Change for Worse

November 25, 2014

I recall a toaster that was handed down from my parents when my wife and I were first married and in need of everything. It was already an antique, but it worked just fine, popping nicely browned bread with efficiency.

Some years later, we handed that toaster down to another generation; and we have missed its iconic look and quick, quality performance. No toaster we’ve had since has matched that model.

Recently we purchased a new dishwasher to replace one that was at least 25 years old. The new appliance is advertised as more energy efficient, with the features now required by the government in order to be more environmentally friendly. But the fact is, it runs twice as long and works half as well, often requiring a second wash to adequately clean the dishes.

You would think these earlier disappointments would have taught us; but even more recently we purchased a new washer and new dryer . . . energy efficient, of course . . . with all the required environmental improvements included. But again, the washer runs twice as long as the model it replaced. The dryer does too, and the clothes remain damp after repeating the maximum drying time . . . twice.

All of which proves the point that change is not always good.

People who proclaim that the world is changing and that we must change too are not always on the higher ground. Change is as often bad as it is good; and change often needs to be confronted, and thwarted.

Much of the change that has come to our homes has not improved our daily lives. Much of the change that has come to our schools has not improved the quality of education our children receive. Much of the change that has come to school sports has done much to harm and little to help educational athletics.

We must ignore the hype and point out the pitfalls of the shiny new products and promotions. Saying “No” to change is sometimes the boldest and best leadership we can provide for school-sponsored sports.

Making a Statement

June 17, 2015

Amid the horrific destruction of Baghdad, the conductor of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra, Karim Wasfi, is making a statement. Mr. Wasfi has been carrying a chair and his beloved cello to the exact locations where violence occurs, very shortly after it occurs, and he plays.

With the roar of car bombs still ringing in ears and rubble still smoking, Wasfi plays. He told National Public Radio: “The other side chose to turn every element, every aspect of life in Iraq into a battle zone. I chose to turn every corner of Iraq into a spot for civility, beauty and compassion.”

The response of this single citizen to the catastrophic chaos in his city and country is especially powerful because of the beauty of his music amidst the brutality of civil war; but neither his gift nor the jolting juxtaposition should cause us to miss the message that our response to overwhelming problems could be and should be like his, even if less newsworthy from the perspective of a national radio broadcast. For example ...

  • We can wring our hands in despair that the Earth’s increasingly polluted air, land and waters are so far gone and the problem is of such great scale that nothing we could ever do will change things; or, we can choose to turn every corner of our little slice of the physical world into a less polluted place. We can make a statement.


  • We can weep over the slaughter of elephants, the leveling of mountains or the razing of forests or jungles by crooks or corporations that cannot see the consequences of their reckless avarice; or, we can choose to make our neighborhoods spots of beauty, conservation and sustainability. A statement.


  • We can cry ourselves to sleep over humanity’s inhumanity to those who look, dress or worship differently; or, we can choose to make our little community a welcoming place for refugees where long-suffering and persecuted people can feel safe and hopeful. A statement.


  • And we can become frustrated that the values of school sports are so regularly undermined by the excesses of youth, college, professional and international sports that it feels hopeless to hang onto what we believe; or, we can choose to devote ourselves to maintaining our little niche of the sports world as a more principled place ... where scholarship, sportsmanship, safety and a sensible scope are recognizable and reliable core values. A statement.


The great conductor carrying his chair and cello to the rubble is real. It’s also a metaphor which reminds the rest of us of other daunting problems and the opportunity each individual person has to make a meaningful response – a clear statement – where we live, work and play.