Last week I posted my own reaction to Jon Caldara’s column in that Sunday’s Denver Post about the use of words. Today Tony Frank, chancellor of the Colorado State University system, chimed in with his take.
It included this:
Do I think several of the suggestions in the list are just plain silly? Sure. Do I wish there had never been any debate about the use of the word “America”? Of course — it makes me personally sick because I and everyone I know at our university is proud of our country. (Still, as an American, I’m not going to tell anyone what they can and can’t debate, even if it personally offends me — especially on a college campus where free and open debate is our job.)
Tony Frank, Denver Post, August 4, 2019
Caldara, predictably, missed the mark completely. Not having paid much attention to Tony Frank, I don’t know but will speculate that his response was entirely predictable, too. I was surprised to read that he is personally sickened by discussion of how the word “America” is used.
So much for the part about “free and open debate” being part of his job on a college campus. Let’s hope Frank feels better soon and begins to think more clearly.
How ironic that the president of a Denver “think tank” would rather the citizenry not think about the words they use.
In a column in today’s Denver Post, Jon Caldara derides efforts to promote the use of inclusive language by Colorado State University and others with an ignorant, offensive rant that includes this:
For those offended by our president’s vile use of words, you might wish to consider Trump was the inevitable reaction to the truly offensive indoctrination from the likes of CSU, public broadcasting and the educational establishment.
Caldara, Denver Post, July 28, 2019
So forget the bogus claim that Trumpsters became Trumpsters because of economic anxiety rather than their misogynistic hate for Hillary Clinton, or their racism, or their fear of others.
Caldara’s explanation pins it on their offense at the idea that we would do well to use our words carefully. He thinks we’re all better off remaining ignorant. Hogwash.
Put it on your calendar and I’ll see you on the patio!
Carnival of the Indies Book Sale, July 27: A day of books, stories, music and fun hosted by the Boulder County Indie Authors on Trident Books’ shady back patio. Our wide variety of books includes young adult, crime fiction, historical fiction, sci-fi, fantasy, memoir, satire, poetry and more!
Meet authors (including yours truly), buy signed books, support local lit and imbibe tasty beverages at this beloved book shop and cafe, 940 Pearl St. in Boulder, Colorado.
My legs shook as I stood in front of the others in my 6th grade class to deliver a mandatory speech, every bit as hard as they shook the first time I stepped onto the high diving board at a swimming pool in West Des Moines.
The sheer terror of being in front of an audience somehow evolved – slowly, so slowly – into nervous excitement at the prospect of talking about something I love to do. The debilitating fear of heights is now a healthy respect for the law of gravity that keeps me a safe distance from sheer mountain cliffs and other high places.
Lately I’ve found myself actually going out of my way to get in front of people as an author, to do some readings and even sell and sign a few books. Three more events scheduled! Details sometime soon.
I’m surprised at how much fun it can be.
How about you? Are you comfortable in front of an audience or not so much?
I think I’ve led an interesting life so far, but I wouldn’t expect anyone to buy a book about it. Most of my writing has been nonfiction based on research and interviews on various topics. Still, I’ve made use of what I know from experience in my Detective Red Shaw novels. The following excerpt from North of Grand is one example, which draws on my love of bicycling as well as other lived experience. It’s my favorite way of writing what I know.
In which Detective Red Shaw visits a bike shop…
…while investigating the murder of a cyclist.
Half an hour later he was parked outside the place watching a middle-aged couple load two new bicycles on a brand-new rack on the back of a shiny, black SUV. They chatted with a young blonde woman who he guessed had just made the sale. The scene took him back to the time he and Sally bought new bicycles at a discount store and rode them three times one summer. He wasn’t sure where they’d ended up.
Inside the store he took a few minutes to browse, inspecting the lines of sleek, pricey road bikes and rugged, shock-equipped mountain bikes. He wondered how many of them ever actually saw a mountain. Assorted helmets hung on one wall near displays of water bottles and gloves and seat bags and other paraphernalia. There were hard, narrow saddles that weighed nothing or close to it. He could buy balm and padded shorts for his butt to ward off pain and chafing, then spend more bucks on tight, techno-wonder jerseys to keep him cool as he sped down some road in the sun. He picked up a coffee-can-size container of powder from a nearby display. The label claimed it would keep his electrolytes in balance and help him stave off dehydration if only he would mix it properly and drink the proper amount every hour during a long ride, then mix and drink more later to make sure he’d gotten enough.
The only employee in sight was adjusting
the brakes on a bicycle in the shop area. A surly type with long, graying hair,
he looked over once then turned back to the brake job without saying a word. He
seemed to assume that Shaw wasn’t going to buy anything. He was right.
“Can I help you with something, sir?” The
young woman from the parking lot appeared beside him. Up close, he guessed
she’d be in her thirties, a little older than she looked outside. Attractive
and obviously fit. Tess, her ID tag
“Thanks, but I’m just kind of looking
around. Some people I work with swear that riding a bike has been all kinds of
good for their health, mental and otherwise.”
She smiled at that. “I’m sure it has. It’s
a great way to spend some time, get some exercise, get to work, whatever. I
ride here every day, eight miles each way, unless there’s snow and ice.”
“You’re kidding,” Shaw said. “That’s a
long way, isn’t it?”
“Not really,” she said. “If I wasn’t
working I’d be out with my club for about fifty miles, and we’re doing a metric
“A metric century?”
“A hundred kilometers. Sixty-two miles or
Shaw grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like
all that much fun.”