The Cancel Culture Conundrum

January 20, 2024 ~ If You Want My Opinion ~ Leave a comment

The threats to free speech in the U.S. have been troubling to me for a long time, and the problem seems to be most acute in the very place where free speech should be deeply appreciated and protected – academia. I have spent a good portion of my career in or associated with the academic world and have watched in dismay as both the sanctimonious morality police AND the uber-sensitive progressive warriors have slowly chipped away at one of the fundamental rights we have in this republic. Of course, attacks on free speech extend far beyond the ivory towers to all branches of government, journalism, entertainment, the medical community, and so many other sectors of our society.

One of the worst examples of free speech restriction is the phenomenon of cancel culture, which has spread rapidly and broadly, sometimes inflicting serious damage to individuals and institutions across the political, economic, and social spectrum. Some progressives would argue that cancel culture is a myth, that what we are witnessing is a type of moral correction on a societal level. I must disagree. Of course, I recognize there are attitudes and actions that a society should not tolerate, such as child abuse, sexual harassment, and various forms of discrimination – race, gender, age, etc. However, the concept of “hate speech” as it has evolved in the western world turns the cliché of the slippery slope into a perfect metaphor. The empowerment of the masses through the Internet, particularly social media, has facilitated this toxic environment. To my way of thinking, cancel culture is the result of old-fashioned mob psychology intensified and magnified by more efficient means of communication. It is frightening.

Some of the strongest criticism of cancel culture in recent years has come from unexpected torch bearers, like John McWhorter, an African American academic and linguist who is Associate Professor of English and Comparative Literature at Columbia University. His controversial 2021 book titled Woke Racism calls out what he sees as a pendulum that has swung way too far left, and for many, is stuck there with little chance of tearing itself loose. He argues that a segment of the country’s population has become hypersensitive about race, resulting in a punitive environment where the slightest slip or even perceived slip calls for immediate and total cancellation of the offender. When he identifies this movement as a religion, he isn’t employing a metaphor — he truly believes it IS a religion. Because he is not a religious person himself, he sees no problem comparing woke racism with Christianity or other faiths he perhaps deems oppressive.

I take strong objection to many of McWhorter’s arguments and how he posits that woke racism is an insult to black people’s intelligence because it pressures them into being offended, as if they can’t recognize “real” racism when they see it. His whole book seems to be designed to warn black people about a religious cult that apparently, he believes, they just aren’t smart enough to reject on their own. At the same time, I am deeply concerned how quickly some people have been “cancelled” and had their careers completely sabotaged for virtually no good reason at all because of a generation that seems to be too awake, wielding a moral sledgehammer rather than a compass.

It is going to take a considerable amount of time for the wide-swinging pendulum to settle down and adopt a more reasonable range of motion. We need less judgment and a lot more grace. There is far too much focus on punishment, refusing to admit that at times we all say or write things we regret. All sides must realize that canceling is a zero-sum game, and if history teaches us anything, it is that Americans are slow learners when it comes to social change.

Chuck Berry, for Better or Worse

November 29, 2023 ~ If You Want My Opinion ~ Leave a comment

Chuck Berry statue in the Delmar Loop in St. Louis, MO

In the spirit of giving credit where credit is due, no one deserves the title “The Father of Rock-n-Roll” more than Chuck Berry. So many of the legends of the genre revered him and covered his hits, including The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. Keith Richards said if rock-n-roll had a name, it would have to be Chuck Berry. Even that white boy from Tupelo, referred so often to as the “King” of rock-n-roll, covered Berry’s tunes.

Chuck Berry’s life is not really a rags-to-riches story as he was born into a middle-class family in St. Louis where he lived his whole life. Growing up just beyond the eastern boundary of the Ozarks region, Berry was heavily influenced by rock-a-billy and country music, elements of which would end up in many of his greatest hits. Of course, Berry also grew up during the era of Jim Crow in a part of the country that had a dark past with race relations. Sadly, according to R. J. Smith in his brutally honest biography (Chuck Berry: An American Life, Hachette Books, 2022), Berry apparently carried his response of anger, resentment, and frustration to extremes at times, taking opportunities to insult and humiliate people, even those who adored him, and telling them, “Now you know how it feels to be black.”

Smith does a good job of balancing the artistry, intelligence, talent, and even the charm of Berry with the ugly side of his personality. Some of the stories about Berry make me think that he may have had some kind of serious psychological illness, like bipolar disorder. To say he was a womanizer would be to let him off the hook. He demonstrated signs of being what many folks in the post-MeToo era would define as a sexual predator and even a pedophile. At the very least, it is fair to say he had strong sexual appetites that wandered into the realm of the taboo and even aberrant.

His sexual deviance, along with his violent tendencies and his resistance to authority, including the IRS and government in general, got him into legal trouble on several occasions. He was sentenced to jail time more than once. One could argue that he shared this path with many of the outlaw country stars like Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, and many others. Some rap and hip-hop performers who were no doubt influenced by Berry on some level would also be plagued with legal problems and prison terms.

No matter how bad the news was for Berry, he was still highly respected by the biggest names in the music business, including Bruce Springsteen. He was an early cross-over musician, infiltrating white homes with his unique style of playing and singing long before black performers were even allowed to eat in many restaurants or stay in hotels when they were on tour. He was beloved by millions of fans all over the world, even when he continued to attempt to perform in his 80s as dementia began to claim his mind and memory. His impact on 20th century music and beyond cannot be overemphasized, complete with his flaws and his brilliance.

Mal de Débarquement Syndrome – Update

September 12, 2023September 12, 2023 ~ If You Want My Opinion ~ Leave a comment

In November, 2019, I posted about a malady that I have dealt with for twenty years called Mal de Debarquement Syndrome or MDDS. When I first recognized the symptoms, there wasn’t much information widely available about MDDS. There was plenty of published research about travel sickness, post-travel imbalance, jet lag, dizziness, vertigo, and migraines, but it failed to address the specific facets of this strange phenomenon. It wasn’t until 2015 that I even discovered there was a name for it.

In 2021, I experienced my first spontaneous episode of MDDS, meaning that it was not precipitated by air or sea travel. Instead of lasting a couple of weeks like all my other previous bouts, this time it went on for four months. My primary care physician suggested a diuretic, but I wasn’t convinced that an excess of salt and water in my body was the real problem. I scheduled a videonystagmography (VNG) test but wasn’t able to get in until after my symptoms began to subside. The test was negative. Another spontaneous episode occurred in mid-April of 2023 and lasted off and on through mid-July. My next step is to get a referral to a neurologist, and now I have a book to prepare me for my appointment with such a physician.

One of the leading specialists in studying and treating MDDS is Shin C. Beh, M.D., who practices out of his own facility, the Beh Center, in Frisco, Texas. Dr. Beh wrote a book that came out in early 2023 titled Disembark: Overcoming Mal de Debarquement Syndrome. I was lucky enough to discover it because someone posted an announcement of it on a social media MDDS support group page. This is a self published book, probably even a print-on-demand title, but future editions should be picked up by a major press because it really is well written and so informative.

Dr. Beh covers just about every aspect of MDDS that I can imagine, given how the research into this syndrome is young and evolving rapidly. He covers the symptoms and diagnosis of MDDS, along with several hypotheses of the underlying causes. I’m sure in the coming years the author will revise this information, and other authors likely will cover new ground as the research expands. The bulk of this book covers the various approaches to treatment that he and other practitioners have developed to help sufferers of MDDS deal with their symptoms. He makes it clear there is no cure, but he offers treatments ranging from natural remedies to an array of chemicals, most of which are formulated to treat other vestibular disorders, depression, anxiety, seizures, and migraines.

Vestibular migraines are actually Dr. Beh’s speciality, so he arrives at the study of MDDS through that gateway. His first book was about vestibular migraines. There are some obvious similarities between the two maladies, so the treatments overlap too. In addition to medications, he also suggests lifestyle pathways to diminish symptoms, including what to avoid and how to actively fight the symptoms through diet, exercise, sleep patterns, prayer/meditation, work habits, and environment control.

I made copious notes in the margins of my copy and intend to keep it as the first, I hope, in a collection of reference guides to MDDS. I also sent an email in gratitude for the book and the supporting research to the Beh Center. I received an answer thanking me for my message within a few hours, which was impressive. Again, there is no cure for MDDS, but this book goes a long way toward helping sufferers deal with this debilitating syndrome and giving hope to those who must live with it.

A Reading List for Library Nerds

July 25, 2023July 25, 2023 ~ If You Want My Opinion ~ Leave a comment

The reason I can get away with such a derogatory title for this post is because I am a librarian, or at least I am by training, and for much of my career, by practice as well. Over the last few years, I have picked up several books, both fiction and nonfiction, that feature libraries or librarians as the primary subject. Here is an annotated list of these books, which I highly recommend to librarians, library patrons, or bibliophiles in general. Enjoy!

Nonfiction

The Library: A Fragile History by Andrew Pettigrew

In this dense and comprehensive history of libraries, the author also tells the story of the evolution of the book: its creation, distribution, preservation, and impact on civilization. He devotes considerable time discussing how private collections were the norm for libraries during most of recorded history and that public access is a relatively new phenomenon.

The fragile part of the history is illustrated by the many threats to books and the libraries that contain them, from natural disasters to warfare, from censorship to reduced support by private and government sources. The book begins and ends with perhaps the most famous library of the ancient world at Alexandria, which in some ways serves as a model for all libraries that followed. Written language is one of the hallmarks that separates our species from all the rest; therefore, the institutions that serve as repositories of written language must be considered as instrumental in documenting and preserving that distinction.

One of the more interesting takeaways from this book is how, at least until the modern era, fiction was held with such little regard by the literate elite of western society (and this book focuses on libraries of western civilization). Novels were even considered a corruptive force, especially as they were in such demand by women as a form of escape from the drudgery of living in subservience to their husbands, taking care of children, and maintaining the home.

The author contemplates the impact the digital age will have on books, which could be perceived as another threat to the library. It is reassuring that he observes how radio, movies, television, and computers may have competed for the attention of readers, but books and libraries continue to survive and at times even thrive in the age of mass media.

Overdue: Reckoning with the Public Library by Amanda Oliver

Public libraries and the services they provide usually reflect the communities where they are located. The public library where I was the director was medium sized in a county of about 43,000. We had our share of quirky folks, unruly adolescents, crusty curmudgeons, and houseless citizens among the day-to-day users who came in regularly to check out books or bring their children to story time. Also, our town had the state’s mental institution, which had been decentralized in the 1960s resulting in plenty of mentally ill people in government subsidized houses, or sometimes, just wandering the streets. As expected, many of them found their way to the library.

My public library was probably typical for a rural community in central Georgia — plenty of challenges but nothing too much out of the ordinary. By contrast, Amanda Oliver spent several years working in a public library in one of the toughest trenches a government employee can work: Washington DC. If there is a common thread running through her book, it is a sense of conflict the author feels about knowing how desperate many of her patrons were for help just to survive and trying to preserve her own mental health and physical safety while trying to assist them with their needs. She bemoans the fact that this country is woefully unable to take care of the poor and mentally ill, who have to rely on help wherever they can find it.

By their very nature, public libraries are places of refuge for the marginalized, and librarians are first responders, sometimes in the most literal sense. Oliver shares stories of having to administer first aid and other medical procedures for people with addiction and a whole host of health problems. She calls into question the role of the public library in a society that has abandoned those who are at most risk from economic insecurity and mental illness, including those with violent tendencies. She offers some chilling reports about librarians who have been injured or killed by crazed individuals who come through their doors. She reports how installing security equipment and hiring public safety personnel have become top priorities in many public libraries around the country.

On the bright side, it is clear that Oliver believes strongly in the mission of the public library to provide information services, very broadly defined, and to assist patrons with needs that have little or nothing to do with reading. In spite of how difficult her job was, she stayed committed to directing people to information, resources, and agencies they needed, sometimes just to survive. She effectively offers her readers a healthy, though not copious, collection of statistics to drive home her points. Perhaps the most encouraging stat of all for me was that the number of public libraries in America is greater than the number of Starbucks. We must be doing something right here.

The World’s Strongest Librarian by Josh Hanagarne

Hanagarne managed to write the funniest and the saddest book in this category at the same time. It is sad because the author has struggled so many years with a disorder that is so misunderstood and at times terribly debilitating. It is funny because Hanagarne manages to find humor even in the worst circumstances. His comic timing is quite good, with prose that reminds me so much of David Sedaris. Hanagarne makes his father sound remarkably similar to the way Sedaris makes his father sound. They both come off as crusty, no-nonsense guys who were forever trying to toughen up their children to face the “real world.”

Hanagarne’s memoir doesn’t focus nearly as much attention on his work as a librarian as it does his upbringing in a Mormon family facing the embarrassing and humiliating symptoms of Tourette Syndrome, which he personified by giving it a name – Misty (as in Miss T). His determination and tenacity in wrestling with his condition is inspiring. He never gave up. On the contrary, he often pushed himself into situations that anyone else with Tourette Syndrome would avoid, like choosing a profession that is traditionally associated with being quiet. And then he continued to bust open stereotypes by being a librarian AND a fitness enthusiast. It is not surprising that Hanagarne has found fitness regimens to be among the most successful tools in battling Tourettes.

From a confused childhood to the discovery and love of reading, from the awkwardness of making friends and dating to pushing through as a high school athlete, from pulling away from the faith of his parents to finding happiness in marriage and being a father, Hanagarne’s story is touching, heart wrenching, fascinating, and funny. And his use of Dewey Decimal System call numbers and subject headings as chapter leads is brilliant. Josh Hanagarne is a remarkable human being.

The Library Book by Susan Orlean

The author cleverly uses the Los Angeles Central Library fire in 1986 as her main hub to explore the history and culture of libraries. Her focus is generally on the Los Angeles system, but throughout the book she takes a few side roads to include libraries, past and present, in other locations in this country and around the world. Her deep appreciation of this ancient institution is abundantly evident throughout the book. She manages to take what so many people would consider a deadly boring topic and make it intriguing, fascinating even. Although at times the chapters read more like separate essays, some of which could easily stand alone, Orlean manages to make them flow together and connect as she unravels the mysteries surrounding the disaster in L.A. However, the real reason the book is a bestseller is because Orlean is such a good writer. The Library Book is a wonderful combination of biography, history, mystery, and investigative reporting.

I Was a Stripper Librarian by Kristy Cooper

Okay, yes, the title is titillating, the cover looks just a tad risque, and this is a self-published book. But, let’s immediately set aside our bibliographic elitism, decide we are NOT going to judge a book by its cover, and take an honest look at this memoir from someone who worked in two professions that, at least on the surface, seem like polar opposites. Kristy Cooper argues that being a stripper and a librarian are not nearly as different than most of us would think, and she provides enough examples to be convincing. Admittedly, this book cannot be taken as seriously as some of the other titles in this list — the authors are not trying to do the same thing here.

I suspect most Americans would be surprised to learn how many women and men enter the sex industry, as the author labels it (although stripping seems to stretch the definition to my way of thinking), in order to make ends meet or to get out of debt, especially student loans. A simple Google search on the topic brings up numerous TV spots and articles posted over the last few years about young folks who pay their way through college by stripping. Cooper is unapologetic about her decision to do the same — it was simply pragmatic. She tried other more conventional jobs, but none paid as well for the amount of time and labor required.

This book is well-written and interesting. Cooper does not come across as some bubble-headed babe trying to impress us with her lap-dancing talents, although some of the stories she shares are fascinating, troubling, and at times hilarious. Her vocabulary is impressive. Her writing style is rather simple and straightforward, but it works fine for this type of book. She assures her readers that there are plenty of people in the adult entertainment industry who are extremely intelligent, some of whom have advanced degrees like she does. Although she is no longer in the industry, she certainly advocates for it. She is also a remarkable champion for the library profession and has even established a nonprofit organization to facilitate her philanthropic work, especially for librarians.

Ultimately, readers will either approve or disapprove of Cooper’s dual occupational choice, but no one can deny that she made it work for her circumstances. She implies that stripping never made her feel dirty or immoral, but I have to wonder if the objectification factor eventually did a number on her. The best example, and perhaps the saddest to me, was when she was considering whether or not to get implants because her breasts were smaller than that of the average female strippers with whom she worked. Even though some of her male customers recommended she leave them alone, she knew that a bigger chest in a topless bar translated to more income. At one point she decided that her breasts were not really a part of her body as much as they were a commodity or resource for her craft. As true as that may be, I hated to hear it.

Fiction

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

I read this book for an online book club I helped moderate for the university where I work, but I was intrigued by it when I first saw it reviewed in the New York Times Book Review. My honest assessment of this novel is that it is entertaining, but it still has more of a juvenile style to it, probably because Haig has written several books for children. The subject matter and language are clearly for an adult audience, but the plot and rhythm still feel more like a fairy tale to me, perhaps like a C. S. Lewis children’s novel.

The premise of The Midnight Library is very similar to the film “It’s a Wonderful Life.” The name of the town in the timeless holiday classic film is Bedford Falls; Nora’s album is called Pottersville; a character in the novel has the last name Bailey. (The author tweeted about this to a fan.) If we give too much thought to the mechanics behind the story – the impossible challenges presented by being inserted into the middle of an unfamiliar life – the novel doesn’t exactly “work” so well. I had to employ a type of dissociation to make it through.

Nora and Hugo discuss Schrödinger’s cat, the popular thought experiment that illustrates an apparent paradox of quantum superposition – alternate possibilities happening simultaneously. Is there a deeper meaning that Haig is trying to get at with this novel or is it just supposed to be an entertaining read? Is this a story that explores the concept of quantum mechanics and string theory? At any rate, Haig’s novel prompts readers to think (or rethink) how different their lives might have been had they made different choices along the way.

I am surprised at how much attention it received from major review sources, but then again, Haig is a journalist too, so there could be some professional courtesy going on as well. Haig does a good job of pulling the reader into the story. Most of us can imagine ourselves in Nora’s shoes and are compelled to speculate what decisions we would make given the circumstances.

The Personal Librarian by Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray

This may not be a great novel, but it is a good story based on the life of a real person. Belle da Costa Greene was J. P. Morgan’s personal librarian, an amazing African-American woman who was forced to hide her true identity and pass as white in order to succeed at an incredibly important job. Using biographies, personal papers, and secondary sources, the authors attempt to recreate the life and accomplishments of Greene, complete with her romantic relationships, her hardships, her family life, her savvy business dealings, and the struggles she faced through it all in keeping such a huge secret. In the category of historical fiction, this novel ranks among the best I have read.

Introducing the Ozarks: An Annotated Bibliography

July 4, 2022 ~ If You Want My Opinion ~ Leave a comment

In late 2018, my wife and I moved from Georgia to Springfield, a town of about 170,000 people in southwest Missouri. It’s a great location for us because we have family and close friends in Georgia, Kansas, Texas, and Arizona. We really enjoy traveling, especially to the desert southwest, but we like the Florida beaches and places like New York City, Chicago, and Nashville. Living in Springfield strategically positions us near the center of the country and makes it easier to get to family, friends, and fun destinations. The icing on the cake is the small national airport that is a mere twenty minutes from our house, which is serviced by three major airlines and a few budget carriers.

Southern Missouri and northern Arkansas make up the bulk of the region known as the Ozarks. It as an area of the country defined by a variety of factors, from geology and topography to culture and customs. It is also quite beautiful. It is rich in natural resources, especially water, minerals, and forests. It is a complicated region in almost every category imaginable. Although it boasts no major cities, it does have some bustling urban centers. There are some wealthy people in the Ozarks, but there are far more families living in serious poverty. On the political spectrum, it is largely conservative with pockets of progressivism mostly in and around the cities.

Admittedly, I knew very little about the Ozarks. I had never set foot in Missouri and only visited once just a few months before we moved here. To get “learned up” about our new home, I did what I always do when encountering something new and unfamiliar. I started reading. The following is an annotated list of books I have read about the Ozarks over the last three years or so. My bibliography is in no way intended to be comprehensive or even representative; however, these books have given me greater insight into the history, culture, and people of the Ozarks. All of these titles are nonfiction, but I have also read fiction by Ozarks writers or stories set in the region. Perhaps sometime I will write a post reviewing those books as well.

A History of the Ozarks, Volume 3 by Brooks Blevins

A History of the Ozarks, Volume 3: The Ozarkers by Brooks Blevins
Brooks Blevins is the uncontested authority on the history of the Ozarks. He is a professor at Missouri State University in Springfield, where I am also employed. But his full-time residence is in northern Arkansas, so he has his feet planted in the two main states of the Ozarks. He is a fine writer, a serious scholar, a respected teacher, and an all-round nice fellow. I have only read this 3rd volume of his trilogy, but I intend to at least go back and read the 1st volume covering the early history of the region.

Blevins is at his best when he is dispelling many of the misconceptions and over-generalizations of the Ozarks as a place full of backwoods hillbillies with no connection to the modern world. He also does a great job of pointing out the most attractive features of the region without romanticizing or falling into the trap of exceptionalism, which is always tempting to do if you are so identified with a place, which I believe he is.

The chapters on “Ozarks Society” and “Putting on a Show,” along with his “Conclusion,” were the most interesting to me because they highlight how much the Ozarks have changed over the last 150 years and are continuing to evolve. I’m not sure I agree with Blevins that the specific location of the Ozarks, a topic of serious debate for generations, is best defined by where the Ozarkers live; however, there seems to be a strong sense of place appreciated by so many people who live here, quite similar to sentiments held by many people in the Deep South about their region. This is a solid historical overview of a complex and fascinating part of the country in the modern period.

Living Waters: The Springs of Missouri by Loring Bullard
This book is well documented and researched. The photographs of the springs and streams they feed are stunningly beautiful. The layout of the book makes it easy and enjoyable to read. However, aside from the technical aspects of the book, Bullard clearly has a passion for his subject that is both personal and professional, which is demonstrated in the text of every page.

The organization of the book is especially fine, with chapters focusing on features and functions of springs rather than on individual locations. Bullard incorporates a considerable amount of history to offer context and appreciation of how past generations have understood and valued springs in the state and have taken advantage of them as valuable natural resources. Of course, the environmental message throughout is of paramount importance — we must take good care of our state’s springs because of the vital role they play in providing clean water for the ecosystems they feed.

White Man’s Heaven: The Lynching and Expulsion of Blacks in the Southern Ozarks, 1894-1909 by Kimberly Harper
Harper presents a thoroughly researched and well documented scholarly study that helps explain why the southwestern Ozarks is such a white region of the country. Lynching occurred in many places across the South, and obviously, into the Midwest. Many white people who had lived during the time of slavery, whether they actually owned slaves or not, resented the new autonomy of black people in their communities during Restoration. Over the decades, resentment evolved into a fear. “While blacks may not have been true economic, social, or even political competitors in the region, whites viewed blacks as a threat to their wives, daughters, and police officers.” Obviously, much of the fear centered on the perceived sexual predation of black men. “It was believed that women were not safe in the country or the city, so long as African American men roamed free.”

However, Harper goes beyond the acts of horrible white mob violence to explore why African Americans were driven out of communities, often at the same time lynching took place. Similar action was taken in other parts of the country — Forsyth County in north central Georgia comes to mind. Other areas of north Georgia, especially in the Appalachian foothills, still have small black populations to this day.

In the Ozarks and in the north Georgia mountains, the economy in the early 20th century was primarily subsistence farming, which did not require much labor outside the extended family of the farmer. As Harper observes, “This was in contrast to the black-majority regions of the South, where inexpensive and readily available black labor composed a significant segment of the local economy, making African Americans indispensable to local white employers.” One could easily make the same argument in recent decades for why white farmers have not been so anxious to deport undocumented Latinos from regions of the South where industrial agriculture is dominant and depends on vast numbers of inexpensive laborers.

This is a fine addition to American history and African American studies. Harper’s book joins more recent work on lynching by prominent African American scholars. Highly recommended.

Hipbillies: Deep Revolution in the Arkansas Ozarks by Jared M. Phillips
I had the opportunity to hear the author speak on a panel with two people who were involved in the Back To Land movement in the Arkansas Ozarks at a conference in West Plains, Missouri, in September, 2019. The people who decided beginning back in the 1970s to trade in urban dwelling for a rural, subsistence lifestyle among the hills and “hollers” of the Ozarks are often referred to as Hipbillies — a hybrid of hippies and hillbillies.

Phillips does a good job of placing this movement in the context of 20th century back-to-the-land and counter-culture philosophy characterized by the works of people like Wendell Berry and Gary Snyder. He gives proper credit to the successes of the Hipbillies while also recognizing their failures and some of their less-than-pure intentions. He credits them for fighting for environmental health, sustainable agricultural practices, and social justice issues. One of their greatest accomplishments was succeeding in modest changes to how the US Forest Service approached the management of timber.

Phillips admires how the Hipbillies, especially the pioneers from the early 1970s, faced overwhelming odds and even life-threatening circumstances yet still persevered to make it as homesteaders in a part of the country where the land is not so forgiving. He dispels some of the myths about how native Ozarkers rejected the Hipbillies. Instead, they often embraced them and even saved their lives during harsh winters and unpredictable farming seasons. There were clashes in places like Eureka Springs, but that was more a conflict between counter-culturists and town leadership.

The Hipbillies had big dreams when they landed in the Ozarks. “What was sought, then, was a rehabilitation of American culture — one that began in the dirt and grew over time like the forest that slowly reclaims and heals a ruined field,” Phillips writes. He contends that the Hipbillies took themselves seriously as revolutionaries. They “came to the Ozarks seeking refuge and a place in which they might build a new world for themselves, and hopefully, all of humanity . . . . While they did not always succeed, the story is not over — they are still alive and are still powerful cultural, political, and economic forces in the Arkansas highlands.”

Hillbilly Hellraisers: Federal Power and Populist Defiance in the Ozarks by J. Blake Perkins
The myths and stereotypes about the Ozarks are deeply ingrained in our consciousness, but they never have painted a true picture of the people and their culture, desires, needs, problems, etc. Perkins’s book reinforces one essential truth about Ozarks people: they tend be proud and fiercely independent, even in the face of long-term adversity.

There is a strong tradition of tension between individual rural families and individuals and/or institutions in authority. Poverty has always been a dark shadow hanging over the Ozarks, even when other parts of the country were climbing out of it. Although many people here petitioned for government assistance in the past, there is a history in this region of distrust of government programs, which ended up being administered and exploited by local and state officials. Law enforcement was fine as long as it didn’t try to stop individuals from scraping out a living, even through illegal means. More than anything, native Ozarkers have always just wanted to be left alone. When their autonomy was threatened, especially by outside forces, they sometime became violent.

Ozarks Hillbilly by Tom Koob and Curtis Copeland
Koob and Copeland do a good job here of presenting the stereotypes of the Hillbilly as the term has been used in literature and other art forms to describe many of the rural folk in the Ozarks. The authors argue that, contrary to the traditional image of a lazy, shiftless, ignorant, depraved character, the Ozarks Hillbilly is quite industrious, shrewd, and highly skilled. Hillbillies are survivalists and generations of them have struggled to provide for themselves and their families in a harsh and unforgiving environment.

I found it odd in a book about the Ozarks how much time the authors spent on discussing Appalachian Hillbillies. They seem to have keen interest in the way Hillbillies were presented in Deliverance, the novel by James Dickey and the popular film adaptation starring Burt Reynolds and Ned Beatty. There are definitely similarities between the two regions of the country, which have been explored by numerous scholars. The stereotypes of the rural residents of both areas also share commonalities. Perhaps a comparison/contrast book would have been even more helpful and intriguing.

Where Misfits Fit: Counterculture and Influence in the Ozarks by Thomas Michael Kersen
For Kersen, the town of Eureka Springs, Arkansas, serves as an archetype for his thesis of how counterculture distinguishes the Ozarks and is among its more charming and sustaining features. As he states it, “The magic of Eureka Springs is that the town is a mass of contradictions and microconflicts that breed [sic] creativity.” No wonder that the book’s title is also the semi-official motto of the town: Where Misfits Fit.

Kersen does a good job of weaving the eccentricities of the people who occupy the Ozarks into the history of the region. He first offers his identification of the region, defining it by geography and culture. He then proceeds to outline its countercultural characteristics through popular myths, artistic expression, supernatural fixations, cult activity, musical influence and inspiration, and the back-to-the-land movements primarily of the 1970s (the author’s parents brought him to the Ozarks from Texas as part of this larger movement).

A thread running throughout the book is Kersen’s use of the adjective “liminal” to describe the Ozarks – a place that is difficult to box in and that continually crosses lines. He writes that “the Ozarks defies boundaries of all sorts — it is a work in progress.” Here again, the contradictions of the area come into play. For instance UFO enthusiasts that have been drawn here for decades rely on scientific knowledge about astronomy and space exploration but scorn scientists who fail to validate their paranormal claims. Kersen recognizes that “eccentric places attract eccentric people — people willing to live and think in the margins.” He also believes the Ozarks “offers something unique for its inhabitants and even American culture at large.”

I found some of the most valuable information in the Conclusions chapter, especially about the impact of in-migration into the Ozarks from countries around the world. The author wonders how Ozark identity will change as the racial and ethnic profile of the region continues to change. The book has extensive end notes, an impressive bibliography for further reading and study, and a decent index. Just a few points of criticism: the book could have benefited from skillful editing. There are too many typo kind of errors for an academic press book. Also, I suspect this book is a collection of separately-written essays because there is considerable repetition of information in the chapters. Otherwise, it is a fine book that is both accessible and informative.

Lake of the Ozarks: My Surreal Summers in a Vanishing America by Bill Geist
I was drawn to this book primarily because I visited the Lake of the Ozarks just a few months after settling here. I didn’t know anything about Bill Geist as I never watch Sunday Morning on CBS. I may have read his columns before but am not aware if I have. I can relate to many of the references Geist makes to growing up in the 1960s and 70s, although he is a bit older than I am. Some readers will no doubt be put off by the political incorrectness of the author’s perspectives, language, and the circumstances from his adolescence, but I suspect he is being perfectly honest and straightforward with his recollections and descriptions of his life and times working for his uncle and aunt at their lakeside lodge. There are some really laugh-out-loud passages in this book, which made it an enjoyable read.

Footprints in the Ozarks: A Memoir by Ellen Gray Massey
This is a pleasant read. It isn’t challenging; the text is straightforward; it doesn’t reveal anything new about the Ozarks region; it gets a bit sentimental in places; and it is so bucolic that the reader can almost smell the cow manure on the farm where Massey lived and raised her family. She also worked as a high school English teacher, and apparently quite a good one. She supervised her students over a ten-year period as they produced a quarterly journal titled Bittersweet. The value of this book lies in Massey’s descriptions of the social mores of her community, the relationships of family and friends, the tragedies her family faced (including the death of her husband), and how life in the rural Ozarks was fulfilling and rewarding to her, as it has been for so many others for many generations.

A Musical Tribute to Flannery O’Connor

March 12, 2022 ~ If You Want My Opinion ~ Leave a comment

During the early stages of the COVID pandemic in 2020, I wrote a pop song as a tribute to Flannery O’Connor’s brilliant short story, “A Good Man Is Hard to Find.” Those who know me best will not be surprised that I would do such a thing. She is my favorite author, and I think she was a comic genius – far ahead of her time.

If Flannery O’Connor and Cormac McCarthy had a love child delivered by Neil Young, I can imagine this is what it would sound like when the baby cried. The title of the song is “I Just Don’t Fit.” I decided on a western-style tune to give it some distance from O’Connor’s South, but the darkness is still there. It’s probably enough to turn Bruce Springsteen’s stomach, but it’s the best I can do with what I have.

Here is a link to a YouTube recording of the song. The lyrics are printed below.
https://youtu.be/8zkRxEC4_Fk

Me – vocals, lyrics, music, and acoustic guitar
Justin Larkin – harmony vocals, electric guitar, bass, drums, mixing, and recording. (Lyrics and performance copyrighted 2021; all rights reserved)

Here’s to clean spectacles and parrot-print shirts.

“I Just Don’t Fit”

(Verse 1)
My father called me a different breed, and I guess that’s what I am
I must have done a mighty evil deed that even Jesus can’t comprehend
You think that if I pray
You can walk away
But everything’s out of balance now with too many debts we can’t pay

(Chorus)
Something must be missing ‘cause I just don’t fit
No reconciliation so I shoot from the hip
If you’re looking for a good man you might as well quit
Something must be missing ‘cause I just don’t fit

(Verse 2)
I’ve tried my hand at so many things, and I’ve seen my share of pain
You’re gonna need more than common blood if you want to wash away that stain
Can’t accept the fall
Until you lose it all
The undertaker never gets a tip; the remittance is always too small

(Final Chorus)
Something must be missing ‘cause I just don’t fit
No reconciliation so I shoot from the hip
I can walk away and leave you bleeding in the ditch
Something must be missing ‘cause I just don’t fit
No, I just don’t fit

Coming Clean About Robert E. Lee, the Civil War, and the Deep South

August 7, 2021 ~ If You Want My Opinion ~ 1 Comment

Ty Seidule has written a book that immediately and unequivocally transforms him into a turncoat in the eyes of many southerners. Robert E. Lee and Me: A Southerner’s Reckoning with the Myth of the Lost Cause (St. Martin’s Press, 2021) is not the first book to challenge Confederacy sympathizers, but it offers a unique perspective from an author who has made the journey from apologist to critic and is completely forthright about a subject that is still extremely sensitive for so many Americans.

I am about the same age as the author, and I was raised in Georgia, the state where he spent many of his formative years. I know the landscape. I understand the vocabulary. I am keenly aware of how a horrible war that the rebellious Confederacy lost over 150 years ago left wounds that in many circles have yet to heal. I have seen the battle flag of that failed insurrection flying in the bed of pickup trucks, hung in windows of trailers and houses, proudly displayed on government property, and waved through the halls of the U.S. Capitol by modern-day insurrectionists. I have seen the long, dark shadow cast by the iconic and mythical leader of those Confederate forces – a man who is still revered and memorialized all over the South with language usually reserved for Biblical characters described in Sunday School lessons and from pulpits.

Confederate Response to Juneteenth in Graham Anthony Crider, CC BY 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons

It takes amazing courage for a southerner who is also a decorated officer of the U.S. Army and a retired history professor at West Point to openly and very publicly admit that Robert E. Lee committed treason and should be viewed as a traitor to his country. And that’s exactly what Ty Seidule has done. I applaud his bravery and the extensive research he has completed to make that claim. This is a damn fine book, not because it covers new ground or reveals any real hidden truths, but because someone in a position of authority and respect is making a form of confession that deserves serious consideration.

Seidule has heard every excuse in the book for why the Civil War wasn’t about slavery, for why the Confederacy didn’t really lose the war, and for why Robert E. Lee was such an honorable man. For the first twenty years of his life, he believed the excuses too. He probably doesn’t give quite enough credit to his wife for finally helping him escape the vortex of Confederate mythology. She forced him to question what it means to be a “Christian Southern Gentleman,” something he had aspired to from childhood through his graduation from Washington and Lee University, an institution that has been responsible more than any other place for perpetuating the cult of Robert E. Lee. His thoughts about what it means to be a Christian and a gentleman have drastically changed through the years, and his perception of the South is much clearer than it was when he was a young man.

Robert E Lee Memorial, Richmond, VA Hal Jespersen at en.wikipedia, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

This book should be required reading in just about every college and university in the South, and even in many other parts of the country where the Civil War is still romanticized beyond recognition for what it truly was: a rebellious uprising against the United States of America. Seidule spends a lot of time talking about the impact of the novel and movie “Gone with the Wind,” which is appropriate; however, I wish he had given some attention to the earlier movie, “Birth of a Nation,” especially in his discussions of the Ku Klux Klan. One of the most striking arguments he makes concerns the inaccurate terminology that has been used for generations to describe the Civil War, including the ridiculous names for the conflict itself, from “the recent unpleasantness” to “the war of northern aggression.”

Seidule also makes a convincing point about how using the term “Union” is an inappropriate way to describe the U.S. Armed Forces while they fought against the Confederacy, as if the Union were some entity separate from the United States. That distinction brings us back to the problem with Robert E. Lee, who abandoned his commission as an officer of the U.S. Army and chose to side with a rebellious confederacy of states – a domestic enemy against whom Lee had sworn to protect his country. In the end, Lee was more loyal to the State of Virginia and the other southern states than he was to the United States, and that makes him a traitor. And it’s about time southerners and the rest of the nation came to terms with that stinging but absolutely honest indictment.

Robert E. Lee and Me by Ty Seidule (book cover)

How Flannery O’Connor Became Human to Me

April 24, 2021April 25, 2021 ~ If You Want My Opinion ~ 6 Comments

In an earlier blog post, I wrote about the day I accepted an offer from the lawyer representing the executors of the estate of the late author, Flannery O’Connor, to work for the executors to establish the Flannery O’Connor-Andalusia Foundation. Among other objectives, this nonprofit organization would be charged with preserving Andalusia, the farm where O’Connor lived the last 13 years of her life and where she completed her published books. The year was 2000, and I was serving as the director of the local public library. I had been a devoted fan of O’Connor from the time I had studied her work as an undergraduate English major at her alma mater, Georgia College. The institution was called Georgia State College for Women during the time Mary Flannery O’Connor was there in the 1940s. She was larger than life, as so many writers of fine literature are to me. I was in complete awe that someone could write a novel like Wise Blood at the age of 27. She is considered an artistic genius by critics, an intellectual force by most scholars, and even a candidate for sainthood by some of her fellow Catholics. She was almost mythical in my imagination.

I spent most of 2001 working with memorabilia and artifacts associated with O’Connor’s life and career as a writer. O’Connor’s mother, Regina Cline O’Connor, donated a collection of material to Georgia College six years after the author died. This gift included many of the manuscripts from O’Connor’s published works, along with much of her personal library. However, Regina O’Connor held onto a considerable archive of books, manuscripts, published and unpublished letters, photographs, visual art, cartoons, sketches, journals, notebooks, business and personal records, and juvenilia. I was charged with sorting through and organizing the archive, creating an inventory, and preserving the items using archival containers and methods of storage. The vast majority of that remaining archive is now reposited at Emory University in Atlanta.

I sifted through hundreds of images of O’Connor in posed and candid photographs from infancy to shortly before her death from lupus at age 39. Particularly touching were pictures of her as a young child with her father, Edward, who also died from lupus when she was only 15 years old. I held in my hands the cartoons and sketches that O’Connor created while she was in high school and college, with characters and captions that foreshadowed the wicked humor so central to her fiction as a seasoned writer. I read every letter to her mother when O’Connor was away at graduate school in Iowa, some of which revealed strong emotions as she seemed to be searching for her own voice and an identity independent of the Cline family based in Georgia and Massachusetts. I read through her personal journals where she articulated deep feelings, thoughts, and struggles. I suspect she would be more than embarrassed to know that one of those journals has been published as a monograph.

When the Flannery O’Connor-Andalusia Foundation was officially established in 2002, the board of directors hired me as the organization’s executive director. I collaborated with professionals to design plans for restoring and preserving the farm and launched a campaign to raise money for the work ahead, which was monumental considering the farm was 544 acres with a main house that was not exactly in stellar shape and a dozen outbuildings in various stages of serious deterioration. While preparing the main house for public tours, I touched or picked up almost every object in the two-story 19^thcentury structure, including many of Flannery O’Connor’s personal effects that had been left in the house for over three decades: medicine bottles, paint brushes, clothing, furniture, furnishings, Catholic paraphernalia, and of course, her crutches.

Honestly, I felt a bit uncomfortable at times in O’Connor’s private space, even decades after her death. I always tried to be respectful and mindful of the intrusion, necessary as it was. I arranged her bedroom/study as much as possible to the way Robert Fitzgerald described it in his introduction to O’Connor’s posthumous short story collection, Everything That Rises Must Converge. He had visited Andalusia shortly after the author died. He described the austere conditions under which O’Connor had written some of the best fiction of the 20^th century. Indeed, I always sensed a certain ascetic atmosphere whenever I walked into that room.

Sadly enough, when a diagnosis of lupus forced her back from Connecticut to live at Andalusia with her mother, Flannery O’Connor faced a situation where privacy was almost impossible. A plaster wall with a connecting door separated her bedroom from her mother’s. The young writer had to adapt the first-floor sitting room on the main floor into her bedroom/study because the steep steps would have made walking upstairs an insurmountable challenge for her. The two women shared the only bathroom on the first floor. They ate almost every meal together, many of which were at the kitchen table. During the time I was working at the property, the kitchen was still equipped with the same table, sink, stove, cupboard, and the Hotpoint refrigerator O’Connor purchased with proceeds from the sale of the television rights to her short story, “The Life You Save May Be Your Own.”

The house still contained much of what the O’Connors had when they lived there. The curtains that her mother had sewn while O’Connor was away on a speaking engagement were still covering the tall windows, clearly a hasty job performed by an otherwise gifted seamstress to avoid objections by the room’s unamenable occupant. On the mantle above the room’s fireplace, small photographs of grandparents in tarnished frames were nestled in with an assortment of novelties and knickknacks, several of which may have been gifts from some of her more unconventional long-distance friends.

Still hanging precariously in the bedroom window was the heavy air conditioner that O’Connor told one of her correspondents was an office supply, which she intended to write off her taxes. If the IRS questioned her, she had decided to argue that it “supplied” her office with cool air and was therefore a legitimate deduction. The humid summers of middle Georgia can be brutal and oppressive without air conditioning. Installed at the opening of the fireplace was a propane gas heater, which likely produced insufficient warmth on the coldest nights of the year to comfort O’Connor’s aching joints, under constant assault from disease and the effect of steroid treatments. She hated bitter cold temperatures, not only because of the physical pain they brought, but because they often resulted in frozen and burst pipes – no water, no plumbing. I can personally attest to the inadequacy of space heaters, which we were still using to heat the drafty old house while I was working there. The frigid air seeping in around the windows and doors and up through the hardwood floors chilled me to the bone. On some days, I wore two pairs of socks and thermal underwear in my office, formerly Regina O’Connor’s bedroom.

Mrs. O’Connor moved back into the Cline family home in town shortly after her daughter’s death, and the main house at Andalusia was never fully occupied again. No one was attempting to keep it clean or regulate the temperature. Regular maintenance was no longer a priority, although family members renovated the back portion of the house, replaced the roof, and rebuilt the front porch in the 1990s. The two-over-two spacious front rooms of the house, which included O’Connor’s bedroom, were mostly closed off for about 35 years. Time was not kind to the interior. Paint peeled and chipped away from the surfaces. The walls cracked, and in some places chunks of the horsehair plaster fell on furniture or to the floor. Insects took up permanent residence, along with the spiders who fed upon them and filled curtains and corners with cobwebs.

Flannery O'Connor's bed — Flannery O’Connor’s bed

I worked at Andalusia for 13 years, the same amount of time that Flannery O’Connor lived there. I was alone in the main house a lot of that time, especially before the visitor traffic picked up and the foundation hired a part-time staff member to assist with tours and other tasks. His name is Mark Jurgensen, and he was a lifesaver. During those 13 years, I don’t know how many times, probably hundreds, I paused at the doorway of O’Connor’s bedroom and contemplated what her life must have been like at Andalusia. My eyes wandered around that room with its small bed, beautiful barrister bookcases, reading chair, and the crutches leaning against the wardrobe. O’Connor stared at the back panels of that piece of wooden furniture that served as her closet for several hours each morning at her typewriter, with only a brilliant imagination to assist her in crafting such powerful stories, letters, essays, and speeches.

I thought about the physical challenges she faced, the emotional and mental anguish she must have endured, perhaps the occasional sense of despair, the hopes and dreams she shared with no one, the doubts that surely surfaced, and the questions that remained unanswered to the very end. I am not superstitious. I tend to discount the metaphysical. I could never embrace the faith that was central to O’Connor’s understanding of the universe. And yet, there were moments when I genuinely sensed her presence in that place, not as a spirit or a ghost as so many visitors to Andalusia were ever hopeful to encounter. For me, the presence was a memory of someone I had never met. It was the manifestation of a courageous woman with an unusual name whose fictional characters were so bizarre, yet I recognized them immediately. It was the reflection of a living, breathing person, with all the flaws and imperfections inherent in our species, but one with a remarkable gift that is rarely exhibited or nurtured. For so many of us who have trouble hearing and seeing clearly, what she left behind is extraordinary.

Note: Andalusia is now one of several historic properties of Georgia College, which is responsible for its preservation and interpretation. Learn more at https://www.gcsu.edu/andalusia

Georgia College is also host to the Andalusia Institute, a public arts and humanities center that supports Flannery O’Connor scholarship, nourishes writing and the creative arts, and engages community members with the arts and humanities. Learn more at https://www.gcsu.edu/andalusiainstitute

A Surprising Concurrence of Events

October 25, 2020October 25, 2020 ~ If You Want My Opinion ~ Leave a comment

Perci Diaconis and Frederick Mosteller are two mathematicians who published a study in 1989 exploring the science behind coincidence, which they defined as “a surprising concurrence of events, perceived as meaningfully related, with no apparent causal connection.” They observed how coincidences “can alter the course of our lives; where we work and at what, whom we live with, and other basic features of daily existence . . . .” Lately, I have been contemplating the surprising concurrence of events that has led me to where I am now in 2020, at the age of 60, and approaching what I hope will be the final third of my life.

I have happily admitted on many occasions that I am the luckiest man I have ever met. Usually, I am referring to the good fortune of being married to my amazing wife, whom I adore and cherish. I also know that a series of key events and decisions over the last 55 years has determined the path I have taken in my career, and I couldn’t have predicted at an early age how rewarding this journey would be. Of course, there are plenty of people who have had similar experiences and have advanced so much further in their professions than I ever will. I also know that the success I have enjoyed is not completely due to my knowledge, talent, and skills – not by a long shot. Again, I am a lucky guy.

I can almost see my vocational journey as a hiking trail, with switchbacks and long winding stretches, ups and downs, a few chance encounters, forks in the path, even a few rocky sections, all of which have led me to this place. How much is serendipity and how much is deliberate, I can’t say with any certainty. Perhaps the trailhead took the form of a set of The World Book encyclopedia our family purchased in the early 1960s, when I was a young child. I can’t remember how old I was when I started thumbing through the pages to look at the photographs and illustrations, but it was definitely before I started school. The World Book gave me an early appreciation for books and reading, for independent learning, and even for order – the set was arranged alphabetically, as were the articles within each bound volume.

The first marker on the trail was likely my assignment as a library assistant in elementary school. I have no recollection why either my teacher or our school librarian selected me for this responsibility, but I vividly remember removing cards from the pockets of books checked out by my classmates, using a stamp to imprint the due date on the card and the slip in the book, and filing the card in an oblong wooden box (likely with the librarian’s help). At an early age, I was granted opportunities to fall in love with books and reading, which I did. Like many adolescent boys of my generation, I became an enthusiastic fan of science fiction books by writers who defined the genre for the 20^th century, such as Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, and Clifford D. Simak.

My love of libraries mirrored my love for reading at an early age, and I visited them as often as I could. I must have had a natural appreciation for language, and the classes in high school where I performed best were in English. I was fortunate to have three outstanding English teachers from 7^th through 12^th grade. I attended a small high school, and I had each of these teachers for two years. They made grammar interesting for me, and they helped me appreciate the power of the written word. Under their instruction, I discovered the difference between writing that only entertains and that which enlightens, enriches, and provokes the reader.

I also had a true fascination for the natural sciences, probably nurtured by hours of emersion in The World Book. When I started at the local community college, I had big dreams of someday working in the field of medical technology. I knew hardly anything about it. I thought working in a hospital would equate to lots of money and prestige, but I knew I wasn’t ambitious enough to slug through medical school to become a doctor. Turns out I wasn’t even ambitious enough to pass college chemistry – it looked too much like algebra, which to this day baffles me.

With encouragement from advisors and after a careful look at the curriculum requirements, I decided an Associate’s Degree in Journalism would be my best hope of staying in school. This switchback in the trail also prompted me to start writing for the college newspaper, and one of my assignments was to report on a lecture being presented by a woman who had recently edited a collection of letters by a Georgia author. I was painfully immature and had virtually no appreciation for academic scholarship. My first draft of the article reflected my stupidity and shallowness, which my journalism professor was quick to point out to me. I had no idea what an important contribution the visiting scholar, Sally Fitzgerald, had made to the world of American literature nor how her work would impact my own world in the years ahead.

After graduating from the community college, my trail took me on an uphill stretch to a state college located about 45 minutes from my hometown. By then I had decided that a degree in English was a logical choice, although I was clueless about how I was going to find a career after graduating. I can’t imagine how concerned my parents must have been. However, I was becoming more serious about academics and was confident that I was a good writer – foolish boy. A few seasoned students in the English department had warned me about one professor, a woman with a reputation for pounding the ignorance right out of you. I signed up for one of her classes my second term there, having at least enough self-awareness that I needed discipline and a challenge. The first paper she returned to me looked as if she had slit an artery and bled out on the page. Clearly, I wasn’t such a gifted writer after all.

Meeting this professor was one of those life-changing chance encounters. I was not aware when I first arrived at this institution that its most famous graduate was Flannery O’Connor. I also did not know that the library was the steward of her most valuable personal and professional archive. My fellow English majors had informed me that the demanding professor was also the O’Connor scholar on campus and that she taught a course concentrating on the author’s work. She was the editor of the Flannery O’Connor Bulletin, a journal published by the college and the longest running scholarly publication devoted to a female writer in the country. Perhaps as an act of academic penance and atonement, I signed up for the O’Connor course for the summer session, which meant covering the author’s two novels, two collections of short stories, a volume of essays, and the letters edited by Sally Fitzgerald (the scholar I encountered just two years earlier), all in four weeks.

I had no memory of reading O’Connor in high school and didn’t know what to expect. In this class, I quickly realized her fiction was dark, perhaps even demented to my naïve way of thinking. The Catholicism was lost on this Southern Baptist lad, at least in the beginning, but I immediately recognized the backwoods Protestants that populated her stories. They could have been my relatives. The stories were violent and filled with strange and twisted characters – no happy endings, no riding off into the sunset. People sometimes came to gruesome ends. And yet, it was laugh-out-loud funny to me. The best part of all? It was literature. I was unequivocally hooked. This course truly stretched me, and I was proud to get a B when it was over. I requested to change advisors, wanting to be under this professor’s guidance for the remainder of my undergraduate tenure. I could not have known at that time the central role she and her O’Connor course were to play in my professional journey.

I took history courses as electives in the humanities for my major, enough to earn a minor in the field. Knowing I really didn’t want to teach high school English, I decided to stay on at the college and work toward an M.A. in history. I was a much more serious student now, and my grade point average reflected it. On-campus jobs opened up for me too, like working at a small education museum and archive. This college gave M.A. students an option to earn their degrees by either writing a thesis or by taking additional course work. Maybe I wanted to prove to myself, my professors, and my parents who had sacrificed so much to send me to school that I could write something worthy of a graduate degree, even from a small state college. So, I climbed that steep slope by writing about the desegregation of the county school system where my college was located, using a collection of oral history interviews I conducted with local educators, both white and black.

My graduate school adviser and the supervisor of my thesis was a member of the local public library board. Upon my graduation, he was kind enough to get my foot in the door with the library’s director, who was planning to hire a cataloger. After working a year at the public library, the director encouraged me and another employee to apply for library school at Emory University. It was a two-hour drive from where we lived, but our boss was generous and supportive enough to allow us to work four days a week and commute to Atlanta two days a week over the next two years to earn what the university called a Master of Librarianship. I will always be grateful to her for this opportunity, which launched my professional career. I eventually became the assistant director of the library, and after 12 years I was appointed the director when my boss left the position. I have written another post about some of the more memorable and bizarre experiences during my time working at the public library.

I stayed connected with the O’Connor scholar on campus and worked with her on several projects, the most ambitious being the Flannery O’Connor symposium in 1994. This four-day conference featured celebrated scholars, writers, visual artists, and performers, including Joyce Carol Oates, Lee Smith, Jill McCorkle, Louise Erdrich, Barry Moser, Polly Holliday, Leo Kottke, and once again, Sally Fitzgerald. People from the community who knew me at all were aware that Flannery O’Connor was my favorite writer, including the lawyer for the literary estate of the author, whose wife also happened to work with me as our children’s librarian. In a blog post from 2015, I wrote about another life-altering event – the day this lawyer walked into my office with a proposal for me to work for the executors of the estate to establish the Flannery O’Connor-Andalusia Foundation. I accepted the offer. This fork in the path allowed me to use my English and history degrees, my library training, and my administrative experience to help preserve and promote the legacy of a great American writer — what a privilege.

My mentor at the state college eventually retired, but she joined the board of directors of the O’Connor foundation, along with the man who followed her in the position. Both people have influenced and enhanced my life in ways I could never express, and I am forever in their debt. One of the grant-funded projects I initiated as the director of the foundation was a book publication, co-edited by the new O’Connor scholar. At Home with Flannery O’Connor is a collection of oral histories of people who knew the author during the time she lived at her family’s farm home, the headquarters for the foundation that we also operated as a historic house museum. Fortunately, I was familiar with oral history as a research tool from my master’s thesis work.

Flannery O’Connor lived at Andalusia for 13 years, which is exactly how long I remained there as the foundation’s director. In 2017, the property was transferred to O’Connor’s alma mater; however, by that time I had moved on to another job because my wife took a vice-president position at a small private college in northeast Georgia. Earlier that year, the president of this college had accepted a gift of property just north of the campus owned by a foundation of relatives and close friends of another Georgia writer named Lillian Smith. The organization was operating the Lillian E. Smith Center as an artist retreat and a literary landmark while also sponsoring programs for students and community members. The college president wanted to continue these activities and expand the center as an educational facility for his students, faculty, and staff. He had no one to manage the center, and I was as close to a perfect fit for the job as he was going to find.

We stayed at our respective jobs with this college for five years. I am still amazed at how much of what I had learned during the previous 30 years prepared me for this position: from property management to programming, from cataloging to curating, from historic research to historic restoration and preservation. I was even able to resurrect some of my early work experience serving as the college archivist for the president and working with the dean of libraries. I have written posts about Lillian Smith and her encounter with Flannery O’Connor – so many surprising connections and convergences that have touched my life.

In 2018, other opportunities took us away from my home state to Missouri. Through a friend of a friend, I met the dean of libraries at a state college in southwest Missouri where we live now. I find myself once again in a place where I can tap into several decades of professional experience to work on meaningful and rewarding projects, and it all just fell in my lap. I am a special projects coordinator working for the dean. I arrange author visits, public readings, and lectures. I also help install exhibits in the library. I conduct interviews for the library’s growing oral history collection. I am moderating a virtual book club for the alumni of the institution. Contrary to popular opinion, librarians do not just sit around a read all day. I always dreamed of a job where I could get paid to read. How lucky am I that part of my responsibilities are to read for a book club? Even better, I am learning new skills involved with editing videos that the library publishes through its YouTube channel, including the oral history interviews.

My father had several common refrains that contribute to the good memories I have about him. For the most part, he was a man of unquestioning faith, instilled and confirmed by a long life of Southern Baptist doctrine. When he recognized a surprising concurrence of events, he rarely wrote it off as coincidence, especially if the events had serious implications. Instead, he would declare, “As far as I’m concerned, the Lord arranges these things.” With pseudo sophistication and agnostic arrogance, many times I just shook my head and said, “I guess so, Dad,” not really agreeing with his assessment of how the universe works. In retrospect, given how my career path has carried me through the years to such wonderful destinations, maybe I need to hold out the possibility that Dad was right.