew where things were and how to navigate without a map or GPS (it doesn’t take me long to get comfortable in a new town, I have an excellent sense of direction and a willingness to explore and immerse myself in a place). Santa Fe is not big, only about 80,000 people, so this was easy to do.

On Christmas Day, Monday, I drove around Sante Fe’s downtown and immediate streets, looking for an open restaurant. It’s about 9am. I’m startled by the closed store fronts, not one place open – haven’t found a restaurant yet – but being alert to the notion that restaurants attached to hotels would likely be open for their guests. I’m circling, carefully navigating the one-way streets. I’m repeating the circuit I became familiar with last night having arrived to this enchanting place on Christmas Eve eager to join the energy of the place I remembered from my Christmastime visit 30 years ago.

Last night, the place was bustling with moving bodies—groups, couples, families all merry and bright, taking in the lights, streams of glowing luminaria, festive storefronts—coyote, chili, mesa-scenes, native tapestries and jewelry, an explosion of color and delight—and, of course, the spirit-stirring scent of burning pinon pine pervasive everywhere. It is as I remembered it, times three. I think Santa Fe was much, much smaller and less chic when I was here last.

This morning’s visit is in stark contrast. I’m surprised by how few people are here. And yet, at the same time, my Southern sensibilities provide the observation that I am equally surprised by the numbers of people who are out—away from their home bases—on Christmas morning! This is something of a revelation to me, as I’ve spent all of my Christmas mornings, ensconced at home, among presents and family, home-cooked meals, Christmas trees festooned with our own creations and choices…until now.

And yet, there is something magical and inviting about this discovery. There’s a whole world “out here.”

I finally find The Burrito Company, open and busy with diners and cheerful, welcoming employees.

“Mary, Did You Know” is playing on their audio system. The booths are bright red. The place is warm, homey, and the smells are enticing, the prices remarkably reasonable for these parts.

It occurs to me as I bite into my delicious chorizo quesadilla, accompanied by a large café mocha, that on this “most wonderful time of the year,” that the warmth and comfort I seek in connection with others is really everywhere, not just at home. It’s “out there” but how do you find it? [I get momentarily distracted from my journaling by the menu sign that heralds “fried ice cream” and I think, “Have I ever had fried ice cream? I’m intrigued.]

Returning to this thought, how will I find the connection I seek today, all alone, “out here” on Christmas Day?

I’ve been thinking all morning that it would be super uncool of me to hone in or invite myself into anyone’s family Christmas Day, that’s one thing I can cross off the list of options! I think, though, about all the times my Bergh family opened our home and hearts—and dinner table—to other alone people over the years, people in transition, seeking, or broken, and I muse whether my karma will come around. Will someone “take me in” as I took others in, in past Christmases and other seasons?

Sarah Greene, a new friend back home, texted me a suggestion to connect with a dear friend of hers who lives in Santa Fe and who would be “happy to meet me.” I’ll text her, but not on Christmas Day.

Ok, so if I’m not inviting myself into someone’s family sphere today, how am I going to spend this day?

It’s worth noting at this juncture, too, that some of those dearest to me back home are texting or sending me well wishes on Facebook. And, I’ve talked to my family of origin—most members—on the phone by mid-morning as I now type this. I’m feeling somewhat less alone thanks to their reaching out.

And yet, what is always at the forefront of this emotional tension is the conflict I have always had to seek adventure, to put myself “out there,” away from home, and exploring and appreciating God’s great glory and reveling in the great human experiences granted to me as an observer, a traveler in this life, and sometimes participant.

Indeed, there has always been something magical to me about the serendipity I have experienced through travel. It’s a tension between “aloneness” – watching others’ togetherness from outside the circle—and yet at the same time relishing my vantage point of sentinel, one sort of keeping watch.

It has always been a part of my makeup to observe, to stand outside, to feel different. What do these folks know about being close, being vulnerable, being happy, standing together—as witnesses to one another’s lives—that I don’t?

But as I have gotten older, I am beginning to recognize that not everyone knows something that I don’t know, that I can learn to reconcile that my differentness, and my desire to stand apart at times, is something I can enjoy.

I know that I can enter into the sphere of others easily when I choose to. For example, last night, upon arriving in town and heading to the Coyote Cantina at Ralph Megna’s suggestion, I met a lovely family headed by oil and gas Oklahoman and recent Santa Fe transplant, Ellis Randolph. They were sitting next to me, animated with their lively discussion, and welcomed me into their conversation. They also invited me to join them for the luminaria walk, but after exchanging cell phone numbers and hanging out waiting for them for several hours I ended up declining, instead opting to rest back at the El Rey after my long day’s drive.

It is enriching, however, to experience a tiny piece of another person’s life, though entirely fleeting, when they are willing and open to sharing it. It is in those moments that I feel really special—gifted, in a sense. Blessed. Thank you, God. And, thank you, strangers, for opening your life to me, if only for a moment. I already felt a connection to Ellis’ family in that moment—Ellis’ story about his move to Santa Fe, his daughter Mary’s Silicon Valley story, his brother-in-law Jay’s cross-country Tesla trek.

But back to this singularly “alone” Christmas morning. As I sit at The Burrito Company, I continue to jot down notes…

The balance of the emotional tension in my conundrum resides in the need to enjoy my solitude. In between the moments of serendipitous connection and aloneness, I am seeking to enjoy my own company. What a concept, right? It is, for some of us!

I’m never more aware of how alone I am than when I am focused on enjoying my own company. I’m chuckling as I’m writing this, because I remember my dad being particularly fond of his own company and never hesitating to remind others who tried to enter his sphere that he was “perfectly content enjoying his own company.” He would do this by fishing, hunting, reading, watching sports. It was often difficult for him, I think, to allow others to share those experiences with him, his pursuit of solitary activities consumed a good deal of his adult life, as I recall.

I realize for me, and that is part of why I am taking this solo journey across two states, that though I am quite accomplished at “staying busy” as my sister Vicki calls it—going places where other people are—that this time is about learning to pursue and enjoy solitary activities that are fulfilling.

I feel compelled to write about it. Writing is one of those solitary activities that is fulfilling for me.

So, if I go back to my original question, “how am I going to spend this ‘most wonderful day?’” part of the answer was that I had in my mind that following breakfast, I would attend the 10am mass at St. Francis Cathedral in downtown Santa Fe.

When I found The Burrito Company open for breakfast, I also found a parking spot around the block from it, which I realized once I saw where I was, exactly, was also less than a block’s walking distance from the Cathedral. How lucky, I am thinking. After I have breakfast, I can scoot the three minutes or so over to the church for mass.

So, that is what I did.

The Christmas Day mass at St. Francis Cathedral turned out to be what I would characterize as a “whole person” experience, where I was engaged with not only my intellect but with every one of my senses, with my feelings, my spirituality, and my personality. Maybe my other experiences on this trip have been like this, too, but this particular one bowed me over. I was, quite literally, “overcome.”

It started with the overwhelming sense I had that we are all one family—the diverse crowd, locals and tourists alike gathered for the special mass to herald the birth of Jesus, and the priest welcoming all and carrying out the proceedings in English and Spanish. There was excitement in the air, the place was bursting at the seams, and many folks had to stand at the back of the main nave or even out in the lobby. I snuck past waiting crowds, and being only one person, was able to slip into the end of a pew about three rows from the back on the far right. I tapped an older lady on the arm, asked if I could slide in next to her, as there was still room in the pew.

I joined the service, had already missed the readings, but caught the first hymn while I took in the Corinthian columns that soared several stories high framing bright white walls and arches painted with ornate Romanesque scrolls in deep greens, reds, and gold. Soon I could hear the choir, and though I could not see them in the transept, was happy to enjoy Oh Holy Night accompanied by an organist, violins, guitar, bell choir, and at some points in the song, someone playing castanets. It was quite beautiful, and that was when my emotions first came to the surface.

Besides the fantastic space, and the music, and the priest’s warmth, the little lady sitting next to me held my hand as we recited the Our Father. These days, Catholics tend to raise their palms, some congregations encourage the hand-holding connection, but as I looked around, my neighbor and I were some of the very few who had actually reached out—I was, literally, touched. This brought another wave of emotions, the tears started to drip down my cheeks. I was, and whispered to my hand-holding neighbor, a “long way from home.” It was so beautiful. My neighbor whispered back that “she was finally home again, after 20 years away living in Texas,” and a tear also rolled down her cheek. It was a special moment for me, an “old softy,” as my dad would have said.

The prayers for the homeless, the needy, those without families, those on hard times all hit me pretty hard in the following minutes of the mass, too, as I bowed my head and couldn’t seem to stop the tears. I wasn’t sad, I don’t think; I felt that the primary emotion was gratitude, and a sublime connection to everyone and everything at that moment. I decided to accompany my neighbor to communion, as she grabbed my elbow and steered me up our side aisle and I had not committed any mortal sins since my last (albeit without a priest) confession. I felt something powerful was happening in that space, and for that time, and was happy to be a part of it.

I found out after the service that the dear older woman was a Santa Fe native who had returned to live in her hometown after 20 years in El Rio, having agreed to live on a lake with her husband. She was so happy to be home. She told me that her name was Rosina Lopez de Short. I talked to her about the topic I was writing about: how people grow and make decisions during times of transition.

It turned out that Rosina, 81, is an artist, a retired art teacher, and she gave me her name and I gave her my email.

Later I found this online image of Rosina with her artwork.

Dec. 23, 2017: Flagstaff jewels

2018-12-11T10:28:00.000-08:00

My Southwest adventure/”soul” vacation – December 2017

Day II

December 23.

"Keeping wild places close to your heart” ~Ryanne Sebern

It’s Day 2 of my trip.

On Saturday, I set out in pursuit of connecting experiences in downtown Flagstaff—the locals call it “Flag” —finding a central place to park my Prius near Heritage Square and walking to places I had identified as initially interesting. My first stop was to see the inside of the historic Monte Vista hotel, which has for more than 90 years hosted everyone from celebrities and law-breakers to skiers, river runners, and business people. While there, I looked at the artwork on the walls, absorbed the architectural details of the stunning lobby and stairwells, and talked with the clerk who was a longtime local resident. She had left and returned to her hometown for her recent life transition, explaining that Flag had a hold on her. Not only did it have a hold on her, she was 26, she said, but she had decided to live downtown and within walking distance of the much loved Monte Vista, and the job she truly enjoyed. I took pictures of the historic lobby, and also of a painting made by Bruce Aiken, father of Silas whose Airbnb apartment I was occupying during this two-day visit to Flag. Silas and his siblings were raised, by the way, on the floor of the Grand Canyon where artist Bruce maintained the pump house for the National Park Service: Link https://www.grandcanyonnews.com/news/2017/may/23/33-year-nps-vet-artist-bruce-aiken-recounts-grand-/ Here’s a fairly recent story about Silas’ unique childhood, too: https://www.azcentral.com/story/travel/arizona/grand-canyon/2016/04/08/grand-canyon-national-park-childhood/80498036/

Just a block or so away, I found breakfast on Heritage Square at a colorful, warm Chipotle-style pick-your-own ingredients breakfast at a place called Mix. While there, I was able to chat with the young waiter. I had noted his busy and attentive interest in helping the breakfast patrons, even though this was a pay-as-you-order establishment. I overheard him say to another customer: “On a scale of one-to-ten, how ‘fresh and easy’ was your food?” It made me grin, and so when he stopped at my table to deliver my food, I told him I’d heard that and wondered if that was his own recitation or if his employers had prompted him to use such a line to engage with customers. He laughed and said it was his own invention. I commented that this was both outgoing and creative of him. He said he was happy to answer my questions, when I told him I was writing a book and interviewing people along the way about their transitions in life.

Interestingly, this young man shared that he knew that the one thing he wanted to change about himself was being less shy. He said that his leaving his hometown, a small town nearby in Arizona, to attend Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff was part of the solution to that personal challenge for him. Another part of the solution for his personal growth, he said, was choosing to study a helping profession – he said he had decided on Exercise Science as a major, and planned to become a Physical Therapist. He had personally experienced recovery from a concussion, from playing hockey, and been helped by a PT and so thought this a worthy endeavor. He added that his sister, a nurse, had influenced his direction, too, since she was happy with her chosen profession helping people.

Back outside Mix, I walked across the Heritage Square and met Delvin Huma of the Hopi nation, who was selling Cochina carvings he made himself, while his wife Tracy and three of their six children shopped for gifts in downtown Flagstaff. I bought White Bear, the Cochina in the center of Delvin's trio of tokens he has set down on the brick wall and explained to me what the carvings meant and who his people are.

Delvin agreed to allow me to videotape, and use his full name, as a way to share some of his story with others. I shot a seven minute clip, we talked awhile longer than that, and compared notes about our respective life transitions. Delvin, it turns out, is not selling Cochinas for very much longer. He had earned an EMT certificate at community college some years ago, and was now attempting to enroll and complete his four-year degree in order to better his life for himself and his family.

Everyone is on their way to somewhere.

One of the other people I met that morning in Flag, at its delightful alpine setting high in the Coconino forest, is Ryanne Sebern, of Evolve Jewelry Studio. Ryanne was kind enough to share a bit of her story with me about her transition to working full-time to fulfill her passion as an artist. Her children are 6 and 4, and the flexibility she has gained through being self-employed gives her more mom time with the kids, a priority, as well as allows her to fully pursue her art with them close by.

We talked some about the tremendous discipline and organization it takes to run your own enterprise like she is doing. Ryanne, 43, had previously served as an outdoor guide, then later worked in the outfit's office, all the while working on her art part-time. But now she has taken the path to produce and promote her work at evolvejewelrystudio.com, through her longtime association with the Flagstaff Artists' Gallery cooperative on San Francisco Street in downtown Flag and elsewhere.

I could not resist the silver tree earrings, with the garnets, and fell in love with Ryanne's apt description of the conifer's strength, its ability to grow and sustain itself through the winter, and maintain beauty through its own seasonal transitions! It seemed fitting, on this particular sojourn of mine. She also gave me permission to stay in touch, and to include her story as I write the book about "personal growth during times of transition." The jewelry is stunning. Her marketing is pretty incredible, too. I've included her lovely bio here, and the link to her business, as well as the link to the Artists' Gallery.

http://www.evolvejewelrystudio.com/

http://flagstaffartistsgallery.com/

Dec. 22, 2017: A Vagabond for Beauty

2018-12-11T10:24:00.001-08:00

My Southwest adventure/”soul” vacation – December 2017

Day I

Why, hello, Everett!

I am delighted to find the book of my soul traveler, Everett Ruess—which includes his journal writings, letters, and woodcut artwork—among the Grand Canyon library that my Airbnb hosts have thoughtfully assembled for their guests in this little one room, self-contained apartment. I have just arrived in Flagstaff, Arizona, on Day 1 of this solo travel adventure that will take me across Arizona and New Mexico. I confess that the miles and six-plus hours’ drive from Redlands, California, to Flagstaff, Arizona, were accompanied by not a little bit of creeping self-doubt that I would find what I was “looking for” on this trip. So, finding Everett Ruess’ “A Vagabond for Beauty” waiting for me was a kind of affirmation that I was on the right road!

“Adventure is for the adventurous. My face is set. I go to make my destiny. May many another youth by me be inspired to leave the snug safety of his rut, and follow his fortune to other lands.” ~Everett Ruess

Ah, yes, isn’t that why I am venturing out? Everett’s words strike a chord in my heart. I have been, as he suggests in his sublime encouragement to others, in a rut. My work in public relations at a women’s liberal arts college is fine, but does not fulfill my creative urges; I am still in “recovery” from a twenty-year marriage that I finally had the courage to end; I teach part-time as an adjunct professor at a nearby university at night; my children are grown and self-sufficient. By all accounts, I have a pretty good life. And yet, I find myself at mid-life trying to figure out “what’s next?” I definitely feel—no, I know—that I am in a period of transition.

In times past, when I have made a transition in life, I felt scared and excited at the same time. And, based on history, I should know that what will happen in the future will be wonderful, no matter what kind of trepidation I feel along the way. In fact, I’ve never gotten “stuck” – caught up in my own drama, or forgetting to “grow” – for very long. Encountering Everett at this juncture is like reacquainting with an old friend, and a muse.

Everett Ruess was an artistic, adventurous young man who set out alone several times to experience the beauty, as well as the fury, of nature in the American West. During the 1930s, he met and discussed art with painter Maynard Dixon, and with well-known photographers Ansel Adams, Edward Weston and Dorothea Lange. He was lured first by the splendors of Yosemite and the California coast, and later by portions of the lonely red rock lands of Utah and Arizona. In November 1934, at age twenty, Everett disappeared from the canyon country near Escalante, Utah, and was never seen again. Although his burros were found some distance from his last camp, his fate remains a mystery.

I first read the book in 1990. One of my all time favorite letters by Everett Ruess was one where he was reminding his family to use his pen name, Lam Rameau (not "Sam") as he tested their parental inclination to send food his way, very specifically requesting Swedish bread, peanut butter, pop and Grape Nuts while he traversed the West on foot or riding a burro, writing, drawing, talking with locals and natives, as a young man circa 1932.

Following is a photo of that letter. And, a "Happy Journeys" Christmas card he made as a blockprint, to send to his family from his travels afar.

What drew me in to Ruess' story was his drive to spend months on these solo travels, searching for his own unique connection to the land, its people, and its massive, piercing beauty, yet all the while staying connected to those he loved—he was but a teenager when he first ventured out, and was gone for years, only occasionally making the trek back to the "home base."

The special connection for me was that I originally bought the book on my first solo adventure to the Grand Canyon/Four Corners region—specifically at Marble Canyon Lodge—not long after having moved to California from Arkansas. I had struck out in my Acura Legend, a fast and comfortable, beautiful sedan, determined to cover Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and the southwest corner of Colorado as a single woman. Unattached at the time, and feeling quite courageous, I was 31 years old, and single, when I was introduced to Ruess’s book at the gift shop there, bought an extra copy and shipped it to my dad in Louisiana thinking he'd enjoy it, too.

The coincidence that thrilled me at the time was that Dad called me in California, a very rare behavior (him using the phone, I mean) to thank me and report that he had read Ruess' letters in high school in Long Beach in 1942-44, where his Arkansas family had migrated to work during the WWII war effort.

The first book was called On Desert Trails, which was apparently published within just a few years of Ruess’s death. This later collection—the one I had bought in 1990—was much expanded in "A Vagabond for Beauty," the first book of mostly letters having been out of print for decades. Ruess is legend in these parts, as he disappeared mysteriously, his remains were never found, presumed having perished in a flash flood in one of the deep canyons he loved so much. There have been rumors and speculation that he was murdered, and all kinds of folk tales in the 80-plus years since his death. There's more to my thematic connection to Ruess that I'll save for another day. Here are links for more information about this enigmatic traveler, poet, diarist, artist:

http://www.angelfire.com/sk/syukhtun/everett.html

http://lonewolfconcerto.blogspot.com/2016/03/everett-ruess-haunting-mystery.html

https://everettruess.net/epigrams-poetry-by-everett-ruess/

But, for this leg of my journey through Arizona and New Mexico, reading Everett’s words and being reminded of my connection to his wanderlust, and his writing about it, helped assuage any lingering worries I had about whether I would “find” what I was looking for on this sojourn.

Who was that Karen, all those years ago on that adventure across four states? What was she looking for? And, who is this Karen, 27 years later? I had already lived 11 years longer than Everett Ruess, when I first encountered his talent in 1990. Did his intensely creative and short life propel or inspire me in some way at that tender age? Why, at 58 years of age, as I am single again, and back out on the road for some self discovery—or rather, what—am I hoping to find?

Unfortunately, I didn’t chronicle my adventures in those days, so much of my life history and preoccupation with “becoming” is forever lost. I suppose in a way my journaling like this, my writing as I go, is a way to help me focus on becoming who I am. I hope that makes sense. Maybe it only makes sense to me. If no one else ever reads this, which, if it is truly a journal and remains so, it doesn’t really matter. If this becomes a memoir or something else intended to help others, then perhaps some sense-making is necessary. I will try to sort it out as I go.

This kind of process requires some combination of experiencing life “out there,” and also taking the time to reflect, write, and sort of dialogue with yourself, to get what’s in your head down on paper. Or, in this case, in a digital file. As I travel, I’ve been talking with people, interviewing them when they will let me, taking notes in a small black notebook, writing as I can while in transit, then coming back to the laptop to expand on my day and thoughts.

On Day 1 of my travels, finding Everett Ruess’s “Vagabond” book and knowing I could spend some time with him was grounding for me. Wanderlust for him was getting out in nature, and getting far away from civilization. And yet, he was also connected, and wrote to and about the people who were important to him on his journeys. In that respect, we are alike. The connection and writing parts, I mean. I don’t intend to venture far away from civilization on this trip. Though in 1990, I was much braver, I think, and had taken my bicycle with me and ridden many miles by myself out on lonely beautiful Arizona and New Mexico roads. Which reminds me, it was summer. This trip, I did not bring my bicycle, thinking it way too cold. It is, after all, December 22.

Been a long time

2018-12-11T10:20:00.002-08:00

Wow. My last post was June 8. This was a year of upheaval. All good.

As I approach the December holidays, I am reminded of my amazing "soul" vacation to Flagstaff and Santa Fe last year. I'm in a much different position this year, not as free to wingit and travel as I like as long as I like on my own steam--and yet, happy as a clam in my Little House, consulting and teaching while I figure out what is next in life.

Adventure always awaits!

I thought I would use the professor blog, since it's the only one I have right now, to post my travel writings from the Christmas vacation of 2017. For posterity.

So, those posts will follow.

RIP Anthony Bourdain

2018-06-08T09:51:00.000-07:00

I am actually sad about this. So hard to understand how someone who enjoyed this world so much would want to leave it. :(

Links credited to Muck Rack:

We woke up to the terrible news today that Anthony Bourdain was found dead at 61. The story was first reported by Brian Stelter at CNN after the network confirmed their travel star’s death.

Everyone reported on the shocking death, including Matthew Haag at the New York Times, who wrote the obituary for the Travel Host and Author.

CBS News shared that the celebrity chef was found dead in an apparent suicide.

AP News added that Bourdain was in Strasbourg filming an upcoming segment in his series "Parts Unknown."

At GQ, Drew Magary writes that Anthony Bourdain Was the Most Interesting Man in the World and he begins with, “I wanted his life.”

Today's editors, according to Columbia Journalism Review

2018-06-04T10:22:00.002-07:00

I thought this was interesting, too. 

Demographics of editors at America’s major newspapers:

• 73% are male
• 9 in 10 are white
• Come from 109 different colleges and universities 
• 60% have a journalism degree
• 7% went to an Ivy League school

Article:

https://www.cjr.org/special_report/editors-by-the-numbers.php/

I agree. Thanks, Bill Byrne!

2018-06-04T10:06:00.004-07:00

From: https://muckrack.com/blog/2018/05/30/stop-calling-us-prs

A PR pro's pet peeve -- stop calling us PRs

MAY 30, 2018

MEDIA RELATIONS

I hadn’t realized I was the only one in the public relations field who disliked (OK, hated) being called a "PR" until I received an invite for an educational webinar directed at PRs.

In a rare moment of occupational venting, I posted my disdain on the Facebook page of an industry forum known as the PR Czars.

It turns out I’m not the only one in the media relations field that wanted to vent on the topic.

I’m not a PR. I work in public relations. It’s my career. I occasionally write press releases for clients.

But I’m not a PR.

PR, at least in the marketing and business world, is generally accepted to mean public relations. Or media relations, as that’s what most of us really do. We work with journalists (YouTubers, IG’ers, bloggers, etc.…define journalist however you like) to get the media (again, define that as you like) to feature the topics and products of importance to our clients.

It’s not rare that we hear “that’s good PR,” or something along those lines. Many of the firms we work at, along with some of our industry trade media, have PR in their name. XYZ PR, The Journal Of Disruptive PR, etc. Few would assume the name of the firm is XYZ Press Release or that something considered “good PR” is actually a good press release.

The confusion factor -- One reason to be careful when writing PR

In today’s era of email first, check for clarity later (and I know I’m not alone in this), I often receive typo-laden messages from clients that look like a cat walked across their keyboard. I love cats, and while I don’t need my emails to be in AP style and am no stranger to typos myself, the use of PR in marketing to mean more than public relations can cause pause or confusion. And when you confuse your team, even for just a little bit, you slow us down.

Lest you think my piece here is just one man’s rant (and please keep in mind I was asked to write it by the Muck Rack's editor Jessica Lawlor who saw my rant on the Facebook group) I’ve heard from colleagues that they’ve been told they need to “PR something” by clients. Or need PR. And sometimes, they want a PR. When that partner or potential partner tells us they need to PR something, we don’t want to assume they actually need a press release. Because we all know you don’t actually need a press release to land media coverage. But that’s another topic.

And while many of us say we’re PR consultants, and been called someone’s PR guy, gal, guru, etc., by clients, I would never say I am a PR or that I do PR. Saying that I am a public relations or a press release sounds silly.

Our friends overseas and in other industries

I’ve heard from a few that PR practitioners overseas are called PRs. Turns out that may be true. However, I refer to the sheet of metal covering my car’s engine as a hood, not a bonnet. I refer to what many around the world call football as soccer.

Flip it to other industries. Some of my colleagues work in advertising. They’re not Advertisers… or Adders. Or Ads.

The person who helps you find your mortgage isn’t called a loaner or a mortgager.

I have never heard my favorite barista in San Diego (if you don’t know Kristen, the manager at Java Earth, you really should!) referred to as a coffeer. Or a coffee-r. And I never ask her to coffee me… unless it’s very early.

Call me what you want, just don’t call me late to dinner

Am I making too much out of too little? Maybe.

Consider this just some fun venting on a day when I’m not on deadline. Venting is important…you know what happens when machines can’t vent! But judging by the comments my post received on Facebook, I’m not the only one in this industry that feels this way.

And again, I was asked to write this.

Maybe I’m a bit old-fashioned, but I’m not a curmudgeon. I only look slightly down on you because you use the word guru on your LinkedIn description and feel that saying pivot makes you sound smarter than saying change direction. If you want to optimize the disruption of something with a thoughtful design that is critical to your business, so be it. I can get on board with that, regardless of if your design is thoughtful and results-oriented or not.

Truth be told, you can call us what you want. As a group, we tend to be pretty thick skinned (you need to be in this industry) and we generally enjoy what we do. Every time we land great media placement we get a little dopamine hit that keeps us going and makes it all worthwhile.

But we’ll still snicker a little if you call us PR. Venting and snickering is just how us PRs are ;)

Bill Byrne is a veteran PR pro with serious disdain for people who call themselves gurus or ninjas, unless they’re spiritual leaders or feudal Japanese mercenary. In the last 20 years Bill has worked with a diverse range of brands, ranging from the youth marketing space to financial entities, tech products, general consumer goods, along with beer brands and snowboard companies. A former NYC agency guy, he spent years in the Manhattan offices of Cohn & Wolfe and PainePR before eventually co-founding Remedy Communications in San Diego.

Sorry, Not Sorry. Franken and Franks give bookend "apologies" as they are ushered out of Congress.

2017-12-08T11:18:00.000-08:00

Sen. Al Franken, the liberal Democrat and former “Saturday Night Live” comedian from Minnesota, and Rep. Trent Franks, a one-time oil wildcatter turned anti-abortion crusader who represents a conservative Republican district in the suburbs of Phoenix, resigned reluctantly in similiar non-apologetic fashion this week among the growing numbers of men in America who are reckoning with the change in rules regarding their ability to maintain their positions of power amid investigations of alleged sexual misconduct. This Los Angeles Times article recounts the political rhetoric of their exits: interesting, if not unsurprising. What I am challenging is not whether either politician should have been ousted, but I am suggesting that if Franken/Frank had wanted grace and some consideration above the noise, each man would have needed (help from his PR person??) to craft a heartfelt and nuanced entreaty asking for the perspective that he thought his situation deserved. From a public relations perspective, I think this was a missed opportunity.

Mentor notes: How a Boss Can Help

2017-11-23T09:27:00.004-08:00

As I've been exploring ideal work conditions from an employee's perspective, through my serving as a mentor at the University of Redlands School of Business, I jotted down a few ideas for how a boss can help their charges. Here is that short list (feel free to comment or add to it):

How a boss can help:

Clarify roles
Clarify objectives
Use clear, regular communication about expectations and constructive and encouraging feedback for improvement
Create time and opportunities to co-explore insights about performance, not just keeping up with “to do’s” and not focused on missed opportunities, but filtering priorities and revisiting objectives and metrics, seeking agreement on adjustments and progress as a “thought partner”
Be seen as authoritative and fair; no favoritism
Be willing to mentor, or if not, willing to provide employee with a “coach”
Provide a safe work environment
Be willing to admit mistakes (“just because you are ‘sure’ doesn’t mean you are ‘right’), provide teachable moments based on own experience
Model the behavior employees are expected to uphold (no gossiping, no venting about peers, no oversharing, keep commitments, do not take advantage of position/privilege, roll up one’s sleeves)
Remove obstacles
Provide development opportunities
Encourage promotion, upward mobility
Give clear and regular communication about assignments

Mentor notes: Strategies to Strengthen Your Development

2017-11-23T09:18:00.002-08:00

As I've been working as a mentor this fall, in a formal program supported by the University of Redlands School of Business, it has given me the opportunity to think about what makes work, work -- for me, and for my mentee! Here are some recent thoughts about some of the things we can do as employees that can make us better workers, more successful enterprise owners, and protect our integrity in the workplace. Strategies that can strengthen your development:

Find a mentor
Build allies, social capital, potential coalitions
Be seen as a leader, enterprise owner
Remind self of successes, and sell them “up” the organization
Be self-reflective, learn from mistakes even while you “own” them
Maintain focus under pressure
Be bold and direct in communication
Don’t overshare
Determine additional skills or training needed to grow and add value
Take on tasks outside your role, volunteer to fill gaps as needed
Support others’ success, but not to your own detriment
Learn conflict resolution skills and use them as needed
Don’t compare your kudos to others
Don’t compare your setbacks to others

This is by no means an exhaustive list! Just a top-of-my-head attempt to put something in writing. Please comment if you have others to add...!

Mentor notes: "A" Player Thoughts

2017-11-23T09:14:00.001-08:00

This fall, I've been serving as a mentor at the University of Redlands School of Business through their program that is designed to match seasoned marketing communications professionals with their younger counterparts. I'm an adjunct professor there, teaching marketing courses. My mentee is a young MBA candidate who is super smart, articulate, competent, and has a fairly honed sense of direction for one who is really just getting started on her career. I look at her and think "was I that 'together' when I was her age?" I think not! Anyway, as we've embarked on our time together, exploring opportunities for her to network and learn about careers in our field, delve into new areas of our disciplines that didn't come with her degrees, and talk about all things forward-thinking, I recently listed what I thought an "A" Player looks like in our profession:

What an “A player” looks like:

Tunes in to culture, teammates
Is on time, respectful of others’ times
Works to be consistent
Asks for help instead of waiting until the problem grows
Seeks to find solutions and not just asking the questions
Asks great questions, thinks holistically
Engenders trust in teammates
Works to make boss successful, anticipates needs and relieves worries
Similarly, keeps boss informed, “no surprises”
“Leads by example,” succeeds not through promotion and title but through results
Does what it takes to get the job done
Maintains a healthy life balance

There are certainly other traits that would apply. Please comment if you think of others.

War of Words, or Real Threat? Guam residents weigh in...

2017-08-10T14:40:00.001-07:00

What it feels like, when you're in the crosshairs:

https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2017/08/what-do-people-on-guam-think-about-north-korea/536436/

Guam Governor Eddie Calvo speaks during an interview with Reuters at the government complex on the island of Guam, a U.S. Pacific Territory, in August 2017.
Photo: Erik DeCastro | Reuters

2017-07-18T09:10:00.001-07:00

NPR reports on research that may offer some reasonable explanations for when (notice, not 'why') people are susceptible to 'fake news.' Intriguing.

http://www.npr.org/2017/07/18/537844762/researchers-examine-when-people-are-more-susceptible-to-fake-news?utm_campaign=storyshare&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=social

PR Say: 3 Ways Communicators Can Help Restore Public Trust in the Media

2017-06-30T08:41:00.001-07:00

Figuring out how to restore public trust in the media was the theme of a recent New York panel titled “Defining Journalism in a Post-Truth Era,” featuring TIME reporter Charlotte Alter, Forbes editor Helen A.S. Popkin, Newsday reporter Mark Chiusano and MediaPost writer Philip Rosenstein, as reported by PRSay, a blog of the Public Relations Society of America. The blog post shares three key ways that PR agencies and communications professionals can help. In a related post, Gallup shares recent research that suggests confidence in newspapers is low but still rising.

Yay for journalistic accuracy, prevention of fake news - thanks for this, PR Daily and Visme

2017-06-28T10:08:00.005-07:00

For those of us content marketers who still care, Ragan's PR Daily has published a checklist that reads like a Journalism 101 checklist for fact-verification.

Visme's online platform makes an infographic like this easy to create. Very cool.

Good word, for good people: "Philotomo"

2017-04-03T10:05:00.004-07:00

I learned a new word today: ‘Philotomo.’ It is Greek, and apparently has the power to make those who understand its meaning misty-eyed. It’s a powerfully evocative yet subtle word, symbolizing courage, generosity, duty, honor, empathy, humility. It derives from filos, friend, and timi, honor. It’s about giving to others without wanting anything back for yourself, except perhaps love and appreciation. Triandis (1972) states that the concept of philotomo is unique to the Greek culture and may need to be translated as a phrase such as “the love of honor” to capture the full meaning. I was introduced to the word when reviewing a video about a Scripps College alumna, Dr. Katherine Schwab (above), who is professor of Art History and Visual Culture at Fairfield University and was recently honored with the college's Distinguished Faculty Award at its Annual Awards Dinner in New York City. A colleague noted that the word applied to Dr. Schwab's unwavering support for her students, love of teaching, passion for her subject and dedication to sharing ancient Greek art. I first learned of Dr. Schwab's talents when preparing a news brief about her fascinating research for Scripps College's website (a responsibility of mine in my day job). I love my job, learning new words, and sharing news about truly interesting and "good people."

Hopeful article lauds media legitimacy, legacy of Walter Cronkite

2017-03-14T11:10:00.003-07:00

I agree with the media-watch judges in the story below that CNN's Brian Stelter is worth learning from on Sunday morning's "Reliable Sources," which is a weekly news wrap-up dedicated to helping the public understand what the media does and how they do it. Stelter's predecessor Howard Kurtz was instructive and entertaining as well, having served as Reliable Sources host since 1998. Kurtz has since moved on to Fox's Sunday morning lineup in a similar role. Anyway, it is worth noting that some mainstream media are still doing what media are supposed to do. Here's a link to the Cronkite awards article about notable journalistic efforts this year and its hopeful lede:

2017 Walter Cronkite Awards For Excellence In TV Political Journalism

With reporters, news media and even the truth under assault, the winners of the 2017 Walter Cronkite Award for Excellence in Television Political Journalism demonstrate that the legacy of the longtime CBS anchor is alive and well...

More Brian Stelter: @brianstelter: gotta love this guy! As Larry Wilmore says, he's "keeping it 100!"

2017-02-03T16:08:00.002-08:00

Fresh voices welcome, indeed

Looking forward to good things from NPR journalist Joshua Johnson, who takes over Diane Rehm's spot as the radio icon retired from her 37-year career as a thoughtful talk show host covering the news and issues of the day.

Fresh voices are welcome in this time of national divisiveness. Especially from mainstream media. The Washington Post quotes Johnson as having rallied his team with these words, "There are still seeds to cast. There is still something to build. There are still people to feed with useful, honest, fair, thoughtful information, and a conversation that's for everyone." I'd like to think so, too.

Pew Research annual survey on media

2013-03-24T08:49:00.003-07:00

The news about news is what you thought it was...here is a partial summary of findings from the Pew Research Center's 2013 survey on the state of the mainstream media, ironically (my opinion) reported by Huffington Post: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/03/18/pew-journalism-study-cutbacks_n_2898422.html

Sandy Hook massacre - media mistakes

2012-12-16T09:17:00.001-08:00

An unimaginable horror struck families in Newtown, Connecticut, this week when 20-year old Adam Lanza went on a mass shooting spree at the elementary school where his mother, Nancy, worked. As the information about the events became available during the aftermath, members of the media published information they obtained from law enforcement officials, who just plain got it wrong. For hours, the news reported that Lanza's older brother, Ryan, was the killer. News of Ryan's alleged role in the massacre spread virally across the nation, and the world. There were no efforts, apparently, to independently verify the identity of the shooter. I was troubled to learn of this mistake, which took hours to correct in the unfolding news cycle, because I am a Public Relations professional who has been taught to rely on the veracity of the information practitioners like me receive from the investigating law enforcement agencies in such incidents. Later, we learned that the shooter was actually carrying his older brother's ID, so it does seem an honest mistake. But, meanwhile, the communication trail has wreaked havoc, and older brother Ryan's face has been posted all over the Internet, the permanent and intractable record of his presumed 'guilt.' The mistake was corrected, and the story continued to wend it's course as the country reeled with unspeakable sadness, learning further that 20 children, many of them 6 and 7 year olds, had been killed at point blank range by Adam Lanza. Another mistake that the media made, in my opinion, was interviewing the surviving classmates of the murdered children. Several news organizations apparently leapt to gather footage from children at Sandy Hook Elementary School who had been ushered out of the school building to safety by teachers and other school personnel when the gunshots were heard. Still reeling from the fear of perhaps being shot themselves, learning that some of their classmates had died in the shootings only moments or hours before, several of the children who appeared on camera for interviews were 6 or 7 years old, and were asked to recount the action they took, and their personal emotions about the terrifying incident. I understand why the reporters on the scene, and their ultimate producers back in the studio, decided to capture these moments from the youngest among us. And yet,as I watched this news coverage, I felt a gut wrenching pain for the children followed by anger that the news media (and presumably their parents who gave permission) had felt it more important to have these vulnerable, innocents--practically babies, really--tell their stories on national television rather than comfort and shield them during such a time. The third mistake, which I hope will be corrected as the reporting continues in ensuing days, is the inference that some are making that because the shooter was identified as being autistic, or perhaps on the autism scale, that this somehow is connected to the violence he enacted at his mother's workplace. This kind of misinformation can sway public opinion about an already misunderstood condition that impacts hundreds of thousands of families in our country and elsewhere, and can reinforce the stigmas of 'mental health labels' in a way that sets us back decades. 'Suffering from autism' does not, of course, equate to violent behavior in any way. In fact, the use of the term 'suffering,' as many news outlets are reporting, implies some malady. Many people live with a condition that makes them experience the world differently...some suffer, many do not, and still more merely understand that they view and experience the world differently than some defined 'norm,' and therefore they are 'different.' The diagnosis of autism does not automatically imply that a person is 'sick,'mentally or otherwise.

Social Media provides for bullied bus monitor

2012-06-22T09:16:00.002-07:00

Latest reports this morning indicate that the outpouring of support for the bullied bus monitor widow has exceeded $500,000! http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/06/21/social-media-bus-monitor_n_1616805.html?ir=Education&ref=topbar"> More on this developing story: http://storify.com/bendoernberg/karen-klein-s-internet-army

Anderson Cooper's giggle fit is a classic!

2011-08-21T20:13:00.000-07:00

Even though the puns themselves were really annoying, I enjoyed Anderson Cooper's apparent delight in this bit...here is the 4-minute version:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPq2fsSk2Vw

I especially like the part where he says "this has never happened to me before!"