Texas trails

My current assignment for the Mid America Arts Alliance is to visit 20 museums in Texas' small towns to help their boards of directors grow from good to great. This means getting my zippy red Honda on the ranch roads and farm roads (still posting 60-70 miles and hour), plugging in my IPOD to listen to Texas music (KGSR is just the right mood music), and visiting the most diverse set of museums imaginable.

I've been learning about....
...the youngest governor in Texas
...the history of the WASPS - one thousand talented women test pilots in Sweetwater 1942-44
...white lightning production in Fairfield County during Prohibition
...the determination of one strong woman in Waco
...the Wendish recipe for noodles
...jails and their architectural quirks
...stories of collectors (for instance the Birsong Circus miniature collection featured on this blog - flip a switch and the lights come on, the music starts and the acrobats swing with glee -- showcased in the back room of a Brownwood, Texas jail, built like a castle fortress a while back)
...stories of ranchers, politicians, firearms, travels, war heroes, artists, families, settlers, founders, inventors, writers, and characters.

Each museum has shown its own special pride in its collection and its stories, as well as its own fierce protectiveness of its mission and its values.

First foray photos will be on Flickr..soon.

Russia and our US elections -- Slightly late

The US election has come and gone and a new era has begun. Many Texans have restarted the clock for the 21st century, beginning with Barak Obama's win.

My conviction that Obama would win happened in a hotel room at 5 am in Moscow - watching the Palin-Biden debate live on CNN television in my pajamas. My colleague Sally and I had just spent a week in Kostroma, Russia - working with a group of 35 museum professionals on building capacity for marketing and visibility in a range of small museums in the region. We had decided to stay an extra day in Russia after the seminar ended - to see somne contemporary art, visit the new galleries in Moscow, and experience some big city life.

I had purchased a pink notepad in a paper store in Kostroma - a notepad distinctive because it had what looked like Sarah Palin on the cover - in actuality the photo was of a 50's housewife with a poodle skirt. But the hairdo and the attitude were reminiscent.

I had pen and notepad in hand to record the debates - and quickly filled up my paper with those now-infamous remarks and gestures that mean our Alaska governor and her winsome ways have gone from cute to cutesie.

On returning to Austin - the energy was palpable. Friends and family took on volunteer roles in the last days of the Obama campaign - traveling to New Mexico to knowck on doors, staffing the phones to get out the vote.

I ultimately celebrated the election night in Dallas, Texas - on route to a few small museums in Central Texas where I am currently consulting on board issues.

But we're still celebrating!

Last days in France

There are some quintessential, historical aspects of a trip to Paris that cannot be ignored - one is a visit to Versailles to relive/relearn the history of the French Revolution. Another is to find a way to appreciate the Baroque and Gothic art from an intimate perspective.

So we made sure that this trip to Paris had these elements. After a day of walking around the modern sights - the colorful, fanciful, global Quay Branly museum of oriental, african and asian art, and many shops and patisseries - we signed on to a day long Fat Tire Bicycle Tour of Versailles - already mentioned. Mason was our guide - trying to add drama and satire in his retelling of the french kings and their worlds. The day was beautiful and the crowds were manageable. A lovely day, that was topped off by attending an evening concert at St. Chappelle. Beneath the stained glass windows and the buttresses artists shared music on recorder, cello, and harpsichord.

Back to the US to move into New England/NYC family time and relaxation time.

French flowers and vacation mode

How magical to be in France this July! It's definitely fashion season, and flower season, and sunny season. I've been in and out of metro's for a few days - side trip to Chartres to hear Malcolm Miller "read" the stained glass windows - and a side trip tomorrow to Versailles with the Fat Tire Bicycle Tour.

I have finished coding all my research data from Prague and catching up on sleep and tour books - Lynn joined me Sunday afternoon and we've been exploring, walking, and eating from our tiny abode in St. Germain des Pres. Being a tourist is quite fun, albeit slightly uncomfortable every time 10 euros are needed for the next meal, museum pass, or movie ticket. We saw a french movie in french last night - helped our accents, but our comprehension was pretty much based on how well the comedy was filmed.

Jono still awaiting his papers in Romania. As we breakfast with fresh pressed OJ and light as air croissants, he's testing the Romania nutella. Definely different!

Moravian Collage

It's a rainy morning in Prague. I am just back to my favorite alter-hometown from Moravia - spent two days in Olomouc which is two hours east of Prague, near Brno, in the heart of Moravia (a part of the Czech Republic that is fiercely committed to its Moravian roots). In prior travels I had visited other cities in the area - Zlin, Kromeriz,, Boskovice. But this was my first time in Olomouc.

I have been traveling with a team from Seimans and from neziskovky.cz (nonprofits.czech) conducting training on marketing and team building for Czech NGO's of all kinds. Met some 100+ creative, resourceful nonprofiteers over the past two days and was grateful that I had great interpreters for my communication. One of the interpreters - Vojtech - had the most beautiful English/American accent. He explained that he'd spent a year at Moravian College in Pennsylvania -- the only Moravian there!

Czech nonprofits are different from US nonprofits. For example, we have many food pantries - that function is not needed in CZ. We have many nonprofit museums - in CZ museums are usually state run. The many advocacy and human rights/social justice groups that we see in the US and in many other countries don't appear on the radar in the workshops I was conducting.

On the other hand, programs for the handicapped or disabled and programs addressing "social exclusion" are prevalent in CZ. And there are a growing number of volunteer centers and environmental groups.

Same issues plague us all - how to focus on marketing, people, money, and impact. How to be visible, how to be effective. How to help the government with tax laws and regulations that promote philanthropy.

So what's Moravia like? Your typical magical small town - old town square, 3 hotels, sweetshop and restaurants on the square, traditional train station, large university presence. Olomouc's town square stood out because of the fountain with a turtle holding up the world, a wonderful 3-d map of the town, and the Communist era clock that is alot like the Prague Orloj, but with communist symbols.

Barcelona detour

I was intending to write more about my cousin Marsha, following a fruitful and fascinating second trip to West Palm Beach to sort her papers and belongings with a few of her close friends, family and colleagues.....but that story will have to wait until my third trip to Florida, sometime later this summer.

Instead, here's quick peak at Barcelona.....where I am currently immersing myself in the academic research regarding civil society, third sector organizations, the market logic of how nonprofits exist, and the fields of scholarly research that connect to philanthropy and nonprofits. Got her mid day today, and immediately jumped into sessions and conversations with people who have been studying this stuff night and day for a while. The introduction question is not "what do you do?" but "what do you write about?" - definitely a mind shift!

I am attending the ISTR Conference on third sector research, co-sponsored by the European Research Network. I managed lift-off from Austin, just minutes after sending a few grades and two case study drafts off into the internet, and packed for activities in Spain, Czech Republic, Paris, NY and Vermont - my summer itinerary.

Barcelona promises to be a great treat. I am learning lots already - new ideas for Jono's project and for research and teaching ideas for me in the future. Tomorrow's day is full, but I'll take time off for a brief jaunt down to the Old City to connect with a friend of a friend....and talk in less than four-syllable jargon for a half day.

In the meantime, Jono has already left this part of Europe and is onto Croatia. My dorm room and student cafeteria breakfast is comfy and lush in comparison to his sleeping tarp and nutella sandwiches.

Florida stories - part one

You might think that there have been stories between now and when I last wrote. Sure, sure....but none worth sharing.

This story is worth sharing. For so many reasons...it's about family, and heartbreak. It's about risk. It's about trust. And it's about a very special person - my cousin Marsha, also known as Samantha Morgan, who died in late April in her farm in Loxahatchee, Florida.

Since mid May the internet has been full of stories about Sam, her place in the history of trick riding, and her story of going from teenage runaway to the Motorcycle Hall of Fame. You can read her obituary and a great feature article about the Celebration held May 24th in West Palm Beach which brought together hundreds of motorcyclists to share stories of Sam and her close friend Tom "Criminal" Cavenaugh. Sam was a warm, loving, lovely, daring woman - lover of animals, ne'er do-wells, and her Indian Scout motorcycles.

She was also part of my family. Marsha, as we knew her, was my cousin...who I played with regularly growing up, and who had stayed in contact with my family through her days of emerging from runaway homeless lifestyle to being part of the family of trick motorcycle people. My dad helped her purchase her farm; my mom helped her in countless ways; my brothers and their kids watched her ride; and we call were happy when she became New York Times news and was interviewed on tv. She didn't quite align with the lifestyles of the rest of our family - and we all didn't overlap often in the same towns or cities. But she was special, and loved.

When I got my mother's call about Marsha's death I was more concerned about my mother than about Marsha. She was crying - she'd heard the news from Marsha's natural sister, who had explained the circumstances around Marsha being found in her home by the sister's ex-husband, and Crim. And she was sad...how would Marsha be memorialized and by whom? Although Marsha had been adopted into our family when she was first born, she also became connected to her two natural sisters later in life. And she felt part of an entirely different family - that of Sunny and Judy Pelaquin from the motordromes. Sunny had died a few year back, but Marsha had devoted much of her time to creating a website that told his story and provided a unique archive of photos and facts regarding the motordrome and the Indian Scout motorbike.

Sadness quickly tranformed to confusion as we tried to help Sam's Florida friends who wanted to organize a significant celebration of life event to bring the community together about not only Sam, but also her friend Crim, who had died a few days after he found Sam - of a broken heart, says his family.

The confusion arose precisely as this story unfolds. The West Palm Beach medical examiner needed to be certain who died - Marsha or Sam? The stage name Samantha Morgan had become more than a stage name over the years. The release of the body and the writing of the death certificate was delayed pending definitive identification. The people organizing the celebration were frustrated, all parts of the surviving family were volunteering to help, and still the process dragged on.

Finally, the day before the celebration, the medical examiner released the body and the roadblock on the road to closure was removed. I had come to West Palm Beach with my son Jess to make sure that we could organize a cremation, a cleaning of the house, a search for a will, and publish an obituary so that the world would know about Sam's life. We visited the County offices twice and learned more than we ever expected to know about detective work, detectives, public records, and the process of managing memorials and cremations.

I had appointed myself family representative for making sure that Marsha/Sam was properly respected during this time. Which meant I was about to learn alot about the world in which she lived - one very different from my experiences.

Starting with the websites that featured bikers and moving into the day-to-day world frequented by motorcycle enthusiasts, I was entering a different subculture.

Furthermore, every friend, roommate, colleague, neighbor, or relative of Sam's had a different story about Sam and about their relation to Sam - and each urged me to be aware that other friends were not to be trusted. There were tales of devotion, tales of betrayals, tales of daring, tales of Sam being too trusting and loyal and being taken by people who lived in her home, worked with her projects or otherwise were part of her world. How was I to judge all these people, each asking me to verify a life story they'd heard from Sam which wasn't quite the same person to person and was only partially aligned with the facts from my family?

No matter what the story, the perspective, the relationship - all were unanimous is saying that Sam was warm, funny, talented, committed, beautiful, inspiring, and hard-working. The challenge ahead was to tease out which stories to believe and which claims and wishes to honor.

In the meantime, after 4 days in West Palm Beach and Loxahatchee, I headed home.