imaginative infant.

A few Sunday’s a week, I work in the nursery at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Comforter. For someone who is usually more annoyed by children than amused, this has been a great exercise of my patience – and has really softened my life-long aggravation with children. I’ve enjoyed watching the kids grow and develop from week to week, like the baby who just a month ago would spend the entire morning in my arms but who is now sitting on his own and starting to interact with the older children. It truly makes me marvel at the rapid complexities of the human brain.

My time in the nursery has brought about several thought provoking encounters. This past Sunday I was sitting on the floor, playing with Anna, when an elderly woman walked into the room cradling a baby doll. The doll was an infant snuggled in a pink blanket. The woman held the doll close to her chest. A man accompanying her announced, winking and using an unusual voice, that they had an addition for the nursery – this child.

Kissing the doll, the woman handed the infant doll to the other caregiver saying, “Now, she doesn’t eat much.” We assured her that we would take good care of her child. She hesitated as she walked out of the door, like a real mother with reluctance to leave her newborn child.

We soon learned that this woman was going through doll therapy – a treatment often used with patients suffering from dementia or a form of Alzheimer's. Without a doll, the woman might worry about where her “children” are, and go outside to look for them. The anxiety some women experience is so great that doctors have found giving them a doll to take care of greatly improves their quality of life and calms them.

This got me to wondering what I might cling to if I were to suffer from dementia or Alzheimer’s. Clearly this woman cherished her days as a mother, when other lives depended on her – not the other way around. Would I cling to my days on the soccer field? Nights spend playing spades with friends? Or my travels through Europe?

I’m quite certain that above all I would cling to reporting. It is the one thing that at this point in my life I would hate to lose the ability to do. I can see myself now, carrying around a notebook and pen (with pencil backup, of course) interviewing people for stories that will never run anywhere, making up deadlines that I would never need to meet, fuming when a phantom rival paper beats mine to a story or takes ideas from stories I’ve written. I only hope that people will humor me enough to give way to my imagination and play along.

When the woman returned we brought her the infant, saying that she’d slept the entire time.

“Well she never does that at home,” she said.

“Perhaps you should bring her here more often,” I replied.

beverage gallery.

We laid her down tonight,
that beautiful girl,
who of course went out,
wearing velvet pearls.
We combed her hair,
fastened with a pin
of bobby's nature,
plain and thin.
As pipers played
walked through the crowd
we laid her down
on soggy ground
drenched with our tears
not sweat nor rain
time spent in crossing
now oft and lain

Tonight she licked her lips
and sighed
for she saw it coming
from far and wide
Gather, gather
for her now
the time has come
to lay her down
in fields of memory
where love grows high
she rests tonight
a bid goodbye.


A cycle comes complete
and we take your glowing crown
to help us all remember
the night we laid you down.

maynard house.

My newest multimedia project can be seen at:
http://student.elon.edu/oallen/blee/Maynard/home2.html

It is about the Maynard House, a historic home with a rich history where Elon University's President lives. One of the most unique things about the house is that it is where Elon hosts famous speakers who come to campus. Desmond Tutu, George H.W. Bush, Queen Noor of Jordan and Anna Quindlen have all shared the same mattress. So cool! Definitely check out the flash presentation to learn more.

This piece was done for The Pendulum.

somber senioritis.

Senioritis is not as fun in college as it was in high school.

High school was full of laziness, early releases and nostalgia. Lunch periods were brimming with optimistic talk about college and the future. I remember walking around campus with a pride as I thought about the college life that awaited me. Though we might now have known where we would soon be headed, we did know that it was going to be some place great. Or at least some place better than high school ...

But being a senior in college -- is not fun.

A gathering with friends for lunch feels more like a wake than a celebration. Phrases like "The Dow fell another 400 points today," "The (insert almost any newspaper in America here) cut 10% of its newsroom today," or "Nope, I can't find any job postings for the tri-state area in my field..." fly across the table as quickly as snippets of gossip used to be traded.

It's November. Relatively early for sure. But neither myself, nor any of my friends, have any idea where we are headed next year.

We gaze at our plates in despair, wondering if being a 2009 graduate will be something we boast to our grandchildren about 40 years from now. "You think your life is hard? Well I graduated in 2009..."

I suppose all of us are just anxious ... worried ... and fragile.

Our entire lives to this point have been dedicated to setting ourselves up to take flight after college. We're ready to make our mark on this world. We want to change the things we don't like and push our respective industries further. We are wide-eyed, full of inspiration and highly capable...

but

We are graduating in 2009.

We do not know where we will go. If we will have health care. If we will make a livable wage. If we will actually (*shudder*) have to move back in with our parents. Or sleep in a tent. We are stocking up on health services now, just in case, and saving our pennies for a few extra months survival if jobs aren't immediate.

And though being a member of the class of 2009, I can only feel pity and frustration with the deck of cards I've been dealt, all it takes is a look around to realize that it is not just the class of 2009 that is worried. Everyone is worried. Everyone is anxious. We are all fragile.

We are living through 2009.

(Though I do think well make it. And be OK. Eventually.)

speaking of letters.

I recently received a letter to the editor that reads as follows:

The Alamance County Republican Party would like to welcome back the students of Elon University to a very interesting and important election year.

For those of you who prefer the Palin Power energy drink of less taxes, less government, and more freedom, our headquarters is located at 16 N.E. Court Square in Graham, NC, and is open from 1-6pm Monday-Friday. The phone number is (336) 222-8289.

To those of you who want to sip the Obama koolaid (flavor of your choice) of higher taxes, big brother government, and socialism, the Democrats will gladly serve you up!

I did not publish it because I see it as an advertisement -- something people pay a nice penny to do in our paper -- and something that we prohibit in Letters to the Editor. I also thought the letter lacked any opinion, seeing as it doesn't actually approach any of the issues that separate the parties (aside from the surface propaganda that is...)

After not printing this letter I received a very severe phone call from the author that I suspect was meant to intimidate me. I explained our policies, and that we have refused similar letters from the Democratic party, but this person continued to say that we were editorializing, Obama-loving liberals.

Now I know most of you who read my blog are media people so I want to know: What would you do? To print or not to print? Did I make the right decision or was my refusal to print this letter an unjustified act of editorializing?

harvard psa.

I was at a conference at Harvard this past weekend where we talked about political engagement among students. I'll go into more detail later, but for now I wanted to share our PSA which we threw together in, oh, about 15 minutes from beginning to end. I really like the script so am hoping we can recreate it back on campus with a higher quality.

Campus Voices | View Content

happy birthday cakes.

I, like many people in this world, don't always love my job.

Scooping ice cream. Getting dirty. Washing dishes. Mopping floors. It's the perfect job for a student, I suppose. The kind of job that gives you a reason to study hard and dream big.

However, there is one thing about working at an ice cream store that I absolutely LOVE. (And no, the novelty of free ice cream wore off four years ago...)

Ice Cream Birthday Cakes.

On nights that I'm lucky, I can occupy my time filling cake orders. I think that there is something really special about being able to make someone's birthday cake. Not only is it a cake for celebration, but it is one that they will remember all year. It is usually a gift -- so somehow, for making it, I feel like I am giving too. Ice cream cakes are particularly memorable because they break the mold of the everyday boring grocery store sheet cakes that have become the staple at children's birthday parties.

As I ice the frozen confection, I imagine what the recipient of the cake is like. Did the person who filled the cake order choose the right flavor of ice cream? Ohh... what if they don't like ice cream? Or worse ... a lactose-intolerant!

By the time I get to choosing the color for the trim, I check the name that the cake is for. Typical but nice names, like John, Sarah and David, get the Electric Blue. Traditional girls names like Susan, Ashley or Wendy get the Baby Pink. Names that sound like they are of old people -- Wallace, Marie, Bob and Fred -- Asparagus Green. If I like the name, like Lily, Hannah, Landon or Beckett -- I give them my favorite color, Golden Yellow.

The inscribing is the best part. With a big, fat circle tip I write HAPPY BIRTHDAY in uppercase block letters. By this time I've usually gone on to dreaming of what the person will think when they are presented with my cake. I always hope for, "Wow! How lovely!" and wish not "Hmm... looks a little rough around the edges..."

After the sprinkles have been artfully strewn and the box assembled, I place my work of art back in the freezer where it will wait until it's picked up. As I set the cake down I always think to myself, "Happy Birthday John! I hope it's a good one..."

Really. I do.