My odds of improving

By Blaine Lam


It’s that time of year that I feel, with 100 percent certainty, I am going to be a better person come January 1. My favorite saying, then, is “I never view January 1st with indifference.” With such high hopes, how could I?

My problem, of course, is that it’s difficult to say just HOW things are going to get better. After all, studies show that somewhere between 9 and 15 percent of new year’s resolutions are kept -- and that, no doubt, includes the numbers of the very committed. Then, there’s the statistical evidence that people are only able to predict the future with 2 percent accuracy. So, if my math is correct -- .02 x .12 (median of 9 to 15) -- I’ve got about 24 chances out of 10,000 of telling you what I’m going to do in 2009.

Whatever the odds, I figure if I’m going to take a serious run at a) changing my future and b) predicting the change, then it makes sense to depart from my informal and merely hopeful ways of the past, and put this matter to more scientific analysis than I have in prior years.

So I called researchers at Michigan State University and Western Michigan University, and they agreed to provide me with an estimate. And then I remembered: I had seen a study somewhere which revealed that 98 percent of all studies are done by, or on behalf of, people who make their living doing studies. Which means they have a conflict of interest.

So, I thought: I’ll do the study myself.

A word about my academic credentials. I was graduated from the University of Colorado with a 2.000 grade point average. I got D’s in statistics, math, accounting and finance, but A’s and B’s in a variety of marketing courses, which means this study may not be that statistically significant, but there’s a chance you’re really going to like it.

Here’s how the study is going to work. Experts, tell us, of course, that writing down our goals increases our chances of achieving them. So, I’m going to write them down. Then, in 12 months -- you’ll still be here, right? -- I’ll report which goals I’ve achieved. And to make the study quantifiable, I’ll just make two resolutions, so that my success rate will be 100 percent, 50 percent or 0.

Simple enough? Fair enough? Here goes, then:

1) Resolved, I will remember (for the first time ever if I am successful) what
this year’s resolutions were; and
2) Resolved, I will report my findings (success rate).

Granted, if the experiences of the last 40 years or so are a guide, life may very well get in the way of my ability to achieve these goals. But at least I’ve raised the bar from a quantifiable point of view. And, although I once saw a study which showed that 65 percent of all studies are challenged by people with superior academic credentials, and that 70 percent of all studies only confirm what we already know (diabetes is linked to obesity; caffeine keeps you awake; teens are trouble) and that the other 30 percent are repeat studies (diabetes is linked to obesity), and that 48 percent of all studies are contradicted by findings in other studies, I could very well be 100 percent successful in 2009.

I’m telling you, there’s a chance.

Resolutions

Every couple years I count down to the New Year with a boisterous group—only to experience an awkward moment at the stroke of midnight. As the room pairs off into couples embracing, ringing in the New Year with a kiss, I find myself alone, staring stiffly at a crack in the ceiling. It’s one of the few moments in life when seconds feel like an eternity. When it seems that enough time has passed to plaster, sand and paint that crack in the ceiling, the music resumes. And so does life.

As I get older, the New Year approaches more quickly than it did the year before. My post-college years have become a complete whirlwind—and time freezes only to celebrate life and mourn loss. I’ve learned to lend the fleeting moments to the people and activities that I truly love—to focus on what I do have instead of…architectural flaws.

I’ve never made a New Years resolution—and it’s not for lack of ambition. I just think that the time to learn, change and grow is now. Not tomorrow, not next week and definitely not next year. Last year, I opted for a personal mantra instead of a resolution: “2008 is going to be great!”

Although I didn’t cross paths with Mr. Right in 2008, it was a really great year. So while the stroke of midnight on January 1st may sound the alarm to my solo status, I’d rather plaster, sand and paint a crack in the ceiling than spend one more New Year’s with Mr. Wrong. Instead, I choose to celebrate another year blessed by family and special friends.

My mantra this year? “2009 is my time to shine!” But I think I’ll start today.

Happy New Year!

Ethics Codes: Bah! Humbug!

The holiday slowdown is a marvelous time to kick back and catch up on trivial reading. And it’s hard to find anything of late much more trivial than the recently passed Ethics Code for Kalamazoo City Commissioners.

Don’t get me wrong. I love this City Commission, and I marvel at its dedication to public service. If commissioners want to take the time to write an ethics code, pass it and make future commissioners sign it, no harm done. And to their credit, they have no intention enforcing it. It is, in their words, “aspirational,” not “punitive.” Besides, the City Attorney said “there’s no need to supplement state law.”

Not violating state law, of course, is the essence of the city’s ethics code, unless someone really was curious about whether commissioners should get in free to New Year’s Fest (the $100 gift threshold probably settled that).

You can bet your boots that Bernard Madoff, architect of the now-famous $50 billion fraud, signed the Ethics Code of the Securities and Exchange Commission. That agency, by the way, expends more than a third of its $900 million budget on enforcement. And Gov. Rod Blagojevich, who was arrested on ethics charges last week, personally signed into law last year the eight most recent revisions to the 75-section ethics act of the Illinois state government. I'm sure the other 40 Illinois governors who have been indicted signed whatever ethics codes were put in front of them.

Ethics codes don’t work for a pretty simple reason: people who cheat also lie.

But hey, in sacred places like the Kalamazoo City Hall, how could an ethics code hurt? Other than giving people a false sense of security, probably doesn’t.

Most people have a hard time voting against ethics codes. In my professional association -- if indeed, ‘public relations professional’ is not an oxymoron (with apologies to my colleagues) -- I cast the lone “no” vote against our ethics code on the grounds that it was hypocritical. We came out against plagiarism when we’re begging journalists to steal our stuff. Nothing delights a PR professional more than to have his or her work used word-for-word.

And, nothing against lawyers, but would law be a better profession without an ethics code? Do legal scholars, or ethical scholars, ever wonder about the moral implications of a defendant being “fully candid with his or her lawyer without suffering any consequences.”? A better way to look at the code of ethics for lawyers might be this: it’s a “code” that lay people are not allowed to crack. Try asking to make a case in a court of law.

Believe it or not, computer hackers have a code of ethics that speaks to the duty of “solving problems”. It stops short, as you might imagine, of saying “first, do no harm.”

In truth, it’s wonderful living in a community where public servants are passing ethics codes and glad-handing at New Year’s Fest, regardless of whether they pay to get in. May they keep it up.

KVCC Goes Wind Win

In these days of dwindling energy sources, communities are beginning to take a closer look at new potential sources for energy. Wind power is a popular candidate in Southwestern Michigan, where strong winds blow ashore year 'round.

Researchers at universities and colleges seem to agree that the energy harnessed by wind turbines from Michigan’s ‘lake effect’ could provide clean, lasting, and safe energy. According to Michigan State University study, Michigan could produce more than 10 times the amount of electricity needed during a peak-use period if 10,000 offshore wind turbines operated along the Great Lakes.

Kalamazoo Valley Community College is leading the wind energy movement in the region, erecting the first of four fully operational, 120-foot tall, wind turbines in the Kalamazoo area. KVCC received its special-use permit and approval of a site plan from the Texas Township Planning Commission in early December, and could have the first wind turbine producing energy as early as January.

In addition to the energy benefits, KVCC is using the turbine as a learning resource. Wind energy will be incorporated into the college's technical programs, and there are plans to establish a Wind Energy Center in the near future.

“An educational institution leading by example is the way I see it,” said James DeHaven, vice president for economic and business development. DeHaven believes the KVCC Wind Energy Center will have educational, job-training, employment, entrepreneurial, and research-and-development ramifications for this part of the state.

Currently, wind power represents only one percent of the nation’s total energy output. With the free winds that come across Lake Michigan, Michigan may be geographically situated to head the movement toward wind power as a significant source of energy. With energy resources diminishing, and Michigan’s economy in trouble, advancing this industry may be a shot in the arm that southwest Michigan could use. These turbines and the educational programs attached to them at KVCC are a big step in making this a reality. It may be interesting to note that Kalamazoo was once known as “The Windmill City.” It was home to several manufacturers that, at their peak, made 4,000 windmills annually and sold to 1,500 overseas markets in the early 20^th Century. So, in a sense, it's "back to the future."

Can Kalamazoo keep its youth?

Even John Dunn, president of Western Michigan University, had a few ‘Ah-hah!” moments as he and group of Kalamazoo business and community leaders sat through a student presentation on why Western graduates keep leaving Kalamazoo.  The students were from WMU’s Communications 4800 class, which is run by Mary Cohen, who has worked with them on this project all semester.

Conducting over 500 surveys, seven focus groups, and dozens of one-on-one interviews of young people between the ages of 18 and 24, the Comm students were able to paint a picture of where students come to Western from, where they go after graduation, and why.  While 75 percent of students enrolled at WMU claim to have come from cities and towns the same size as Kalamazoo or smaller, the overwhelming majority plan on heading to bigger cities after graduation, most notably Chicago.   The two top factors for this desire proved to be the perception of jobs and a sense of opportunities, professionally and socially.  In some of their focus groups, participants did indicate a desire to return to Kalamazoo, but only after a shot at what the ‘big city’ had to offer.  Many participants valued safety as an important factor in choosing a place to live and agreed that Kalamazoo might provide a better place to raise a family than the city.

Throughout the presentation, and the discussion that followed, it became clear just how powerful perceptions can be.  In the interviews and focus groups that people conducted, many participants expressed a desire to move to bigger cities because of the job opportunities, having never been to those cities.  Additionally, when participants talked about moving back to the Kalamazoo area when ready to start a family, many noted that they would prefer to move to Portage or Mattawan.  The reason?  They believed the school systems are superior.  Some of the participants saying so had not gone to Kalamazoo area schools.  And all this despite the benefits of the Kalamazoo Promise!

Perceptions have quite an impact on people’s decisions.  As Kalamazoo businesses are crying out for young people to stay, there are businesses in Chicago that are turning applicants away left and right.  They are inundated with resumes from the influx of college grads.  Some local design businesses have been forced to open branches in Chicago as they can not get enough young talent through the door, while the competition in big cities get to be choosy.  It would seem that it could be as easy to find a professional job in Kalamazoo as it would be in any major city. 

This begs the question: what is Kalamazoo doing to change the perception of its job market?  A big portion of the Communications 4800 presentation was about, naturally, communications.  When survey participants were asked where they get information about potential jobs, the top responses were friends and family, BroncoJOBS online, and online networking mediums like facebook.com and myspace.com, which could almost be grouped with friends and family.  However, when the students asked several Kalamazoo businesses how they advertise for jobs, the top responses were their own personal web sites, newspapers, and recruitment sites like monster.com.  There seems to be a bit of a disconnect here.  Traditional mediums for advertising don’t seem to be reaching the Western Grads.  While BroncoJOBS, Western’s online job search engine, is something just about any business could advertise on, the problem may be in breaking in to this online social network.  If graduates are learning about jobs and creating perceptions based on personal relationships, what can Kalamazoo businesses do to form a more personal relationship with Western’s students? 

This seemed to be the closing thought of the attendees of the presentation.  Job fairs and recruiters are certainly one way, and a few students even mentioned business starting their own social networking pages.  Politicians do it to reach the youth.  There may not be a perfect answer, or there may be several answers, but it’s something that Kalamazoo businesses, and the Kalamazoo community need to consider if they want to change perceptions, and stop the out flux of Western graduates.  Michigan currently tops the nation in outbound graduates, and Kalamazoo is playing its part.

Perhaps the clearest ‘Ah-hah!’ moment came right at the end, after the students had finished the presentation of their semester long research on the question of how to keep Western grad students from leaving.  President Dunn asked this group of 15 or so seniors, “How many of you are planning on staying in Kalamazoo after graduation.”  Three raised their hands.

Story Telling Time

By Kristi Buckham


Every year, just before Christmas, the third generation of our family gathers in festive spirit to decorate Christmas cookies. It has been a family tradition for at least twenty years. We’ve grown from a young group of rambunctious cousins to women with degrees and rings on our fingers. Somehow, we coordinate our corporate schedules each December to meet at grandma’s house—to revisit our youth and sing along to Andy Williams.

It has been three years since we lost our grandpa, George Kingsley Buckham. If his old farmhouse was his palace, then his rocking chair near the wood-burning stove was his throne. That is where he read the Kalamazoo Gazette cover to cover; his glasses low on his nose. Every time we came to visit he would toss his paper aside as he emerged from his chair. He expressed his love to us by placing his tough old hand on our cheeks and exclaiming, “you’re such a joy!”

Grandpa loved the holidays and enjoyed the laughter and commotion from the kitchen when we decorated Christmas cookies. One year he came into the kitchen to observe. Grandpa stuttered and was very careful with his words. His kind brown eyes were deep with pride and appreciation as he told us, “This is our culture.”

“This is our culture.” It’s a phrase that emerges in our family each holiday season. As we mix ingredients into a large bowl of sweet batter, I know we all see grandpa’s empty chair in the family room. And we keep baking. It is our culture to honor the love and togetherness that he fostered throughout his lifetime. It is our culture, and such a joy, to preserve the stories and traditions passed along through the generations.

My grandpa was an avid letter writer who called written correspondence a “dying art.” He wrote columns for several national livestock publications, and his Christmas Story was a favorite among his readers. It was also a favorite among his grandchildren.

I remember grandpa reclined in his chair next to the crackling stove; his large, calloused hands entwined in his lap. An old western was muted on the television as we gathered around him while another batch of Christmas cookies baked in the oven. It was Story Telling Time. The story began at the family farm on Kalamazoo’s West Side—it encompasses triumph in tough times and reflects a culture of love that never dies.

Please read and enjoy Story Telling Time, by George K. Buckham:

We’ll go back to 1938, when my twin brother and I were 10 years old. We were just coming out of the Great Depression of the early 1930s. Like everyone else, we were as poor as church mice, but things were finally looking up for us and the rest of the country.

At the time, we didn’t have a tractor. We had eight good workhorses, and we always raised two or three colts a year. My father took great pride in his horses, as he did all of his livestock. He gave them special care, and in return he expected them to always produce, work, and of course, help him make his living as a farmer.

It was about dark, a week before Christmas, when we heard a knock on our door. It was a fellow who owned a fuel truck. He had gotten his truck stuck delivering fuel to one of our neighbors and he wondered if we had a tractor that could pull him out of a very muddy driveway. My father told him that we had no tractor, but he did have a great team of horses that could pull better than most tractors of that time.

The fuel man of course thought that my father was crazy to think a team of horses could accomplish this tough feat. But my dad assured the man that he could pull him out. We quickly went to the barn to get the horses harnessed. Before we left, my dad made sure that the harness was clean and polished, and he brushed the team’s manes and tails. We hooked them onto a hay wagon and drove the mile to where the truck was stuck.

By the time we got there, probably 15 or 20 people were standing around waiting for the big show to start. Of course, not one of them thought that our great team could pull the truck out of the mud. We quickly hooked the team to the back of the truck as my father instructed the fuel man to start the truck and be ready to back up when he started to pull.

But things did not go as planned. The driver killed his truck, and Dad’s team failed to pull like they were supposed to. I could see by the look in my father’s eyes that he knew he was in trouble, and maybe he had bitten off more than he could handle.

My father quickly halted his team to a stop. He seized them by their bridles and just stared into their eyes. He then spoke to them in a very stern voice, as though they were human, and told them his very reputation as a horseman and livestock man was at stake. They could pull the load and were not to let him down. Then, he again shook their bridles and just glared at them.

At this time, I was relieved to see that my dad was in control, and his big team had understood the meaning of his stern words. But the suspense began as he told the driver to start the truck and that he better be able to keep it going. My father had changed his strategy this time. He backed up his big team and was going to give the truck a huge jerk to get it moving.

I can still see it and have thought about it a million times. My father had backed his team up. The reins looked like shoelaces intertwined with his huge hands. He held the lines so tightly; you could almost hear them crack under the pressure. He was calling out their names, very slowly at the start, his voice getting louder with each second. When he thought his team was together and ready to pull, he let out a war whoop to PULL! When the force of the pull hit the horses, it picked their front ends off the ground as though they were dangling in the air. They were breathing so hard it looked as though fire and smoke were streaming from their nostrils in the cold night.

When my father’s powerful team came down, they were together, pulling like the champions that they were. My father was calling out their names, commanding them to stop. He had let the lines almost drop and was towering over them as the horses were almost up to their knees in the soft, muddy ground. But every step got easier. When they reached the road, my dad even put a flare of showmanship into his great pull. He turned his horses sharply in the road to pull the truck around and straighten it out.

The look on his face was one my brother and I had seldom seen during the hard years of the 1930s. He was almost laughing, his eyes dancing like big brown diamonds. What he did next I will never forget. He took the horses by the bridles, looked them deep in the eyes, and thanked them for not letting him down. The horses, still breathing almost fire and smoke, with slobber all over their mouths, rubbed their damp heads all over his shoulders, knocking his hat off. It was like three kids bragging and laughing about a great victory, a truly joyous moment. Everybody was shaking hands with my dad, confirming what a great team of horses he had. You can be sure that he was enjoying that special moment as much as we were.

We quickly hooked the horses up to the wagon, and I got to drive them home. The Christmas trees were lit in the neighbor’s homes. The sounds of the horses’ hooves on the pavement were like a Christmas carol as I let them trot home.

Maybe you had to be there to appreciate this special event. Or maybe one had to live at that time to appreciate the special emotion that my brother, father and I had felt that cold night. To me, it will always be the greatest livestock event that I have ever seen. The ribbons and trophies weren’t there, but there was no doubt that my father was a master livestock man.

Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.