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.

August 27th: Stand Up, Not On

During the first week of classes, everyone is trying to sell something. Coupon books are popular, textbook vendors are enthusiastic, and sidewalk chalk offers a seemingly endless choice of opportunities.

Most emphatic of these sales spokesmen are the Christian religious organizations, looking for participation in their programs. Young representatives of the Christian Crusade for Christ, Christian Religious Union, and others stand guard at academic buildings and street corners, offering food and pamphlets to help welcome students and assist with their adjustment into college.

While I personally don’t believe in proselytizing, I do understand the need for recruiting. I appreciate the fact that the religious organizations are actively seeking out new membership, and are trying to make their product as appealing as possible. Hillel does it; we offer free food and fun programming to help make religious observance more enticing. The difference is the force with which ideas are pressed upon a perspective attendees.

Walking down the street this afternoon, I saw an all-too-familiar sight: a pair of preachers standing under the iconic Indiana University clocks, discussing their views on Jesus and today’s society. A group had gathered, and at first I thought it was a collection of interested, engaged listeners. It was only upon getting closer that I realized that this was a hostile audience. The students were asking questions, either mocking the preachers or snapping at them. The preachers, meanwhile, were attempting to answer all of the questions as they arose. They tried to answer honestly and passionately.

As I passed, I could only hear bits and pieces. What I did hear made me pretty sad. Again, I don’t support the content that these men were preaching. Their form of Christianity is one of rigidity and fear. I don’t believe that anyone who does not accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior is damned. I don’t believe that God is a vengeful deity, who will smite the sinners.  I do, on the other hand, believe that a man should be allowed to stand in the designated location for protests and petitions and present his ideas. I do believe that he should be able to say what he wants, free of ridicule and disrespect. And I do believe that the students who are trying to prove how worldly they are by embarrassing him and belittling him are actually proving how immature and ignorant they truly are.

Frankly, by arguing with these guys, you are actually playing into their hands. More than anything, these proactive religious recruiters are looking for a conversation. They want you to stand there as long as possible, so that they can get more words in. They would rather you staying to put up a fight than to walk away quietly. Which means that is exactly what you should do. If you don’t agree with their beliefs or their way of spreading it, simply walk away. Don’t talk. Don’t listen. Just walk right on by. It is much harder to do, but it is the strength of walking by that directly combats what you are opposing when you see those who are pushing their beliefs. Standing up for what you believe in does not necessitate standing against the beliefs of others.

August 20th: Separation of State and Stupid

The limits of ignorance and ridiculousness are boundless. In this week’s example of “You SO can’t do that,” we visit Newport, Tennessee, where we see a judge taking a totally new direction in regards to fair decision-making.

A man and a woman are getting a divorce, and in the process, need to decide whether their 7-month old son should share his father’s or mother’s last name. They take it to court and are met by Judge Lu Ann Ballew.

Here is where things get out of hand. When the judge is hearing the trial, it comes to light that the son’s name is Messiah. Subsequently, in her decision, the judge declared that not only must the baby change his last name, but also his first name. The boy had to change his name to Martin, because the name Messiah “is a title and it’s a title that has only been earned by one person and that one person is Jesus Christ.”

The parents are, of course, livid. They didn't go to court to come up with new problems for their son, only to solve the last name debate. To be told that your name isn’t acceptable because you stole it from Jesus is, to say the least, a formative moment in an infant’s short life.

It would be easy to blast this woman for her inability to separate Church and State, which is an imperative part of the judicial system. The courts are meant to uphold the Constitution of the United States and the laws of whichever state in which they preside, and this most definitely falls outside the limits of those laws.

What is potentially more ignorant and disconcerting is the part of this that is totally arbitrary. The judge simply heard the name and got offended. She didn’t have any legal basis upon which to change this boy’s name. Her only defense was that, living in the county in which they did, the boy could have been subject to marginalization or bullying. First of all, wouldn’t that be interesting. “What did you do today, Jimmy?” “Oh, not much, Mom, just bullied Messiah.” On a more thoughtful level, though, this act of emotional response rather than calculated rationalization brings to light a scary idea. If the American people are to be living their lives according to the laws set forth by not only Congress but also the judicial system, we need to have some degree of faith (no pun intended) in those individuals to do what is right, despite their own personal issues with it. Nobody was going into this court room to hear what Lu Ann thought about things. They were there to see how Judge Ballew would rule in accordance with rationality and legal code.

This of course comes in the same week that a Louisiana Republican came forward and publicly stated that she didn't know that when she voted for religious school vouchers, that this didn't only include Christian schools. It has been a tough week to be, oh, I don’t know, rational in the United States.

August 12th: Comedy and Tragedy

This week, I had the opportunity to see a musical that was, to say the least, creative in its analysis of society’s ability to laugh at itself. To say the most, it was downright heinous.

“The Book of Mormon” was as raunchy and insensitive, insulting and affronting as could possibly be. And you know what? It was hilarious. It was fun, it was clever, and it allowed almost everyone at some point or another to feel like they were the butt of the joke, and that that was OK.

The timing of things couldn't have been better. I happened to have seen the play just a few weeks after having a very interesting conversation with several individuals of different backgrounds who were discussing, for lack of a better way to describe it, the difficulty of living in a world with so many social and environmental challenges. We discussed everything from sexuality and gender stereotypes to obesity, from socio-economic environments to the educational system. While we covered an incredible array of material, there were two major concepts that I found interesting and challenging.

First of those challenges was the frequency with which we allow people to pass the buck. It is so easy to blame obesity on food producers or genetics or a wide variety of outside sources. And while that may be totally valid, it fails to get to the root of an important issue: anyone can, if presented with the opportunity, change their circumstances. I think we are writing blank checks that we can’t cash if we allow too many different groups of people to say that they have no control of themselves because they are in challenging circumstances. While I appreciate the fact that many are in extremely challenging circumstances, that is not to say we, as people, don’t have an obligation to better ourselves. Plus, some of the statistics are a little skewed.  One of the major arguments for the obesity issue is that it costs an incredible amount of money to eat healthy foods, while fast food is cheap and easy for low income families. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, though, 35.7% of Americans are obese, with an individual of minority background actually having a higher chance of obesity as income increases. It also goes on to say that obesity became more prevalent across all educational and economic scales from the early 90s to 2007. That clearly means that, while obesity may more difficult to monitor at lower incomes, it is something that is becoming a wide-scale issue, and one that does require some degree of control and restraint.

We cannot continue to blame “society” for the reason women wear bikinis. As much as women wear them because men want to see them, most women want to be seen, whether by men or by their peers. We cannot continue to blame the government for our obese who don’t take advantage of their environment to get their weight under control. We have an obligation to start evaluating not just what someone else can do for me to better my life, but how hard I’m willing to work to make my life better.

Second of all, it dawned on me how difficult it is to navigate these conversations for fear of insulting someone. I have no idea what the political correct term is for a black person in America is. I've heard from some that “African American” is the best bet, while others say that there is nothing “African” about many black people. I've heard thousands of options, and it seems that someone is always insulted. This gets even more complicated with those with developmental disabilities. I have difficulty with what I have heard as “differently abled,” because it fails to get to the root of the need for personal care and attention that these individuals need. With all that in mind, it would be a tragedy if certain groups of people were left out of important conversations not because of their need to be involved, but rather because it is such a mine-field for a neurologically typical white guy to find a way not to insult, well, everyone.

This was one giant rant, all spurred on by a funny musical, and meant to be a satire. But with that satirical comedy, we have the opportunity to look at the world around us and make it better. I can’t claim that I’m doing a good job, but I’m going to try. We need to take ourselves a little more seriously and, at the same time, laugh at ourselves a little more. It’s all about finding the balance.