Still Fighting the Good Fight
I'm currently on a factory inspection tour, first going to one of the day-job world's suppliers in Cleveland and now going to their supplier in Cookeville, Tennessee. One side benefit, though, is that I flew into Nashville and got to swing by Vanderbilt, visiting for the first time in more than thirty years. The old place looks pretty good. Leafier than I remember in spots, and lots of buildings that weren't there before. But plenty for me to remember.
My most important destination was the student media offices, where I spent so much time in the mid-1980s. They've expanded well beyond "the tunnel," the bottom floor of the student center. Everything is digital now. My old yearbook and newspaper darkrooms have been merged into a brightly lit conference room, with windows looking into the old newspaper office turned news room and soon to be a recording studio, I think. The old yearbook room was partitioned off into offices, but now they're about to knock those down and turn the space into the new news room.
The Assistant Director of Student Media - 1998's yearbook editor, now working for Vanderbilt and occupying the same office she had back then - showed me around the place, and then she handed me something amazing. It was Volume 33 of the Vanderbilt Review, an annual collection of student fiction, nonfiction, poetry, art and photography. "Did they have this when you were here?" she asked. I hope I looked at least a little humble when I replied, "I was a part of Volume One."
Yes, I was one of the editors of the little literary and art publications being done at the time, who decided to pool our efforts and our budgets to create something really special. These days, the Vanderbilt Review hosts workshops and readings during the year. It's become a full-fledged member of the student media lineup. Tonight was the launch event for the publication, and I was even invited to stay for it. Unfortunately, I had to meet people in Cookeville for dinner, but I wished them my best. I'll have to follow up and find out how it went.
The Assistant Director asked me if I was still taking pictures. I said I wasn't taking any professionally, but I was still writing, and then I got to tell her all about You Can't Do That On Television (which she'd watched, of course) and my current books. Again, I hope I looked at least a little humble. She seemed glad that I was still pursuing my creative dreams.
Back during my final summer on campus, after graduation when I stayed to work on the yearbook, I found myself working an event during alumni weekend. I was in the men's room when a somewhat inebriated alum walked in. He looked at me and said, "Enjoy this place for as long as you can. Real life sucks!"
I found myself thinking about that encounter again as I drove off to Cookeville, and comparing it to what I'd seen today. And I couldn't help smiling as I thought, "I did it! I'm still here! I'm still writing, and I'm still trying, and I haven't let real life swallow me." I'm hoping that will make things a little easier at the tubing factory I'm visiting in the morning.
The creative life can be full of frustrations and disappointments, and very few people ever reach the level of "success" they first dreamed of. But you know what? That's okay. As long as you fight the good fight, as long as you don't give up, you can still get somewhere, and somewhere is good. And you never know where other people might take the things you've done along the way. Those can be good, too.
My most important destination was the student media offices, where I spent so much time in the mid-1980s. They've expanded well beyond "the tunnel," the bottom floor of the student center. Everything is digital now. My old yearbook and newspaper darkrooms have been merged into a brightly lit conference room, with windows looking into the old newspaper office turned news room and soon to be a recording studio, I think. The old yearbook room was partitioned off into offices, but now they're about to knock those down and turn the space into the new news room.
The Assistant Director of Student Media - 1998's yearbook editor, now working for Vanderbilt and occupying the same office she had back then - showed me around the place, and then she handed me something amazing. It was Volume 33 of the Vanderbilt Review, an annual collection of student fiction, nonfiction, poetry, art and photography. "Did they have this when you were here?" she asked. I hope I looked at least a little humble when I replied, "I was a part of Volume One."
Yes, I was one of the editors of the little literary and art publications being done at the time, who decided to pool our efforts and our budgets to create something really special. These days, the Vanderbilt Review hosts workshops and readings during the year. It's become a full-fledged member of the student media lineup. Tonight was the launch event for the publication, and I was even invited to stay for it. Unfortunately, I had to meet people in Cookeville for dinner, but I wished them my best. I'll have to follow up and find out how it went.
The Assistant Director asked me if I was still taking pictures. I said I wasn't taking any professionally, but I was still writing, and then I got to tell her all about You Can't Do That On Television (which she'd watched, of course) and my current books. Again, I hope I looked at least a little humble. She seemed glad that I was still pursuing my creative dreams.
Back during my final summer on campus, after graduation when I stayed to work on the yearbook, I found myself working an event during alumni weekend. I was in the men's room when a somewhat inebriated alum walked in. He looked at me and said, "Enjoy this place for as long as you can. Real life sucks!"
I found myself thinking about that encounter again as I drove off to Cookeville, and comparing it to what I'd seen today. And I couldn't help smiling as I thought, "I did it! I'm still here! I'm still writing, and I'm still trying, and I haven't let real life swallow me." I'm hoping that will make things a little easier at the tubing factory I'm visiting in the morning.
The creative life can be full of frustrations and disappointments, and very few people ever reach the level of "success" they first dreamed of. But you know what? That's okay. As long as you fight the good fight, as long as you don't give up, you can still get somewhere, and somewhere is good. And you never know where other people might take the things you've done along the way. Those can be good, too.
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