Paul Thomas Anderson & The Thrill of the Unexpected

While waiting in line to buy my ticket to see “Phantom Thread”, the new film by Paul Thomas Anderson, I could not avoid eavesdropping on the conversation of two well-dressed women who were waiting to buy tickets for the same movie.  One was very eager to see the movie.  The other interestingly was more focused on talking about the Catholic Mass they just came from.   The one excited about the film was worried that they would be late for the show since we had about 10 minutes to get tickets before showtime.  When someone asked what movie they were going to see, the excited woman said “Phantom Thread, the movie about dresses and a dressmaker!”

I’m a huge fan of Paul Thomas Anderson, the director of the movie mentioned above.  I purposely did not read too much about the movie Phantom Thread since I wanted to go in to be surprised and ready for the unexpected. Fans of the director PT Anderson know that his films easily divide audiences.  The main reason for these divisions is that his films tend to go into unexpected and sometimes outrageous directions. 

While his last movies have been historic drama pieces, they all have gone into storylines and plots that throw viewers off balance, scratching their heads to say “WTF!?”  The thrill of his movies is not necessarily the complex stories and meticulous set pieces, its the surprises that he throws at viewers to challenge them on re-thinking what cinema is and isn’t.

Before you read further, I will add a spoiler note in that I will describe some of my favorite “WTF!” moments of PT Anderson’s movies.  If you want to stay surprised and enjoy the unexpected, then I advise you stop reading this blog right now!  If you already have seen the director’s repertoire, then you will not be surprised.  If you are curious, then by all means read on!

My fascination with this director started when I viewed the movie “Boogie Nights.”  The audacity to make a 2.5 hour film about the porn industry in the late 70s and early 80s obviously would challenge anyone who entered the theater.  For me, the refreshing surprise was that the film wasn’t about the industry, but rather it was a film about lonely individuals looking for family and how family can be define for those whose real families fail to love, support, or care for others.  In viewing the film, the unexpected moment comes in a shocking and graphic suicide of character Little Bill, played by William H. Macy.

Little Bill was the cameraman of porn director Jack Horner. Little Bill was the tortured soul in the “family” created by Jack Horner.  While being oblivious to the acts he filmed, he couldn’t shake off the same acts that was used by his wife to belittle him.  PT Anderson challenged the viewer to react to how Little Bill faced his “family” problem.  The director brilliantly followed Little Bill through the house as he reacted to the demons impacting him. While the house party was welcoming the new decade of the 1980s, Little Bill, after performing an act of violence that is implied, goes into a living room while others are partying and laughing at him.  Here, he smiles directly at the camera and pulls out a gun and shoots himself where immediately, “80s” flashes on the screen.  Due to the graphic nature of the scene, I will not share it in this space, but do a YouTube search on “Boogie Nights Little Bill”, the scene will likely show up.  It’s a stunner.

One of my favorite movies to this day is “Punch-Drunk Love”,  a strange and sweet love story about a man with anger issues and a plan to fly anywhere in the world courtesy of a pudding promotion.  If you never seen this movie, you are likely saying “what?”  This movie is full of PT Anderson’s tricks, leading viewers on a strange trip through one man’s quest to find love.  One can dissect the opening scene alone for ages to find out its meaning. In this film, the unexpected moment for me was when love is reached for the character Barry.  Once it is, the director stages one of the most beautifully filmed first kiss scenes in cinema.

One of favorite movies of all time is “Magnolia”.  Much has been written about the movie’s infamous “it’s raining frogs” scene.  This alone would create the biggest “WTF!” moment.  However for me, PT Anderson’s best unexpected twist is actually constructing a film where plots and characters are all connected by Aimee Mann songs.

I had the terrific opportunity to attend an Aimee Mann concert recently and I was beyond thrilled that she sang three songs from the Magnolia soundtrack.  The movie was widely discussed on how audiences felt about two pivotal scenes.  First, the raining frogs and second, the characters who sing Ms. Mann’s song “Wise Up”.  When I first viewed the movie (I saw it 3 times at the theater), audiences walked out mostly on the Aimee Mann scene.  Again, PT Anderson threw an expected twist on the movie experience, once again challenging what we expect when we see a drama.  For me, it’s one of the most beautiful depictions of lonely people who are, in fact, not alone.

So, it was no surprise that today’s viewing of “Phantom Thread” did not disappoint…at least for me.  I will not give away any scenes other than the movie, like all PT Anderson movies, takes viewers on an interesting ride which if audiences pay attention, will provide a turn that will likely make a few go “WTF!”

Back to my friends who were excited to see the movie.  When I was leaving the theater I walked past them.  While they were still planted in their seats, I did overhear the one most excited telling her friend, “What was that?”  I just laughed when I heard that comment.  In my head, I said “A PT Anderson picture.”   We were all taken for a ride.  Yes, it was about dresses.  Yes, it was about a dress maker.  And yes, it was about……well, you just have to go see it yourself.


This is U.S./HOME (end of year reflection)

Yesterday, my wife and I went to the museum to view an exhibition of the creative genius that was Oscar De La Renta.  I am not much into high fashion, I never quite understood the idea of some things that are considered “in style”.  However, I found the exhibit we attended quite amazing and educational!  Much of Mr. De La Renta’s work paid close attention to not how a woman looks like in his dresses, but how a woman *feels* when they put on one of his creations.  According to the audio narration that accompanied the exhibit, De La Renta wanted women to feel comfortable in his tailored clothing and many pieces were described as actually being light and airy with no bulk and heaviness to burden those that wore his works.  Mr. De La Renta was described as someone who valued women and whatever role they were in when they wore his dresses.  Many of the pieces on display were noted for who wore them – celebrities, political figures, art patrons, and socialites.  One piece in particular stuck out for me, not for the designer but for how the person viewed Mr. De La Renta.  One outfit was described by a Houston socialite who apparently had a close relationship with the designer.  The socialite is a big name in Houston society.  However, something she said in her narrative struck me as odd.

While describing the greatness of De La Renta, the socialite had to add in her story that he was “quite the Latin charmer” which was followed by a burst of laughter.  Ah yes, the Latin lover image where respect and attention to women by Latino men is equated to the “latin lover” charmer caricature.  After all I heard throughout the exhibit on how De La Renta, a gentleman of Dominican Republic descent,  respected the women who wore his dresses, the statement which came in the last space in the exhibit had to be made.  I know that I might be a bit sensitive to the comment but I was truly impressed by the works on this Latino genius in the fashion world.  In a way, my thoughts of how others really come to respect and honor this man kind of got diminished in that others listening to the narration might have a little giggle and be put back into the world of how Latino men are viewed.  I was disappointed to leave the exhibit with this thought.

It reminded me that this is the U.S. , where we are often surrounded by casual reminders that diverse groups have their “place”, or at least their perceptions that others hold.  Despite that subtle reminder in the exhibit, we continued on into the museum.  Thanks to one of my close friends, we were recommended to check out another exhibition titled “HOME”, where several contemporary Latinx artists created pieces of art depicting their views of “home”.  It was another great exhibit.  One piece in particular hit me emotionally in its subtle message of what home is for many Latinx individuals.  The piece was a series of paintings by the San Antonio artist Vincent Valdez.

The art was titled “Excerpts for John”, a friend of the artist who suffered from PTSD and unfortunately committed suicide.  The artist powerfully depicted his friend returning home in an imagined series of paintings where his friend’s flag-drapped casket is being led away from the military cemetery where he’s buried to return to his home, a simple one-story wooden house that looked almost like my Grandma Inez’ house.  The procession with full military honor guard goes through what looks like the barrio.  The image where the casket passes the supermarket got me for some reason.  I think it was because that market is something most Mexican Americans in Texas have seen and visited, especially during the holidays.  Who hasn’t gone with their parents to buy ingredients for tamales, menudo, and if you’re lucky, some pan dulce to eat on the way home?  The artists’ ability to capture that moment at least for this patron was amazing.  To see the painting end with his friend returning “home” with his casket now facing the front porch was beautiful and sad.  I would recommend that you visit the artist’s section of his website to view this great piece of Texas art

How we view “home” in the U.S. gets taken for granted, I think.  I’ve always seen myself as extremely fortunate that I still get to visit my Mom in the house where I grew up.  I can also say that in my lifetime, my parent’s never moved from that same house.  The neighborhood that I visit is still the same neighborhood I rode my bike and walked to elementary school.  I think that is special.  For me, “home” is more than a structure, it is a space where I know I feel at ease, where I feel connection, and most importantly, I feel some sense of identity.  Home with all its comforts also provides challenges.  In my home space, I encountered racism and discrimination at an early age.  I was called “beaner” “wetback” and other terms despite being born in that space.  I was bullied for being just me: a chubby Mexican American kid who was dealing with other challenges personally.  Sure, I had friends but I also had individuals who made life miserable for me.  It was rough, but despite that, my home is what it is and I learned a great deal from these experiences.

Back at the museum, I was given another reminder of having a home here in the U.S.  As a Mexican American who lives proudly in Texas and loves his cultural heritage and identity, I found my introspective self continuing to analyze the surroundings at the museum.  In a large gallery, I noticed there was a huge installation with a video projected onto the wall.  I’ll confess, I didn’t make my way down to the gallery to learn more about the piece of art, but what I did see was the videos had pictures of monuments marking the southern border of the U.S.  Various images showed how these monuments are represented in marking the border.  From my vantage point, I saw something different.  With the “Latin charmer” comment on Oscar De La Renta made by the Houston socialite, to the imagined homecoming of a soldier friend through a San Antonio barrio, to my own reflections of what “home” meant for me, I saw the art installation in the gallery below of representing the U.S. – where home can be an interesting conflict of success, barriers, sadness, beauty, stereotyping, and respect.

I looked down at the people below me and wondered, do they really understand the message the art is expressing?  For many, a border (and not just a physical geographical one) is a daily part of life.  Living in the U.S. is a challenging one, yet it is also one that provides many rewards and opportunities.  I have found balance in living in this country.  However, the balance can be a bit tricky to keep centered but still I find ways to keep it where I would like it to be and to adjust when possible.  It requires thought and like the like the pieces of art I viewed, interaction.  The Latinx artistic minds I saw yesterday gave me a much needed opportunity to reflect on this important fact.

Today is the last day of 2017.  This year was odd.  Yes, Houston had its challenges and personally, I had mine.  Despite this, another year awaits and what is ahead is yet to be seen.   I think this fueled my intense thinking at the museum.  I want to continue to be a curious, introspective mind and be the observant person I’ve always been.  2018 will hold good changes, I feel it.

I am surrounded by a great deal of love.  Blah! Sappy statement, I know, but a recent Facebook posting about my Zodiac forecast (I’m a Cancer) told me to just let love rule.  I’m going to take more care of myself (physically and mentally) and I’m going to remind myself of those who support me in all my endeavors.  Reflecting on the past year, I have made a great deal of great friends.  I know some that will be lifelong friends and that is amazing when you think about it.  I hope to return all the good that those folx provide to me and to help them in their goals as well.  Of course, I cannot forget my family and loved ones.  These individuals are my reason for being.  In 2018, I will make sure to let them know how much they mean to me.  2018 will be a good year.  Why? Because I am home



Haircut Elegy

Every two weeks, I get my haircut.  Every two weeks, I pop into a hair salon located in between a blue-collar sports bar and a shady looking tattoo parlor.  The salon isn’t by any means fancy, it’s functional and for $7, men can get a nice trim and fade. For twelve years since moving back to Texas, it has been a regular part of my monthly routine.  If I do my calculations right, I have accumulated almost 300 haircuts since moving into this part of Houston.  For most of these haircuts, one person has cut my hair.  His name is Tim (or as the ladies in the salon call him, “Timmy”).

Today, I popped in for my bi-weekly trim and fade.  For the past two months, my trips to get my haircut has been met with a bit of anxiety.

For most of my visits, Tim will usually get up from his station and immediately got his chair ready for me.  Since he has been cutting my hair for 12 years, I feel like I get some kind of V.I.P. treatment.  Tim usually allows me to “cut” in line whenever there is a wait for a stylist (he only did that for his regulars).  When he cut my hair, he always would ask how my family was doing.  He wanted to make sure that since my last visit, all was doing okay and well on my end.  I would in return ask how he was doing.  I would always hear about how busy or not the shop has been and during some weeks in the year, he will inform me on his next trip.  Over the many years he cut my hair, I’ve heard in extensive details his trips to Vietnam, Amsterdam, London, Cozumel, Hawaii, and most recently Cancun.  In fact, his last trip just occurred right before my haircut at the start of October.  At that visit, I heard how him and his wife just sat on the beach and drank tropical drinks.  I was always jealous to hear about his trips and flights.  For a barber, he did much more traveling in states and abroad than this professor!

Flashback to my visit in mid-October.  When I went in for my cut then,  I walked in and noticed Tim wasn’t at his station.  I asked the ladies when Tim would return.  Immediately, they had a look that something wasn’t right.  The stylist that works across to Tim told me that Tim was sick.  I replied that I could wait another day.  She then said for me to come over and sit.  I knew then that they had something to tell me.  Once I sat, she said that she would cut my hair and let me know more about Tim.  Then, she told me that Tim was diagnosed earlier that week with Stage IV brain cancer.  I was shocked.  He just cut my hair that month and he appear all fine.  She told me that soon after that cut, he started experiencing symptoms at work.  Notably, one day he froze up and told the ladies that he couldn’t move his arm.  They knew something wasn’t right.

Today, I found out that my barber of 12 years was pulled off life support.  Cindy, the stylist who first broke the news to me said and her and the other stylists went to the hospital this morning to say their goodbyes to their co-worker.  I asked how long Tim has been at his cutting station and she told me that he has been working there for 15 years.  Imagine, that many years at the same spot and the same location seeing most of the same people.  Cindy said that he’s with his family but that Tim likely would not make it past the weekend.  I told her that I would pray for his family and that I was truly sorry at the eventual passing of their colleague and friend.  My haircut was done.

Why did I just write four paragraphs about a barber who gave $7 haircuts?  While I never truly broke bread with this individual or even saw him outside of his work environment, I felt nothing but empathy for his fellow stylists in the salon and I felt like I was losing a good friend.  When I left after getting my haircut, I reflected that Tim, while only seeing me only 2 times a month, truly took care of how I looked and for the few minutes I was in his chair, how I felt.  Our conversations about his trips, my work, and even whispering what the other Vietnamese ladies were gossiping about in the shop, made me know that I held a good relationship with him.  I didn’t even have to let him know what I needed for my cut.  I just walked in, sat down, and off he went to make me look professional.  Last year, I jokingly walked in and sat on his chair and said, “Tim, I’m running a race this weekend and I feel like a Mohawk today.”  He looked at me and told me, “Mr. Ric, you know if you ask me for a Mohawk, I’ll give you a Mohawk.”  I told him I was joking and he immediately told me that he would do whatever I wished.  If I did, he would make it the best Mohawk that would look good on me.  He was serious when he said that and I felt somewhat bad that I made that joke.  Over the years, he would suggest a new cut or trim for me.  Just recently, he started to get really fancy on me and started to use his razor scissors.  He said he only used them for regulars whose hair he knows.  I know nothing of scissor but when he used them, I always freaked out a little since I would see big globs of hair fall into my lap.  Despite this, I trusted him.

I feel that when you develop a trusting relationship with a barber, it is somewhat like what our college students experience when they establish a trusting relationship with and advisor, counselor, or any other student affairs professional.  Mahoney (2009) mentions the importance of including “relational” competencies as part of career advising work.  Under this area, things like appreciating the individual, compassion, and just knowing that you are present and reliable helps students get services that are seen as having impact.  Another important aspect of any advising relationship is establishing trust.  Trust doesn’t occur after one visit.  You have to work hard to create it.  Not everyone will establish trust you and that is okay.  However, there are those who will look for you to help them with an urgent need or issue.  In higher education work, I have seen this many times in my administrative and faculty work.  Students express this trust in coming into my office to vent, to cry, or to celebrate.  Students will email me to disclose an urgent matter and see if I am available to discuss.  Students will even text me sometimes to let me know they are in town or interested in having lunch or happy hour.  They just want to reconnect or stay connected.  These outcomes only occur when you have a trusting relationship.  A relationship that likely lasts well after college.

Returning back to Tim, my barber.  Now that I know he will no longer cut my hair like he has for 12 years, I now have to seek out someone who I can trust with my hair.  I know that sounds silly, but think about it.  You likely rely on someone or some product with that part of yourself (even if you have no hair, you likely shop around for the best moisterizer or facial hair product).  For me, most importantly I have to find someone who will take the time to find out how my family is doing, someone to ask me how my last running event went, a person who will celebrate with me any good news from work or home.  See, my haircut is much more than that, it is a relationship that makes me feel like I matter and makes me know that someone beyond work and home shows care for me.

Tim did exactly that for 12 years.  I’ll miss my barber.

Today, Cindy I feel has taken the role of my new stylist.  In addition to our sad talk, she did discuss with me how she’s envious that I’m going to a holiday work party tonight and several more next week.  She also asked if I was cold in her spot since the A/C was on full blast and she herself complained that it was cold.  She told me also that Tim’s regular customers will be notified once he passes.  I feel like she’s going to get my trust.  Oh, my new haircut looks good as well.

Farewell Tim.  This post is dedicated to you.



Mahoney, E. (2009).  Career advising competencies.  In K. Hughey and Associates The Handbook of Career Advising (p. 48-67).  Jossey-Bass.


Today I ran a 10 mile race.  I don’t mean to sound like I am an Olympic caliber athlete, but 10 miles doesn’t really scare me.  It’s a distance that for me is just beyond a daily run, but nothing out of the ordinary.  That is until today.   Fall in Texas can be misleading.  While others up north are likely seeing the first signs of the fall season, here in Texas the seasons can play mind tricks on you.  Which comes back to today’s race.  This race has become part of my fall series of races I run.  Today, it felt like I was running in July!

You know you are in for a hard race when at 6am in the morning, your glasses fog up, there is no breeze to be felt, and a thin layer of fog is just a hovering above ground.  Even the streets were wet and a bit slippery, despite no signs of rain the night before.  This is Texas.  And this is why I stay committed to fitness.

As the race gun shot at 7am sharp, I was already dripping in sweat.  I thought the pace of my stride will cool me down a bit.  Instead, it made it feel worse.  The sweat had nowhere to go.  Instead of evaporating to create a bit of coolness, it just weighted my race singlet down and by mile 2, I already looked like I ran half the miles.

I hate running in the humidity.  It is miserable.  When you run in the humidity, it slows down your pace, you need to hydrate more, and with no breeze, there is just nothing to cool you down or to help wick the sweat away.  Here in Houston, it’s like running in a sauna….at 7am!

Why do I do it?  After mile 6, I kept asking myself that question.  Why?  On a stretch of the course which looked like it went on into infinity (that is another thing about Houston.  It’s flat.  You can see 3-4 miles down a straightaway), I really thought if I was going to finish.  In order to not doubt myself in completing the race, I had to stop and just walk.

Walking I found has become an important part of my running technique.  It seems odd that to improve my running pace and distance, I need to stop and walk.  Real runners don’t stop, right?  Do you see walkers during the Olympic Marathon?  Do elite runners stop to walk because it’s too hot?  I found for regular runners like myself, it is okay to stop and walk a few minutes.  That is what you need to re-energize and to re-evaluate.

By mile 8 in today’s race, I felt like the finish was possible.  By that time in the race, the sun was out, the sky was clear, and the humidity was now replaced by a moist heat.  Oh, there was no shade in sight.  While only two miles was left, it was a long two miles.  That’s when I decided to put my phone on Spotify (oh, to top everything off, my Bluetooth headphones decided to run out of juice early despite an all-night charge) and to blare my music through my phone’s speakers.

As I past several runners, they could hear my Depeche Mode tune keeping my pace.  As I continued on, I mentioned to a woman I passed that yes, “everybody’s going to Wang Chung tonight!”  As I passed another runner, Missing Persons both caught our attention.  Even when I passed the group of motorcycle officers on the final turn, I turned up the volume on New Order’s “Blue Monday”, which one officer said “Yes!”

All of these strategies and techniques aren’t part of a training plan or exercise regiment.  It is the mental part of running.  For some, this is the forgotten part of running training.  You can get to your best pace, know the best hydration to use, and have the expensive shoes, but if you don’t pay attention to how you will keep you commitment to complete a race with complete satisfaction, then you are not becoming the best runner you can be.

Commitment keeps the doubts away.  Commitment has the terrific outcome of building confidence.  Commitment keeps the negative doubts away and reminds you that you did you best and that is good enough.  Commitment also keeps you committed outside of running.  I have found that committing to my running goals also makes me committed to other things in my life – work, teaching, writing, house tasks, and other things.

Commitment is tested as a runner.  As a runner, commitment is equally important to physical strength.

I may not have the athletic build as J.J. Watt (who does, honestly? LOL), but I have the committed mindset that makes him one of the best out there.

That makes me feel pretty damn good.  Oh, my race today?  I finished in 1 hour, 54 minutes.  My goal was to finish in under two hours.  So I achieved my goal.  I walked several times, I looked liked a crazy runner singing along to my New Wave tunes, and I looked miserable in my sweat-soaked shorts, shirt, and cap.

But I stayed committed and finished my race.  Can you say that you ran 10 miles in 90-degree weather and humidity?  Well, commit yourself that you can…and I’ll sweat alongside you.


Saying goodbye.

I am 49 years old and I have never had to say “goodbye” to a close friend.  That is until yesterday.

Sunday was a National Day of Prayer and in my own private way, I paid attention to the meaning of the day and went to Mass.  I said prayers of thanks for our safety after tropical storm Harvey and thanks for the family and friends who checked in on us throughout the storm.  Deep inside my mind, I was always worried about a friend who was in dire need of prayers of healing.  The night before on Facebook, a message from his wife asked for such because her husband, my friend, was dealing with a serious medical crisis.

On Sunday afternoon, as I was about to do some work for my online courses, one of my colleagues texted me.  “Erik has passed away.”

I didn’t know how to react.  I was in shock and one of my first reactions was to call my colleague who texted me.  I guess I did it to just get an answer that the text truly was real.  I also checked Facebook to see the news.  Unfortunately, it was real.

I really didn’t express my emotions until I saw my wife.  Once I saw her, I broke down in tears.  My friend was gone.

Erik M. Colon was truly a one in a million.  His demeanor was all about caring for others.  He was like a big teddy bear.  Even the most macho of men would just break into a smile after meeting Erik.  He was a big guy with a bigger heart.  I was always amazed at how he could immediately make friends with total strangers.  I was even more amazed on how great of a salsa dancer he was.  I was jealous.  He knew all the moves and could break into a rhythm in a quick minute.  Like I said, the guy was truly amazing.

Most importantly, Erik M. Colon was an educator.  He was an advocate.  He was a fighter.  He was a loving husband to his wife Ivy.  He was a devoted father to his daughter Adrienne.  He was a surrogate big brother, uncle, dad, whatever to the ACPA Latinx Network.  He was a student affairs administrator.  He was a educator.  He was an advocate for college access for all.  He was a supporter of first-generation college students.  He was a professional throughout his career.

He was a loyal friend.

I will miss my “mijo” Erik.  Despite him not being on this living Earth, I know he will always be remembered in our little big family within the ACPA Latinx Network.  We will likely cry at our next meeting, but we will also laugh and likely we will also salsa dance.  Erik would like that.  We’ll make sure that will happen.

And when it does, we’ll wear our fedoras.


Harvey, you can leave now.

Picture taken 12:30am Saturday during first day of heavy rain. Captured during a flash of lightning. Clear Lake received 20+ inches that evening.

As I write this, yet another band of heavy rain is hitting the Clear Lake City area of Houston.  Harvey has been a storm of historic portions.  It will likely go down in the history books as one of the costliest and most damaging storms ever recorded.  Knowing that I lived through it along with millions of other Houstonians is both sobering and fascinating.  Sobering in knowing that just 3-4 miles north of where I live, families are still being rescued via boats from houses with feet, not inches, of water inside of them.  Fascinating in that the boats are largely owned by everyday citizens who came to help their neighbors.

In my previous post, I wrote about the “human goodness” that shows when disasters strike.  I made the argument why does it only have to show up during catastrophic events like Harvey?  I do hope that the goodness continues.  Houstonians and Texans step up to help their fellow Texans.  I would say this is very true.  Today, there was an nice short story about a huge earth mover truck being used to load people from one flooded neighborhood.  The news showed the truck just as it was about to unload.  Once it did, you saw families who were diverse.  Those helping unload the truck were officers from another area than the one the rescue was occurring.  When the reporter asked if the driver would  be interested in being interviewed, one of the responders said that he  didn’t speak English.  This image to me was a microcosm of Houston, one of the most diverse cities in the nation.

We will have days, weeks, months, and dare I say, years to recover.  Houston has a lot to fix, but we will bounce back.  As awful as the past few days have been, Houstonians have shared experience that no one has experienced.  On top of this, the experience was mostly shared on social media.  If you were in the middle of the storm like I was during the first night, text messages and things like Facebook was your connection to know what was happening and for others to make sure all was okay (or not).  For those outside of Houston, you share our pain.  You cried when you saw senior citizens and young children emerge from the floodwaters.  You even got the “feels” when you saw examples of humans helping humans (my favorite was the person who shared her large porch to individuals being unloaded from rescue boats, which soon became a mini-community center that included cookies and coffee!).  Houston, I hope, will be remembered for what a large urban city can be – a diverse, helpful, caring community of neighbors.

Our new sense of shared community will be tested once this is over.  Hurricane Ike in 2008 gave a preview of this idea.  Years after, I believe that some positive impact was made on Houston. Living here after, I feel that I know my neighbors better and as Harvey showed, we stepped up to the plate quickly when someone said, “please help”.  Positive change was seen and I personally think those that remembered and lived through Ike knew that it was time to take care of this great place we call Houston.

If you read to the end of this post, I would like you to consider donating to the fundraising effort by Houston Texan player J.J. Watt.  I’m a big fan of J.J. , not just for his awesome gift to take down a quarterback, but for his genuine love for the city of Houston.  If you are not from the area, you likely do not know all the extra community service he does off-season.  He’s a good guy with a big heart.  You can read about his fundraiser by going to 

Goodness needs to keep going.  Again, as I type this more rain is falling.  We don’t need more rain.  As one of my college friends stated earlier today, “I used to like the sound of falling rain.”

I agree.  Falling rain will forever make millions of Houstonians sad, scared, and wondering what will be next.

Only answer I can think of is onward.

Now more than ever.

Human Goodness is Here: A Quick Reflection from Hurricane Harvey

Every Saturday morning since July, I have a regular routine of waking up  before 6am. While most folks will see this as an ungodly hour to wake up on a Saturday, most runners see it as a start of the day where you know you will be challenged by your weekly scheduled long run.  One of the things I enjoy about doing a long run (and I truly mean this) with my running club is the post-run camaraderie and support received after pushing yourself physically and mentally in completing a goal.  For most, it isn’t necessarily the miles completed I assume, but the sense that you are surrounded by others who validate your weekly accomplishment and encourage to keep going into the next week.  As runners we are there to keep the motivation going and to let others know that no matter what pace or distance, you are valued among the club.

This morning my scheduled Saturday long run with Bay Area Fit was cancelled due to Hurricane Harvey.  While at the current time as I’m writing this we haven’t encountered hurricane winds like our neighbors to the south of us, we have received a good amount of rain that continues to fall, torrential rain at times.  My usual Saturday feeling of accomplishment has been postponed until next week hopefully.  Despite missing my run for obviously good reasons, I noticed something made me reflect on human nature, especially when we notice when others are challenged and facing a difficult event.

On Friday evening, Hurricane Harvey was making landfall in Rockport, Texas, as a Category 4 storm around 9:45pm.  About an hour or so before landfall, a remarkable thing occurred that made me take notice.  Friends from all around the U.S. were checking in making sure my wife and I were doing well.  In this age of social media, you clearly get a sense of the care and concern of friends and family from around the globe.  On Facebook, a good number of folx responded to my (sometimes silly) weather updates.  Once the storm made landfall, this is where I started to notice that the connections started transitioning from quick “likes” on Facebook and Instagram into more personal text messages asking for status updates and responses.  At one moment of time, the text messages were coming in at a pace which made me feel like what I feel at the end of my Saturday morning long runs with my club.

Storms & Human Nature

My “brother from another mother” and best friend from Indiana University was one individual who texted to make sure we were well.  When I read his text, I noticed that he sent it around 1am his time on the East Coast.  Early this morning  I responded back to let him know that all was okay.  Almost immediately, he responded back in his usual sarcastic tone (it’s our way of preferred communication, which makes us great friends!).  After a few back and forths, he could sense that we were fine.  In my last text message, I told him that I really appreciated the time  he took to check in on us.

When natural disasters hit, my eternal optimistic self believes that human nature and goodness can arise.  Think about it, we all have it.  As a person who tries to see everyone as basically good, with some going beyond than minimal levels, I feel that when we as a community are challenged, we pull each other through as one community.  If you do not otherwise, then in my opinion, you are consciously blocking the human goodness that you have.

My running club is a good example of positive goodness.  Members of the club come from all walks of life.  We are a very diverse group in many ways from what I observe.  When Saturday early morning comes, we support each other as runners facing a weekly challenge.  We encourage each other and during the actual run, we wave or say “looking good!” to each other.  Afterwards, we high-five, fist-bump, and say “good run!” as we  do our cool down.  One thing has us connected and that is we completed our scheduled miles and crossed the finish line.  Training helps but I firmly believe that the main purpose of my running club has a mental aspect – to provide a sense of belonging into a community.

Storms like Hurricane Harvey thankfully do not occur often but once they do, our human goodness comes into play for many.  We send thoughts of safety to those in the path.  We call or text our friends to check on their safety and well-being.  We use social media to help spread updates, to let others know we’re “safe”, and sometimes to encourage a laugh in the face of difficulty.  All of these actions tap into our human goodness.

I’m an optimist. Unfortunately, natural disasters tend to be one of the few times where human goodness shows itself.  We see it definitely in social media use, but we can also see it the various actions humans do in these difficult times.  Actions as simple as telling someone “Don’t worry, I’ll help” all the way to using your Texas-sized monster truck to help a fellow Houstonian out of a flooded street (yes folx, this is Texas!)

  image from

Human goodness is here.  Despite all the ugliness has occurred over the past month, it has to take a Category 4 hurricane to bring it to the surface.  Why is that?  Why can’t human goodness just be?  It brings me back to my running.  While a Saturday long run makes human goodness show, I think just knowing that we are part of a community makes it more visible.

However, human goodness and the lack of it can show up depending which community you belong in and how you identify yourself within a community.  Since the start of this long weekend, some events have taken place within our nation that makes me wonder about how some certain individuals define their “goodness” and their “community”.  Human goodness is something that is strongly attached to how you view your world.  Your view determines your actions.  What one specific individual has done in the midst of an impending storm affecting millions does make me wonder.  But that is just my personal opinion, whether others agree or not.

However, human goodness in how I personally define it would make me pause before doing my actions.  There are times to do certain things but there are definitely times where you should not do certain things.  When a Category 4 storm is approaching, I think the message of care, concern, worry, friendship, and safety are the main messages that should be expressed.  End of soapbox.

I fortunately see positive goodness every Saturday morning after I run.  I definitely saw that last night well into the wee hours of the morning. To those that did those actions, I thank you.  We needed it and still do.

Yes indeed, human goodness is here.

Onward…and as I type this, another strong rain band is hitting Clear Lake City.

(Moral) Leadership

These are interesting times.  Last week, I attended the Digital Pedagogy Institute at the University of Mary Washington in Fredricksburg, Virginia.  Attending this institute was re-energizing and interesting since I conversed with many higher education colleagues looking to change how online learning is delivered and transform what it can provide to student learning.  My discussions with my new friends and colleagues from around the nation allowed me to reflect on why I teach and what I hope my students gain from the knowledge we share in the online classroom environment.

At the end of the week, refreshed from my knowledge, my SHSU colleagues and I who attended the institute were reminded of the problems that have always been a part of U.S. history.  Just 66 miles down the road in Charlottesville, hatred and bigotry was in full display for all the world to see.  The discussions shared during our trip back was filled with anger, disappointment, and in very blunt terms, validation that all is not good in our nation when it comes to diversity concerns.  For me, the images of [tiki] torches held by adults, young and old, marching through the campus of a highly esteemed university were surreal.  The pictures I viewed on my smartphone that morning after were not only disturbing, but real and raw.  In my initial reactions, I felt numb.  You only see pictures like the ones you saw in history books, not in today’s newspapers.  It was happening.  Torches lit not to provide light for a march, but lit to intimidate and to remind all of us of our nation’s ugly racist past.  However, the individuals holding the torches were not hidden, they were for everyone to see.  What was once a secretive action by community members was now out in the open for everyone to see.

In the aftermath of the march and tragic death of Heather Heyer, we as a nation are still trying to make sense of everything that has and is occurring.  As of today, I believe the nation is trying to figure out what direction we are going.  Within these discussions are questions on leadership.  This posting isn’t going to address any person by name, but it will address how leaders respond to imagery and actions connected to Charlottesville and incidents of a similar and lesser nature.

The word “moral” in this posting is placed in parentheses on purpose.  Leadership involves much more than achieving goals.  In my teaching of leadership theory and concepts at both the master’s and doctoral level, the resources I used for class frequently addressed the avoidance of coercive leadership usually held by authoritarian individuals.  In my most recent teaching of the leadership course for doctoral students, I used Juana Bordas’ (2012) book Salsa, Soul, and Spirit: Leadership for a Multicultural Age.  In the book, Bordas beautifully described different perspectives of leadership formed by cultural experiences and ideas.  In using the book, my students appreciated most, if not all, of the leadership knowledge provided by Bordas.  Among the most frequently discussed were the ideas of being a “leader among equals” and looking at leadership through a “we rather than I” lens.  Key to these two characteristics is the thought of how leadership impacts not just your organization, but the surrounding community and values of everyone affected by your organization’s actions.  Deeply embedded in Bordas’ teachings is the moral responsibility of being a leader.

I would add that being a leader is not always associated with a holding a top-level position.  Being a good leader also is reflective of what you value and what you hold close to your heart with regards to impact of your own actions and most importantly, the actions of your organization.

The above image is from is interesting to me when I view it.  As of this morning, there are many viewpoints and opinions being stated on how our current president responded to Charlottesville.  I personally deeply disagree with how this person views this national tragedy.  However, with regards to what I believe is moral leadership, those individuals standing to the side of the person speaking is the most important focus of the picture.  Moral leadership, I feel, is being tested at that moment.  There is no denying that individuals blazingly displaying Nazi flags and chanting nationalist slogans have no place in our democratic society.  So, with that simple knowledge, what made these individuals politely stay still and silent?  I wonder what was going through their minds as statements giving 50/50 blame on actions were being stated by their leader?  They just stood there.

(Moral) leadership.  I would like to think that all the individuals in the above picture are indeed moral individuals.  Morality is not necessarily something you tell others verbally on a daily basis, you show morality through your actions.  What you do and how you do it lets others understand your level of making sound and responsible decisions.  At times, your morality is tested.  When it is, you might often speak up or leave the presence of what you feel is immoral.

This summer, I attended a concert by Roger Waters, from the band Pink Floyd.  I grew up listening to Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” and appreciate the music of the band.  Anyone who is a fan of Mr. Waters knows that he wears his heart on his sleeve and doesn’t hold back on his views of politics and society.  Prior to attending his current “Us vs. Them” tour, I knew that one portion of his concert (interestingly enough during the classic “Pigs (Three Different Ones)”), he was going to let the audience how he personally feels about the current presidential administration.  I will be honest, he didn’t hold back any punches.  It was blunt, straightforward, and at the end of the song, a message so powerful that even I was aghast.  Knowing that I live in a red state, I was curious how the crowd would react.  While I guess that a majority of the audience responded to the messages and images with applause and cheers, I noticed some visibly in disagreement, leaving their seats making their way straight to the exits.  Their disapproval was shown by their own actions and I would guess that while many did agree with this part of the show, for those people who left, their values were challenged and they acted.  They (for what I could see) politely left.  So be it (and they missed a hell of a closing set!).

Going back to the image, I am struck on the different reactions to the press conference.  As of today, some reports state that some in the administration were uncomfortable, surprised, and flabbergasted.  However, my moral self would like to think that if I was in the same room or standing next to the individual, would I act in response to someone I call my leader?  Would my morality have more weight than my affiliation to a party of individual?  Would I visibly react (like my Roger Waters concert goers) or would I just accept it and move on?  I placed (moral) in parentheses because I believe for many of us, we consider ourselves moral but for some, we might find it convenient to hide it within a small space only to make visible when interestingly, no one cares to notice. That is what happened at the Roger Waters concert.  Folks left knowing that others were still enjoying the show.

Morality is still a concept that I am learning.  I go to Mass and try my best to learn how to become a moral person.  I do my best to read what others state on how to live a moral life (right now I’m reading The Book of Joy to learn from the Dalai Lama and Rev. Desmond Tutu).  In my actions as a faculty member, I try to do good and even when I have a challenging student, I show empathy to do my best to understand why that person is finding my course difficult.  Being a moral individual requires effort and constant reflection.  However, sometimes morality tests you to respond quickly and immediately.  I find that aspect fascinating and frightening.  How would I act as a moral leader?

To this day, I am still trying to break myself from being a (moral) leader to becoming a truly and fully moral leader.



Bordas, J. (2012). Salsa, soul, and spirit: Leadership for a multicultural age. Berrett-Koehler Publishers.

Dalia Lama, Desmond Tutu, & D.C. Abrams (2016).  The Book of Joy: Lasting happiness in a changing world. Random House Publishers.


Howdy!  Welcome to my website. Within this space, you will find information on my professional life, as well as my personal interests and hobbies.  Most importantly, you will find this website to also be a space of agency and advocacy for issues important for my identities and backgrounds.  I welcome your comments to any postings and information.  I welcome you to view my video for a personal welcome!   Onward.

De-“Google it”

(blog originally posted on August 9, 2017 on

Recently, one of my students in my online History of Higher Education summer course presented a short summary of her final campus history project to her classmates and myself during a videoconferencing meeting at the end of the session.  The student presented her topic on the Tougaloo Nine.  This historic moment at this college was an event that was not part of my higher education knowledge.  In short, the Tougaloo Nine were a group of African American students who attended Tougaloo College in Jackson, Mississippi in 1961.  Denied access to the city public library to complete class assignments due to segregation, the students decided to hold a “read in” at the library as a protest of the segregationist policy in place at that location.  Hearing my student’s presentation fascinated me since I was actually becoming the learner, becoming aware of an important part of higher education history (in my opinion).

After hearing the presentation, I immediately texted my close faculty colleague in my program to ask him if he ever heard of the Tougoloo Nine.  I asked him since we both share a passion for knowledge on student activism and social justice actions in higher education.  As soon as I sent the text, he immediately responded that he didn’t know and that he wanted to learn more.  In the same time as he was typing his response, I shared with him my excitement in learning about this very interesting history event.  As soon as he read my second response, he asked to send him more information.  I could sense his deep interest when he typed “please fill me in!”  I read the text message and when I came upon his request to fill him in on additional knowledge, my response was almost immediate.

In a quick moment, I typed the message, “Google it.”


(gif from

Today, in our vast world of information technology and quick access to zillions of pieces of data and facts, we have privilege of accessing this information in effortless and fast means.  It just takes a few moments in a search bar to open the door to this vast land of knowledge.  Often when I’m researching on a topic, I reflect on how I did the practice of finding information when I was a college student.  I recall going first into the library to seek out which drawer to use to find my materials in the *card catalog*.  I recall if I really wanted to be “cutting edge”, I would sign my name on the list of other students to use the ERIC database on one of two computers connected to a dot-matrix printer that would provide the results of your searches in many folders of perforated printing paper (I would love to rip off the holed-strands of paper on the edge of the sheets!).  I recall if I didn’t get good results from my searches to remind myself that there were always the many sets of encyclopedias sitting on the shelves waiting to be used as a last resort.

My, how times have changed since then….or has it?

Going back to my colleagues request to learn about the Tougaloo Nine, I knew I had the information he was seeking.  I was the one who heard the information from my student right then and there, right?  I was the one who initiate the question of “did you know?”  So, why did I tell him to “Google it?”  Honestly, my response in my opinion wasv – excuse my language – a bit of an asshole-ish response.

Why?  I felt that I was not only being a good colleague and friend by not helping him more, but also not a good teacher.  I had knowledge.  The knowledge excited me.  In turn, I wanted someone else to know.  Once that interest was shown, I left my friend and colleague hanging.  I felt like bum.

To make myself feel better, I immediately gave a short written summary of the presentation and did a quick internet search using some of the reference information provided by my student and sent him via email a website where he could find more information.  I hoped that this would satisfy his curiosity and I would feel good that I gave him new knowledge.  As I reflected on this situation, which truth be known only lasted maybe ten minutes or so, I started to think about how my current role as a faculty member provides an interesting characteristic.

I am able to start the chain of information gathering and learning for individuals.  When you think about it, this is a very important role to fulfill.  As I write this, I am currently attending the Digital Pedagogy Institute ( on the beautiful campus of the University of Mary Washington.  So far this week, we have discussed the many definitions of learning, teaching, and instructional delivery.  What makes these discussions unique is that they occurred in critical lenses.  Among the discussions with my colleagues have been how to we create communities and networks within the learning spaces we are asked to fill and direct.  As an online instructor, the task is extremely challenging since first, one must first debunk the myths one can have when you mention the words “online learning”.  Second, some students may not want to seek out community within an online classroom.  They might just want to be told what is needed to complete the course and that is it.  In any case, my role as a professor is to work with these challenges to create a learning space where one not only learns new knowledge, but also leaves hopefully with a new perspective in their own worldview.

Throughout the week, I have reflected on these tasks and how we as a society have approached the act of “learning”.  In my opinion, we have become a society where we have, in a sense, become more educated in that we now have access to resources that we not available to us ten or fifteen years ago.  If you do an internet search on “The Tougaloo Nine”, you will in most cases find several sources at your fingertips in a matter of seconds.  We are now able to find knowledge with great ease.  In addition, we have our own life experiences.  These experiences give us insight on how we should approach situations we encounter in our lives.  In the higher education arena, Love (2012) made the case that lived experiences provide what he called “informal theory”.  Informal theory served as an important bridge between theory and practice.  We are able to adapt formal theories from what we learn and observe in our daily lives.  Without sounding too theoretical, I understand his argument to be equal to stating “don’t underestimate what you already know!”  We know more than we realize.  However, in this age of technological advances, we fail to expose and optimize that knowledge.

Just Google it.”  No offense to the brilliant minds (although some work is currently needed with their mindfulness of diversity) at Google, search engines like those at Google and others have allowed us to become lazy teachers.  Instead of sharing the wealth of knowledge possessed from our experiences, we instead take the easy way out when one seeks to tap into our knowledge.  It is easy to just tell our students and friends to “google it” when they need help.  Our educated selves are now filled by proxies located in boxes on the top right hand of our computer screens.  When we excite another person with our new found knowledge on a topic, instead of telling the person what we have just learned, we often go with the easy response of saying, “google it!”

I find it a bit humorous that even knowledge that we know about our cities and communities are sometimes responded by a quick “google it” statement.  If a friend asks me about any recommendations on great places to eat in Houston, I will sometimes find myself telling them to consider a general area of the city and to then “google it”, even though I know a few places.  I guess I could be seen as the local expert of my current city, but instead, I trust instead the knowledge of an internet search.  In doing this act, I transferred my role as a trusted knowledge source to another entity that doesn’t know the personal needs of the person seeking my advice.  I removed myself from the learning process and in a sense, the relationship I have with the person asking for my help.

I titled this entry “De-‘Google it‘”.  This isn’t a manifesto arguing against the presence of the internet and to wish its demise.  I value what the internet has given society.  There is much to demise from the internet but one cannot argue how valuable it has become in education today.  If the internet should suddenly disappear, we would still be okay as a society.  I am certain that a degree of inconvenience will occur, but I would politely say “Welcome back to the 80s”.  However, we can do better.  By “de-googling”, I am making the argument to share what you know readily.  Start the process of unearthing the knowledge that you possess from your lived experience.  You have theories to put into play, as Love (2102) suggested in his article.  When someone asks you a question, first try to engage in dialogue with the individual(s) asking a question.  What do you know?  Make an attempt to talk about what you already know.  Learning is an active process and some would argue that if one does not show some level of effort in sharing and obtaining information, effective learning has not occurred.  “Google it” avoids this dialogue.

Returning back to my Tougaloo Nine scenario, I have followed up with my colleague and confessed that I felt like – again, excuse the language – “a total dick.”  In explaining my response, I felt that I as educators, I didn’t fulfill my role in his learning.  In that brief moment, I did feel the impact of what it means to be a teacher.  By not doing what good teachers do, I failed at educating.  After my confession, I did feel better.  We both understood that we would eventually discuss more this piece of higher education history and continue to learn about social justice in higher education.  While this hasn’t occurred just yet, I know now that we will do what Google cannot – to listen and hear what we know.  Maybe not or maybe so.  Hmmm, let me ask Alexa (just kidding!).



Love, P. (2012). Informal theory: The ignored link in theory-to-practice. Journal of College Student Development, 53(2), 177-191.