Thursday, August 25, 2016
Why I Read It: I heard the author speak at a conference, and immediately bought in.
Summary: Demographic changes on the horizon should make us all look closely at how we conduct businesses of many kinds.
My Thoughts: It's simple math, but it's math that many of us are overlooking. I know this for a fact, because I tried to throw out some long-term demographic thinking at a meeting recently that was brushed off as quickly as I got it out. It's the difference between thinking short-term and thinking long-term. For instance, I recently went to buy a car and was told that now was a good time to buy a hybrid, because the dealer was offering heavy incentives to do so. Why? Gas prices had dropped from a few months ago. Really, people are that short-sighted? They go back to Hummers because gas is $2.50 a gallon instead of $3? Doesn't the long-term forecast - as with every other consumable in the world - show that gas prices will eventually rise? With my extra $3000 off, I scooped up the hybrid and started saving money on gas immediately, knowing I was not only paying $2.50 a gallon now, but was only getting gas once a month. Long-term, not short-term.
The author's point is that time moves forward, inexorably, and we can't change the past to create the future we want. When we look at the chart of U.S. live births from 1905 forward, we see definite 20-year patterns - the G.I. Generation, the Silent Generation, the Baby Boomers, Generation X - and what looks like a 25-year grouping of Generation Y births, the Millenials. The main story we are faced with now is that the Boomers are retiring and Generation X is taking charge of the country's infrastructure, but there are 11% fewer of them (or, "us," I should say) than there were of the Boomers. Generation X won't be able to fill the shoes of the Boomers, not because of quality issues like work ethic, but because there were just way too many shoes in comparison. For every ten Boomer retirees, nine Gen X'ers stand ready to take their places.
So what does this mean for the country? If it's a service the Boomers want or need as retirees, expect a fifteen-or-so-year run, but then be faced with the fact that the population of retirees falls off the cliff when Generation X starts to hit 65. Businesses providing those services will need to consider consolidation, mergers or getting out of the business and moving into services that Generation Y can use, because that's where the greatest portion of the population will be.
Let me give you an example that I have been thinking about (not from the author's work, but inspired by his thinking). For many years I have worked with local historical societies. They have had a strong run since the beginning of the twentieth century (a reaction to immigration and the potential loss of local identity), but have always found it hard to do two things: find new board members and attract young families. The running joke is that local societies have always been run by "little old ladies in white tennis shoes" (women, on average, outliving men). And they've done a good job, but can they, as a force, sustain the pattern?
Consider what I stated above. Once Generation X hits 65, there will quickly become a dearth of retirees in comparison to the previous generation. That's strike one. There will simply be fewer people around who typically fit the description of local historical society leaders. Sadly, this also takes away a large portion of the membership that attends lectures, nostalgic programs and more. Fewer people will be available to run historical societies, and fewer will be interested in what they have to offer.
But there are more factors involved. The typical local historical society board member has strong ties to his or her community. He can say, "I was born on Main Street, right between the Smith house and the Washington house. My dad ran the local gas station, right over there, and my mom taught at the elementary school for 36 years." How many of us can say that any more? We have become transient as a society and no longer can claim that the old adage "you marry someone born within 25 miles of where you were born" is absolutely true. We're not local in nature any more. There will be fewer and fewer people with long, deep knowledge of local landscapes, people who are really dedicated to the preservation of their hometown history. That's strike two.
Can you see a pattern? Now, consider this final pitch. Local historical societies are just that - local. I had the pleasure of working with a friend who was as fiercely dedicated to his hometown as anybody I have ever met. He had this beat-up old pickup truck that he bumped all over town, and we used to joke that it had never seen the neighboring towns. Wouldn't you know it, one day he was driving it to next next town over, and it died on the town border. Local historical societies as they currently operate are just that myopic; they can't see beyond the borders of their towns. In coming years, with the factors above brewing, the first best course of action for historical societies will be consolidation of governance into regional boards of directors covering several local towns. But Springfield wants nothing to do with Shelbyville, and Shelbyville definitely wants nothing to do with North Haverbrook. The only saving grace here is that the generation that will be in charge, Generation X, will not have the fierce local fidelity of the Boomers, and might actually consider consolidation. But what happens if local towns can't work and play well together? A lot of padlocked buildings, the redistribution of artifacts to regional, state and national level institutions (there will still be costs like insurance that will have to be met, without revenue coming in from membership) and a loss of local identity.
So, what's the answer, to avoid the strikeout? Engage Generation Y. Exhibits will have to become less static, more digital. Programs will have to become kid-friendly, catering to young families. Membership packages must have perks the whole family can enjoy. Societies will have to teach history through fun at an early age, as kids no longer get it in school. Elementary schools now teach to standardized math and English tests and have made science and history sidelights of the school year. The STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) movement has arisen as a counterculture for the science side, and science museums and nature centers have become integral partners in science education; history has no such counterpart movement. And - most importantly - understand that American history is not as "white" as it used to be. Societies will have to embrace all of the cultures that make - and have made - their communities great, so that they might become a part of the future of the local history world. We are growing more diverse as a country, not less, and that must be reflected in our local historical societies. Then, with families engaged, and a broader spectrum of cultures involved, Generation Y may provide the leadership needed. If it benefits their kids, they will be willing to support it.
So, yes, once you understand the march of the generations through time, you can see how things have to change. Thank you, Ken Gronbach. My eyes have been opened!
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
Why I Read It: Read Big Hair and Plastic Grass, and grooved on it.
Summary: Major League Baseball and the summer of 1976.
My Thoughts: I lived it - barely. To be truthful, I can't say that I remember anything specifically about the 1976 baseball season - I had just turned five years old - but just about everything about it is familiar.
I remember the names, especially those of the Red Sox. I remember hearing about Mark Fidrych from friends. But I definitely have no memories of Reggie Jackson in a Baltimore Orioles uniform. My earliest memories of him are with the Yankees.
But, I had the baseball cards.
Dan Epstein brings the season back to life, straight form the faces of those Topps cards, from the shaggy locks of Randy Jones (remember the card of him with his hat flying off?) to the mutton chops, from the stark white and black collared shirts of the White Sox to the rainbow of colors being worn around the leagues. He mixes in the stories of the Bicentennial, when America celebrated its founding with event after event, some of which went well, some, not so much. He revels in the music of the summer, of the slow birth of Disc, the emergence of FM rock, the growth of punk. He wraps it all into the baseball season, following the stories of owners like Bill Veeck and Ted Turner (and, of course, George Steinbrenner), managers like Billy Martin and Walter Alston, and players like George Foster, Thurman Munson and so many more that it makes your head spin with beloved nostalgia. If you love the game like I do, you'll remember most immediately, but a few names will make you say, "Holy crap...I almost forgot about that guy."
The book has no choice but to be funky in the best of ways. Every Mick Schmidt home run, George Brett ripped single and Pete Rose slap double, every twist of El Tiante's wind-up screams the '70s in its multi-hued, brash, outspoken glory.
We all know the ending - Big Red Machine over the Yanks - but this book is not about the ending. It's about enjoying the ride. And it's a top-down, slow cruise through the neighborhood with Boston's "More Than a Feeling" blaring at unacceptable levels.
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
Why I Read It: Michael is an acquaintance, and a good guy. I read everything he publishes.
Summary: A family leaving Central America in the early days of World War II meets with disaster at sea.
My Thoughts: We've moved on from World War II in many ways, but, there's one thing I've always found odd about the way that we have treated its history. The average, knee-jerk reaction to the notion that German U-boats were off our coasts is unequivocally negative. There's no way they were here, I've been told time and again.
Perhaps it was the wartime press blackouts, the fact that newspapers and magazines and radio stations stayed away from publishing such news, at the urging of the federal government. But they were there, and there are hundreds of American families who can claim lost loved ones off our very own coasts thanks to U-boat attacks.
Tougias and O'Leary detail the pathways of the U-boats lurking in the Gulf of Mexico in the spring of 1942 with exact precision, recapturing the horrors of the true terror attacks of World War II. Survivors tell of explosions, abandoning ship, and strange encounters with U-boat captains who say they are sorry, but this is war, before delivering cigarettes and even baked goods to survivors in life rafts.
This story focuses on one family and their struggle to remain alive and together after the freighter on which they are heading home is torpedoed. It captures the darkness of the spring of 1942, when the U-boats controlled the seas, taking out ships at will, racking up tonnage at an alarming rate. The Germans celebrated their U-boat heroes; the Americans lived in abject fear of them.
Yes, the U-boat threat was real off the American coast in World War II. Let Tougias and O'Leary prove to you how real it was.
Why I Read It: For many years, I led puffin trips.
Summary: The story of the reestablishment of the southernmost breeding colony of Atlantic Puffins in the United States.
My Thoughts: This book was a long time in coming. Those of us in the field, leading the birding trips throughout the northeast, had long associated Steven Kress with this amazing tale. We knew when we stepped onto the islands off the coast of Maine that miracles had happened in the world of Atlantic Puffins,
The trips I used to lead were not on the islands on which Kress worked so diligently, but much farther north, on Machias Seal Island, on the Maine-Canda border (the island is disputed). There's much that I could tell about our adventures out there, but they'd be extraneous to this tale, Suffice to say, a puffin colony is a different world, when mixed with a few Razorbills and a couple of Common Murres, perhaps Arctic Terns diving at your head as you make your way to the viewing blinds. I miss it.
Kress had a epiphany after reading that some Maine islands had formerly held puffin breeding colonies, but that those colonies had gone extinct, or, probably more accurately, had been extirpated. He thought something had to be done, but what? How could one attract a species back to a location on which it once thrived, but that was now overwhelmed by predators? Sure, the big problem had gone away, humans weren't hunting them any more, but gulls had moved in, gulls that would love to snack on "pufflings" before or after they came out of their eggs.
Kress believed that translocation of young puffins could lead to an eventual breeding colony. Puffin chicks raised on the island would, theoretically come back. But nobody had tested the theory. He set out to do so, and, in turn, changed the seabird colony restoration world.
This book details the journey, almost chick by chick, from the start in the 1970s to similar restoration projects taking place around the world today. It's a story of perseverance, above all else. It's a tale with a happy ending, so far, as who knows what will pop up next to endanger these little birds? So, let's celebrate it with Steven Kress while we can. He deserves it more than any of us can ever imagine.