Tag Archives: journalism

Timely Finds

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I found a stash of old CDs yesterday — mostly time capsules from past work lives and far more creative days, given that they predated the birth of my three children and social media, among other milestones and competing distractions. There in a folder on one was this forgotten little ditty, inconspicuously labeled as “Essay_Final.doc” and date-stamped March 5, 2004:

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Brotherly Love

As a communicator for three Texas A&M University colleges, I’ve had the opportunity to interview hundreds of former students for gift-related publicity purposes. It’s a process that never gets old.

When I made the telephone call last spring to set up a photo shoot with Blue Bell Creameries’ Edward and Howard Kruse, I knew I was in for a special treat — and not just the free ice cream sample kind.

We arrived in Brenham on a cold, blustery morning, blown in by winter’s last gasp raging through a countryside already wrapped in a gloriously beautiful (if not warm) coat of bluebonnets. As we stepped into the House that Blue Bell Built, I immediately felt at home, from the building’s hardwood floors to its cheerful receptionist, who directed us to the main conference room for the shoot.

As we discussed placements and camera angles, a tall well-dressed man entered the room only seconds behind his smile. “Ed Kruse,” he said, taking my hand and noting the Aggie ring. “My brother, Howard, will be down soon. He’s tied up on the phone, and besides, he’s always late.”

While we waited, Ed gave us an overview of the company — a conversation that soon shifted to Texas A&M and the brothers’ student days. As Ed talked, we imagined what it must have been like to hitchhike to attend a university then only 10,000 students strong — all male and all proud members of the Corps of Cadets. And although Ed recalled that he and Howard had their share of fun, he assured us they both knew why they were there: to get their educations.

It’s a philosophy they’ve continued to live by. Both brothers firmly believe education is the solution to most problems. As strong advocates of Texas A&M’s undergraduate studies programs, they have funded endowments to benefit both students and faculty. Just as valuably, they give of their time, speaking to groups and volunteering as leaders for Texas A&M’s One Spirit One Vision Campaign.

In true president/chief executive officer fashion, Howard’s arrival marked the end of story time and a return to the business at hand. I thanked Ed for including us in his reverie, then helped the photographer position the brothers for their 15 minutes of fame.

As we did so, the photographer told them it would help if he could refer to them by heights — to which Ed replied, “Yeah, Howard’s used to me being the big brother. He followed me everywhere, even to A&M.”

It was the closest Howard came to an unforced smile the entire shoot.

After packing up our equipment, we headed to the gift shop for our samples. I don’t know if it was the novelty wooden spoons or the events I had just witnessed that made me think back to the simpler days of my own childhood when there was nothing I enjoyed more than the taste of ice cream — unless it was razzing one of my own siblings.

I guess some treats in life are universal after all.

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For those who are visual learners, here’s a partial scan of the resulting ad that ran in the Summer 2003 issue of Lifescapes magazine:

KrusesAd_AgProgram

My kids can attest to the fact that I’m a sucker for a good jingle. One that used to run on local radio stations proudly and melodiously proclaimed that “Blue Bell tastes just like the good old days.” Nice to experience an unexpectedly refreshing taste of mine and the reminder that I was a fan of first-person prose long before launching this blog.

Oh, and last but definitely not least, RIP, Ed Kruse. I’m certain Heaven’s a much sweeter place with you in residence.

Meme Me Up, Scotty

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Even before I started writing about science instead of struggling to pass it, I knew who some of the traditional big names were among its primary print media outlets: Science magazine, Nature, Scientific American, Popular Science and Discover, to name but a few.

Maybe I’m showing my age, but one of those biggies, Nature, just went down a peg in my prestige book, undone by what I consider to be a dying art: the ability to write a good headline. You know, one that’s above all else correct and then — and only then, if possible — catchy and creative without sacrificing and/or detracting from the content. Here’s a link to the story, in case it didn’t flood your news feed, along with its offending ‘I can haz genomes’: cats claw their way into genetics headline.

Forget the dog-versus-cat debate, I’ve got a bone to pick with (I can only assume) the copy editor here. To each his own as to what defines humor, but it’s a fine line in any setting, particularly that of science journalism. Regardless where you choose to draw it, there’s a time and place even for the craftiest turn of phrase. In my opinion, this story was neither.

Nature_CatGenomes

At the risk of being perceived as catty, this one missed the mark for me. But I acknowledge potentially being in the minority there. For instance, one Twitter commenter credited them for “trying to thread the needle between catchy and accurate.” Um, #fail.

Reducing such a long-awaited milestone for human health, if not victory for cat enthusiasts, to a cheesy (or should I say cheezburger) Internet meme runs the risk of turning people off to the story (which involves a Texas A&M University geneticist — read an overview complete with a solid headline here) before they’ve even read word one of the lead. Good luck convincing them the research is solid or serious from there.

Lolcats, indeed.

Interestingly enough, another Texas A&M professor, Mays Business School’s Caleb Warren, is one of the many researchers working to define the science of humor. Toward that end, he and his University of Colorado at Boulder collaborator Peter McGraw have developed something they call the benign violation theory, the foundation of McGraw’s Humor Research Lab at UC Boulder and a widely published subject in a variety of sources, from a book to mainstream psychology journals. According to a broader Bloomberg article, they postulate that humor emerges “when: a) a situation violates some kind of norm; b) the violation is benign; and c) these two things occur to the observer simultaneously.”

It's a Venn diagram, so that's a plus. (Credit: Peter McGraw, Humor Research Lab, University of Colorado at Boulder)

It’s a Venn diagram, so that’s a plus. (Credit: Peter McGraw, Humor Research Lab, University of Colorado at Boulder)

So, yeah, I guess it’s possible that I just didn’t get the joke. I am blonde.

OK, off my soap, er litter box.

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I’m pleased to report the week wasn’t a total loss for science journalism. Props to Science staff writer Jennifer Couzin-Frankel for circling back on a story that made international headlines earlier this month (in some cases for all the wrong reasons) and for leaving no step un-retraced in her subsequent effort not only to set the record as straight as possible from here but also to understand where and why things went wrong. Further proof that this work is serious business — and intensely personal in addition to professional, at that — for parties well beyond the scientists involved.

A Fine Mess

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Well, folks, the news is in: I’m not messy; I’m just different, er creative. And I have the science to prove it.

A recent study published in Psychological Science and promoted, among other places, in the New York Times confirms that I’m simply a product of my environment, which apparently is comprised primarily of “safely ignorable stuff.”

You can read more about the analysis here via News.Mic, but for the purposes of this discussion, I’ll go ahead and submit what I like to call Exhibit A below. Feel free to share yours in the comments if you’re so inclined and/or feel it would be either therapeutic or cathartic in any way. Creatives don’t judge!

Yep, this is where the magic happens. Probably fitting that half the lights running the desk's perimeter are non-functional (notice I didn't say burnt out!) At least the one at my branch office is cleaner. Never mind it's my husband's.

Yep, this is where the magic happens. Probably fitting that half the lights running the desk’s perimeter are non-functional (notice I didn’t say burnt out!) At least the one at my branch office is cleaner. Never mind it’s my husband’s.

Admittedly, my mother would understand if not be proud, especially when I confess that I’m likely the messiest (scratch that — most creative!) among my College of Science Dean’s Office brethren. But when it comes to faculty, I’m certainly in good company.

And let’s not even talk about what lies beneath. Or my electronic inbox.

For that matter, why stop at desks? I mean, science is all about extrapolation, as Elite Daily does here. I bet there’s hope for my entire house (flat surfaces being just the tip of the creative iceberg) and my kids!

Learning to clap again

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It’s been nearly a year since I switched careers from journalism to public relations, but the remnants of my old life still pop up now and then.

I recently attended a dinner celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Texas A&M Department of Statistics. The wine had been poured when the audience broke into the first of many bouts of applause throughout the night to congratulate the former students who had flown in from around the country.

For a couple seconds too long, I didn’t clap.

During three and a half years covering Texas A&M as a local journalist, I never clapped while working. Call me silly in my ethical pretensions, but my view is independent journalists are not supposed to be part of the establishment they cover or appear to promote it in any way. And that goes for benign events, too, like awards and graduation ceremonies.

So it’s been a change going from being a journalist to an advocate for the College of Science.

Surprisingly, an easy one.

Although there are key differences between my old role as a journalist and my new one as a writer in the College of Science, there are striking similarities beyond the obvious of each encompassing writing, interviewing and research. I loved telling human-interest stories as a journalist, and I can still tell many of those same stories now. When possible, I tried in my writing to show rather than tell, and I’m as committed to that now. And at their ideal, public relations and journalism are both about ethically and accurately presenting quality information to the public. I had a sense of purpose that my work as a journalist was in service to the taxpayer. I have that same sense now, though for a different reason. Impactful research goes on at this university, and my job is take a crack explaining it so taxpayers have a better understanding of what they are investing in.

So don’t look to me to probe below the surface of university politics. Or fire off a flurry of open-records requests. That’s not my role anymore. My job now is not independent. I am selling something. But luckily, it’s something I believe in, have believed in for years – the research that goes on in American academia, and Texas A&M especially.

And I’ll remind myself that it’s OK to clap about that.