4.02.2020

Rhetorically Elvis


The other night a photograph popped up in my Facebook feed. This photo, posted by Randy Burse, was taken during my college days which now are more years removed than I can readily recall. Even though time repeatedly adds space between then and now, the photo took me back as if that frozen moment was just yesterday.

That photograph was taken at a Halloween party during 1987. Those of us who were studying broadcasting, public relations, theater, and organizational communication at that time at Freed-Hardeman were involved in a faculty-sponsored group called COMMA, Communication Majors and Minors Association. We met several times each semester often networking with those from the real work world who had careers many of us aspired toward. Our group was small enough so that we all mostly knew one another. After four years worth of classes and COMMA meetings together, we also came to know our professors well. This group hosted a Halloween party inviting guests to dress up in costume for the night.

It was during those last few semesters when those of us with those specific majors turned our eyes toward tackling the big two courses we needed to complete to graduate. One course was Communication Theory taught by Dr. Steve Johnson. The other was titled Survey of Rhetorical Theory, taught by Dr. Gerald Fulkerson. These courses uncovered the backbone of how communication developed and behaved. They brought clinical views of the various ways we communicate for deeper consideration. These courses brought to light those important figures from long ago who began to analyze then record patterns then develop theories about how and why we communicate.

That said when a person is just looking for a career in broadcasting or public relations, this level of classroom study sure seemed heady stuff. As classmate Dawn Bramblett stated in a comment about the photo, those two classes were talked about by seniors in hushed tones when we were mere freshmen, a deserved tradition we passed along to others. These were tough courses with reputations that loomed all around us each year as we crept further down our academic path. That journey ended on the fateful first day of the semester when we walked into a classroom to finally read the course syllabus. Additionally, the two men who taught these courses expected serious participation and effort from those who made it to this point in their pursuit of a degree.

The photo shows left to right, myself, Dawn Bramblett and Christi Pugh. It was taken at the aforementioned party. At this point in the semester, the three of us, along with several others, were about halfway through “rhetoric”, as we often called the course. On this night, no doubt with rhetorical theory running wild in our minds, we attended the party dressed in togas. Adding to the visual, we wear leafy headdresses as if we just stepped out of Athenian ruins. Around our necks are name tags so that everyone could know who we were representing on this night. We weren’t sure if the ancient Greeks had any “My Name Is” tags back in that day, so Dawn’s excellent penmanship was put to good use as she boldly and neatly printed names on orange construction paper in large letters. We affixed strings to each paper then draped them
over our necks. Christi was Plato. Dawn was Aristotle. In the photo, I am turned sideways to the camera obscuring my name tag which identified me on this night as Gorgias, the “Elvis Presley” of rhetoric.


Remember, it was 1987. We were not far, geographically, from Memphis. It was a time when some felt Elvis was still alive and well. It was a time when the thought of Elvis Presley still had some cachet although I likely wiped that out with my appearance this night. As the “Elvis Presley” of rhetoric, I recall using a box of stick-on stars, the kind a Sunday school teacher may have let students place on an attendance chart years earlier, to attach them to the toga in an attempt to match Elvis’s rhinestone-laded jumpsuits. I wore gaudy sunglasses then wrapped fake sideburns around the temples of the glasses. Meantime, my friends, Christi and Dawn, were part of a larger group who appeared this night known as the Beatles of rhetoric.

Looking at the photo recently brought back a lot of good memories. As several commented on the photo, a bit of the backstory came to light. In a class session prior to this party, Dr. Fulkerson had likened Gorgias to Elvis Presley then likened other philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle to the Beatles as far as impact on the things we were studying at that moment. Several of us took Dr. Fulkerson’s explanation and ran with it in a literal sense to the COMMA Halloween party.

There is a bit more to the story though that I recall. Indulge me please as I attempt to add more backstory to this occasion. Hopefully, it will jog the memory others have about this event so that they can fill in more details.

The story begins on the first floor of the BCWE building on campus. The rhetoric class met several mornings each week in that first-floor classroom. During this particular semester though I had another course in the very same classroom. That other class was Communication Law, taught by the late Lora DeFore. This course met once a week in the evening.

This classroom was mostly unremarkable for the time, desks, chalkboard and a table for the teacher. There was one notable thing about this room though. On one wall hung a framed photo of an older woman alongside a small plaque with information about this woman. Sad to say, I do not recall this woman’s name. I do know though she in some way had donated resources to the school to help fund the building of the BCWE building. In return, the school honored her contribution by placing this nice framed photo on the wall in this room.

While the Communication Law course was interesting, meeting once a week for three hours after a long day came to be somewhat of a grind. I do not know who in that class looked at that photo on the wall then determined to make a small change to it. That isn’t important. But, one class meeting, someone had taken transparent tape then attached a small thin mustache to the space between the nose and upper lip of the lady in the photo. Our class met that night. We took a few minutes to chuckle at the photo then the class went on, and we forgot to remove the mustache.

Guess which class met the first thing the next morning in that room? You don’t have to answer since I meant this as, yes, you guessed it, a rhetorical question. For those keeping score at home though, Rhetorical Theory met in that classroom the next day.

At first, the Rhetorical Theory class went as it did every day. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I sat about three-fourths of the way back in a desk near the middle of the classroom. As the class progressed, in the corner of my eye, I noticed my friend Scott Ballard seemed to be shaking. I glanced at him as he fought to keep from laughing out loud. I furrowed my brow at him asking him, without words, why he was struggling to keep his composure. He answered, without words, by cutting his eyes toward the photo on the wall. When I looked there, here was this sweet-looking grandmother figure with a pencil-thin mustache. I had forgotten about the photo, so it was now my turn to keep from bursting into laughter. Others began to take note of a growing disruption of the normalcy of the class. The suppressed laughter grew person-by-person and row-by-row from the back of the class to the first seat of each row.

At this point, Dr. Fulkerson understood something had taken over his lecture, he just did not know why or what. His initial reaction was to ask if his fly was open. His question allowed the classroom of students to explode in laughter. Some kind soul stopped laughing long enough to direct Dr. Fulkerson to the photo on the wall. Once he saw it, he laughed along with us adding a joke or two of his own, as only he could do with his wry, dry wit.

Dr. Fulkerson though was in a groove. He had material to cover with precious time slipping away. The whole series of events though had taken a toll on us as students. We could not stop laughing. We tried to suppress the laughter as we had earlier but trying to do so just made things worse. We tried to focus on the task at hand but learning about rhetorical theory seemed as far away then as the columns of the Parthenon. Dr. Fulkerson looked around at the ruins of this particular class session then ended it early, something he rarely did.

Sometime later, I am hazy on details, some of us began to dream of other ways to use the photo in the classroom so that we could, frankly, end another class session early. And, this brings us to Elvis Presley, and eventually, to Gorgias.

A photo of Elvis Presley was located. It was a profile of the left side of the entertainer’s face. A photocopy was made. This copy was taped to the frame in the right-hand corner making it look as if Elvis was looking down from above at the woman in the frame.

The Rhetorical Theory class met again. This time, Elvis occupied the picture frame along with the sweet-looking grandmother. Dr. Fulkerson though short-circuited any plans to derail the class by quickly acknowledging the picture. He chuckled at the feeble attempt to replicate the previous prank then transitioned into his lecture for the day. It is likely during this class period, Dr. Fulkerson looked over to Elvis on the picture frame and likened Gorgias to Elvis and other philosophers who followed as the Beatles of rhetorical theory.

Even though Dr. Fulkerson has passed away and Dr. Johnson retired, there is still comfort knowing students now still study the ancients, maybe even Gorgias. I am not sure how they remember his place in the great thinkers of that day and time. I just know when I think of him, I think of Elvis Presley but I also think of good times with good friends and I marvel at how all that comes back together now in the form of good memories.
~~~~~~~
In case you need your memory jogged about what life was like, musically, in October 1987, here is a playlist of songs from that time, along with one or two which just seemed to match the memory in some way.

Michael Jackson "Bad"
Bruce Springsteen "Brilliant Disguise"
Bourgeois Tagg "I Don't Mind At All"
Fleetwood Mac "Little Lies"
Swing Out Sister "Breakout"
Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes "I've Had The Time of My Life"
Jimmy Davis and Junction "Kick the Wall"
The Replacements "Skyway"
The Beatles "Twist and Shout"
George Harrison "When We Was Fab"
Elvis Presley "My Way"

And, if you are really ambitious, read up on Gorgias, you know, the Elvis Presley of rhetoric.

3.19.2020

All That's Left On The Roll


And, so here we are. Mid-March in the year of our Lord, 2020. I sit in our living room tapping out these words on a computer monitor waiting to start my day as the morning’s darkness gives way slowly to a foggy shield. I am wearing pajama pants and an old green shirt that is so soft and comfortable I cannot make myself consider parting with it. My work email is already making my phone light up providing me with activity in the hours ahead. In a few minutes, our daughter will brighten this room with her personality. Not long after her appearance, we will begin her school day. And, at this place, and at this time, we do all that from this our living room.

I suppose each generation, or at least certain members of each generation, has paused, breathed in deeply, looked around at what was happening around them, and came to the conclusion that the world, as in the people who live in the world, have totally and completely lost their last fragment of common sense. Looking back, I probably have come to that conclusion multiple times in my lifetime but that is just how I tick. I must say though these last few weeks have helped sway me in that direction once again.

A virus has spread globally and now is impacting our country. As I write that last sentence, the words seem a bit unreal. It sounds like the background to some poorly written and badly produced made-for-TV movie from the 1980s. Of course, it is much more serious than that.

It is hard though to know what to believe during such times. We drown under a flood of information. Additionally, many of us feel we cannot trust many of those who bring us this information. Our leaders, on every side, bicker between themselves to the point of embarrassment. Many of us pick sides among all these powerful players then root for “our” side as if it were a sporting event on a Saturday afternoon. Knowing what to believe is hard when sometimes it bounces up against what a body wants to believe.

Any way you view things, it is a complicated world. I took a day off at the end of this past previous week. I planned to do some needed things at our house. Hysteria had set in enough though that I spent my leave day setting things up to work from home. The night before my wife told me she had intended to stop at the grocery store to buy some salad for our dinner. She though caught wind of the chaos gripping the stores and thought otherwise. Of course, salad was probably plentiful. Toilet paper was the hot item. I told her the next morning, on my day off, I would get up early then visit the grocery store to purchase some needed items and stock up on other things.

As I cruised the aisles of our nearby grocery, knowing Hannah and I were to be bunkered at home for at least a week, I filled the buggy (Southern for grocery cart) with some staples to get by the next few days, milk, cereal, bread. I also bought a few comfort items such as cookies and Co-Colas (Southern for soda pop). And, of course, I bought two packs of toilet paper.

Now, we are about a week into this latest stage of hysteria. I believe we have reason to be concerned with what is happening in our world. We need to take care of ourselves and those we love. It is even a good idea to check on others such as the neighbors whose names you struggle to remember. We need to take measures to make certain we can stay well, get well and do better the next time the next wave of hysteria comes calling. Maybe, when it all settles, we will be more patient and kind and concerned about each one of us. Still, for now, I wonder. Toilet paper?

Last night, after a day of answering email for work, leading some training via online conferencing and trying to understand second-grade math from the perspective of an eight-year-old, it was time to call it a day. I turned the lights off throughout the house then stepped into the bathroom. I realized my nose was a bit stuffy, so I reached for the toilet paper, only to find the roll had just enough to unwrap it one turn. It was just the right amount.

I picked up the now-bare roll and dropped it into the trashcan. I then washed my hands thoroughly. I thought to myself how odd it is that toilet paper, of all things, is still flying off the shelves. I hope we don’t run out of it.

Then I thought about common sense. I hope we have a few rolls of that stocked away because it seems to be as valuable a commodity these days as toilet paper.

3.05.2020

Road Trip: The Ride Of A Lifetime


In January of this year, I posted a blog titled Road Trip. When I did so, I planned to write an article every six weeks or so about various road trips I have experienced through the years. That is still my plan. This post is about one of those road trips. This one is a bit different in scope though.

This blog dates back twelve years and is approaching two hundred fifty separate posts. Although there was a gap of a few years when I did not post anything, I have mostly tried to make posting a consistent thing to do. A new blog post shows up about every two weeks. The blog serves as a way for me to write in an attempt to crystallize my thoughts. It also gives me the opportunity to, in some fashion, capture a moment and try to make it a memory. Some have read things here then suggested I should write a book. I am flattered some think that. With these writings though I mostly want to snapshot pieces of life before they just fade away. I hope to memorialize them in some way so that others can read them, and hopefully identify with the sentiment or think deeper about things shared here.

I said all that to say I have written enough of this blog to know that consistency means more than just making sure something new pops up every few weeks. I can’t just write something the night before then post it the next day. So, the things that appear here often have been written weeks or months in advance. I plot out when certain posts appear because they are timely. Sometimes I write something knowing it isn’t quite as polished as I want it to be, so I let it sit then revisit it later to tweak.

And, so, months ago, I thought how I wanted to write a series of articles about road trips I recall throughout my life. A few of these are already written. As a preview, the next road trip post is scheduled to be about a trip my family took from time to time years ago that involved a clothing store and the ten commandments. Hey, how’s that for a teaser? I plan for it to still appear, so look for it soon. The date for this post though falls around a very special date for me and Jennifer. This particular blog post is slated to release on March 5, 2020. March 6, 2020 just happens to be our wedding anniversary.

Most of the road trip posts will be specific to locations and events on actual road trips. There is another journey taking place though in my life. That is the road Jennifer and I started on together as husband and wife sixteen years ago. There is no one else on earth that I would rather be on life’s road trip with than my wife, Jennifer.

She gives me good reason to enjoy the ride. She puts up with my quirks. She helps keep things in the middle of the road during the ride. She is understanding enough to smile faintly as she hears me tell the same story or joke for the bazillionth time. She has a supply of patience I wish I knew and have given her cause to dip into from time to time. She has wisdom I doubt I will ever realize on my own.

She is my helper. She doesn’t bully our relationship so that she gets her way. She doesn’t think her opinion matters more than mine. And, while she is smarter than me, she still values the things I do bring along for the ride. We work together to get to where we are going. We are not perfect but what we have works.

While much of this blog often centers on the adventures of our daughter, know that Hannah’s mom, my wife, Jennifer, is the reason so many of the things shared here in this blog come to life. She is the unsung hero of our family. She is the quiet force that keeps the three of us moving in the same, and, right direction. I know I sometimes take her and all the things she is for granted. I never mean to do that but sometimes it happens.

I am grateful we are on this trip together. I would not want it any other way. Without her, I am not sure what roads I would have traveled these past sixteen years. I just know those roads would not have been as fun or as meaningful or as memorable as the road we travel on now.

Happy anniversary, Jennifer. Thanks for sharing the ride with me.


Road Trip: The Ride Of A Lifetime playlist

Miranda Cosgrove "Leave It All To Me"
American Authors "What We Live For"
Steven Curtis Chapman "I Will Be Here"
Martina McBride "Blessed"
Sara Evans with Vince Gill "No Place That Far"
Beast Boy "All About Rae"
Don Williams "Fever"