Tag Archives: public relations

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.

Child’s Play

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Yesterday, I caught my co-worker Chris Jarvis — who also happens to be my office suitemate — playing on the job. With a magnetic alphabet set, at that.

Today, he’s at it again, only this time it’s a set of magnetic balls, complete with a magnetized wand.

MagnetWand

Drawing on a theme yet? I am, and I can tell you firsthand that curiosity is attractive. Because I had a few minutes today, I used the first few seconds of one of them to decide that if you can’t beat ’em, then join ’em. Yep, I grabbed the wand and tried it out. So did the next co-worker who had walked in to discuss a project. (And he said these things were low power…)

Interestingly enough, both sets of common children’s toys just happen to be part of the set for Chris’ latest video project -– an in-progress Labors of Lab installment showcasing a Texas A&M Chemistry student whose research involves molecular nanomagnets. Even though I’ve always known Chris to be the type who will go to great lengths to get the job done, I’m amazed. And pleasantly amused. And not just because he’s childless, yet visiting toy stores.

MagnetLetters

When Chris initially joined Texas A&M Science in 2008, I knew he would be a solid writer, based on his background, samples and genuine love for words. During what I like to refer to as his sabbatical year at St. Mary’s University in San Antonio, he got the opportunity to broaden his skill set, adding website creation/maintenance and videography, among other professional nuances. Last year, we got the opportunity to re-hire him, and I can now vouch for the fact that the second time around truly is sweeter. But why take my word for it when you can read his within our news archive and also view roughly a year’s worth of his videos on our YouTube channel?

I know full well what goes into a written story, but I have a newfound appreciation for all that Chris does as a videographer. I’ve worked with some of the best during my career, but I’ve never known one who is a one-stop shop, from storyboarding and script writing, to location scouting and actual shooting, to editing and production, to draft version(s) and ultimately finished product. However, I do know that I have the luxury of resting easy in the knowledge that any project I assign to Chris or that he takes on himself is in good hands, largely without me lifting a finger nor checking up on a single detail beyond our initial conversation.

Although most of this magic happens less than 20 yards away from me, I never fully got the picture until last month, when Chris produced what I think is his best work yet: an overview piece for this year’s National Science Foundation-funded Summer Research Experiences for Undergraduates (REU) Program. Six different programs across the college; one university-wide supplement; at least one coordinator per program; countless student participants; multiple locations, shoots and interviews during the course of the 10-week program; and hundreds of clips, all funneled into a single cohesive, comprehensive, well-told story. It’s definitely an art (an undervalued one, in my opinion), and I am in awe. Feel free to appreciate with me below and also check out a few bonus clips featured with the news summary:

As his co-worker and trenchmate, I love that Chris loves what he does and that he continues to come up with new and appealing ways to tell a visual story. As his friend, I love that Chris is on my team and that he continues to find joy in his work, which is so much more than a job to him, just as it is to me.

Most of us are familiar with some version of the old adage, “Work to live, not live to work.” Based on what I’ve seen, Chris is well on his way to having this one down to a science.

By all means, play on, and always remember to share — toys and talents.

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!

Another One Bites the Dust

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News this past March out of Harvard University’s Cosmic Microwave Background (CMB) Group detailing discovery of the possible evidence for inflation in the early universe is taking a universal beating as of late for failing to properly account for dust, perhaps in the group’s haste to leave its competition in it.

Their findings using the South Pole-based BICEP2 telescope hinge on the detection of gravitational waves, which cosmologists have long predicted would produce a specific type of polarization. They were correct in more ways than one.

BICEP2 telescope at South Pole. (Credit: Harvard CMB Group)

BICEP2 telescope at South Pole. (Credit: Harvard CMB Group)


I remember seeing the media advisory on the American Astronomical Society (AAS) listserv announcing the Monday morning press conference at Harvard’s Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics — an unusual occurrence in my admittedly relatively young experience in science media circles, outside of announcing a Nobel Prize. Given that Harvard is a fellow partner in the Giant Magellan Telescope, I emailed Texas A&M astronomer Nick Suntzeff in hopes that he would know what could justify such a media frenzy.

He did. And per his usual, he had a strong, succinct opinion on both the breakthrough and the group’s manner of conveying it to the world: “All this drama — science did not used to be like this.”

Months before the latest round of back-pedaling in the media, Houston Chronicle science writer Eric Berger had been among those sounding the alarm regarding the damage done to science’s credibility and public image. I emailed Nick then for his counsel, just as I did when I saw Dennis Overbye’s New York Times feature and then another in Nature on back-to-back days earlier this month. Nick didn’t mince words. Nor should he, in my opinion. Then again, we’re both fans of implied duty and inherent responsibility.

More importantly, he offered some great comparative insight on how he and the High-Z Supernova Search Team handled their own early stage Nobel Prize-winning research that ended up proving the universe’s expansion is actually accelerating, thanks to a mysterious substance they co-discovered: dark energy.

“When we discovered dark energy, all we did was to find that the distant supernovae were too faint in comparison to what was expected,” Nick wrote. “We immediately worried that there was some sort of dust in the universe we did not know about that could cause this. We gave a simple argument as to why we felt this dust could not be causing the effect. Dust makes stuff look red — look at something through a forest fire, and it appears red. Same in the universe. We did not see this reddening.

“Also, if there was dust in the universe that we did not know about, more distant stuff should appear fainter because the light has to travel through more dust. This latter effect was difficult to measure, but we did show it was unlikely. All this was in our papers. What we did not do was to say that we have considered dust as causing the faintness of distant supernovae and then not tell the reader why we concluded this. That is what the BICEP2 paper did, and it confused us all as to why they did this.”

Planck satellite map of the cosmic microwave background -- the radiation ripples left over from the Big Bang. (Credit: NASA/European Space Agency)

Planck satellite map of the cosmic microwave background — the radiation ripples left over from the Big Bang. (Credit: NASA/European Space Agency)


If astrophysicists the likes of Nick Suntzeff are confused, one can imagine where this leaves the public, both in terms of understanding this “discovery” and in their general impression of science.

First, do no harm.

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The BICEP2 kerfuffle (have always wanted to use that word!) reminds me of a previous occasion when Nick flexed his writing muscles in the name of responsible science. The result: a memorable 2011 guest post for the Last Word On Nothing blog in which he simultaneously describes and decries how science is done these days.

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.