I've been derelict in that I've failed to blog for an entire month. The main reasons: I've been attending board meetings, writing -- and reading (o.k., I admit to the fact that I've played a little golf, too). Interestingly, most of the books I've read recently have been written by friends. I've reported on a couple of these in recent blogs, and I hope that some of you have had the opportunity to read and enjoy them.
The book I just completed was written by a good friend whom I met while running the Dingman Center for Entrepreneurship. I found her such an impressive, intelligent, knowledgeable -- and charming -- lady that I asked her to join the Center's board of directors immediately after meeting her. To my delight, and great benefit to the entrepreneurs whom we served, she accepted. I knew a little about her background, and a lot more about her business successes, back then. Now, I've read her memoir, and -- as the man said -- I know "the rest of the story." I think you'll want to know it, too.
Lillian Lincoln Lambert grew up very poor on a small family farm in southern Virginia. In her early years, she studied by the light of a kerosene lamp because there was no electricity. But, there was something in her genes, perhaps coming from her pioneering mother -- an African-American woman who earned a college degree in the 1920s -- that drove Lillian toward great accomplishments. She left home after high school to make her fortune, but she ended up in menial jobs in New York and Washington. In order to improve her lot, she began attending Howard University on a part-time basis. Eventually, she became a full-time student and received her degree. Her Howard mentor, H. Naylor Fitzhugh, convinced Lillian to apply for admission to Harvard Business School.
HBS was something of a shock. She discovered that she was an anomaly in a world of white men from ritzy private schools. She was the odd person out -- female, black, and poorly prepared for the competitive world of HBS. But, she not only managed to persevere, but to thrive. Now, she has taken her place in the history of Harvard as its first African-American woman to have received an MBA. Eventually, Lillian went into a business she knew best: maintenance of office buildings. Before cashing out, she built Centennial One into a $20-million, 1,200-employee company with top-tier clients.
With the assistance of Rosemary Brutico, Lillian has given us her life story in The Road to Someplace Better: From the Segregated South to Harvard Business School and Beyond, published by Wiley. It's an inspirational story of a remarkable lady. Read it -- you won't regret it!
Friday, May 14, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Seeing one's name in print
One of my favorite writers, Anna Quindlen, says that "the stages of a writer's professional life are marked not by a name on the office door, but a name in ink." For some 30 years -- as CEO of two software companies and later head of a nonprofit organization -- I had my "name on the office door." But that recognition didn't provide me with the same thrill and, yes, the same ego trip, as seeing my byline and photo at the head of my newspaper columns.
The exhiliration didn't come without a great deal of anxiety. For many years, every Sunday morning would begin with an early walk out to the mailbox for the newspaper. My hands would shake as I would search for my column. By the time I would walk through the front door, my wife, Sue, would know by the expression on my face what I had uncovered. About two-thirds of the time, I would be smiling, indicating that the powers-that-be had faithfully reproduced my work of art. The other times, my disgusted look and accompanying cuss words would tell her that the headline writer had completely missed the point with his/her clever choice of phrase or the typesetter had misspelled my carefully chosen words, or both.
In a previous gig with a biweekly newspaper, I faced an additional problem. The publisher was an Anglophile who applied British spellings to my American words. Thus, my "neighbor" became "neighbour," "color" turned into "colour," and "realize" was changed to "realise." In my final pre-submission edit, I would attempt to purge each column of all words which might be subject to such translation. Yet, invariably, I would miss one or two. Post-publication, I would flog myself for allowing such perversion under my byline.
Today, I still get a kick out of seeing my name appear atop my writing. However, seeing it on a computer screen is not the same as seeing it on real paper. Anyone can write a blog. Moreover, the thrills I experienced in 18 years of seeing my byline in newspapers and magazines were nothing compared to the exhiliration I can only anticipate to come from seeing my name on the cover of a BOOK! I can only hope that day will come soon for Out of Prague: A Memoir of Survival, Denial, and Triumph.
The exhiliration didn't come without a great deal of anxiety. For many years, every Sunday morning would begin with an early walk out to the mailbox for the newspaper. My hands would shake as I would search for my column. By the time I would walk through the front door, my wife, Sue, would know by the expression on my face what I had uncovered. About two-thirds of the time, I would be smiling, indicating that the powers-that-be had faithfully reproduced my work of art. The other times, my disgusted look and accompanying cuss words would tell her that the headline writer had completely missed the point with his/her clever choice of phrase or the typesetter had misspelled my carefully chosen words, or both.
In a previous gig with a biweekly newspaper, I faced an additional problem. The publisher was an Anglophile who applied British spellings to my American words. Thus, my "neighbor" became "neighbour," "color" turned into "colour," and "realize" was changed to "realise." In my final pre-submission edit, I would attempt to purge each column of all words which might be subject to such translation. Yet, invariably, I would miss one or two. Post-publication, I would flog myself for allowing such perversion under my byline.
Today, I still get a kick out of seeing my name appear atop my writing. However, seeing it on a computer screen is not the same as seeing it on real paper. Anyone can write a blog. Moreover, the thrills I experienced in 18 years of seeing my byline in newspapers and magazines were nothing compared to the exhiliration I can only anticipate to come from seeing my name on the cover of a BOOK! I can only hope that day will come soon for Out of Prague: A Memoir of Survival, Denial, and Triumph.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Dracula Is Dead
I am privileged to know some wonderful and accomplished people. In my last blog, I wrote about Bernie and Rita Turner, and the book about their founding of Walden University. I had just finished reading Aspire toward the Highest at the time.
Yesterday, I completed another wonderful book by yet another terrific married couple I know. The book has a great title, Dracula Is Dead, with the subtitle, How Romanians Survived Communism, Ended It, and Emerged since 1989 as the New Italy. The authors are Jim Rosapepe and Sheilah Kast. Jim was the American Ambassador to Romania during the Clinton administration. Today, he is still active in Romania and serves in the Maryland House of Delegates. I first met Jim while I was running the entrepreneurship center at the University of Maryland; he is one of the school's biggest supporters and serves on its Board of Visitors. Jim's wife, Sheilah Kast, is a well-known TV and radio journalist, with her own show on National Public Radio. In the past, she could be seen on ABC and CNN.
In Dracula Is Dead, Jim and Sheilah describe their experiences in Romania in the style of a travelogue. For a memoir writer, this is a fascinating format for a book in our genre -- and it works very well. Their stories and anecdotes give a clear and insightful picture of a country which has transitioned from a Communist satellite state to a vibrant, market-driven, democracy in a relatively short time. I found them particularly fascinating because many mirror those I have encountered in my own native Czech Republic since 1998. I highly recommend the book -- it's a great read.
You'll find a link to Jim's and Sheilah's book web site under "Links" on my site, http://www.charlesoheller.com/.
Yesterday, I completed another wonderful book by yet another terrific married couple I know. The book has a great title, Dracula Is Dead, with the subtitle, How Romanians Survived Communism, Ended It, and Emerged since 1989 as the New Italy. The authors are Jim Rosapepe and Sheilah Kast. Jim was the American Ambassador to Romania during the Clinton administration. Today, he is still active in Romania and serves in the Maryland House of Delegates. I first met Jim while I was running the entrepreneurship center at the University of Maryland; he is one of the school's biggest supporters and serves on its Board of Visitors. Jim's wife, Sheilah Kast, is a well-known TV and radio journalist, with her own show on National Public Radio. In the past, she could be seen on ABC and CNN.
In Dracula Is Dead, Jim and Sheilah describe their experiences in Romania in the style of a travelogue. For a memoir writer, this is a fascinating format for a book in our genre -- and it works very well. Their stories and anecdotes give a clear and insightful picture of a country which has transitioned from a Communist satellite state to a vibrant, market-driven, democracy in a relatively short time. I found them particularly fascinating because many mirror those I have encountered in my own native Czech Republic since 1998. I highly recommend the book -- it's a great read.
You'll find a link to Jim's and Sheilah's book web site under "Links" on my site, http://www.charlesoheller.com/.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Aspiring toward the highest degree and purpose
For several years now, I have served on the Board of Directors of Walden University, a unique international institution. Walden is a for-profit, accredited, university which -- by virtue of offering all its courses online -- is designed for the nontraditional student, typically a professional who is working full-time, has a family, is looking to improve his/her job opportunities, and needs the flexibility of attending lectures and studying on his/her own schedule.
From my position as a director and chair of the board's financial affairs committee, I have marvelled at the accomplishments of Walden's management team, the quality of the faculty, and state-of-the-art technology used to deliver courses throughout the world to some 40,000 doctoral, master's, and undergraduate students in disciplines from engineering to education to nursing, and beyond.
Sitting on stages at commencements in Bloomington, Minneapolis, and Dallas, I have seen men and women my age receive their diplomas to the cries of "'Way to go grandma!" from the audience. I've shed tears during touching scenes such as a quadraplegic man wheeled onto the stage by his mother, who had labored for years typing on a computer keyboard as he dictated his assignments, and a black daughter of a poor family receiving her master's degree in education -- the first person in her family to go past the eighth grade.
But, I never appreciated the innovative minds which conceived this revolutionary educational concept, nor the difficulty of getting such an institution off the ground and having it recognized and accredited by the conservative and self-preserving education community, until recently. A few weeks ago, I received in the mail a book titled, Aspire toward the Highest: Bernie and Rita Turner and the Founding of Walden University by Wade Keller.
The book was sent to me by one of the two co-stars of the book, Bernie Turner, a man I am very proud to call my friend. (As a personal aside, I discovered that Bernie, as a very young Army private, was one of our liberators when George Patton's division routed the Germans and entered the western part of the Czech Republic in 1945.) Bernie and his beautiful wife, Rita, came up with the Walden concept in 1970, long before the advent of the Internet.Their story, and the tale of Walden University, make for a great read for anyone (like me) who gets excited by stories of American ingenuity, entrepreneurship, and enterprise, and who appreciates the premise that, in America, anyone who wants it badly enough, has the right and opportunity to pursue "a higher degree..a higher purpose" (Walden's motto). The book is available from Keller Publishing, wade@KellerPublishing.com.
From my position as a director and chair of the board's financial affairs committee, I have marvelled at the accomplishments of Walden's management team, the quality of the faculty, and state-of-the-art technology used to deliver courses throughout the world to some 40,000 doctoral, master's, and undergraduate students in disciplines from engineering to education to nursing, and beyond.
Sitting on stages at commencements in Bloomington, Minneapolis, and Dallas, I have seen men and women my age receive their diplomas to the cries of "'Way to go grandma!" from the audience. I've shed tears during touching scenes such as a quadraplegic man wheeled onto the stage by his mother, who had labored for years typing on a computer keyboard as he dictated his assignments, and a black daughter of a poor family receiving her master's degree in education -- the first person in her family to go past the eighth grade.
But, I never appreciated the innovative minds which conceived this revolutionary educational concept, nor the difficulty of getting such an institution off the ground and having it recognized and accredited by the conservative and self-preserving education community, until recently. A few weeks ago, I received in the mail a book titled, Aspire toward the Highest: Bernie and Rita Turner and the Founding of Walden University by Wade Keller.
The book was sent to me by one of the two co-stars of the book, Bernie Turner, a man I am very proud to call my friend. (As a personal aside, I discovered that Bernie, as a very young Army private, was one of our liberators when George Patton's division routed the Germans and entered the western part of the Czech Republic in 1945.) Bernie and his beautiful wife, Rita, came up with the Walden concept in 1970, long before the advent of the Internet.Their story, and the tale of Walden University, make for a great read for anyone (like me) who gets excited by stories of American ingenuity, entrepreneurship, and enterprise, and who appreciates the premise that, in America, anyone who wants it badly enough, has the right and opportunity to pursue "a higher degree..a higher purpose" (Walden's motto). The book is available from Keller Publishing, wade@KellerPublishing.com.
Monday, March 1, 2010
An "Orange Power" weekend
What a weekend for my alma mater! On Saturday, the Oklahoma State Cowboys took on the number one basketball team in the nation, the Kansas Jayhawks, in Stillwater. In no time, we led by 16 points, as James Anderson, Keiton Page, and Obi Muonelo destroyed KU with their sharpshooting. We handed the Jayhawks their second loss of the season and assured ourselves of a spot in March Madness. The next day, the OSU Cowgirls, who had hit a dryspell after reaching a record of 18-3 and a top-ten ranking, knocked off Texas Tech. Both the men's and women's teams now are 20-8 -- peaking and rolling.
Meanwhile, a few hundred miles to the west -- in Phoenix -- Cowboy alumni were blowing away the opposition on the golf course. In an incredible showing for one university, OSU Cowboys captured three of the first six places in the PGA Phoenix open: Hunter Mahan was first, Rickie Fowler finished second, and Charles Howell came in sixth. Wow! Surely, that must be a first for one school.
Actually, I had hoped that it would be both an orange and a red-white-and-blue weekend. Without question, the most important sporting event of the year was Sunday's Olympic finals game between Canada and the United States. Despite the fact that our guys had beaten Canada a week before, they were derided as flukes and nobodies. One of the NBC announcers stated before the game that only two players on the American team would be good enough to make the Canadian squad. What arrogance and idiocy! Our guys skated beautifully, Ryan Miller was fantastic in goal, and they tied the score in the last minute to send it into overtime. Sadly, they lost on a sudden-death goal. But, they have absolutely nothing of which to be ashamed. They should hold their heads high and be proud of their silver medals. By the way, my fearless prediction: while Alex Ovechkin and Sidney Crosby will continue (deservedly) to receive the accolades, the next big hockey star will be an American. His name is Zach Parise.
Meanwhile, a few hundred miles to the west -- in Phoenix -- Cowboy alumni were blowing away the opposition on the golf course. In an incredible showing for one university, OSU Cowboys captured three of the first six places in the PGA Phoenix open: Hunter Mahan was first, Rickie Fowler finished second, and Charles Howell came in sixth. Wow! Surely, that must be a first for one school.
Actually, I had hoped that it would be both an orange and a red-white-and-blue weekend. Without question, the most important sporting event of the year was Sunday's Olympic finals game between Canada and the United States. Despite the fact that our guys had beaten Canada a week before, they were derided as flukes and nobodies. One of the NBC announcers stated before the game that only two players on the American team would be good enough to make the Canadian squad. What arrogance and idiocy! Our guys skated beautifully, Ryan Miller was fantastic in goal, and they tied the score in the last minute to send it into overtime. Sadly, they lost on a sudden-death goal. But, they have absolutely nothing of which to be ashamed. They should hold their heads high and be proud of their silver medals. By the way, my fearless prediction: while Alex Ovechkin and Sidney Crosby will continue (deservedly) to receive the accolades, the next big hockey star will be an American. His name is Zach Parise.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Writing While Snowed In
I've been a skier since the age of three, so it's frustrating to sit inside and watch a blizzard here in the flatlands of the Chesapeake Bay, rather than being out on the slopes or the trails. But, a 25-inch dump is good reason to do some serious writing. I am working on my second memoir -- the working title: Cowboy from Prague -- which deals with my life in the U.S. after coming here from Czechoslovakia at the age of 13.
This snowy weekend, I am working on a chapter titled "A Life-Altering Scandal." It deals with my love affair with the sport of basketball. Although my high-school coach in New Jersey wasn't enamoured with me or my play, I managed to do well enough in various summer and semi-professional leagues to attract interest among some college coaches. In those days, some of the best basketball in the country was being played in the New York metropolitan area. NYU, CCNY, LIU, St. John's, and Manhattan College were national powerhouses. I dreamed of playing for one of them.
But, then it all came crashing down. Players from those schools -- as well as others from Kentucky and Bradley -- were implicated in a gambling scandal. They had been taking bribes from big-time gamblers to shave points such that final scores would be within established point spreads. I was heartbroken -- and my dream was dead.
Then, one day, I happened to pick up a copy of my parents' Life magazine. I opened it to a two-page spread. The left page was headlined, "Basketball at its Worst," and it showed some of my former heroes in handcuffs, being led off to a courtroom. The right page was headlined, "Basketball at its Best." It had a photo of a stern-looking man named Henry Iba, accompanied by several action shots of his Oklahoma A&M Aggies. I read about the school and its squeeky-clean program, and my dream was restored. This time, it was a dream of one day playing for the man known to everone as Mr. Iba.
Thanks to the point-shaving scandal, and to having been lucky enough to pick up my parents' magazine, my life was altered forever. I did play for Mr. Iba, and today I "bleed orange" as a proud alumnus of Oklahoma State University -- formerly Oklahoma A&M College.
This snowy weekend, I am working on a chapter titled "A Life-Altering Scandal." It deals with my love affair with the sport of basketball. Although my high-school coach in New Jersey wasn't enamoured with me or my play, I managed to do well enough in various summer and semi-professional leagues to attract interest among some college coaches. In those days, some of the best basketball in the country was being played in the New York metropolitan area. NYU, CCNY, LIU, St. John's, and Manhattan College were national powerhouses. I dreamed of playing for one of them.
But, then it all came crashing down. Players from those schools -- as well as others from Kentucky and Bradley -- were implicated in a gambling scandal. They had been taking bribes from big-time gamblers to shave points such that final scores would be within established point spreads. I was heartbroken -- and my dream was dead.
Then, one day, I happened to pick up a copy of my parents' Life magazine. I opened it to a two-page spread. The left page was headlined, "Basketball at its Worst," and it showed some of my former heroes in handcuffs, being led off to a courtroom. The right page was headlined, "Basketball at its Best." It had a photo of a stern-looking man named Henry Iba, accompanied by several action shots of his Oklahoma A&M Aggies. I read about the school and its squeeky-clean program, and my dream was restored. This time, it was a dream of one day playing for the man known to everone as Mr. Iba.
Thanks to the point-shaving scandal, and to having been lucky enough to pick up my parents' magazine, my life was altered forever. I did play for Mr. Iba, and today I "bleed orange" as a proud alumnus of Oklahoma State University -- formerly Oklahoma A&M College.
Monday, January 4, 2010
THE GLASS ROOM by Simon Mawer
The best thing about going on a big-ship cruise is the opportunity to read books, uninterrupted by phones, e-mails, or pressures of deadlines. We returned yesterday from such a cruise on board the "Carnival Pride" -- from Baltimore to Port Canaveral to Nassau to Freeport and back to Baltimore. The first day out in the North Atlantic, we encountered westerly winds of 55 knots, gusting to 62, and rough seas. Thus, it was appropriate that I spent a good part of the day in my bunk, finishing The Proving Ground, G. Bruce Knecht's story of the 1998 Sydney-Hobart sailboat race, during which boats sank and men died in a cyclone.
After completing this excellent, thoroughly-researched, true adventure, I switched from a subject out of my recent past -- sailboat racing -- to one from my more distant past -- my native country in the heart of Europe, Czechoslovakia. For Christmas, my wife Sue had given me a novel called The Glass Room by Simon Mawer. The center of gravity of the book is a modern house of glass and steel, the home of two members of the country's pre-war upper crust, a Jewish husband and a Catholic wife -- just like my own parents. The house becomes a gathering place for artists, thinkers, and businesspersons who have discarded old-world thinking in order to build "a state in which being Czech or German or Jew would not matter, in which democracy would prevail and art and science would combine to bring happiness to all people." If I had not known that this was a work of fiction, I would have been certain that Rudolph and Ilona Heller had been frequent visitors to the Glass Room of this house.
Simon Mawer, an Englishman, shows a wonderful grasp of Czech culture, of the time and place, and he uses the Glass Room masterfully to portray people who struggle to live and love during a period which is frightening and irrational. A great read!
After completing this excellent, thoroughly-researched, true adventure, I switched from a subject out of my recent past -- sailboat racing -- to one from my more distant past -- my native country in the heart of Europe, Czechoslovakia. For Christmas, my wife Sue had given me a novel called The Glass Room by Simon Mawer. The center of gravity of the book is a modern house of glass and steel, the home of two members of the country's pre-war upper crust, a Jewish husband and a Catholic wife -- just like my own parents. The house becomes a gathering place for artists, thinkers, and businesspersons who have discarded old-world thinking in order to build "a state in which being Czech or German or Jew would not matter, in which democracy would prevail and art and science would combine to bring happiness to all people." If I had not known that this was a work of fiction, I would have been certain that Rudolph and Ilona Heller had been frequent visitors to the Glass Room of this house.
Simon Mawer, an Englishman, shows a wonderful grasp of Czech culture, of the time and place, and he uses the Glass Room masterfully to portray people who struggle to live and love during a period which is frightening and irrational. A great read!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)