My mother, a public defender, sent me this a few days ago. I find this to be inspirational not only in my belief in the constitutional right to counsel but also in the bigger picture: people acting on the their convictions.

In all of this work, you’ve helped people in crisis and in need. And, as you have stood by your clients, you have also stood up for, and honored, a basic principle that defines who we are as a nation of laws. As you all know, advancing the cause of justice sometimes means working for the sake of the fairness and integrity of our system of justice. This is why lawyers who accept our professional responsibility to protect the rule of law, the right to counsel, and access to our courts – even when this requires defending unpopular positions or clients – deserve the praise and gratitude of all Americans. They also deserve respect. Those who reaffirm our nation’s most essential and enduring values do not deserve to have their own values questioned. Let me be clear about this: Lawyers who provide counsel for the unpopular are, and should be treated as what they are: patriots.

-Eric Holder, Attorney General of the United States of America speaking at the Pro Bono Institute Gala on March 19, 2010

About ten years ago, I was on a plane to study in Morelia, Mexico, to satisfy my cross-cultural experience degree requirement at Antioch College.

There was another problem.

I needed to write the second draft of my senior thesis play by the end of my time in Mexico. I had to do this without a computer since we’d been advised not to bring them along. Internet cafes were going to be too expensive.

What did I do?

A manual cut and paste.

I have just as much technology lust and yearning as the next, I am reminded, now more than ever, of my revision process in Mexico. I’ve realized that, yes, a computer would have made things easier, but it would not have written the play for me.

There are screenwriting and playwriting computer programs that are supposed to format everything correctly and stimulate the creative juices. These tools are marketed as the solutions—it’s as if you don’t have to do any work, just buy the program and you’re nearly done. Not so.

In May 1999, I knew I needed a script for this play. I spent the next thirty days writing a play. Much like my experience ten years later, this was done late at night while listening to music (Greg Brown’s Further In and Bob Dylan’s Street Legal) or having the television on in the background. For some reason the Lethal Weapon series of movies seemed to be on quite often that month. Violence didn’t enter my mindset, but friendship and relationships did.

What the play is or was about doesn’t matter. What stands out is the process. Instead of typing out my first draft, I knew myself too well. I knew that if I started typing and then saw something I wanted to change, I would go back and change it never really moving forward. Carlyle Brown, my playwriting professor at Antioch College, had given me the advice to write, not to look back, and to finish. In retrospect he had figured me out, and it is good I trusted his advice. Instead of typing out the draft, I wrote it out longhand in a spiral notebook. After I got to “The End” I would go back and type it up. That was successful. I ended up with an 80 page first draft.

I was quite proud to have written something and also petrified that it would completely suck. I printed out copies and gave them to my parents, my advisor Louise Smith, and my good friend Miguel Santiago.

By the end of the summer, I had gotten feedback from everybody. To my great appreciation, Miguel had carefully gone through the entire script with a non-threatening blue pen and meticulously written comments and questions to me in the margins.

Now, I had to take all of that feedback and write a second draft.

I also knew I would have to do that from September through November in colonial city of Morelia, Mexico, without access to a computer. Remember, we had been told not to bring our laptops. All of our classroom assignments would be written in longhand.

In order to solve my revision problem, I brought the following to Mexico so I could work:

• A clean copy of the script.
• A blank spiral notebook.
• Louise Smith’s comments.
• Miguel Santiago’s comments.
• My parents’ comments.
• Scissors.
• Scotch tape.
• A box of my favorite pens.

This was what I would need for a manual cut and paste.

Over the next ninety days, I went through the entire script. When I had something I wanted to keep, I used the scissors and cut it out of the fresh copy and taped it into the notebook. I added dialogue, stage directions, and scenes. I left parts of the script on the floor. I worked an hour or two a night in the sunroom of my host family’s house. I’m quite sure the script changed because of the environment in which I was revising it—a character drank tequila and had a bit more machismo in him than before.

At the end of the ninety days, I had a spiral notebook bursting with scotch tape pages covered with handwritten dialogue and parts of the former script–a huge storytelling scrapbook. I had run completely out of scotch tape. No way was I sending this via international mail. No way was I going to put this in my checked luggage. It went in my backpack on the plane. When I arrived back in New Hampshire, I spent the better part of December typing up the second draft.

The script had increased from eighty to 120 pages.

It may sound quite primitive to have done a manual cut and paste. Still, I’m reminded that Tony Dallas, a director and playwright I worked with at Antioch, once explained that the reason “playwright” is spelled “wright” rather than “write” is because it is a craft. I remember clearly his gesticulations comparing it to blacksmithing or woodworking.

I learned the craft of playwriting during those three months in Mexico. Instead of a forge, I had my favorite pens, scotch tape, and a pair of scissors. A primitive Microsoft Word

And, it was all I needed.

And, unlike Microsoft Word, it never crashed.

It’s essential to remember that tools aren’t the solution.

We are.

The 1985 box set, Bob Dylan’s Biograph, is the first one I can remember.  At the time, I wasn’t as aware of Bob Dylan (other than his music as a presence in the house growing up) but instead, I remember being fascinated with the packaging.  I had only been used to records and the idea that three tapes would be placed in a box that, from the outside, looked like a box set of records, was intriguing.

As I became more aware of Dylan’s place in music and gained more of an appreciation for his work, I listened to these tapes more.  I remember listening to them as a sixteen-year old driving my father’s red Mitsubishi Colt Vista through cold New Hampshire winters.  There’s hardly any talking on the entire set except for a couple of introductions to songs including one for “Baby, Let Me Follow You Down”, over some fingerpicking.

“I first heard this from Ric Von Schmidt.
He lives in Cambridge.
Ric’s a blues guitar player…
I met him one day in the green pastures…
of Harvard University.”

The next beat is marked with Dylan’s trademark harmonica.  This was a recording from his first, self-titled album released in 1962.

Over a week ago, Club Passim, Harvard Square’s legendary folk club, started serving wine and beer.  I was reading the Boston.com article and looking at the gallery of historic photos including a 2001 photo of Eric Von Schmidt.  It reminded me of the Dylan introduction and listening to music while growing up.  Club Passim has had a specific presence in my life since my sister moved to Cambridge for college in 1999 and I moved to Boston for a new job back in 2003.  What’s ironic about the Club Passim/Dylan connection to me is that he never was booked to play a show there.  Apparently, he only had the opportunity to perform a few songs between sets.

I searched my iTunes library to see how many versions of “Baby, Let Me Follow You Down”, I owned.  The results showed four versions.  The first version was the one listed above.

The next was an all electric version from the famous “Royal Albert Hall” concert that actually occurred at Manchester Free Trade Hall.  In 1996 or 1997, I obtained a copy of Guitars Kissing and the Contemporary Fix and later the official Sony Release, The Bootleg Series, Volume 4: Live 1966 The “Royal Albert Hall Concert”. I had never heard this concert but read about it extensively on various websites.

Admittedly, in college, when I first heard the concert, I was more into the acoustic Dylan and would preferred the hypnotic opening set to the electric to disc 2 where he was backed by The Hawks (later to become The Band).  Things change, though.

The electric version of “Baby, Let Me Follow You Down” has no introduction.  Just harmonica and the infusion of electricity highlighted by Robbie Robertson’s blistering guitar solos and, of course, different lyrics.

More recently, I’ve been listening to the last version that shows up.  It’s another recording with The Band in 1978 from The Last Waltz.  Yet, another version with different lyrics and musical variation.  What had not changed was the fire and intensity.

“The Shape I’m In”

I’ve been revisiting The Band lately ever since Session Americana covered “The Shape I’m In” last fall during their ongoing Tuesday night residency at The Lizard Lounge in Cambridge.  I found myself knowing all the lyrics as they played it.  Looking around, I observed many others my age knowing them all, too.

On St. Patrick’s Day, my sister and her husband ventured out to Session Americana’s evening of music.  When they were in the middle of a cover of “Down South in New Orleans”, my sister found herself knowing the lyrics.  She leaned over to me:

“Why do I know this song?
“Bobby Charles and Dr. John sing it with The Band on The Last Waltz,” I said.
“This music is in our blood, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I believe it is.”

Club Passim

When reading the Boston Globe’s article about Club Passim obtaining a wine and beer license, I was both saddened and pleased.  Frankly speaking, I don’t need a buzz to enjoy live music.  However, I do know people who wouldn’t go to Passim with me because they just couldn’t get over the idea of not listening to music with a beer in their hand.  Ironically, three years ago when I finally convinced one of those friends to go to a show with me, there was a survey sitting on our table with the very question of a wine and beer license.  We both answered yes.  He answered for the sake of his entertainment experience.  I answered thinking that it would be a good additional revenue stream for Passim and that it wouldn’t change the audience experience.

We’re going to find out.  It may appear to be a natural progression for Passim to serve alcohol, this decision is definitely a financial one.  With memberships down a third and donations by half, fundraisers losing money, they are resorting to serving beer and wine to make up the shortfall.

They insist the listening environment, cultural identity and integrity of the room, will not be lost and I believe them.  Passim has evolved into a cultural hub in Cambridge and, for that matter, in Greater Boston as well.  If you appreciate live acoustic music and you’ve been in that basement room, you know why it’s so special.

Club Passim nurtures young musicians, builds community, and while bringing us the future of acoustic music, gives us a window into the past.  It brings us back to a time when Harvard had “green pastures” and a young Bob Dylan meets Eric Von Schmidt.

Forty-seven years later, I’m still listening to the songs they played together.  The songs have been transformed.  They have stood the test of time.

Club Passim is creating the place where those meetings may happen.

What songs are being played today that I’ll be listening to forty-seven years from now?

Seth Gordon, my very good friend from college recently posted a link on his Facebook Wall to a podcast he did for the local NPR affiliate in Yellow Springs, Ohio, WYSO.  The podcast was part of a series called “This I Believe.”  Seth’s comments, “Fortune Cookies”, were on how there are small moments throughout your day that give you hope, wisdom, and calm.  He started on this thread talking about fortune cookies.  These moments allow you to make sense of the world around you, see the big picture, and, inspire you to keep on keeping on:

“I hold to the idea that unlikely sources of hope and wisdom will come at me every day if I just have the capacity to listen and engage. Sometimes they change my worldview for just a moment and sometimes they help me decide which color paint to buy.

“My ability to listen closely to the pulse of my perceived world keeps me on my toes; from wrapping my faith too tightly around the scientific or the latest one sizes fits all metaphysical formula.

“For me, the fortune taps into some primal reservoir of trust in the universe – it is the prompt for a days events; the straw that breaks some block of indecision. Words on a slip of paper are caught by sensitive brain receptors that say ‘you need to hear this.’”

Ever since I met him over ten years ago, Seth has exhibited his passion for learning.  Even greater is his ability to find inspiration in what many others may gloss over.  He meticulously absorbs details and is constantly asking himself how he can use his newfound knowledge to better his profession and the world.

His pursuit of knowledge is infectious.  Whenever he visits his family in Rhode Island, he tries to make it up to Boston.  We meet for breakfast or coffee, and he always has a new book to recommend.  We end up talking passionately about our professions, working through fresh and raw ideas.  We try them out on each other and, most important, listen.

Seth has recommended Michael Lewis’ Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game. While being a great read for a die-hard baseball fan like myself, the book also made me reconsider professional theatre subscription acquisition strategies.  This came at a time when I was working at New Repertory Theatre, and we were in the strategic planning for the move to the company to the Arsenal Center for the Arts in Watertown. How Moneyball changed my way of thinking, is a blog post in and of itself.  When Seth read Moneyball, he was reconsidering how small liberal arts colleges develop their admissions strategy.

Seth is a creative ambitious thinker.  His curiosity never fails him It fuels him.  I daresay his curiosity serves as inspiration and motivation.

It definitely inspires and serves as a reminder to his friends to never be satisfied, never rest on your laurels, and always be learning.

What a difference four years makes.

Like many people I am still processing the historic events of last night.  What comes to mind is the road traveled and the comparative experiences of watching elections in 2004 and 2008.

In 2004, New Englanders were coming off one of the greatest comebacks in sports history and the exorcism of an 86 year old curse. We were Red Sox obsessed.  After the election, I heard people say that it was a tradeoff.  Bush/Red Sox? Bush/Red Sox? Perhaps, we just didn’t think that the country could reelect George W. Bush.

I spent Election Night 2004 at friends of my roommate in Providence, Rhode Island.  Everybody was either an engineer or medical student.  Working for a non-profit arts organization I was a bit of an outsider.

After the Presidential Election was called for Bush, I left.  Someone said to me that people in American would riot and revolt.

She was wrong.  They didn’t riot and revolt.  They became organized.

Election Night 2008 was different.  I was at home with my roommates and friends and friends-of-friends.  The room was fulled with law students, former union organizers, and activists.  Some had been up in New Hampshire that very day helping bring people to the polls.  Others had been canvassing over the weekend.  I had made calls from home using the Obama Campaign’s website.  Every little bit counts.  We were all invested in the results.  We all wanted it.  Badly. So very badly.

The night after the election in 2004, I went to a Celtics vs. Sixers game.  It was my other roommates’ idea, and he had scored three tickets for $15 each.  There were plenty available.

How times have changed!

That night we were riding home on the Green Line and two of us gave up our seats for an elderly couple.  They were so appreciative and remarked that we must be Democrats because were so nice.  They told us what it meant to live in Massachusetts.  They talked of resiliency and hope.  They were returning home after seeing the opera.  They had gone to a BosTix booth that afternoon to find discounted tickets.

They wanted distraction.  Just like us.

Tonight I need no distraction.

The past few days have been an emotional rollercoaster.  It started out with this brooding feeling on Monday.   A colleague told me that she felt like a large snow storm was coming.

By the evening we all had learned of the passing of Barack Obama’s grandmother. The speeches.  The tributes.

After midnight, we learned of Dixville Notch’s results.  Raised in New Hampshire, I had a teacher whose daughter lived in Dixville Notch.  Presidential politics is serious business.  In New Hampshire it is a matter of civic pride and community obligation.

Dixville Notch made it all real. The voting had begun.  Anxiety rolled in.

I watched Obama’s concession speech from the New Hampshire primary, “A More Perfect Union”.  I remember watching it with tears of hope rolling down my face last January.   I watched the wil.i.am music video.

I went to FiveThirtyEight.com and saw that Sean Quinn had keep on with his thread of quotes from On The Road and dedicated William Shakespeare’s “Saint Crispian’s Day” speech to the volunteers and organizers.

Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother;

A colleague’s Facebook status changed to “fired up and ready to go.”  I watched Obama’s campaign speech from that night.  I was, too.  I knew it would be hard to sleep that night.

Tuesday went by so quick and before I knew it I was home awaiting guests.  Throughout the night I was on the phone with my parents and old friends in Ohio.  One had emailed me after the 2004 Election telling me that he was going to move because he didn’t want his children raised in a red state.

He doesn’t have to move anymore.  But, I would welcome him to New England anyway.

Two laptops, cell phone reports, and channel flipping helped us all feel busy.  It kept us occupied.  It kept us moving towards the moment.

When 278 was reached joyful tears filled the room.  Emotions.  We all stayed there.  Waiting for the speeches.  Captivated.  Witnessing history.

“America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves – if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

“This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time – to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth – that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

“Yes We Can.”

- President-Elect Barack Obama’s prepared remarks, Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Now the work begins.  We haven’t a moment to lose.

My first day of biking to work was only 50% successful.

I had a lovely ride to work feeling comfortable and confident navigating the Cambridge and Somerville traffic.

It was my ride home that was not as successful. I was crossing a major street in Somerville and the crank shaft came off my bike.  I was unable to pedal. Yikes!

Fortunately, a kind woman picked it up from the middle of the street and ran over to hand it to me.

“That happened to me once. It sucks big time.  I’m sorry.” She said.

“Thanks.  I appreciate it.” I replied.

I walked my bike the rest of the way home and put it right in my car.  I drove directly to Broadway Bicycle.

Unfortunately, they are closed on Mondays for classes.

I’ll be bringing it in at 8 am tomorrow morning.  Looking online, it seems this can be either a defective part or an assembly problem. It’s difficult to know since it is likely other people also test rode this bike.

I am sure it will be covered under warranty.  Broadway Bicycle is known for quality customer service.

I’m going to find out.  More to come.

The combination of beautiful summer weather, frustration with the MBTA’s bus service, and the desire to be in better shape has made me contemplate purchasing a bicycle.  A colleague who often bikes to work (and everywhere else) dismissed my rationale for not-biking—that I wasn’t in good enough shape—by saying “Anybody can bike.  You can bike.  That is not an excuse. ”

Last week, I was having a conversation with my sister and brother-in-law about the upcoming tax free weekend and thought it was a good time to make the commitment to getting in better shape, using less energy and biking to work.

After asking a few bicycling insiders, I went online to do my own research on the best shops in the area.  I Googleed a few of the names and ended up going to my favorite customer review website, Yelp.  I was pleasantly surprised to find many shops reviewed on Yelp.  I wanted the bike to have a local home, and since I live in Somerville, I knew there were many choices in the area.  My research led me to Broadway Bicycle in Cambridge and WheelWorks in Somerville.

Last weekend the weather was beautiful.  The perfect synergy for bicycle shops: ideal weather and no taxes.  After handing over my ID, I was able to take each bike for a 15 or 20 minute spin and enjoy everything.  After visiting three shops on Saturday (I also went to Wheelworks in Belmont) I had ridden 5 different bikes and had gotten a workout.  I also had a pretty good idea of what I wanted.  I knew what I liked for feel and ride.  All that was left was fine-tuning my research and making sure the front-running brand was reliable and reputable.  I also wanted to double-check on the front-runner of bicycle shops, too, Broadway Bicycle in Cambridge.

I wasn’t the only one with designs on buying a bike that weekend.  All three bicycle shops were full of people.  There were lines.  At Broadway, they talked to me and took my questions seriously (however, dumb I may have felt asking them) didn’t treat me badly, and never condescended.  I felt like I was being welcomed to the community of bicyclists.

That evening was online research time.  This was an investment for me.  I didn’t want to be buying a bike that would be a short-term solution.  I didn’t want to have to upgrade quickly if I got into biking.  I wanted something that would last. After reading many reviews on multiple sites, I decided the Marin Muirwoods. The sites I found most useful:

• Roadbikereview.com
• MTBR.com
• BikeCommuters.com

While the riding experience of the Muirwoods was positive but I needed validation about my experience from other customer experiences.  I needed to know that my gut feeling was correct.

As marketers, we need to place ourselves in the role of the consumer.  We need to know what it means to not have experience with the product and be a bit anxious.  Subsequently, we need to know what the consumer needs to build a trusting relationship with a company.

I was not only going to rely on the information from the company or my own experience but from the community of bicyclists who already use the product.  Their stories were the most influential to my decision-making process.

Now, it’s time to bike to work!

Tomorrow, I leave for St. Louis and then the shores of Lake Michigan for a brief, but well-needed vacation.

This will be one of the first vacations in a while in which I will not have 24/7 internet access.  I’ll have some access but it won’t be completely predictable.  That’s going to be a new experience for me.

Maybe, that’s the way it should be?

See you all in August!

Two weekends ago, I was honored to be part of my sister’s wedding.

Signe is my only sister and my only sibling.  I love her dearly.  My parents were, of course, proud.  Chris is a great man.  Over the past year I’ve come to know him well.

Watching them over the past year, I’ve seen how the web can assist in planning a wedding.  Particularly, it allows the couple to communicate to friends and family in a different way.  It allows them to tell their story.

I’m now at the age that many of my friends are getting married.  In the past couple of years, I’ve been to a few weddings.  Not all have used the internet to organize–they haven’t created sites using one or more of the many services available. Instead, I have received a simple invitation and an RSVP card or envelope.

Signe and Chris took a different approach that I don’t think is that far out of the ordinary for many couples these days.

I admit, I do have a bit or a bias here–I know more of my sister’s backstory than other people who attended the wedding.  That being said, I did feel that they were very open with telling their story.  Guests could learn the story on their website.  They told the very personal stories of how they met and of the night Chris proposed to Signe.

At many other weddings, these stories are spread by word of mouth.  To them, web communication may have felt too impersonal.  Instead, my sister and her husband made the web personal and made it their own.

And, that’s the way it should be.

A lot of money is spent on weddings each year.  It’s a cash cow for all the vendors involved throughout the process.  However, to make it a truly memorable event, you don’t have to have a large, highly produced event.  Instead, you have to make sure all guests are part of the community.  The ability to be an effective storyteller makes them feel closer to you and the event more enjoyable.

Of course, there are some very fundamental ways the internet has made weddings easier, too.  Bargain shopping for rentals or purchases of any utensils, napkins, or placemats is at your fingertips.  Online registries make inventory management far simpler—guests don’t have to worry as much about purchasing duplicate gifts.  Brides and grooms can even register parts of their honeymoon so guests buy them a night of theatre, tickets to a baseball game, or breakfast in bed.

In this case, the internet is here to help and assist, playing a supporting role in the organizational process.

Overall, it helps you build and communicate with your community.

That’s the way it should be, right?

My warmest congratulations to my Signe and Chris.

And, Chris, welcome to the family.

Oh, and today is Signe’s birthday.  Happy Birthday!