Fringeville Edition #75, July 22 2012

To most of America, Penn State is a football program gone very, very, very bad.

The wreckage of the Jerry Sandusky scandal and the coddling of a child molester by the most powerful people at the University is a stinking sewer of a scandal not likely to be matched again in our lifetimes.

But to folks like me, Penn State football was far more than just a game. It was emblematic of the right way to do things. It was proof that you didn't have to cheat to win. It meant that excellence could be achieved both on the football field and in the classroom.

And the man who made that all possible was Joseph Vincent Paterno. We stuck by him in the good years and the bad, because this was Joe and he was special. He was different. Miami coach Jimmy Johnson once called him "Saint Joe," and went on to say, "...everyone respects Joe's image. No one would dare say anything about it." (From the January 2, 1987 Gainesville Sun)

But all of it ...the program, Paterno's legacy, the university's reputation and integrity ...was built on quicksand.

I took a cautious stance when the scandal first broke. I wanted to see how the process played out before passing judgement on Paterno and the university. There was never a question in my mind that Sandusky was a monster. I hoped he was the only one. He wasn't. 

This is a very difficult post for me to write. This post signifies the acceptance on my part that the football coach I admired so much protected a great monster and became one himself.

So what happens now?

There are calls for the NCAA to impose the "death penalty" for football at Penn State. I think that will likely happen (even though it may not be covered by NCAA bylaws) unless Penn State imposes self-penalties so severe that it stays the executioner.

I would prefer the latter over the former.

There is a public thirst for vengeance right now, and I understand why. Children were abused by a serial pedophile. It doesn't get worse than that.

But the death penalty so many clamor for would punish an entire region of the state. As an article on Penn Live points out, it would be a "nuclear winter" for central Pennsylvania. Indeed the article states that Penn State football has an impact of more than $165 million dollars on Pennsylvania's economy.

The "death penalty" would mean Jerry Sandusky and the lesser monsters who enabled him would add regional economic destruction to the damage tally for this scandal.

How many more lives will the monsters be allowed to destroy?

If Penn State doesn't take drastic action and throw themselves on the mercy of the NCAA, the answer is too many lives to count. We are in some manner of economic depression. Crush the economy in central Pennsylvania, and it won't recover for years. It may never fully recover at all.

Killing Penn State's program would undoubtedly hurt the Big Ten conference, as well, extending the damage of these monsters to other parts of the country.

There are many things Penn State can do on its own to possibly ward off the death penalty. Here are just a few ideas:

1)  Take down the Paterno statue. Yesterday, if not sooner. While some would call that merely a symbolic gesture, leaving it up could well signal that Penn State isn't sincere about changing a culture that allowed such a monstrous evil to thrive on campus.

2)  Self-limit by half the athletic scholarships for the football program. According to the Freeh report, the football program's staff was not trained in Clery Act compliance and most "...had never heard of the Clery Act." (The Act requires institutions that participate in federal financial aid programs to report crimes that occur on or near their campuses).

3)  A self-ban on bowls and any championship consideration for a number of seasons.

4)  A significant chunk of ticket sales ...a painfully significant chunk ...should be dedicated to victims of sexual abuse for at least five years.

5)  Anyone on the Board of Trustees when the abuse happened needs to go, kicking and screaming if necessary. Phase them out over the course of a year or so if there are concerns about the institution's stability should all go at once ...but they all need to leave. They may not have known what was going on, but they were part of the culture and that culture needs to be excised completely.

That's just a start. The football program would be severely punished without damaging the region's economy as severely as the aptly named "death penalty." (There would still be economic pain. Penn State football might not be competive for a decade or more, and there would be a dropoff in attendance due to the scandal itself and, later, because the teams fielded would likely stink. But I could care less about that aspect. I just don't think the monsters who destroyed children should be allowed to destroy any other lives.)

And for the sake of decency, Penn State should give new Coach Bill O'Brien the opportunity to leave without financial penalty. (I frankly would be surprised if he's not looking for an exit door right now.)

Will I watch Penn State football going forward? I don't know. For now, I'm closing the book on that chapter of my life. Whether I attend or watch games someday in the future depends on what the university does in the weeks ahead.

But if I do watch, it will never be the same. A man I greatly admired looked the other way and kids were damaged. Lives were destroyed and there is likely more damage to come. 

The Penn State I thought I knew was a mirage. I'd rather play with my grandson on a Saturday afternoon than chase mirages. And I'll keep him close and have a wary eye because, you see, monsters walk among us. That's one terrible lesson we've all learned from this nightmare.

...Wait a second, wait a second... I left New England for this?

 * * *

Fringeville Edition #70, April 07 2012

It's been weeks since my last post. For those of you who don't know, I'm managing a political campaign and there just aren't enough hours in the day for everything I need and want to do.


So, tonight, I decided to give myself an early Easter present and post something, only I'm drawing a total blank. So as a fall back, I'll write a bit about some things I've been meaning to post about and simply haven't had the time.

Kindle Adventures.

I've put three works up on Amazon: A short story, a short story collection, and a novella. Overall, the experience has been great. It's challenging to have total control over a project, but its rewarding when the work is done.


Here's what I love about Kindle self-publishing: You can get your work out there without going through all the middlemen of the traditional publishing world. YOU are the author. YOU format the book. YOU design the cover. YOU select any artwork. And YOU market it (with help from Amazon, if you're in their KDP Select program).


It was neat to see my last book climb as high as #29 in one of the free book categories (the book was free for a weekend promotion). More than 300 copies were sold. Most in the U.S. and the rest in the U.K., Germany and one copy in France (I wonder if they're eating brie while reading it in Paris?).


Here's what I hate: First, while it's exciting to see you book climb up in the rankings during a free promotion, once the promotion ends it drops quickly. I suppose this is to be expected for unknown authors, but it's not much fun to drop from #29 in a free category to #70,000 once the promo ends.


Next: there's way too many spam books at Amazon. I've had my books jump several hundred THOUSAND in the rankings because of a single sale. That tells you Amazon has too much crap in the pipes.


Here's another issue: The huge volume of spam books at .99 cents pressures writers to sell their hard work for a pittance. Many good books are going for $2.99 or less. (Sorry, I won't do it. With the exception of occasional single short stories, my stuff's going out at $4.99. I gotta eat.)


Lastly: Too many authors are lazy. I've seen many promising books that are simply slapped together with no attention to detail: poor editing and funky formatting abound. Dammit, folks, show some pride! If someone gets distracted from your book by an unexpected change in font or a sentence without verbs, you're doing a lousy job. Your Kindle book is a reflection of you. Granted, there's a learning curve. I certainly experienced it. But small mistakes aren't what I'm talking about here. I've downloaded books by established authors that had sporadic minor errors. It happens. But when books look like first drafts and are chock full of layout errors, that's just plain laziness. Get it together or get out of the pool.

* * *

OK. I've had my Amazon vent. On to other things. I'll just do a rapid-fire list:


1)  I haven't had wings in weeks. My cholesterol thanks me, but dammit I'm in withdrawal.
2)  If I hear the name Jerry Sandusky one more time, I just might kill myself. Enough already.
3)  Nothing beats deep-fried turkey. That was Holy Saturday dinner. Frying the bird and sipping a Monty Python Holy Ale (or two) with my son. It doesn't get better than that.
4)  The house smells like Easter ham and kielbalsa. I love Easter.
5)  I've been taking so many campaign-related calls that my phone is actually starting to overheat, no matter which battery I use. I'm worried it's going to explode like a Star Trek phaser on overload. If you hear a boom and see a glow on the horizon, it's probably me on my way to orbit.
6)  I continue to work hard at not growing up completely. So far, so good...

Happy Easter!

Fringeville Edition #59, January 25 2012

Blue-White Game: A family tradition

JoePa was a big influence on my life. It wasn't about the football. It was about the message:  Strive for excellence. Do the little things right, because then the big things take care of themselves. Don't be afraid to reinvent yourself. There were other things, but you get the drift. These were messages about how to live life, not just how to approach football.

Many of the high and low points of my adult life had a Penn State stamp on them. Through all the ups and downs there were the yearly trips to Beaver Stadium for Blue-White games and the occasional fall game (when I could get my hands on tickets). I saw the Lions beat (in chronological order) Rutgers, Maryland, Notre Dame, Michigan State, Indiana, Illinois, and Purdue from various seats in Happy Valley. I think I'm a good luck charm for the Lions; they've never lost with me in the stadium.

Except for the Rutgers game (which I attended when I went to school there) all the other games were trips from northeastern Pennsylvania to State College.

And the Blue-White games?

I've seen a bunch of them. My first was with my fiance, Cathy, and her parents in the spring of 1982. I remember we stopped on the way down to look at antiques (her father was big on antiques and flea markets). I kept trying to look patient while her father tediously inspected antique bottles as my watch ticked closer and closer to kickoff time. Cathy finally said, "Dad...THE GAME!" and we piled back into their car and resumed the drive to the stadium, arriving just in time.

I only took one other trip to State College that year, when I saw the National Title-bound Lions beat Maryland 39-31. They won that national title on January 1, 1983. Not many weeks later, I lost Cathy to leukemia. There was a gap of several years before I started going to the Blue-White games again, but once I started going again I missed just one other game.

Somewhere along the way, it became a tradition for my brother Bill and I. We both had young sons and we'd load them into the car early on Saturday morning and drive to State College. Over the years, while the game was the day's centerpiece, it was the time spent together that mattered most. Here's our usual routine: My brother and I argue politics all the way down.  Our sons get a big kick out of hearing us jaw back and forth. They're grown now, and sometimes they throw their two cents in as well. We park in a garage downtown and go to lunch (usually 5 Guys). We walk the burgers off on the long uphill trudge to the stadium. We sit in stands, good weather or bad not caring whether we're dry, soaked, frozen or baked, and watch a game that means nothing with tens of thousands of other Nittany Nuts. After the game, we walk through town again a while then either pig out again or fill up on coffee and drive home. There are subtle variations year-to-year, but that's the most common script of daily activities.

Then came the fall of 2011 and with it perhaps the worst scandal in college sports. Next was the firing, illness and death of Joe Paterno.

Since the scandal broke, I often wondered whether or not we'd keep going to those spring games. I have a grandson now, and I'd looked forward to the day when he'd be making his first pilgrimage with us. But the scandal put the future of our tradition in jeopardy.

I made my final decision soon after Paterno died. The alleged actions of Jerry Sandusky damaged heaven knows how many children. He's damaged the reputation of the University. He's tarnished or ruined the careers of people who in many cases had nothing to do with the scandal. They were simply collateral damage with the misfortune of being too close to the fire.

My decision? Jerry doesn't get to pee in my cheerios. I won't give him that kind of power over my life. He isn't allowed to ruin this family tradition. I will continue to go to the Blue-White games, and the occasional fall game as well. It won't be the same. How could it, with Joe not there? But my brother and I will argue politics, eat too much food, drink too much coffee, and spend a few hours watching a game that is meaningless on a day that is always meaningful to us.

Bite me, Jerry.

Jimbo