(audience applauding)
- The Lasting Lecture was conceived
as a final opportunity
for a senior professor
to promote her or his
pronouncements on life,
the universe and everything.
It's a reflection that age, sometimes,
conveys a gravitas, a sense of wisdom.
To paraphrase Han Solo,
Folks, I've flown from one end
of the country to the other,
and I've seen a lot of strange stuff.
Or consider less dated pop reference,
Farmers Insurance, I know a thing or two
because I've seen a thing or two.
(audience laughing)
There's definitely a practicality
in the expertise of experience.
But as the late, great Dr.
Benjamin Franklin observed,
Experience is the best teacher,
but a fool will learn from no other.
So what follows are some
observations gleaned
from 72 years on the big, blue
planet called planet Earth
and others fairly won
from decades of reading,
research and focused study.
I was born in Bryn Mawr Hospital
on the western suburban
sprawl of Philadelphia,
on June 13th, 1946.
For those of you
generationally-minded, 1946
was the first year of the national,
and sometimes infamous Baby Boom.
The locale, Philly, has
meant that even though miles
may separate me from the banks
of the beautiful Schuylkill,
(chuckling) not really,
and Delaware Rivers,
I still follow the varying fortunes
of the Eagles, the
Phillies, and the 76ers.
Being a Philadelphian means may things.
There's a reverence
for history to be sure,
but we grasp the moments of triumph
with surprising clarity and tenacity.
That's because we know victories
do not come easily or often.
(audience laughing)
Savor the good times,
treasure them in your memory.
As a side note, I must also share with you
that I believe cheering for the Yankees
or any professional team
based in Massachusetts
is like cheering for Microsoft.
(audience laughing)
It's indicative of a deep character flaw.
But I digress, which is
an occupational hazard of professors.
My father died when I was in 8th grade,
after a protracted
battle with colon cancer.
My mother had gone back to work,
I started my perennial
summer jobs when I was 14,
the first as a kennel
boy, for a local vet.
Tales of the Great
Depression and the ability
to find and retain a job
were always paramount.
So was the value of education,
and my summer income
went into a college fund.
As I've aged, the lessons of my childhood
have gained an even greater relevance.
For example, back in the day, unbelievable
as it may seem now,
there was only one
telephone per household,
so when my smartphone rings,
I answer it immediately.
Who knows?
It might bring news of some sort.
All too often these
days, it conveys messages
of extended auto warranties
or free vacations
to timeshares, and other
assorted junk calls.
But I still answer the phone.
It's Pavlovian.
You never know.
Another childhood lesson was
an appreciation of nature,
and especially water.
We lived in an old suburban neighborhood
with homes that had been
built by individual families.
Ours was relatively
isolated amongst the trees
of beechwood, as our community was called.
I had Cobb's Creek a mere half block away.
Kids in those days, the
decade of I Like Ike,
and I Love Lucy, played
outside incessantly.
Sometimes, it was touch
football, in the fall,
or baseball in the summer.
More often, it was just
goofing around in the woods
or the creek, where we
built temporary dams
and hunted crayfish.
Because this was
Pennsylvania, not Louisiana,
we let them go.
When I was six, my father
loaded up the family Mercury
and drove US 1 to Florida.
Back then, the trip took
three complete days.
I remember bits and
snippets, the coarse sand
on the beach outside of Jacksonville,
the trek across the
Gulf and Atlantic waters
to Key West, and the most momentous event,
dropping a baited
handline along the pilings
of the fishing pier at Naples,
on the Southwest Florida coast.
My father guided me as I
pulled up an assortment
of snappers, grunts, and pinfish,
all colorful, and all thrown back alive
to their Gulf of Mexico abode.
But in a word, I was hooked.
It took some years as other pursuits
and interests preoccupied me,
but fishing remained like
some quest-like pastime
that I scarcely understood.
I devoured issues of Field & Stream,
and marveled at tales of
tarpon, bass and trout.
I saved my allowances to
purchase my first rod and reel.
Along with my friend, Butch Martin,
we would explore local
Springton Reservoir,
and catch bluegills,
yellow perch, and once,
in a great while, the ultimate prize,
a largemouth bass.
Looking back, I recognize
that I found an early path
to a significant bliss.
As Joseph Campbell related in his classic,
The Power of Myth, if
you follow your bliss,
you put yourself on a kind of track
that has been there all
the while, waiting for you.
And the life that you ought to be living
is the one you are living.
One's bliss is more than a hobby,
it demands a very real commitment,
an investment of self that
provides personal satisfaction,
and, at the same time, elevation.
It's enjoyment and
immersion in an activity
that can extend across years and decades,
and fishing, quite simply,
has been my enduring bliss.
For me, it provided and
still provides a connection
to the natural world that,
in far too many places,
is in full retreat from bulldozers
and repetitive developments.
It connected me with my dad,
who, despite his illness,
took me fishing, and after his passing,
it gave me solitude and solace
to remember what I lost.
Through decades of plying streams, lakes,
bays and surf, I gradually
learned the craft.
I've given some thought to
what those days on the water
have taught, five items in an
angler's code, so to speak.
And like the pirate's
code, they are merely,
they're more a set of guidelines
to quote Captain Barbossa from
The Pirates of the Caribbean.
The first is patience.
Fishing teaches us that gratification
comes on its own terms, in its own time.
Isaac Walton, author of
the 17th century tome,
The Complete Angler,
cautioned, study to be quiet.
It remains sound advice today.
Second, persistence.
Fishing often consists
of repetitive actions,
such as casting.
You must cover the water.
We sometimes speak of the
fish of a thousand casts.
That's true, but the end
result is almost worth,
always worth the investment.
Third, experimentation.
Fishing teaches that
trying different approaches
and different spots can
yield unexpected success,
and sometimes, it doesn't.
Developing a sense of when
to innovate is important
in fishing as it is in life.
Fourth, fisherman's luck.
It's a common phrase and concept
that is frequently misunderstood.
It is better to be lucky than good,
but don't depend on it.
Once knowledge and expertise kick in,
the importance of luck diminishes.
Finally, appreciate the gifts.
By my 50s, I'd accumulated
decades of casting,
striking, plying, and netting
some, and I've counted,
87 species of fish.
I've caught pan fish by the thousands,
large and small mouthed
bass beyond measure,
weak fish and stripers,
which is the real name
for rockfish, flounders and eels,
redfish and snooks, snappers and groupers,
sea trout in Ireland,
brown trout in Scotland,
landlocked salmon in Maine,
northern pike in Canada, white marlin
in the Baltimore Canyon,
as well as halibut,
coho, pink and chum salmon in Alaska.
For each, I always appreciate
following the dictate
of Charles Cotton, Walton's
friend and angling companion,
in everything give thanks.
What's more, share and teach,
which brings me to my
second bliss, teaching.
Back in the late 1960s,
our college initiated
a January term program designed to foster
inventive and unusual
educational endeavors.
For three weeks, students would embark
on intensive studies
of courses that simply
could not be offered in
the standard curriculum.
We've maintained that
program for almost 50 years.
Some courses are taught on campus,
others involve travel abroad.
For 15 years, I offered Exploring Belize.
For those of you who
haven't heard of Belize,
but don't know exactly where it is,
well, it was once described
as the most irrelevant corner
of the British Empire,
that's back when it was
called British Honduras.
(coughing) Excuse me.
Famed novelist and philosopher,
Aldous Huxley wrote of it,
If the world has any ends,
Belize would certainly be one of them.
It is not on the way from
anywhere to anywhere else.
However, Belize does
contain along its coast
the second largest
barrier reef on the globe.
It also happily holds a history
of peace and tranquility.
Its national holiday on
September 10th celebrates
the 1798 Battle of St. George's Caye,
when Belizeans beat back in
attempt by Spain to invade.
There was a total casualty
count on both sides
of three wounded.
We stayed in the town of
San Pedro on Ambergris Caye.
There's no McDonald's,
Starbucks or Taco Bell,
or buildings, that matter,
over three stories tall.
And in Belize, we fished, as you see,
we fished a lot.
Now, some in the audience
are probably wondering
why a college would
sponsor course in fishing.
And others, perhaps, are wondering,
how can they sign up?
Well, for the former
group, permit me to cite
some 2016 statistics from the
U.S. Department of Commerce.
And I quote, nationally, 9.8
million saltwater anglers
took recreational fishing trips in 2016.
Saltwater recreational fishing
supported 472,000 jobs,
generated $68 billion in
sales across the economy,
and contributed $39 billion
to the Gross Domestic Product.
So aside from wholesome
and environmentally sound
recreational pastime, fishing can also be
an economically viable occupation.
However, when one speaks
of economic utilities,
fishing does pale in
comparison to my professional,
professorial specialty, political science.
The largest employer in the United States,
like it or not, is government,
federal, state and local.
My interest in politics dates
back to my teenage years.
I had an English teacher at
Haverford Junior High School,
which is what we used
to call middle school,
Ms. Wiser, and she was,
well, let's just say
she was demanding.
I struggled in her class until
she gave me an assignment
on the Pennsylvania
Gubernatorial Election.
I became intrigued, researched,
and subsequently, aced the essay.
There's nothing like
positive reinforcement,
and thus began an academic specialization
that continued through Ursinus College,
and my graduate work at the
Johns Hopkins University.
I became a political science professor
who emphasizes the practical
and applied aspects
of the governmental process.
At Hopkins, I played hooky
to learn the pragmatic arts
of urban and campaign politics
from such skilled practitioners
as Maryland state senators,
Jack Lapides and George Della,
Circuit Court Judge Tom Ward,
and Baltimore County
Executive, Ted Venetoulis.
While I earned my Ph.D
in political science,
and began professing here in 1973,
I continued to ply
political arts and crafts
in Baltimore City and throughout Maryland.
I have served as a campaign manager,
a campaign consultant,
a media coordinator,
and public opinion pollster
for offices as varied
as governor, county executive, judge,
city council reps, and mayors.
While these roles add depth
and texture to my lectures,
their real value resides
in the opportunity
for student learning.
Often, these forays provided internships
for McDaniel undergraduates.
My students have worked as
exit pollsters for WBAL TV
and Fox News, and canvassers
for numerous state-wide
and local candidates.
Many have gone on to careers
in the public sector,
and I believe all have come
away with a fresh understanding
of the American citizenry
as well as the democratic
process and procedures.
I always stress the value of internships.
That's because they work.
Internships can range
from semester long tenures
in the Maryland General Assembly,
or short-term campaign experiences.
They connect book learn, book-based,
theoretical knowledge with the
practicalities of the real.
A professor can eloquently
explain the necessity
of legislative bargaining and compromise,
but actually seeing delegates
and Maryland state senators
wheeling and dealing in
a conference committee
communicates these concepts in
a way never to be forgotten.
I consider myself fortunate
to walk into a classroom
and guide students through the intricacies
of our political process.
I remain amazed at the
varieties and challenges
presented by my field.
In applied political science,
new data is generated
on a day to day basis, and
constant revision is imperative.
My lecture notes, well, they're a mess.
They're almost always in a
constant state of becoming,
with marginal notes and
news articles coexisting
with earlier interpretations.
The one organizing
principle that has guided me
in 40 odd years of
college teaching is this.
I have never forgotten what it means
to be an undergraduate student.
I remember the professors
who inspired creative
and independent thought,
I remember the professors
who maintained classrooms
where discussions were
freewheeling, yet productive,
and I remember those who
generated a spirit of fun
and innovation, who demonstrated
a simple but constant
caring for their students.
I have tried to emulate
them, in each reading,
every assignment, and in the totality
of my lectures and seminars.
Student-centered learning
is the core of my approach,
and the best way to accomplish
that is to establish
that value at the very beginning.
So here are some teaching
protocols that have served me well
in the course of my career.
Number one, sensible assignments.
To establish importance and
interest in analytic research,
topics must have a direct
relevance to the students.
For example, in PSI2201,
American Political Institution,
I used James David Barber's classic,
The Presidential Character,
in which he developed
a psycho psychological paradigm
of four presidential personality types.
In presidential years, I require students
to apply the paradigm to
the presidential candidate
of their choice.
In non-campaign years,
students analyze themselves,
kind of self-introspection,
mid-course correction,
what have you.
Usually, over half of the papers submitted
substantially exceed the assigned length,
a sign that an assignment well
and truly engages student interest.
Secondly, simple fairness.
Teaching courses in American
Politics and Government
is sometimes akin to
negotiating a minefield.
Students come in with
preconceived political
and partisan notions that
are absent in such courses
as, say, Microbiology or Macroeconomics.
While few doubt my political leanings,
like Will Rogers used to say,
I belong to no organized party.
I'm a Democrat.
I strive to present contemporary politics
in an impartial and balanced fashion.
Some measures of my success are evident.
I have served as faculty advisor
to both the McDaniel College Democrats
and the McDaniel College Republicans.
I also advise our delegation
to the Maryland Student Legislature,
14 colleges and universities
in the state belong to it.
It's a state-wide, bipartisan
group if there ever was one.
Here, I teach Republicans
how to debate Democrats
and vice versa.
McDaniel students often
fare well in the simulation
of the state legislative process
that's actually conducted in late April,
in the House of Delegates
and State Senate chambers in Annapolis.
We've won the Best Delegation award
five times in 15 years, which
is a pretty good win ratio,
when you consider our competition
includes College Park and Hopkins.
Constructive, third,
constructive critiques.
This applies to both classroom discussions
and paper comments.
Almost always, there is something of worth
in a student's contribution,
and that deserves recognition.
Building personal self confidence
and a centered assertiveness
takes small victory after small victory.
I can provide those without
sacrificing research,
writing or content standards.
Fourth, frequent and timely feedback.
About 30 years ago, I
established a personal goal
of returning all graded exams,
quizzes and research papers
by the next class period.
Now, in truth, I almost always
schedule such evaluations
for a Friday, so I can
use the weekend to grade.
However, students appreciate
the quick turnaround.
And finally, assignments are opportunities
and not obstacles.
Overcoming the long
established student mindset
that research papers and
exams are things I've gotta do
takes both professorial
lobbying and innovation.
I always connect assignments
to challenges students
will face after graduation.
Oral presentations are a case in point.
Speaking to small groups
is a requisite skill
for virtually every professional career.
Students hearing that repeatedly
will buy into the experience and treat it
as the very real opportunity
for skillset development that it is.
Finally, as a political science professor,
I recognize the trust that
others have placed on me
to educate their daughters and sons.
Mine is not a field of abstraction.
It is immediate and demanding.
James Madison once wrote,
Knowledge will forever govern ignorance,
and a people who mean to
be their own governors
must arm themselves with
a power knowledge brings.
I try my very best to arm my
students with that knowledge.
Our democracy demands nothing less.
So that's an overview, a
reflection of my twin passions,
fishing and teaching, that
have so marked my tenure
on God's good Earth.
I would be remiss, however, not to express
some gratitude to certain personalities
who have helped me on the way.
I am grateful for Douglas Adams,
who taught me the great lesson
to the meaning of life is 42.
That's a reference to The
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Google it.
Dr. Hunter S. Thompson,
for Fear and Loathing
on the Campaign Trail,
and serving as the model of Uncle Duke
in the comic strip, Doonesbury.
Google him.
H.L. Mencken, an original thinker,
iconoclast, and scholar
of the American language,
he was, from an early age,
the pride of Baltimore
in arts and letters, and you
really should Google him.
Dan Rodricks of The Baltimore Sun,
my fishing and podcast buddy,
who has never forgotten
the journalistic ethic
that a good newspaper should
comfort the afflicted,
and vice versa.
Megan and Tyler, my daughter and son,
and Stacy and Kim, my stepdaughters,
who were and remain even
better than they remember.
And last, but far from my
least, I am grateful for Beth,
my wife of some 20 years,
who teaches me every day
the lesson of Annie
Proulx's final sentence,
in her masterpiece, The Shipping News,
and that is simply, Love can
come without pain and misery.
Which lends itself to my final
and ultimate lesson of bliss,
and a happy, contented life.
Find love, cherish it,
protect it, and pass it on.
Thank you very much for your attention.
(audience applauding)
