A March to the Finish Line - Entry #33

I can’t believe there are less then 30 more notes and letters to write.  It seems like yesterday I set out on this road of discovery to craft a card a day for one year.  One year!  Three Hundred sixty-five days!  When I step back, browse my spreadsheet (yes, I have a record of everyone I’ve written to) it is hard to comprehend the end is so near.  When I began on May 25, 2012 I had two huge concerns.  First, would I have the discipline and perseverance to see the project through to its conclusion?  Was my pronouncement via cyberspace more bravado then reality?  Second, could I actually come up with the set goal of individuals and/or couples to send a piece of correspondence to during this timeframe?   I knew there would be a robust pool of people to draw on for my cards--real world friends, colleagues, family members, students, Facebook connections, and almost 2,000 Twitter followers.  Factor in casual acquaintances and individuals I may not even know and the $64,000 question was would all of this add up to the magic number of 365?

The answer to the first question has been yes, with an asterisk.  As I stated in an earlier post (blog entry #23) the daily writing requirement has been more of a plus/minus three.  Translation—I may be between three days ahead of schedule or three days behind.  So while the majority of my notes or letters are written daily, I have built in some wiggle room.  This has served me well during absences from home and office, vacations, or the occasional malaise I feel as I veg out in front of the television after a long, hard day on the job.

The next question, in a way, answers itself since I am over 93% complete with my undertaking.  Still, as I race to the finish line I worry.  The remaining names in my little black book have almost all been crossed off.  As of this moment in time I will admit I do not have all the remaining names figured out, mainly to give me some leeway with the final selections.  However, I will not write to just anyone just for the sake of getting to my critical number--“oh, meter maid thank you for giving me that parking ticket.  I was a bad boy and deserved it.  You are a credit to your profession;” or “grocery bagger I admire the way you group produce in one bag and frozen food in another.  You are artistry in motion.”   A secondary question is more important--will I complete my project and realize, after-the-fact, that I inadvertently left someone off that I wanted to include?  I’ve had a few fitful nights’ rest as this thought ricochets through my mind.  While many of the individuals that are on the receiving end of one of my missives know of The Project, the vast majority are unaware of this venture.  This should preclude a clamoring horde sobbing at my door if someone doesn’t receive one of my personalized notes.  If that does occur I guess I could just prolong my task.  Or not.

A Note to Dad - Entry #32

I wrote to my father last week.  He has been a constant cheerleader for my year-long Writing Project.  He has provided me with many artsy notecards, most with pictures of his collage art on the front, to use for my endeavor.  The other day he informed me he had picked up the book, 365 Thank You’s, by John Kralik, which was part of the inspiration for this undertaking, so he could become more attuned to what I was actually doing.  I wanted him to know that I truly appreciated his continual support, especially as this whole enterprise comes to a close. 

I also wrote how his encouragement and advocacy for the Writing Project came as no surprise.  Through all the formative stages of my life—the events and milestones; the good, the bad, and the ugly—he and my mother (who passed away many years ago) have been there for me. It wasn’t so much that Stu could do no wrong.  Their philosophy was more give Stu enough slack to explore, make mistakes, or reach out in different directions.  I have been very fortunate to have parents that provided such support and optimism over the years.  An election during my college years demonstrated this viewpoint.  I was one of two nominees for the Station Manager of the university radio station.  I had been involved in many facets of the station—news department, dj, community programming—for three years.  By all accounts I was the most qualified for the position.  However, the governing board of the station, which selected the new head of the radio station, was overly comprised of the other candidate’s buddies.  He was chosen.  I was devastated and, literally, did not leave my residence hall room for days (years later at a school reunion get-together that other person confided in me that I more qualified then him and should have won).  I remember my father calling me on the hallway pay phone trying to cheer me up.  He stated something about character building and how the experience was just one of life’s lessons.  I would even learn from this defeat. Yeah.  I don’t think I really listened.  I wasn’t much in the mood.   

Looking back, he was taking the negative and trying to put a positive spin on the crushing defeat (does it seem like I am still bitter all these decades later?).  He was supporting me, urging me to carry on with my pursuits and interests just as he has done these past 11 months with the Writing Project.  My number one booster.  Thanks, Dad.

"and Jane" - Entry #31

It is the end of March and I have surpassed the ten-month mark of the Writing Project.  I have written to professional colleagues, family members, neighbors on the street, both full-time and part-time campus faculty, undergraduates enrolled at the University, complete strangers, and close friends.  For every piece of correspondence, I have signed my name alone.  Makes sense, doesn’t it?  This self-crafted assignment relies on my motivation to fashion the notes and letters I send and my decision-making authority on who receives them.  I don’t consult anyone for ideas and thoughts.  I have some type of mental list of would-be recipients, but part of the fun of the Writing Project is the spur of the moment choice or someone I have just met, even for a fleeting moment.  I sit at my office desk in the early morning or at the kitchen table at night and decide, write, address, seal, and stamp the day’s output.

While the aforementioned description is accurate I have recently made one slight variation, courtesy of my wife.  When I have written to friends or couples we both know, socialize with, or have some sort of relationship with I have signed my name and my name alone.  Again, this is my pet project.  I may tell her who I am sending a note to or I may not.  It’s not because I’m trying to be secretive or mysterious.  I’m not hiding anything.  My sole thought is I am the one writing so I am the one signing.  Simple logic.  Well, that hasn’t always gone over too favorably.  It seems that, for example, when I sent a note to a close friend in the hospital he told his wife about the correspondence.  Naturally.  The next time his wife spoke to my better half she brought up “The Note.”   This would be the note my wife knew nothing about.  The result—there was a talking.  She talked.  I listened.  A few weeks later I mailed a condolence card to a long-time friend simply signing “Stu.”  Oops.  Another chat between the two wives, which begat another one of those “talks.”  

I silently vowed to myself not to make the same mistake for a third time.  The growl of a baseball umpire reverberated in my head, “Strike three! You are outta here!”  Earlier this month my extended family gathered in Arlington, Virginia for a niece’s Bat Mitzvah.  There were relatives I had not seen for a long time and other people my wife and I met during the weekend’s festivities.  Upon returning home I had a week’s worth of folks to send correspondence.  Even though I ferreted out previously unknown addresses and wrote all the notes I made sure each one ended with “and Jane.” 

The Writing Project is still under my guidance and leadership.  The only difference is I have evolved a bit, undergone a slight metamorphosis, and experienced a modicum of maturation to incorporate a minor variation for a fraction of the notes and letters I mail out.  To paraphrase the humorist, Franklin P. Jones, the experience I gleaned from my mistake has ensured me I wouldn’t make it again.

Faculty Appreciation - Entry #30

Many college and university faculty think they are the main cogs in campus governance.  On the other hand, the full-time professional staff believes they are the indispensible faction that keeps the campus purring along.  In reality, both groups are important in keeping any institution of higher education meeting its mission of teaching, research, and community service.  In the best of both possible worlds it is a symbiotic relationship—one for all and all for one.  Yes, sometimes it can be a strained existence, one lacking mutual respect tinged with suspicion and distrustfulness.  But for a school to truly succeed, for its undergraduates to be properly serviced, these two groups must forge some type of alliance.

I have worked for almost 25 years at one of the regional campuses of the University of Connecticut.  With a population that hovers just over 1,000 undergraduate and graduate students we are quite small.  Many of my administrative colleagues at the main campus, with close to 20,000 students, would probably say their relationship with the faculty is tenuous at best.  An overgeneralization?  Perhaps, but at a large campus (more like a small city) the professional staff will have more peripheral contact with faculty members than at a regional site.

One of the strengths of being employed at a regional, non-residential campus is you really get to know many of the teaching staff.  It’s hard to avoid.  You see them everyday walking the halls, in the bookstore buying a cup of coffee, and coming and going to the attached parking garage.  My position is also unique.  I am the Director of Student Services and supervise such standard functional areas as career services, student activities, and counseling.  But I also have my hand in the other side of the house.  I coordinate academic advising and help train faculty advisors.  I am the go to person for questions on academic integrity.  I participate on campus committees and am involved with faculty searches.  I am also the person faculty seek out to vent about whatever is on their mind. 

I respect them for what they seek to accomplish and they, I believe, respect me for the way I work with the students and themselves.  It is this relationship that I highlighted in notecards to many of the faculty on our campus.  I wrote about our shared goals, friendship, and collective frustrations.  I expressed how thankful I was of their support for my office and volunteering for campus-wide programming activities that my staff coordinates.  I also wanted them to know, in a handwritten way, that someone out there acknowledges their dedication to the campus and appreciates all that they do to make our regional locale the best within the university system. 

Keeping the Enthusiasm Going - Entry #29

How time flies!  I am fast approaching the eight-month mark of my Writing Project.  Letter/note number 264 has just been mailed.  It seems like only yesterday, when the weather was mild and in the low 70’s (as opposed to this week’s low 30’s and two feet of snow), that my first piece of correspondence was deposited with the U.S. Postal Service.

I do see light at the end of the tunnel—May 25, 2013 is the end date—but sometimes my enthusiasm has waivered.  Deciding who will receive a notecard and figuring out what I will say that doesn’t sound pretentious or silly can be taxing on, what Agatha Christie’s sleuth Hercule Poirot would say, “those little gray cells.”  However, whenever I have difficulty mustering the necessary zeal to forge ahead I look back at some of the notes I have been sent.  First, and foremost, was the card I received from John Kralik, author of 365 Thank Yous:  The Year a Simple Act of Daily Gratitude Changed My Life, and the inspiration for my year-long writing project.  Among the thoughts he wrote were:

Do not be discouraged.  There will be down days.  Life throws us fresh challenges all the time.  But in the end you will have experienced something special you would not have missed.

Kralik’s words refer to the overall demands, the ups and downs, we experience through our everyday existence.  I also interpreted the words in his correspondence as a quick pep talk to continue on course with my stated goal.   I found his last sentence the most important and it has been reinforced through the responses that have popped up in my email in-box, in cards that have arrived at my doorstep, and heartfelt phone calls people have made to me. 

WOW, I just got a wonderful letter from you!!  Thank you for the thank you!!  It is letters like yours that make it all worth while.  Hope to see you again soon and hope you and your family are well!!!!

“Professional colleagues.”  This is the designation etched along most names on the spreadsheet I created, which chronicles my letter writing output (yes, I have a record of every piece of correspondence I have mailed).  The appreciative email, among many I have been sent, all with the same earnest tone, indicated how a small gesture like a handwritten note can have such a positive effect on someone.  This was not an isolated case.

There is something very unique and special about noticing and appreciating those in our lives…It was a thrill to receive your hand-written, lengthy note.

We say thank you many, many times to colleagues.  We acknowledge each other.  But something more tangible such as a thoughtful notecard truly demonstrates the worth and value we place on someone.  It also provides a significant boost to their self-worth and self-esteem.

Other reactions have centered on the very fact that a handwritten note is so out-of-the-norm.

I received your Christmas card today.  It’s so rare for my generation to receive cards by mail – much less from overseas – a real pleasure!

How nice to get your note.  Very pre-Internet/email.  No one writes letters anymore and I kinda miss that.

All of these responses have kept me on track when I find it difficult to sit down on my straight back chair, fountain pen in hand, and compose a letter or card to one of the remaining 365.  The handwritten correspondence may be categorized as more retro, but there is nothing old-fashioned about the sentiment embedded in each letter or card I craft or, I’m sure, the notes I receive in return. 

Newtown Benefit Concert - Entry #28

Monday, January 28^th was a magical night.  A benefit concert entitled, From Broadway with Love, featuring A-list Broadway performers backed by a 42 piece on-stage orchestra was held for Newtown families, first responders, and members of the community.   It was as if Rodgers and Hart’s Babes in Arms or a Judy Garland/Mickey Rooney “Let’s put on a show” movie had come to life.  Broadway stars, producers, writers, and directors all pitched in, volunteering their talents to create a special moment in time.  One of the producers guesstimated the production would have cost over one million dollars if expenses and charges were not waived.

Myself and Michael Cerveris (revival of Evita and the TV series Fringe).

Held at the ornate, 2,200 seat Palace Theater in Waterbury, CT the sold-out event included such Broadway luminaries as Tony winners Brian Stokes Mitchell and Christine Ebersole, Michael Cerveris (fresh from the revival of Evita), Philip Boykin (the revival of Porgy and Bess), and Robin de Jesus (In the Heights).  There were also performances by Mickey Dolenez (of The Monkees), Nikki Blonsky (the Hairspray movie), members of the national tour of Sister Act, composers Stephen Schwartz, Frank Wildhorn and Marc Shaiman, and even The Muppets.  According to Van Dean, Broadway producer and one of the organizers of the benefit, the concert was a way for the Broadway community to demonstrate its support to the Newtown residents.

Brian Stokes Mitchell

For the three Sundays before the event I was able to interview participants on my weekly show music radio program, On Broadway.  As a member of “the press” I was also invited to attend the event.  During the weeks leading up to the benefit I became acquainted with a number of the creative individuals and public relations specialists working feverishly to make this one unforgettable evening.  They were very gracious with their time and availability, both before and at the concert.  For example, during the early afternoon dress rehearsal the day of the benefit they gave me access to a number of the Broadway performers.  The sound bites I digitally recorded during my interviews with the actors will be inserted among the music I play on one of my upcoming shows. 

Afterwards, email thank you’s ricocheted back and forth.  The timeliness and immediacy dictated this route.  But I also followed up with a written note to a number of the people that worked with me.  In a sense, the correspondence I mailed represented one of the main goals of this Writing Project, which I stated in my first blog entry back on May 5, 2012.  I wrote this “would be a way to connect with individuals in a more personalized manner.”  Because of the nature of the benefit, the dedication of the hundreds of volunteers, both in front and behind the scenes, and the graciousness of the professionals that I worked with I wanted to do a bit more then a quick email thank you.  I wanted to take the time to express my feelings and convey my thoughts the old-fashioned way--with the written word.

New Year's Eve - Entry #27

New Year’s Eve—a time for celebration and resolutions.  I’m not really big on both.  The only resolution I half-heartedly think about is more exercise, but that never happens on a consistent basis.  Going out on New Year’s is usually an early dinner and a movie with friends.  My wife and I just got tired of allowing establishments the excuse of it being New Year’s Eve to charge shameful sums for a night out.  I remember years ago when we went to a New York bar, paid an outrageous entry fee, and were simply given a flimsy paper party hat, a low cost metallic noisemaker, and two drink coupons.  That was it.  Happy New Year.  It was the last night we allowed ourselves to be ripped off on New Year’s.

This year we were getting together with four other neighborhood couples at a friend’s house for dinner.  The gathering was small, mellow, and enjoyable.  We talked.  We laughed.  We were engaged, playfully arguing with each other, dissecting points and counterpoints as well as bringing up the frivolous and trivial (I admit I was the one spouting Twilight Zone minutiae in honor of the SyFy channel’s TZ weekend marathon).   

So, my first series of correspondence this month went to everyone that attended the soiree.  I wanted my friends to know how delightful it was to be together and be able to prattle away the night.  Nothing forced.  Just catching up, joking, dining on a scrumptious meal, and discussing real issues and concerns.  I wrote how we have very few opportunities to gather socially.  At this stage of our lives we are all so constantly busy, running from here to there, trying to catch up with what life throws at us.  Of course, at this stage we all departed before the midnight hour.  Maybe next year we’ll incorporate a slumber party to the New Year’s festivities.