Jim Baumer's Blog, page 37

A Change is Gonna Come

When I launched this website back in 2012, I never intended it to be overtly political. The Jim Baumer Experience was me attempting to establish my personal brand, and this site (and blog) have played a part in that process. Life is a lot different these days.

Work is now a combination of freelance opportunities, with other fairly interesting part-time gigs rounding out the mix. I’m not sure how I want to write about all of that, at least not in the context of this blog.

Politics lately has taken up more of my blogging time than I intended. Over the past few weeks, I’ve made a valiant effort to reason and write about what’s going on from where I sit. Basically, it’s gotten me nowhere. How can you reason with people who have lost their minds and lack any historical context for anything that they believe?

What is it that I really love to do and would spend most of my waking hours engaged in if making money and paying bills weren’t the bane of my mortal existence? The answer would be, write. And likely, it wouldn’t be writing about politics, either.

I won’t promise that you’ll never see another political post here at the JBE, but I can say that you won’t be seeing one in the near future.

For the next few weeks, and maybe even months, I’m going to write about something other than the lesser of two, three, or whatever number of evils are still in the running for president.

I found an intriguing book on writing the other day at the library. It was written nearly 80 years ago and begins with, Everybody Is Talented, Original, and Has Something Important to Say.” I loved that. The sentiment was so much more positive than the bashing back and forth that people are doing in places and contexts that are at least supposed to approximate friendship.

That’s the sort of stuff I’d like to write about in the near future.

Rust Never Sleeps

Just because all the news that’s fit to print emanates from Manhattan in no way means that New York City is the epicenter of the information universe. In fact, the traditional centers of news and commerce might actually be some of the last places that receive the memo that American greatness is in its twilight fade.

I like getting my communiques from other places, with names like Flint, Michigan, Youngstown, Ohio, and Gary, Indiana. These once great manufacturing hubs are examples of what happens to empires when the middle’s hollowed out. Of course, politicians feign interest in some of these places simply because it’s the silly season and they’re out on the stump for votes and gathering super delegates.

No movies, today (Gary, Indiana).

Belt Magazine publishes longform, investigative journalism—another tradition from America’s past that’s all but disappeared—about the Rust Belt. And as Belt’s founder, Anne Trubek, notes, while many national publications have picked up on a few trends highlighting “revitalization” and “cool hipster breweries,” these are simply one “pole” of a larger narrative, one that also must address our urban ruins, like parts of Detroit.

Every week, I get a wrap of links about the Rust Belt, showing up as a tweet from the gang at Belt. Too often, even after favoriting that week’s wrap, I forget to go back and read even one or two of these articles. Not this week, however.

There was this one in U.S. News & World Report, about how both parties have failed the Rust Belt. That runs counter to the New York Times need to lift up Hillary Clilnton, now that Dems aren’t “feeling the Bern,” or trumpet the tired and trite “racism” meme about Donald Trump.

It’s rare to read anything in mainstream publications that take Democrats to task for their abandonment of working-class Americans (which is the group, by-and-large that Trump is attracting). Charles Wheelan clearly delineates those Democrat failures (as well at the Republican Party’s, also).

While I might not agree with Wheelan’s prescription in its entirety—which he assigns the moniker of “Capitalism 3.0”—at least he’s willing to say that maintaining the status quo for another four years as offered by the establishment wing of both parties won’t work—and American ruins located within the Rust Belt will continue circling the drain.

Amazon Was Here

Retail is a mixed bag across the country. Malls in smaller cities are struggling, as former anchor tenants like Sears and J.C. Penney have closed stores, and many smaller shops have shuttered. Larger retail has shifted to shopping complexes anchored by a Walmart or other big-box store. Drive through any community other than Portland and notice the abundance of unfilled retail space.

The late, great Bookland Store sits vacant at Cook’s Corner, in Brunswick.

Smaller malls and shopping centers were popping up all over the place in Maine three decades ago. This pretty much sealed the deal for Mom and Pop small hardware stores and other locally-owned shopping options. Now, many of those same strip malls and retail havens have multiple vacant storefronts.

If video killed the radio star in 1979, then online giants like Amazon killed the local book store, as well as other retailers 35 years later. Nothing to get perturbed about—just another example of our unwinding—and greatness long gone.

Three other storefronts next to Bookland are empty.

Ten years ago, if you released an independently-produced book, you could sell it at Bookland, Mr. Paperback, and even Borders. Mr. Paperback had 10 stores scattered across the state. They made book distribution easy for small press publishers. Even a chain like Borders—their two locations in Bangor and South Portland sold close to 300 copies of my first book. Losing these bricks-and-mortar book retailers has made indie publishing challenging for everyone save the one-percenters.

It makes me wonder what our local retail options might be in another 10 years.

Sitting on Our High Horses

Politics often turn into morality plays. Each side sees their cause/candidate as morally superior to the other. That’s particularly problematic when the choice is a binary one.

In my opinion, it’s a shame how historically illiterate we’ve become. We seem to have forgotten our past. It shouldn’t be too hard to look back 50 years and see parallels between a candidate like Donald Trump, with appeals made to white, working-class people, and a Democrat (who later ran as an third party candidate) like George Wallace.

Of course, the brain-addled, responding like dogs to a whistle, immediately whip out their “racist” or “fascist” signs when presented with Wallace’s name because they’ve been trained to do so. Partly this is due to the small-minded lacking the ability to go any broader than that. You shouldn’t feel too bad. Wallace got the same treatment 50 years ago from the same groups of people, mainly the elite media, liberals, and other high-minded types.

There are several books that look at Wallace much more broadly than do leftist media heroes with an agenda—like Rachel Maddow at MSNBC. She’s probably one of the best at taking a thimble worth of history and turning it into that night’s hour-long screed against her chosen villain. Here’s the CliffsNotes version: Republicans were stupid before and now, they are stupid again.

Even Amy Goodman, who I once thought had some journalistic integrity, seems intent of painting with a brush designed to obfuscate rather than illuminate. Ah, the American media—mainstream or the alt-variety—as useless as they’ve ever been.

In one of my recommended books, Daniel Carter had this to say concerning Wallace. It offers insight into the phenomenon and support for Wallace in 1968 (and later, 1972), and it provides us with a broader understanding about the support currently garnered by Mr. Trump.

Carter indicated that it was far more than simple racism. “Wallace was able to compound racial fear, anticommunism, cultural nostalgia and traditional right-wing economics into a movement” that exploited the apprehension with which the white working and middle class viewed the rise in street crime, social unrest and the erosion of cultural values. This tapestry of issues “laid the foundation for the conservative counterrevolution that reshaped American politics in the 1970s and 1980s,” argued Carter in his Wallace biography, The Politics of Rage: George Wallace, The Origins of the New Conservatism, and the Transformation of American Politics.

But Carter’s book is big and heavy. There are lots of words, too.

If you can’t (or won’t) read, the Drive-By Truckers catalog offers some interesting lessons in so-called Southern bigotry (because those of us in the North know that all Southerners are slack-jawed and segregationists at heart). Pop in a CD, or better, I’ll post the video for you to watch at the end about George Wallace (see the 2:50 mark).

Then there’s Facebook, filled with the worst kind of moralists.

Smug. Filled with pride, and able to use a platform that’s designed for preaching to the choir if there ever was one. That’s easier to do when you can’t get outside your own arrogance and even elitism.

I’ve spent time in (religious) movements and following people that made me feel morally superior to others. I ran around talking about “sin” and making my crowd out to be the ones occupying the high ground. Liberalism often is tinged with the same kind of religious fervor, and holier-than-thou attitudes.

I look back on that time in my life some 30 years ago with a great deal of embarrassment. How did I get duped by a bunch of religious rubes and yahoos? Shutting off my brain and relying on pre-packaged talking points was one of the ways. Also, closing myself off from anything critical of the ideological soup du jour being offered at the time was another way.

The lessons from that time were hard ones to learn—but immensely valuable. I’m still in the process of growing and expanding my understanding of the world from where I sit.

Is Trump the candidate boorish and even a bit frightening to anyone that’s never landed a punch, or taken one before? He most certainly is. However, for a good portion of America long left behind by the political class, business types, and academic elites, they hear his message and it resonates with them.

Call it stupid or ignorant if you want to. But people without hope and a future often turn to desperation and candidates that tell them what they want to hear.

An Angry Nation Awaits

I remember J.C. Watts as a nimble quarterback, running Barry Switzer’s Oklahoma Sooners’ wishbone offense around the same time I was firing fastballs past opposition hitters. This was 1979 or 1980, and OU played a brand of football that valued the run and a quarterback that ran first and passing was secondary. Much different than today’s throw-happy college and pro games.

Watts would later go on and play in the Canadian Football League after college. What he’s best known for however, is his time as a member of the U.S. House of Representatives, where he represented Oklahoma’s 4th district from 1995 until 2003. A Republican and a conservative, Watts was the only African-American during the mid-1990s who did not join the Congressional Black Caucus.

It’s interesting how important it has become for blacks like Watts to toe some kind of political line and align monolithically with Democrats. They are supposed to be liberals, and favor government giveaways and all manner of shibboleths that have become the equivalent of commandments over the past 50 years.

I caught Watts being interviewed Wednesday morning by Greta Brawner on C-SPAN’s Washington Journal program. The topic was Trump and the damage that Il Duce is inflicting on the party that Watts is still a member of.

A former athlete and most recently, a politician, Watts is also an ordained minister. He’s articulate and soft-spoken—qualities that Mr. Trump hasn’t exhibited at all during his scorched earth tour for president.

Watts had previously endorsed Rand Paul for president. He stated that his support for Senator Paul emanated from Watts’ own concern about incarceration reform, sentencing disparities and anti-poverty legislation. Watts himself admitted during the interview that these were issues that “Republicans usually don’t take on,” yet Paul was publicly in favor of and campaigning on. Watts obviously saw someone running that cared for some of the same issues he had worked passionately to support while he served as a congressman.

But alas, the 2016 horse race for president is one for the ages, a statement that probably goes without saying. Also, it’s likely a precursor to even more disturbing types of campaigns in the future, as our empire spirals downward.

I’m never sure what kinds of people watch Washington Journal. I’m guessing, from some of the ignorant calls that are taken by the host each morning that their audience is the same sad and mad (and equally, misinformed) as those watching mainstream media news programs on Fox and MSNBC.

Still, it was discouraging to hear someone as even-mannered and well-spoken as Watts, field criticisms from callers, lumping him in as an “establishment” politician, and paint him as someone who was less than the consistent conservative he’s always been.

Watts articulated that Trump was acting in an “indecent” manner. The candidate not forcefully denouncing David Duke was one of “many things” that concern Watts about Trump’s possibility as president. As an evangelical believer, Watts also finds it troubling that well-known evangelicals like Jerry Falwell Jr. and others have hopped on the Trump bandwagon.

Actually, evangelicals are a lot like blacks when it comes to political expectations. While they might say that they live their lives asking themselves, “what would Jesus do?”, when it comes time to choose, they’re most likely to pull the lever for Republicans.

Watts, in addition to forays in football, politics, and religion, is also an author. He just released a new book, Dig Deep: 7 Truths to Finding the Truth Within. The book touches on taking responsibility and living a life that’s “true,” and “not letting your dysfunctions become your normal.”

Those are lessons that Mr. Trump and many of his followers might want to think about—but likely won’t. It’s always better to be right than true to something bigger than ourselves.

My Mind’s Made Up

Politics makes otherwise decent people, take leave of their senses. Nowhere is this truer than during the horserace leading up to presidential elections. Discussions of religious matters comes in a distant second, I think.

I was reading something in the blogosphere and the writer mentioned that “Irrationality is the foundation of our national politics, fueled by subjective preferences.” I would agree.

What other explanation is there for the constant haranguing of the other side on Facebook? “My candidate is better than your candidate,” and vice versa. Liberals malign conservatives, and conservatives bash liberals. Back and forth it goes. There is a certain smugness that accompanies one’s choice, also.

I always laugh when I hear about “undecided voters.” As if people actually form their opinions of candidates after carefully researching them.

Foolishly, I posted something on social media last week and had it thrown back in my face. I dared to post what I thought was a well-written analysis of the horserace, one that didn’t follow the typical paint-by-numbers blather of the driveby media. Silly me—I was appealing to reason and rationality, not pandering to ignorance. The person that took issue with it admitted that he didn’t read the entire piece. His mind’s already made up for his candidate, Hillary Clinton. But I’m the stupid one.

A Trump vs. Hillary match-up is possible.

I was reminded by a friend that the Bible teaches us not to cast our pearls before swine.

Of course, anytime you write down your thoughts or offer an opinion, unless you tuck the manuscript in a drawer, there is the risk of offending someone.

We still have eight more months of this to weather, too. Then, the madness will mercifully end.

Publishing Progression

When I got into publishing, it was mainly a method to get my first book to market.  I started out knowing very little. At the time, indie publishing (what most call, “self-publishing”) wasn’t being embraced by the likes of Amazon and others, because it hadn’t yet become a lucrative income stream for them. But self-published books have been around since books first rolled off Gutenberg’s press.

Printing’s come a long way since Gutenberg’s time.

What once was the domain of legacy presses and authors who couldn’t get a book deal, now finds writers like Jamie McGuire landing on the shelves of major retailers and books like Andy Weir’s The Martian (originally self-published) are being made into Hollywood movies.

I started RiverVision Press in 2005 because a regional book about town team baseball didn’t have great appeal to major publishers. The small press publishers that I knew—while liking the book—didn’t quite know how to market it.

History vindicates that decision. When Towns Had Teams, a book detailing the heyday of town team and semi-pro baseball in Maine just after WWII, garnered an IPPY award from Independent Publisher in 2006, the winner of their Best Regional Nonfiction title for the Northeast. With that one, I was on my way. Since then, I’ve published two more titles of my own; a book about Moxie in 2008 (now out-of-print after two press runs) and a book of essays two years ago. In-between, Down East Books (now owned by Rowman & Littlefield) offered me a contract to do a Moxie book for them.

Having learned the tools and techniques of publishing with a hands-on approach, I realized that there was a growing movement of people wanting to publish book their own books. I timed it right time and have been able to capitalize on that demand. Actually, that’s not quite what’s happened.

I was asked by a local adult ed director where I was teaching a writing class, if I wanted to put together a Saturday program on how to publish a book. My Publishing Boot Camp became a popular Saturday destination each March for a couple of years. It allowed me to cobble together all my knowledge learned first-hand (along with what not to do), and offer a road map and service to others looking to do the right thing, but not sure how to start the process, or proceed to the finish line.

I first met Linda Andrews during one of my narrative nonfiction classes. She was a nurse and a writer who had begun working on a book of her own. Like many writers who start down the road to writing a book, the process isn’t always linear. Linda had lost her father and then her husband over a two-week stretch in 2010. When she first showed up at class, she was still going through the grief process and things were very raw.

As I got to know Linda, I could see that she had a subject that was special and marketable. It also helped that she had writing talent.

Interestingly, while Linda participated in one of my boot camps, she’d later tell me that she was “overwhelmed” by all the information provided.

Over about two years, Linda and I corresponded by email and we’d occasionally grab breakfast to discuss her progress. She’d bring her list of questions and I’d offer answers and suggestions. She’s then go off until she had another question, or ran into another obstacle.

Of all the students I’ve had over the course of four years serving as a writing instructor, Linda was one of my most determined. It was clear that what she set her mind to, she eventually made happen. That’s probably one of the key elements for anyone willing to go the indie route as a writer and publisher. You’ve got to be willing to stick it out.

I’m happy to report that Linda’s very first book, Please Bring Soup To Comfort Me While I Grieve is now a reality. The book was released last week, and I think it’s going to do very well.

As I wrote in my blurb for the book, Linda’s book, Please Bring Soup is a necessary book, one that should be shared with friends and family who are grieving; it will help the rest of us better acknowledge (not ignore) and validate the reality of the process.

For disclosure purposes, Linda hired me to serve as her book coach over the summer. While she was very close to the finish line with the book, she was still struggling to get over the last few hurdles. To her credit, she recognized that she needed someone to coach her through the final paces. As a result, she has a book that’s professionally-produced, and readers will be the beneficiaries from her willingness to do things the right way. I’m also serving as her publicist during the launch phase of the book. I’m honored to have Linda as a client, as her book is one that’s easy to promote and endorse. You’ll be able to catch her being interviewed about the book very soon.

Please check out Linda’s website. There’s an excerpt from the book posted there, also.

I may have served as Linda’s book coach, but I like to call Linda my mentor when it comes to learning how to respond to grief and loss. She’s the expert and her book is one that’s essential reading if you want to know how to respond to people you care about that are going through the process of loss and grief.

Numerous times over the past few months, I find myself considering something Linda’s told me, or I read reviewing her manuscript. It’s helped me to become more aware and attuned to what’s going on with people around me.

Here’s a comment from a reader who pre-ordered the book:

I received my book today and could not put it down. All I can say is WOW…Linda Andrews   shared so much of her daily if not hourly thoughts, grief and pain she went through. She has to be the strongest person I know!! How she took the time to be there for others when she was hurting and always showering everyone with her love and understanding.

Have your box of tissues ready for both sadness and happiness.

It’s always a cause for celebration when your student becomes the teacher.

The Graveyard Shift

The last time I worked overnights, I was in my 20s and living in Indiana. I was employed by the Indiana Department of Corrections at the time.That periods seems like eons ago.

I’m now moonlighting as a funeral attendant. Some people still call them undertakers. Some of the duties are as you’d imagine.

The last 24 hours have been particularly hectic in the funeral business.

Sometimes I get to drive the coach.

Prius in a Ditch

I was actually going to write about hipsters, Portland’s food fixation, with a doughnut comparison (the holy kind vs. the German variety) thrown in for good measure—along with a few other things I’ve observed in my travels in and out of Forest City the past two weeks.

The post, which I cobbled together last night felt half-baked. Then, I got called out at 5:15 this morning at my part-time gig and didn’t get home in time to really do the necessary work to reinforce my narrative infrastructure.

Of course, the roads were a bit slippery this morning, as they were when I set out south @ 5:30. I had no trouble navigating them in my Ford Taurus, V-6 engine and all. I attribute this to my studded Nokian Hakkapellitta’s and my experience navigating snow and ice-covered roadways.

Just north of Bradbury Mountain on my return, I saw fire trucks and the boys from Pownal’s FD directing traffic on Route 9. There was a Prius in the ditch. How appropriate.

I managed to make my way through and couldn’t snap a photo without appearing to be a loon. I don’t believe it had a “Feel the Bern” bumper sticker, but I’m not certain.

Prius unable to navigate slippery Route 9.

You’ll have to be okay with my stock photo from the intewebs instead.

Oh, and I’ll be doing some additional work on my hipster post for the future.

Panda Problem

We have a Panda sighting! I guess all is well in Red Sox Nation-—or maybe not.

Oh, and I guess that paying someone $95 million to play third base isn’t enough motivation for some players to show up for camp in shape. Because we all know that $95 million doesn’t go as far as it used to.

Sandoval, not quite svelte. (Matt Stone photo/Boston Herald)

Just like last spring, when everyone had high expectations with the signing of Pablo “Panda” Sandoval, and then, he showed up grossly overweight, Sandoval again rolled into the Red Sox complex at least 50 pounds over what he ought to be playing at. So, instead of talking about free agent pitcher David Price, Sox fans are being treated by local media to pictures of a fat, out-of-shape player who doesn’t give a damn.

Back in 1993, I decided to pitch for a local semi-pro team. I was 31-years-old, knowing I’d be trying to get players out that were mainly 10 years younger than me. I committed to biking to work in Brunswick two days a week, and on the other three mornings, I hit the gym to lift and workout. I wasn’t being paid a dime to do this.

Granted, we live in a country where packing on the pounds is now our national pastime. Interestingly, it’s been 20 years since I pitched for Coastal Athletics in the Twilight League, and I think I’m in even better shape than I was then. I swim two mornings a week, spin Tuesday nights, and try to run two more times during the week. The only reason I’m doing it is for health and so I don’t look like an old, fat guy. Oh, I’ll probably do a couple of triathlons this summer and I also don’t want to look like a fat load in my umpire’s uniform.

It’s a shame that a team paying someone more than most of us will make in 10 lifetimes can’t hold them accountable and expect them to show up for the season in shape. Maybe more telling about the days we’re living in—the player privileged to get paid to play a boy’s game doesn’t think he has some responsibility to maximize his potential and abilities for his employer paying him and the fans that will drop good money to watch him boot balls and look pathetic at the plate.