As my commitments for this academic year draw to a close and my trek to and from Alabama for a high school alumni basketball game have ended, I look forward to spending sometime this summer with this site. After, tonight’s David Mayfield Parade show in Rochester, which I hope ends with me bringing one of these home with me.
Some wild western New York fish
The Wall Street Journal recently published a brief reminder by the author Anna Quindlen on the discipline and difficulties of writing. As I move into the research (and, yes, writing) stages of some new projects, as well as rethinking how to handle some older ones, her encouragements ring true.
I don’t believe in writer’s block. It’s not that sometimes you can’t write, it’s that you can’t write well. Experience has told me that writing poorly sometimes leads to something better.
From the above lines to advice about music (or not) to the finite number of words a person possesses each day to how to finish a day (and start the next one), Ms. Quindlen offers a helpful reflection on the discipline of writing. Enjoy it and be challenged by it here.
Two nights ago, Wendell Berry delivered the 2012 NEH Jefferson Lecture, “It All Turns on Affection.” Anchoring his talk around the concept of an “informed, practical, and practiced affection, Berry offered a rousing call for a renewed concern for the future of the country and its natural resources.
Read it here.
Or watch it here:
While I missed the set on Walter (an apparently famous Onion River brown trout of mammoth proportions), I did bring quite a few nice wild fish to hand on my last day on Wisconsin water—this time around anyway.
Here’s a sampling.
The brookies on Nichols Creek (pictured below) were less cooperative.
On the day before the 2012 OAH kicked off, I had a few hours to spend on Wisconsin’s Onion River. It was great to get to scout the water a bit for what hopefully will be a more extended time on the water tomorrow. Even better was that I found my way into some fish—all small wild browns. But all really pretty. A little knowledge of the stream combined with some advice from associate at the local Orvis will likely make tomorrow an even more exciting and productive day.
From WB’s A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997
Best of any song
is bird song
in the quiet, but first
you must have the quiet.
In a few hours I’ll be flying out to Milwaukee for the Organization of American Historians. I’ve never attended this large gathering of historians and am looking forward to seeing how it stacks up to several of the other large conferences I have attended. Looks like a pretty good slate of panels, including the one I am serving as commentator.
And you better believe I’ll be on the lookout for Lenny and Squiggy.
After a hectic week of hosting a conference on campus at Canisius College, I am turning my attention again to another conference—this time the Organization of American Historians meeting in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where I get to make comments on a session titled: “Capitalism, Slavery, and Abolition in America from the Revolution to the Civil War.”
Now, to be honest, I am not a fan of conferences in general. Or at least parts of conferences. I thoroughly enjoy the intellectual stimulation, getting to hear a wide variety of papers and presentations often on the cutting edge interpretatively and analytically. I definitely enjoying getting to catch up with friends and mentors over meals and pints. I also relish the opportunities to wet my feet and fly line in unfamiliar waters.
What I don’t enjoy is all the posturing and performance that goes along with conferences (and I am thinking here of conferences of practically any stripe that I have attended). Everyone is so intent of talking about themselves, their work, their employer, and on and on the list could go. It is exhausting.
But necessary. So, as I plan to spend most of this week at a fabulous Irish inn and pub in the city of Laverne & Shirley, I look forward to the joys of conferencing. And am even steeling myself to bear the less-than-pleasant moments, as well. Maybe I’ll even catch some wild trout.
