Unwittingly Enabling Elitism

There is an undercurrent among the sea of averageness. Can you feel it? This undercurrent is described in various ways, but the word “elitism” seems to appear with some frequency.

The unfortunate truth is that we unwittingly promote and comply with the spread of elitism.

Here is an example. Parents of boys who want to play baseball sign their sons up for Little League. The Little League mission is stated on their website:

Through proper guidance and exemplary leadership, the Little League program assists children in developing the qualities of citizenship, discipline, teamwork and physical well-being. By espousing the virtues of character, courage and loyalty, the Little League Baseball and Softball program is designed to develop superior citizens rather than superior athletes.

Parents read this statement and they think they are getting their boys in on the ground-floor of an equal playing field, one where their sons will have an equal opportunity to learn the sport and improve their skills.

Sadly, the reality is that there is no equal playing field.

My own son played in Little League for three years. For him, they were three years of hell.

He joined because his friends were in Little League. He wanted to play ball. He wanted to play ball with his friends. He never ended up on a team with a single one of his friends.

He started in the whole Little League thing late, as a 10 year old. Fortunately, he has great hand-to-eye coordination. He learned the game, not without some struggle, and many times without any encouragement from teammates. In fact, most of the time, my son was shunned by his teammates, or key teammates, at least.

What do I mean by key teammates? Key teammates are the coaches’ sons and the friends of the coaches’ sons. How does this work? Well, the key players are always put at the top of the batting line-up, no matter what. The key players are placed in in-field positions that they own all season long. The rest of the team is filled out with boys that do not get the attention or the opportunity to show any talent or skill; if these “filler boys”—by this, I mean all the other kids that are selected to fill out the team roster—show talent, they are shuffled to either far left or right field, or they warm the bench. There is no meritocracy; these “filler boys” are only there to fill out the roster, so that the key teammates can play games and be stars.

What I am saying here is outrageous. Many people will object strenuously to my observations, perhaps because they have not had the same experience with their sons. I am happy everyone has not had the same experience my son did. I can also report that my son is not the only boy to experience the worst that Little League has to offer.

How could such a scenario, as I have briefly described, happen? The answer is quite simple: the program is run by parent volunteers, whose sons are enrolled in the program. Everyone from coaches and score-keepers to umpires and the mom that runs the snack bar, and don’t forget the parent whose business sponsors the team. Look carefully. At the end of the year, when the awards are handed out, see whose children receive the sportsmanship awards (it was so blatant in our case—all four sons from one family received the sportsmanship awards), see whose parents receive the volunteer awards.

Sour grapes? Well, it only dawned on me, after my son played summer recreation ball in another town, having a great time and becoming a skilled player, that there was something seriously wrong. I mean, why would a coach bench a player who is good? One who can catch the ball and make plays? Why would a good batter be buried far down in the batting order? Why would kids who cannot catch the ball be placed in positions like shortstop and third base (as happened on my son's team last year), and never rotated out?

It all makes sense when you understand who makes up the inner circle. The key players have a sense of entitlement. They know that they own their infield positions. They know they own their batting order spots. They know that they do not have to worry about anyone upstaging them. The sense of entitlement extends to teasing, shunning, even bullying other kids on their team. The kids that are treated to this have to shut up and take it, if they want to play ball. But these boys don’t really get to play ball; they are just filler. The inner circle boys are treated to extra coaching. Extra practices are extended to everyone, but, mostly, at the last minute, so if you have a prior commitment, too bad.  From another parent, I found out that the inner circle on his sons’ team all went camping together, and had done for years.

Unwittingly, we parents who are not coaching or volunteering in some other big way for the league can report the same experience for our sons as that I described above. Unwittingly, we are paying to have our sons marginalized, even picked on. We are financing the entitlement of a few and the marginalization of a broader group.

The point must be made, with Little League as an example.

Now, I’ll ask you to extrapolate. If it is happening in Little League, chances are, it is happening in the local soccer league. So, where else is it happening? Chances are, it is happening higher up the chain than kids sports groups. How much are you paying to enable the abuse of your good will?

I am asking you to look at the systems you pay into through a different lens. You may be surprised by what you observe. And you may be further surprised to realize that you are paying into systems that give you the short end of the stick, while maximizing benefits to a small group of certain others.

I do not suggest that we all take on the mantle of bitterness over these circumstances, merely that we look more carefully at such situations and learn from them.

I told my son that I was sorry his experience had been so poor; it had taken me three years to figure out this whole thing and see how it really worked. My son ended his Little League career as a champion. The driven coaches and their key player sons really went to town! Alas, my son didn’t care about the first place trophy; all he wanted do was to burn the shirt contained his name and the names of all his tormenters.

I told my son that his experience was unfortunate, and we were sorry that we couldn’t do anything to improve his situation. We had spoken to the coach this year about the bullying, and, in the nicest possible way, he first did not “believe it”, and then claimed my son must have done something to bring it on himself. Isn’t that called “Blame the Victim”? At one point, my son went to one of the assistant coaches and told him that his son was picking on him. The assistant coach told my son “get better, and he’ll stop.” First of all, asserting that my son was a bad player (or at least not as good a player as his son); second of all, letting my son know that he would not censure his son’s behavior; third of all, condoning the behavior.

I told my son that he has to learn how to deal with all types of people and situations. Sometimes, this learning process is not pleasant.

I signed him up for summer recreation ball in a neighboring town. He’s having a good time. I suggested that he might consider continuing with recreational baseball, bypassing Babe Ruth League. If he keeps playing, he could tryout for the high school baseball team.

Meanwhile, I find it disturbing that this is the kind of society we live in. The inner circles make themselves the elite and cut everyone else out of the good stuff, as far as they can. These inner circles move concentrically outward from Little League and soccer to the School Board, your local Municipal government, the Police and Fire Unions, the Democratic or Republican Parties, Wall Street, and so on. Get the picture? This ethos has nothing really to do with volunteer organizations, but it does seem to figure into absolutely every aspect of our culture that involves some sort of prize to be won, whether it is a trophy or a government contract. The extent to which this can be done depends on how much oversight there is. Most of the time, there is very little.

Meanwhile, back on the Little League fields, adults are modeling the very worst behavior and ethics; and they are passing them on by example to their children, and maybe even to yours. On Your Dime. And using your children to reap rewards for their own.

Think about that.

Don’t be silent; speak out.

You never know who you will help by being aware, by getting more involved, and by sharing information.

Compulsion

This need

is very like
the visualization
of the first rays of sun
peaking over the horizon
to herald morning,
seen as tongues of fire.

That said,
it is true
that what is seen
is an optical illusion
for a process that is greater,
taking place in sync both
with the blink of an eye

and also
across the
complete span of time;
this creative compulsion,
the great “what if?” 

is the relentless drawing
of light through an infinite darkness.

© by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Shadows and Shades

At the outer edges of awareness,

shades hide in shadows,
silken shades,
peripheral,
yet presently alive,
watching and wondering,
witnessing
the shift of time,
as actions and images flow,
revising truth,
reviving resolve,
releasing moment
from any proviso
that may try to hold
what no longer is
to what may become.

What can be no longer
is not, is not, and can never see

beyond what was
that can never be again,
but in shadow, in shade

and in memory.

Shades hide in shadows 
at the edges of awareness, 
silken shades, 
sight out of light, 
away from sharp pain of focus,
fleeing and fading, 
colorless dissolutions 
that evolve and resolve,
even hope to solve, 
in the offing of ever,
newness and beginnings.


© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Pins, Passwords and UserIDs; all the numbers of our lives

“Pictures hanging in a hallway

And the fragment of this song

Half remembered names and faces

But to whom do they belong

When you knew that it was over

Were you suddenly aware

That the autumn leaves were turning

To the color of her hair

Like a circle in a spiral

Like a wheel within a wheel

Never ending or beginning,

On an ever spinning wheel

As the images unwind

Like the circles that you find

In the windmills of your mind”

English lyrics from the song “Windmills of Your Mind”

Marilyn and Alan Bergman

(music composed by Michel Legrand)

I had an interesting encounter with Customer Service this morning. We had been early registrants for toll transponders, when such service came to our area. A year ago, we discovered that the transponder we had was no longer operating; we would go through the transponder toll lane, and no telltale beep would issue forth to signify that our toll had been registered. The system had photo identifications of our cars, however, and so we were never in violation, as the photo would be compared to our account information and verified.

Somewhere along the line, about a year ago, this was no longer good enough, and we were contacted by letter, and asked to call in to unsnarl what had previously not been snarly, but now for some reason was.

We called in, and the customer service person told us we needed to get not one, but two transponders. We could no longer share one between both autos. And they asked us to send them back the one we had that was no longer working. We did so.

Now, a year later, we have two transponders, but were sent a notice of “evasion of toll”. Guess what, one of the “newer” transponders no longer seems to be working. My husband checks out our on-line account (this was one of the “changes” or “upgrades” to transponder “service” over the years, so that customers can do all the work and the transponder people don’t have to hire as many customer service representatives). When we initiated our online account, years ago, all you needed was a customer identification code and password.

Today, when I called the transponder customer service line, negotiating the knarly phone system, (including the ubiquitous “please listen carefully, as our menu options have changed,” message that has appeared on most customer service phone systems in the last ten years, never to be changed again, but always to repeat that it has been changed, even if that change was made years ago, and not yesterday...), and was asked for a four-digit pin number.

Well, we don’t have a four-digit pin number. We never had one for this account; all we ever needed was a password and user identification code. So, I waited, while the automated voice yammered at me “the code you entered [even though I had not entered one] is not valid. Please enter your…” (sigh)

Finally, the machine gave up on me, as I waited on the line, and kicked me over to a live representative.

I gave her the account number, in response to her first question. Then she asked me for a pin number. I said, “we don’t have one.”

“You should have a pin number, and I cannot help you if you cannot give it to me.”

“Can’t we verify by address and phone number?”

“What is your address?” I supplied the address.

“And what email address would the account be under?” I gave my husband’s current email address.

“That is not correct.” Oops. My husband had changed his email address within the last six months, but had not updated it in the, oh, gee, several HUNDRED accounts we have all over the internet.

I supplied his previous email address.

“That is not correct.” GAH! We had opened this account so long ago that the email address used was one that was for an email service no longer available, owing to merging and submerging and overmerging of undermergable corporations by übermergable ones. “I am afraid I cannot help you.”

“Look,” I said, “I am just trying to tell you that of the three transponders listed, we only have two. One of them was no longer working, and we were told to mail it back, which we did.”

“Where did you send the transponder?”

“This was about a year ago. I know that they gave us an address over the phone, and we sent it there. Obviously, things have changed quite a lot since then, for you and for us. I no longer have a record of that information.”

“If you cannot verify your account, I cannot help you.”

“I can give you the numbers of the transponders we do have, surely that is something that will verify our account. You should be able to see this information.”

The rep listened patiently as I recited what records I did have to proffer, in the form of transponder identification numbers. I heard typing in the background.

“Yes, these are listed on your account.”

“Thank you, yes. And the other one that is listed we no longer have, as we sent it back.”

“Since you cannot verify your pin number or your email address, I will have to send you a letter in the mail about how to properly update your account.”

“I see…”

That phone call took about 25 minutes, and when it was over, I was really no closer toward my goal that when I started.

I might understand all of this multiple code business, if security were really at stake with regard to “the product.” This is not a stock transaction or a bank transaction, and while we use a credit card to pay for our toll transactions, surely our address should be enough to verify we have an account. It works for other accounts.

This kind of security is rather misplaced in our scheme of priorities. The fact that we must have unique codes (passwords, user identifications, pin numbers, etc.) for every single internet account (which often is a secondary account associated with an original service begun before the internet was available to the public) is nothing less crazy-making. We have a huge spreadsheet to tell us what all our codes are. Seems a little ridiculous, given that most of these accounts are not dealing with trade secrets, government secrets or anything except a very occasional monetary transaction that, yes, should be secure, but is often transacted through a secure webpage that you are transferred to on the website.

In fact, this is just how we were able to change our credit card information on the transponder site, without the need for a pin number!!!!

Meanwhile, customers pay the price for the inefficiency of the agency that does not remove old information when it is supplied or send a message informing the need for new, additional means of identification, like a pin number.

While we are chasing after the “circles in spirals” and the “wheels in wheels” of petty business bureaucracies, what more important life experiences are we missing?

Is this the aspect of technology that was supposed to make life easier and less work-intensive?

Is this the windmill of your mind, or mine?

Perhaps we are all now face-to-face with the dilemmas of “Don Quixote.”

Three Strikes; You’re OUT at the Ole Ball Game!

I haven't written in a while. I apologize! I've been a little preoccupied.

***

When I was growing up, in the latter portion of the 20^th Century, I never played a team sport. Mostly, I wasn’t interested. I really didn’t have any friends who played team sports, although I have a vague recollection that there were organized baseball games held at the park I used to play in. They might have been Little League games—I don’t know. I think I watched a few, but it really didn’t hold any interest; I mostly hung out because they had a hotdog stand. The nearest thing I had to a “sport” was bicycling.

Fast forward to 21^st Century Parenthood. My twins are in middle school, and my son is nearing the end of his three-season Little League career. He started late, but developed pretty quickly into a decent ball player, jumping from AA into the Majors in his second year. My daughter, who had never expressed anything but boredom at being dragged to her brother’s games, suddenly decided this Spring she wanted to play softball. I am sure she was influenced by the example of her best friend, who has been playing for years.

My daughter went to the tryouts. She could catch, but not throw very well. She had not really done any batting to speak of, but managed to hit a few at the tryouts. She was put on a team with girls she had never met before, although she had seen a few of the older girls at school.

The most beautiful thing, indeed the very best thing, about the softball program in my town is that all of the practices and most of the games take place at a park that is literally across the street from my house. No driving. (Little League is another story…) So, my daughter would cross the street with her equipment bag for practices, and I could watch out the window or stroll over to watch, if I was at home.

My daughter would frequently come home from practices tearful and frustrated.

“Mom, I can’t do anything right!”

“Dear, you are just getting started. That is why you practice! So that you can improve.”

“The coaches keep telling me all these different things. The tell me I am not in the right place on the field, and then I move, and later they tell me to move back to where I was!”

Well, not having been a ball player, I couldn’t offer a response to that. So, I decided to go watch what they were doing. I sat through some practices. I watched the drills. I listened to what the coaches said. Finally, a scrimmage with another team was announced. It was then called off, due to rain. And it rained and rained and rained. Our fields were closed, our practices postponed. (sigh)

Once the rainy season decided to end, practices resumed. Then, the first game came and went. It was a disaster. The girls didn’t know how to read the coaches signals, the in-field didn’t know how cover their positions or how they should back up other positions. A few girls could hit, but not others. No one could really slide. There wasn’t any communication or cheering going on. I won’t tell you what the score was.

[And here is the truth about scores: Scores don’t matter. I figured that it was good that my daughter was outside, getting some fresh air and exercise. I didn’t really expect much more than that.]

After a few more disappointing games and practices, that I watched closely, I could see that there was a bit of a misunderstanding, involving the way the coaches would tell the players to move on the field. I had figured out something fundamental to team strategy: Once the coaches have seen the opposing players at bat, they have an idea what that player can do, and they try to remember and use that knowledge to reposition their fielders to better advantage.

“Mom, I can’t do anything right! I want to quit.” She came banging in the door, crying, one afternoon.

“What happened?”

“The coaches kept yelling at me to move to different places. First I had to move back, then forward, then way over to the side!”

“Sweetheart, let me explain what they are doing.” And I told her what I had figured out, summing it up with, “so you weren’t in the wrong spot. The coach was moving you to a new correct spot, every time.”

That made sense to her. It is so funny that something like that never gets spelled out for anyone but the pitcher and the catcher, but there you have it.

After that, it was a matter of improving on her batting and getting better with her throw, and remembering what area her position covered and what position she had to back up. They worked with the girls on sliding into bases. Turned out Emily was a natural at it! The coach nicknamed her “Slick” and had her demonstrate for the other girls. Pretty soon, I was hearing her little voice piping from the field with how many outs there were and where the next play was. The girls started cheering each other at bat more.

As I watched them during their practices, I realized that baseball and softball, and probably all team sports, require you to be both conscious in the moment of what is happening and also to think forward into the realm of possibility—to be aware of what must be done at the individual level in the now, as well as think through possible consequences of your actions on your teammates in the next moment. WOW!!

And again, I say:  WOW! Who knew?

The team continued to have a lack-luster season, but they did win a few games, and that lifted everyone's spirits.

Finally, the playoff game dates arrived. I thought we would be out of it immediately.

Here is what was written about Playoff Game #1:

5/29 Playoff Game #: Diamonds-In-The-Rough 10 – Good Sports 9

Possibly the most exciting game of the season! No scoring until the 3rd, when K.C. made it home for the Diamonds. Pitcher B.L. and catcher S.W. shut down the Good Sports’ chances, allowing one runner on, later tagged out at 3rd. Top of 4th, G. O. scored a 2nd run, leading with a strong double. Team B.L. and S.W. foiled Good Sports’ at bat. Diamonds were unable to score at the top of 5th, when Good Sports powered home 5. Diamonds shook it off with runs by G.O., A.G., B.L, K.C. and E.N. Good Sports brought it up to 9. S.W. and A.G. scored in the 7th to tie it up. Pitcher G.O. and catcher S.W. shut the Good Sports down 1-2-3. International tiebreaker was called. K.C. broke the tie. G.O. struck out one Good Sport, but it was a fabulous double-play, with A.G.’s in-field throw to K.C., and K.C.’s quick throw to S.W., taking out runners at 1st and home, that closed out this sensational game.

We who watched the game were beside ourselves! That was a fantastic game! Like the light switch had come on, and the Diamonds were really a team now!!

So, they had one more playoff game. When we found out who our girls were playing, we thought, oh, well. They were just up against the first ranked, undefeated team, of course!

(sigh)

Here is what was written about Playoff Game #2:

5/31 Playoff Game #2: Diamonds-In-The-Rough 9 – Expulsion 8

Another exciting win for the Diamonds! No scoring until top of the 2nd, when B.L. was driven home by E.N. Expulsion tied it up with one at the bottom of the inning. Diamonds got no traction at the top of the 3rd, and Pitcher G.O. was hit off of by three Expulsion batters, but the first two ground out at first and the third popped a fly caught by 2nd base-girl E.D. Top of 4th, Expulsion bobbled K.C.’s single into a triple, and G.O. slammed one deep to bring her home. A.G. also scored. B.L., on the mound, and S.W., at the plate, held back Expulsion with one strike and two batters ground out. In the 5th, the Diamonds did not score, but B.L. and S.W. held off Expulsion with a double-play assist from K.C. at first base. No scoring in the 6th. Top of 7th, G.O. and A.G. scored again, owing to Expulsion fielding troubles and a line drive from E.N. Not to be outdone, Expulsion took swift action, confounding Pitcher G.O. with 7 batters, three of whom scored, tying the game at 5-5. The exciting and decisive 8th inning found C.Z., V.S., K.C. and B.L. making it home. Expulsion battled forward with two more runs before a third strike ground their season to a halt.

You cannot imagine the scene. Our girls were screaming with joy. The other team’s chins hit the ground and their coaches looked like thunder. The stands were full of family and friends of our team, figuring it was the Diamonds' last game. Everyone bounced out of their seats and surrounded the girls. WOW!!

And again, I say:  WOW! Who knew?

The undefeated first place team had just been upset by the fifth place team. The fifth place team was now going to the championship!!!

This was the shot heard around the league! (And believe me when I tell you it was HUGE news and that parents and kids in lower divisions were talking about it for days.)

As you can imagine, it was an unbelievable victory and we were all full of joy. The underdogs sometimes get to shine!

Now, I won’t hold you back from the end of the story: The Diamonds lost the championship, having to settle for 2^nd Place.

Isn’t that wonderful?

Well, take it from me: that’s wonderful.

(Whew! The season is finally OVER!)

Gathering Whit

Waves froth and foam,

crashing against the beaches,
wordless cries from the silent depths:
listen! listen!
hear what cannot be voiced,
hear through the numb frustration
of all that must go unspoken.

Winds wail and whip,
wreaking and wrecking all in their path:
hear them! hear them!
a series of moanings and mournings
for all that goes unheeded, unheard,
unsaid, uncontemplated, unwritten,
of what passes understanding in the undone.

Confusions and generation gaps
obscure the presence story of all that is—
that love is and life is and all I am!
feel it! feel it!
the winds and the waves weave,
braiding into fiery tongues,
so words need no voice to speak,

But words are, that breathe life,
while unfolding wholly and fully from within
the birth and culmination of the blossom
whose song the wind carries,
whose invisible body glows in the sun,
whose object embraces subject
in perfect and timeless unity.

© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

So, You Want To Start A Music Festival?

My husband and I are both performers. I perform classical music, more or less; my husband performs popular music, more or less. Between us, we have a broad background in music and performing, and we have been involved as artists in music festivals for years and years. These experiences as participants in music festivals has more than proved to us that the last thing we would ever want to attempt is to run our own music festival.

Well, my husband had been approached by an older gentleman, one who has been a fan of his work for years. The gentleman has had the notion to mount a full-scale festival of folk music in his immediate community, and along the lines of the very kind of music that was full of vim and verve in 1958. He has been on this quest, now, for several years. Dr. ___ is a very nice man (I met him today), but he has no idea about his idea.

Dr. ___ called the other day and asked my husband to meet him prominent local venue, one that hosts a very well-known subscription series of concerts where we live. He had apparently made an appointment with the assistant to the director of the program.

“What are you doing?!” I said to my husband. “Why didn’t you just say no?”

“Well,” my husband said, vaguely.

“I think I had better come along.” I said, and set my chin, “someone needs to clarify this. You have no intention of being a presenter. This man has no idea about any of this. You are wasting your time!”

There was an hour before we had to leave to drive to the meeting. In that time, I made a list of some of the basic requirements. As a public service, I offer you that list here, for free, no consultation fee necessary. You can brew yourself a cup of coffee and mull this all over in the privacy of your own home, if you have ever had the hair-brained notion you might like to start a music festival, or otherwise present Some Really Big Event.

Preliminary Notes Toward the Building of A Music Festival

Is your concept meeting a need that is not met by any other organization or activity in the area where you want to present?

Who is your target audience, and how large is it?

Identify your resources (venues, volunteers, home stay situations, donors in-kind and financial backers).

Identify and commit members to a working board of directors.

Identify and commit a headliner with recognition among your target audience.

Is transportation and/or parking an issue?

Do you need permits from local government?

Make a preliminary budget to include all possible overhead and expenditures.

Make a preliminary monthly schedule of tasks and due dates.

Identify an opportune time of year in which to hold your event.

How many other events will be competing for audience in the same time-frame?

Start small and work your way into something larger, if the target audience is receptive.

Identify appropriate pricing for tickets.

Find existing models and learn from them.

Book your venue only once you have a business plan, seed money and a committed headliner.

***

To the meeting we went. The assistant to the director of the subscription series was a bit surprised that my husband and I showed up, and I could tell that she was wondering what we all were going to lay out for her. We introduced ourselves and sat down at a conference table.

Dr. ___ spoke first. I felt this was appropriate, as it was all due to him that we were sitting in this conference room. He verbalized his desire to start a folk music festival, suggesting that it be offered in his immediate community and, further, could the organization that administers this well-known subscription series be a resource for it?

Now, I have to confide that the reason I had taken it upon myself (unasked) to be present at this meeting was to sit in an advisory capacity. I did this because I do happen to have inside knowledge of the inner workings of music festivals, not because I have ever administered one, but because I have performed at many, and have been on the board of small arts organizations that have been involved in presenting at festivals. I have seen a lot of the pitfalls and have even fallen into the pit, through no fault of my own. I felt that I had to speak to the heart of the matter with some immediacy.

“Can you give me an idea as to the scope of what you want to do?” I began, “Are you contemplating presenting a single performance, or something more involved than this?” The assistant to the director looked over at me appreciatively—she wanted to know this, as well.

“I want to present a weekend of performances in the classic folk music genre. Well, it is nearly the end of May, now, and if we are thinking of putting something on in July—“

“Oh, dear!” I said, telegraphing alarm, “It is really impossible to organize and publicize an event that soon.” In fact, what I really thought is that the good Doctor is trying to transplant a 70-foot redwood tree from an old-growth forest into his back yard. There is no such thing as an instantly organized and publicized music festival.

“I would have to agree with that,” the assistant to the director chimed in, “A presentation of any magnitude requires at least three months advance advertising.” My husband cited examples from the many subscription series’ he had performed through, over the years.

“The subscription series that is put on by this organization,” I said, whipping out my own copy of the season mailer (bringing a smile to the face of the assistant to the director) and pushing it toward the good Doctor, “takes at least a year in advance to plan and prepare.” She nodded.

“I see. Well, perhaps we’ll have to hold off until next year, then. In the meantime, I am here to see if I can enlist the help of your organization in holding an event in the alternative location of my nearby town.”

“This organization has worked in situ very successfully. We would be reluctant to move into an alternative arena. It is difficult to see how we might benefit from an arrangement that takes us away from an infrastructure that works so well for us.” The assistant to the director was kindly, but matter-of-fact. We all nodded.

I had to direct us back to the meat of the matter, “I have to say that, just walking up the street to this building, I saw flyers and posters advertising a number of similar types of events to the one you are proposing. This whole area is actually quite rich with the kind of offering you want to make. What unique feature is going to set your event apart from all these others; what will draw people away from these other events to yours?” The assistant to the director nodded at my question; she had obviously planned to head in that direction, herself.

And that is really the crux of the matter. If you live in a location where there is very little, if any, of the opportunity you want to make available to the public, you are perhaps more likely to get an audience. But the concept still needs to be vetted against your target audience. If you live in a location where this concept is already available and abundant, then you are going to be competing with a lot of other groups for audience.

***

The conversation circled around for a bit longer, but didn’t gain any traction. We asked the Doctor why he thought that people would drive to his community for such an event, even though accessibility and parking were issues. We verbalized our concern that the style of music he wanted to present was not compatible with the image of that community. The assistant to the director did very little of the talking, as we were presenting most of the points she would have made. She did offer real examples that backed up our assertions to the good Doctor.

I looked at my watch.

“I’m afraid we have an appointment elsewhere,” I smiled and extended my hand to the assistant to the director of the subscription series, “thank you so much for taking the time to see us, today.”

“It has been very interesting speaking with you,” she smiled back at me. I had saved her some trouble.

“It has been lovely meeting you, Dr. ___,” I shook the good Doctor’s hand, “we wish you luck with your venture.”

As we drove away, my husband was frankly relieved. And so was I.