September 30: Once Upon a Time

When I was younger, my dad told me about business. He told me a lot of things, but the one that stuck with me the most is that everyone is selling something. Some people are selling physical items, some are selling services. The one that really got my attention, though, were the people who were selling what my father called “hopes and dreams.” These are your teachers, your politicians, your artists. These are the people who choose to sell the idea that life can be better, and that these individuals can provide a key ingredient.

Ever since this conversation, I’ve been thinking about what I’m selling. Having worked in both retail and food service, I have experience selling physical items and services. My career goals, though, have always been in the hopes and dreams department.

One such profession got me thinking. I was watching “The Newsroom,” a show written by Aaron Sorkin, who was also behind my favorite TV show, “The West Wing.” Sorkin is famous for his workplace dramas, where he takes viewers on a journey to understand a particular life for a certain group of people. Focusing on how the political landscape impacts the people, the real human beings in the White House, was what made “The West Wing” as brilliant a show as it was. This only continued in “The Newsroom.” Sorkin’s ability to craft the emotional experience of working and living in a news television company is what makes his storytelling so incredible.

What I came to realize was that the best thing I can imagine someone selling is a story. Crafting a world and characters allows an individual to step into a new world, and to experience things from a whole new way.

We, as readers, viewers, and observers, love the emotion of a story. We know what it’s like to feel elation by the success of our favorite protagonist. We know what it’s like to cry because of a main character’s loss. We even know what it’s like to fall in love with the bad guy, not because that character was inherently loveable, but because the author took us on a journey that concluded with empathy.

I love to tell stories. My life goal is to write a novel, and I have been working on story ideas for as long as I can remember. Storytelling in all its forms has always fascinated me.  From books to speeches, movies and jokes, I enjoy both creating and observing the storytelling of others.

The best part about a story, though, is that it’s the closest thing we have to real life that isn’t. We get to feel all of the highs and all of the lows that life has to offer, while at the end of the day, we get to walk away. We get to feel all of the emotion without the forced commitment that the real world brings.

My blog was my first real experience with storytelling. The stories I have told are exclusively non-fiction, yet as a general rule they are telling a very opinionated story. I have crafted my ability to write and to tell. Learning to lead my readers on a journey is a craft that I hope to sell for as long as possible. I am selling hopes and dreams, one word at a time.

September 17th: A Column About Nothing

While I don't usually re-post content from my other media outlets, I wanted to run the full text of my column from this morning's copy of the Indiana Daily Student. Due to space issues, we couldn't run the content in its full length, and I wanted to give my readers the chance to see the full text.


From September 17th issue of the Indiana Daily Student:

My column this week is about nothing. It is that way because I’m a white man.

Being a white man means that all interesting and meaningful topics are off limits to me. If I were to talk about any of the most significant social issues of our time, my writing would be thrown away. What right does a white guy, a white guy from a Chicago suburb no less ,to comment on important societal issues?

I have no right to speak about racial issues in America. I have no rights to say that the n-word makes me uncomfortable. I have no right to say that I think we undervalue our differences in favor of an inaccurate homogeneity that keeps anyone from getting hurt, at the loss of truly expressing ourselves.

Let’s ignore the fact that, although my skin is white, my social identification is Jewish. Let’s forget that, as recently as the 1940s, Jews couldn’t get work in America because of the discrimination they faced. Let’s never mind that, when Martin Luther King marched on both Washington in 1963 and Selma in 1965, it was Rabbis Joachim Prinz and Abraham Joshua Heschel who stood at his side. Let’s forget that my people have been fighting a war for thousands of years to defend our right to exist, and the fight continues to rage.

Let’s forget that, according to the United States Census Bureau, there are only five races. Those races are White, African American, American Indian, Asian or Pacific Islander. 

Let’s close our eyes to the fact that those five categories fail to appreciate the fact that a white, Christian farmer from Nebraska and I are in the same category.


At least by being Jewish, religious issues are fair game. It would be really boring if I was a white, Christian man. I wouldn’t have anything to talk about.


I’m white, though, so I have no right to talk about racial issues.


As a man, I have even less of an opinion. I have no ability to comment on the social pressures men put on women. I have no understanding of what it’s like to have my body examined and critiqued. I have no grasp of what it’s like to feel restricted by social expectations and gender norms.


Of course, let’s not take into account the 50 lbs. I lost so that I wouldn’t have to feel ashamed of my body, let alone the women who magically changed their opinions of me after the fact. Ignore the thought that if I cry in front of anybody, I’m weak. Forget that if I don’t watch sports and live at the gym, I’m a pussy.


Never mind that, as human beings, our brains need ways to distinguish the world around us, and gender is one of the most rudimentary ways of understanding what makes each of us individual. It isn’t sexism — it’s categorization. And that makes people uncomfortable.


As a man, there is nothing I can say that would get to the heart of a gender related issue.


There are plenty of other issues that are too taboo for me to discuss. I have nothing to contribute to any conversation of economic class, as I come from a middle-class family in an upper-class suburb. Even my allergy to animals would restrict me from having a stance on animal rights and vegetarianism, because I’ve never lived with or known the love of a pet.


The list about what I can write is much shorter than what I can’t. Sports are nice, and I could write the best movie review ever (as long as the movie was written by another white man.) As long as no other people are involved, my pen flows, but as soon as anything juicy comes up, my opinion becomes moot.


The role of columnist is actually a consulting job. When a racial issue comes up, look to the people of color in the room. Questions about slut shaming? Ask a respectable woman. Want to know what it's like to walk down the street and listen to an iPod, I'm your guy. But please, please don't cross those lines. I can only imagine the understanding and collaboration that would ensue.

September 11th: Public self-reflection

The ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are all about self-reflection. It is about making yourself a better person by figuring out where you are and deciding where to go next. It is also about fixing the wrongs that you have committed in the last year.

I am, by no means, a perfect person. I have messed up. I have room to grow. I want to take the chance to reflect on the areas where I can improve in a way that is both reflective and open, so that those to whom I owe an apology may hear my most heartfelt repentance.

I have been arrogant. I have let my emotions get the best of me. I have acted selfishly when I could have acted in the best interests of those around me. In the coming year, I hope to vastly improve on my ability to handle a situation, and improve on my reactions to the world around me. I want to work on my patience both with situations and with people.

I have worried. I have stressed. I have forgotten to look around me and see how beautiful the world is, because I have been so wrapped up in how stressful parts of it can be. I want, in the coming year, to open my eyes. To be here, in each moment. To understand that things have a tendency to work out, and that my ability to fix them is sometimes limited.

I have let things rest. I have been complacent. I want to be better. I want to push. I want to push myself, and push others. I want to continue to get better, as a person, as a friend, as a leader.  And I’m going to use the beautiful world around me to give that betterment meaning.

And I want to apologize. I want to say I’m sorry to those who I have hurt, or with whom I have lost patience. Most often it is the people I care for most who get hurt. My parents, my brother, my family, my friends, my girlfriend, everyone, deserves a little better of me, and by this apology, I also make a promise. I will work on it. I will do better. I will improve.

I think Yom Kippur comes with one final, under appreciated section. For every apology, there should be a thank-you. Thank you to those who stuck with me in my challenges. Thank you to those who set me on the right path when I wanted to go off the wrong way. Thank you to those who demonstrated patience with me and taught me when I couldn't do it by myself.

Yom Kippur is one of my favorite holidays. It isn’t about the fasting, and it isn’t about the long hours in temple. It is about the time that we spend looking at ourselves and assessing how we can be better people when we sit here next year.

We ask God to inscribe us in the Book of Life, to give us another year to improve. And that is a promise to God. We are asking God to give us another go-round, another chance to show the world the best of ourselves. And I intend to make the best use of the days I get to improve myself and improve the world around me.

To all I have hurt, I’m sorry. To all that love me, I love you. To all that I love, I’ll show you. L’Shana Tova Tikateivu.

September 3rd: Get in the Game

After a hiatus longer than most of their peers in the Big Ten, Indiana football kicked off this past Thursday, taking on the Indiana State Sycamores. What ensued was something I, as a Hoosier fan, have never seen before.

Looking up from my 8^th row seat, I saw behind me a solid wall of crimson-clad fans. I haven’t seen that many people crowding the student section of Memorial Stadium in my three years at school, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Throughout the game, the fans responded enthusiastically to every play, cheering on their team and doing a fair bit of heckling of our in-state foe.

The part that made this game so much more incredible than any before was the intensity with which the team attacked the game. Each and every player seemed to be soaking in the moment, getting pumped for the game. It was truly incredible to see just how much Indiana University, both on and off the field, was buying into the success of our team.

Indiana University is known as a basketball school. A historically elite hardwood squad has far outshone a lackluster team on the gridiron, and has always led people to somewhat scoff at the idea of being a Hoosier football fan. That wasn’t the case on Thursday night. It was clear that the school had made significant investments in the fan experience, updating the info-graphics and animations that played on the Jumbotron. The new football helmets, depicting the Indiana state flag logo on one side and the IU trident on the other, decked out the players in a new look that even further brought energy to the field.

Since his hiring two years ago, Kevin Wilson has preached a shift in football culture. He has changed the way the team prepares, the way the students get excited, and even the way the band pumps up the crowd. In this, his third year at the helm, there are big things expected on the horizon.

Here, though, is the kicker. The Hoosiers won. They didn’t win by a small margin, either. The Hoosiers put up more points than any other team in the college football nation, walloping the Sycamores 73 to 35. They also came within a field goal of tying the most points the team has ever scored in a game. What that tells us is that it’s working. The Hoosiers are shifting the direction. They are getting the production to go with the new, flashy uniforms and the attitude adjustment. They are producing where it counts.

It is important, of course, to acknowledge that this is the first game of the season. Indiana State is by no means an elite team. This one win does not necessarily signify and total shift in football culture. It does, though, indicate a significant change. It does show that the possibility is there. It does show that the days of Hoosier success on the football field is not so far away. The fans saw this weekend just how much their excitement can motivate their team. Now it’s their job to keep it up and stick with their team throughout the season. Let’s go Hoosier nation.