Norway, Part 1

Tomorrow I leave for Norway.  A popular tourist destination, but for me, a dream trip that began nearly 50 years ago.



The summer between fifth and sixth grade, 1968, I was part of a summer enrichment program for "gifted" students.  I remember four things from that summer: it was at Central School where I expected to transfer for 6th grade with most of my 5th grade classmates from Yost, but instead found out I would be attending Bailly School where I would not know anybody; we put out a student newspaper printed on an old mimeograph machine that I learned how to use (can still smell that purple ink....); I made friends; and I wrote a report on Norway.

Why did I choose Norway?  I can't recreate my reasons but I have some hints.  My paternal grandmother was half-Swedish and I was named after her mother, a Swedish immigrant. While our Swedish heritage was not a major force in my life, my grandmother did make this great bread she called "Swedish Rye Bread." I grew up in a town with a rich Swedish history. I loved the Pippi Longstocking books (Swedish, I know). I liked the clean, simple lines of our new "Danish modern" furniture.  I remember reading the book Snow Treasure, about young Norwegian kids who smuggle gold out of the country during the Nazi occupation.  I like winter, snow, cold, and skiing. So, clearly, I had a Scandinavian predisposition.  I think, in the end, Norway seemed more exotic than Sweden, and so I chose it. But, maybe some other student had already taken Sweden.

What I do remember, more than anything else about that report, is my mother taking me to the local travel agency to pick up some travel brochures I could use for illustrations in my report.  In a family of seven kids, doing anything solely with my mother was unusual.  I remember where the travel agency was, the rack of brochures, the kind lady that honored my request (even though I clearly wasn't booking a trip!)

Since that report, I've wanted to actually visit the country.  Years went by.  I made it to Iceland, Sweden, and Denmark, but never Norway. I fell in love with the writing of Per Petterson, especially his novel, Out Stealing Horses.  I read Knut Hamsun, Jo Nesbo, and any other Norwegian author I could find. I think the dark, brooding view of life fit my life well at the time.

Now, this year I turned 60.  Four years divorced, I have fulfilled all my financial obligations to others, and had no vacation or travel plans for the summer.  It is time.

My biggest concern now is that my expectations are unrealistic, that I'm hoping for something from this trip that it can't possibly deliver.   I'm hoping for the right mix of scenery, history, culture, and people.

I'll know in a few weeks......


                                                                        

Book report time! Radical Candor

Every now and then I pick up a "leadership" book that I've seen recommended.  I'm usually disappointed.  My latest read is Radical Candor by Kim Scott.  Scott is an entrepreneur and Silicon Valley veteran having worked at Google, where she lead YouTube, and Apple, where she was part of Apple University.   The subtitle of her book is "Be a kick-ass boss without losing your humanity."

So, first things first, I've only read half and not sure I'll read the rest.  I'd say it is about on par with other leadership books---you get the main point pretty quickly and the rest is just a rehash.  The other drawback, for me, is that many of the ideas she presents are not easily transferable to the academic world.  For instance, I can't fire tenured faculty for poor performance.

What did I get out of the book?  Relationships matter and you have to find ways to give negative feedback (criticism).  Her main argument is that by not giving honest feedback a boss does not give a person the chance to improve.  Why would you change if you thought things were going well?

I'm fascinated, though, by her assumption (which she later adjusts) that everyone wants to be a superstar.  It took her many years to realize that not everyone was driven by the same motivations she was, that some people liked doing their job and didn't envision anything more. I think it highlights the ways in which the tech/start up atmosphere is so different from other work environments. I'm not sure I would enjoy working in a place where the competition was fierce and everyone was gunning for the top.  Hierarchies are pyramid shaped, not everyone will be at the top.  I would say that is a true benefit of academia. We have hierarchies, but it is widely accepted to stop at the "full professor" level and be seen as successful, happy, and a true contributor.  We do have those who want titles and prestige, but there is much more room, and acceptance, for the "solid contributor."

I'm not sure what I'll do with what I learned from the book, or the half I read.

Progress report

 I've never considered myself a perfectionist.  To me, a perfectionist would be neat and orderly, be reluctant to turn in a report until it was "perfect," and not procrastinate.  None of those are characteristics I possess. I am not very neat, I am happy to say something is "good enough," and I love to avoid doing things.  So when I'm told that I have a tendency to be a little hard on myself, I find it hard to believe. But, what those critics are pointing out is my tendency to hold myself to high standards and high expectations. I often feel like I'm not doing my job very well, or that, at least, I should be doing it better.  It is in the realm of emotions and expectations that I expect perfection--I shouldn't feel discouraged (or mad or frustrated or overwhelmed.)  I shouldn't make mistakes.  It is a tendency I've worked years to moderate, and, trust me, I'm much better than I was.

I was very lucky this week to have lunch with my old graduate school advisor.  I finished my degree nearly 30 years ago, but we continue to stay in touch and try to meet up once a year at our professional society meeting.  Our conversation was wide ranging, but much time was spent on my experiences as a dean and the problems I've faced.  He asked if I got any feedback from others and I said, yes, people seemed happy with my performance, but I wasn't.  He, astutely, noted that perhaps I should consider others to be more objective in their evaluations than I could be. Somehow, coming from him, it rang more true.  I should trust the opinions of those I respect.

Even more importantly, though, was his observation that sometimes not losing ground is actually progress.  Such a concept is a cornerstone of 12 step programs--one day at a time. A day of sobriety is a success.  In times of struggle, maintaining a foothold is a success.  It is a reassuring message, that progress won't always be forward.  Some days just standing still is worthy of praise.

Yet, a quick search of "standing still" on Google will find admonitions that standing still is going backwards (Lauren Bacall), that "when you stop moving, you're done." (Georges St. Pierre),  "be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still" (Chinese proverb).

Maybe, every now and then, we need to stand still in order to grow.  Maybe, now and then, being able to hold your ground is an accomplishment.  Today, I'm glad to accept that not moving backwards means I've made progress.

Palimpsest

I discovered a new word this weekend, "palimpsest."  The Merriam-Webster dictionary meaning is "a writing material (as a parchment or tablet) used one or more times after earlier writing has been erased."  But, according to my Kindle dictionary, it has a special, figurative meaning  "something reused or altered but still bearing visible traces of its earlier form." (I've found that I am so much more likely to look up an unfamiliar word with the ease of the online dictionary.)

I ran across the word while reading the novel, "The Vegetarian" by Han Kang.  Set in Korea it tells the story of a woman who becomes a vegetarian. (Okay, that is not all the book is about, or even close to what it is about, but while I was entranced and couldn't stop reading, I remain puzzled about all of its meaning.)

The sentence where I noticed palimpsest was this: "The kiss was a palimpsest of memories, of all the countless kisses they'd shared in the past."  When I went back later, though, to find the passage again, I realized the word had occurred earlier in the story in this line, "Dreams overlaid with dreams, a palimpsest of horror."

Before finding the double occurrence, I was struck by the beauty of the word.  How useful to have a word describe the notion that an individual thing or act includes multiple layers of meaning drawn from the past. It seems like a useful word to have. I want to find an application in my own life, because I feel there are many things that are often more than they seem--exchanges or gestures that aren't just in the present, but include memories and past feelings.  It feels like a good word for therapy--everything experienced today holds meanings attached to the past

But, the other sentence, while closer to the dictionary definition, a layering of dreams, a layering of writing, seems less beautiful and scarier.  Here are horrors piled one on top of the other until any one single one can't be distinguished from the other.

How curious is it that this word occurs twice in one book?  How curious is it that the book was translated from Korean to English?  What is the Korean equivalent to palimpsest?  Is it a common word or expression?  Did the translator already know this word and find it a good substitute for the Korean or did she have to hunt it down?

Gore Vidal's memoir is titled, "Palimpsest."  There is a book on the history of writing called, "Palimpsest."  And, a few novels.  I feel now that I have to read them all....

Security questions

Lately I've had to register on a few new websites and each required answers to three security questions.  I suppose with greater attention to the threat of hacking, site owners are being more careful.  Unfortunately, this means they have created lists of security questions with ever more obscure and ambiguous answers.  I do fine with mother's maiden name, father's middle name, even paternal grandmother's maiden name.  I can use the street where I grew up, the hospital where I was born, or the name of my elementary school.

Where I fall down is "Name of your best friend in high school." I had many friends in my circle in school, but I don't know if I had a best friend in high school.  I keep in touch with two very close friends still, how can I pick one over the other?  Would my high school boyfriend count?  Would I remember in a year that his name would be the one I chose?

or "Name of your first pet."   Our family had a few dogs when I was growing up, but I was never particularly attached to any of them.  In fact, one dog used to growl menacingly at me when I passed him guarding my sisters' bedroom.  My husband had a dog when we got married, was that my first pet?  But I get that dog's name confused with the second dog we had.  Which one was Abby and which was Molly?

Even "Make of your first car." is difficult.  The blue car I drove to high school for two years?  Or the car I totaled driving to a friend's wedding?  Or the van I drove in college?  Or the first car I bought with my own money?

My life seems too uncertain to use security questions not based on facts.

Getting my gray on...

I thought it was a good day to review the power of gray-haired women.....


  Jill Stein


Christine Lagarde


  Janet Yellen

Dear Hillary

Dear Hillary,
I'm so sorry.  I never wanted to be writing this letter.  But, I wanted you to know how much you have meant to me. Ten years younger than you, I grew up looking up to you, watching you.

In 1992 I took my not quite 1-year-old son to see you and Bill as you traveled across Pennsylvania following the convention.  I drove a couple of hours on a hot August day because I wanted my son to be a part of something I believed in.  It was exciting to see the crowds turn out for the Clinton Gore bus tour.  You even gave my son a little pat.

I admired you as you fought hard for health care reform, fought to find a voice as First Lady.  I admired you even more as you struggled to work through marital problems in the public spotlight.  Now that I have faced similar struggles, I can imagine the pain and loneliness you felt as your decisions and choices were second guessed by people who had no idea.

I voted for you to be my senator in New York state. I heard about your vacations down the road in  Skanaeteles. I enjoyed the New York State Fair, just as you did. I shook Bill's hand when he was the commencement speaker at Syracuse University where I was teaching.

As Secretary of State you traveled the world representing the United States, but, more importantly, representing women.  You fought for the rights of girls and women around the world--rights to education, to health care, to contraception, to independence.  You spoke eloquently at Syracuse University in 2012 about your passion for women's rights.

Your bid for the presidency was the culmination of a life spent caring about the concerns of others, often, I'm sure, at the expense of your own needs. I'm sorry you lost. I'm sorry for you, for myself, and for my country.

I am fortunate to have many strong, passionate, caring women in my life.  These women will not forget what you have done, will not forget the lessons you taught.  I will work even harder to show those younger than me that women's voices matter, that their voices matter.

You have left an enduring legacy, and I'm forever grateful to have had you in my life.

Chris