Fiore Talarico ’74 knows how to make the sale.
During his multifaceted career, Talarico, a retired Houston businessman, has bought and sold close to 40 companies in industries ranging from pharmaceutical research to pizza. He’s worked as a venture capitalist, a fundraiser for John McCain’s 2008 presidential campaign and an adviser for a national security think tank.
Regardless of the industry, Talarico says that the selling process begins long before one lands a position with a company or makes a deal.
“If you want to get a job, how do you do that? You have to know how to sell yourself,” he says.
Now he’s helping other Flyers become just as adept at the art of selling. Talarico is giving the University a $1 million gift over a five-year period to support the Center for Professional Selling, launched in May 2010. As the call for sales training across disciplines continues to rise from employers and students alike, the School of Business Administration wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to meet that growing demand. The center is one of about
50 at colleges and universities nationwide.
And because of Talarico’s contribution — a gift described as “transformational” by Matthew Shank, former dean of the school who became president of Marymount University in Virginia this summer — the center will take a large step toward accomplishing significant goals that will help students become more competitive in the job market and workplace.
“Selling is important for people from all walks of life,” Talarico said. “This will help more than just future business leaders — all kids can benefit from selling. We want kids at the University of Dayton to be a step ahead.”
Talarico’s gift will help fund equipment needs for the center, provide support for students participating each year in the National Collegiate Sales Competition and be used to help promote the center.
Shank said the center is securing corporate partnerships designed to provide internship and full-time job placement opportunities for students. So far, it has secured two — Total Quality Logistics Inc. and Reynolds and Reynolds have signed on as partners — but the center hopes to have between eight and 10 partners in the near future.
The gift is three years in the making. Shank first mentioned the idea of the center to Talarico when the two were enjoying pizza, pool and a Dayton Flyers basketball game three years ago.
Talarico was sold.
“He expressed an interest in sales and stressed its importance for all students,” Shank said. “He’s an advocate for having students understand the role of sales in their career goals.”
Talarico should know. He’s come a long way from that day in late 1970 when he boarded a bus in Allendale, N.J., with two suitcases in hand. “All that I had,” he said.
He undertook a two-day journey to Dayton, and the bus dropped him off downtown. He asked some friendly locals for help, and they directed him to campus, telling him to look for the Big Boy statue near the entrance.
Big Boy is long gone, but Talarico’s fond memories of his time at the University remain. Today, Talarico actively works to recruit students in the Houston area to the University and invites them to alumni gatherings he hosts at his home and at sporting events. His ongoing enthusiasm even convinced his nephew, Andrew McClain, to transfer to the University. And now his son, Jared, has made the move.
Selling the University to students might be Talarico’s most fulfilling endeavor.No Comments
I confess that when I think about regeneration, the subject of one of this issue’s features, my thoughts are not about science so much as science fiction and mythology. I think of poor Prometheus chained to that rock, his liver growing back each night so that an eagle could return to devour it each day. It was his eternal punishment from Zeus for giving fire to us mortals. Some days I think I know how he must’ve felt.
But such thoughts mark one difference between me, an editor, and a scientist like UD’s Panagiotis Tsonis. In the capacity of a newt to regenerate the lens of its eye, he sees the possibility of one day unlocking similar mechanisms in our own mammalian bodies. A fountain of youth may dwell within us all — but here I am thinking in metaphors again.
You can see regeneration as a more purposeful metaphor in this issue’s story on the River Stewards, who are helping put the region back in touch with the five rivers that the city’s founders first settled around. As a community, we turned our collective back on them a century ago, answering a devastating flood with high levees. Today, regional leaders look hopefully at a renewed embrace. Recreation and tourism, economic development, environmental stewardship — they could all flow together in the plans being laid today with the help of our students and their boundless visions of what the future can be.
The rebirth of the river is but one sign of a broader renewal throughout the region, driven in part by a regeneration of the University itself. This fall marks the beginning of the 10th year of Daniel J. Curran’s presidency at UD. As another feature story notes, the University has experienced a remarkable decade by any measure — the academic strength and geographic diversity of incoming classes, physical growth, infrastructure improvements, endowment health, internationalization and more.
It results from careful planning and calculated risk taking, of course, but those are tactics any well-run organization might claim. More than those, the momentum springs from our Marianist vision, our commitment to, in the words of Father Chaminade who founded the Marianists, read the signs of the times and act. The University community has acted boldly and with ingenuity under Dr. Curran’s leadership, positioning the institution for decades to come.
I see the changes daily outside my office windows, which overlook the 50 acres UD purchased from NCR in 2005. Tennis courts have sprung up and soccer practice fields are dramatically improved. Further in the distance, ground has been broken for the new GE Aviation R&D center.
And across Brown Street, life has returned to campus classrooms and the student neighborhoods after a long, hot summer. With the new generation of students, there is also a regeneration of our Marianist commitment to educate for adaptation and change in community.
And maybe that, too, is a little how Prometheus must’ve felt when he handed over the secret of fire.No Comments
We received word this morning that Chuck Whalen ’42, who represented the Dayton area in the House of Representatives from 1966-1979 and was an economics professor at UD, died Monday in Bethesda, Md. A part of his legacy is the donation of his Congressional papers to the University, our largest collection aside from University records. The papers cover issues big and small, including civil rights and the Vietnam War.
For the Winter 2010 issue of University of Dayton Magazine, we pulled one of the more whimsical samples, a letter from Arizona Congressman John Rhodes asking Republican members to chip in for a good cause. Here’s the story we ran then:
Not all Congressional correspondence is top-secret material vital to U.S. national and economic security. Short and sweet, and maybe a bit silly, this 1974 memo from minority leader Rep. John Rhodes of Arizona to Ohio Rep. Charles Whalen Jr. ’42 highlights the Congressional talk-of-the town on Sept. 13 — a new television in the Republican cloakroom.
Assuming the Congressional representatives invested in a color television, like two-thirds of the 15 million Americans who purchased TVs that year, they probably spent around $600. In 1974, for example, a 19-inch, color Sony television cost about $590, according to TVhistory.com. Today’s shoppers can purchase an updated model of the same size Sony — complete with HDTV and 1440×900 resolution — for around $350.
The letter is just one of thousands that fill 15 boxes of Whalen’s correspondence and other personal papers, and those are just a portion of the 480 boxes and 41 scrapbooks of his Congressional papers housed in the University Archives and Special Collections.
The collection of news releases, personal papers, memorabilia, scrapbooks, campaign information, supported legislation and media files runs 237 feet in Albert Emanuel Hall.
“Many Congressmen leave their papers with a repository in their district,” said Rachel DeHart, interim archivist in University Archives.
As a UD alumnus and former professor of economics, Whalen, who now lives in Maryland, donated his papers to the University in the late 1970s following his retirement from Congress.
— Rachael Bade ’10
You can read more about Whalen’s life in this Dayton Daily News story. Coincidentally, Rachael Bade, our former student writer responsible for the piece above, now works as a reporter for Roll Call, Capitol Hill’s go-to newspaper. You can follow her on Twitter @rachaelmbade.No Comments
The Frisch’s Big Boy used to keep an eye on the six men who lived at 236 College Park, across the street from the once-landmark restaurant, in the early 1990s.
“We would cook out on the front porch and throw Frisbee,” said Tony Felts ’93, now communications director of Anthem Blue Cross and Blue Shield in Indiana. “There were also times we’d just be hanging out on a Sunday afternoon watching a football game, and you never know who’d drop by. And then they would hang out.”
Walking into the foyer, visitors were greeted by a pinball machine the men acquired and a bar Tim Lewandowski ’93 salvaged from
his parents’ basement. A wrap-around couch filled the living room, while NFL helmets and a Paula Abdul poster dotted the walls.
“That was our social room,” said designated
DJ Jim Sullivan ’93, now vice president of internal audit for a large European bank in Stamford, Conn. “Tony made us clean up right after a party was over.”
The basement was dubbed “the dungeon” after the first rain fell during their junior year, dampening what they hoped could be functional living space. For the rest of the time, Lewandowski stored his hockey equipment there.
A bathroom, kitchen and separate dining area made up the back of the first floor. Narrow stairs led to the three bedrooms on the second level.
“We had an air conditioner the first part of the year and rigged some sheets at the top of the stairs to try to keep the cool air upstairs,” said Andy Priester ’93, now president of a corporate charter and management company.
When winter came, they covered the drafty living room windows with plastic wrap. “It would get so cold, you could hold up a match and snuff it out near the window,” Felts said.
The men got along so well they could even agree on the weekly grocery list. Everyone pitched in for the Sunday night Meijer shopping trip.
“It just worked,” Priester said. “We cooked dinner most of the time as a house … and it was something decent.
“Looking back, I don’t think any of us would change anything. The house made the experience.”
Incoming first-year student Amanda Morel didn’t have any experience with video until she produced one that landed her a $40,000 UD scholarship. The aspiring high school math teacher won enrollment management’s video contest, “Your Question, Your Mark.” Her burning question: “What factors promote long-term retention in the American high school’s mathematics classroom?”
Winning was sweet — “I thought ‘Oh my gosh, I’m going to be a Flyer,’” she said — but what made her video stand out? Morel has five tips she swears by.
1. Captivate Honesty was the best policy when asking her peers about math. “So many times students truly don’t like math, so I told them to just be honest,” she said. Morel is a natural star, too, with an obvious passion for teaching math.
2. Be concise Her original question was “What factors promote retention in the classroom?” but she narrowed in on high school mathematics. “You have to get really specific, don’t be too detailed and get to the point,” she said. And keep it under five minutes.
3. Perfect audio is a must Morel shot her video without a tripod. Luckily she has a friend who can edit video. Finding clear sound clips without the sounds of a high school hallway in the background was a challenge, but upbeat, subtle music complements the tone of the video.
4. Smooth moves Morel used creative transitions with music between student interviews, shots of classrooms and clips of her speaking. She also used a chalkboard-like font to emphasize points, introduce topics and cite her sources.
5. Variety show Morel featured dozens of students narrowed down from a massive pool of interviews done during study hall periods. “I got a wide range of classrooms,” she said. “I wanted to get the entire high school, different teachers and different teaching techniques. I went to classes ranging from transitional algebra to AP statistics.”No Comments
How happiness and meaning in life start with a good story.
Illustrations by Elwood Smith
Every so often at a party in Chicago, when I was in my 20s and 30s, I had a particular revelation. The scene was similar: a packed house or apartment, music blaring, beer flowing. I would overhear someone utter “UD.” I might see a Dayton T-shirt or baseball cap. Maybe a UD banner on the wall. It became clear: I’m at a UD party. Again.
I could never figure out how I ended up at these parties. I didn’t know the host. I didn’t necessarily arrive with UD grads. I hadn’t gone to UD. I had a few high school friends who went to UD, but they didn’t live in Chicago. Perhaps people from Ohio end up at the same parties in Chicago? Perhaps graduates of Catholic colleges end up at the same parties anywhere? Perhaps UD grads just throw the best parties? (Probably so, but that wouldn’t explain why I would be there.) Perhaps UD was my destiny?
During those years I went to the wedding of two UD grads, a good friend from high school, John Konkoly ’89, and Lori Sauer, now Konkoly, ’89. They sat me at the same table as a particularly gorgeous woman, a friend of Lori’s named Tricia whom I remember to this day because now she’s my wife. Perhaps UD actually was my destiny.
After living in Chicago, Tricia and I moved to Flagstaff, Ariz., where we started a family and I started my career. We loved it there (sunny, friends). But it was too far from family — Tricia’s in Cincinnati and mine in Cleveland. Then UD gave me a job with an excellent work environment, fantastic students and colleagues, and ideal opportunities for professional growth, all while bringing our kids and us closer to family.
Fun, love and work. It is easy for me to view UD with a sense of gratitude and destiny.
Same facts, different story
I suppose I could tell that story another way. I could interpret my life in a way that scarcely mentions UD. For example, UD alums did not throw the only parties I went to in Chicago. UD introduced Tricia and me, but only indirectly, and UD didn’t exactly figure in our decision to date, much less get married. UD gave me a job, but the hire is a mutual exchange of goods and services.
This version of the story is also factual. But it feels less true, less full, less meaningful. UD plays a meaningful role in my life because I have interpreted my life that way, which is to say, I have constructed a personal narrative or story that says UD is personally meaningful. So it is, in fact, meaningful.
Usually we think that a story is a retelling of something. Factual events happen in life, and then we tell stories about those events. But life stories are primarily about meanings, not facts. A story’s meaning is not about who, what, where and when, but about why and how — about the intentions, dreams, reasons, motivations, ideals and conflicts that shape our feelings and interpretations of events. We identify and define ourselves in terms of these interpretations.
So the stories we tell about our lives are more than just stories. They’re what we know of our lives. Our stories become our lives.
The question is, what do we want our lives to become?
The answer: Good.
Good life = happiness + meaning
When people in studies were asked what constitutes a good life, they rated happiness and meaning highest, above things like status and lots of money.
This notion of a good life has deep roots, going back at least 2,400 years to Aristotle. For him, a good life, or eudaimonia, involved two things: pleasure and arete (translated as “excellence of character” or “maturity in virtue and meaning-making”). I’ll refer to these two simply as happiness and meaning.
Happiness is the feeling that life is good. Meaning deals with how one analyzes the life about which one feels good. For example, if you’re happy but you got that way by being selfish and cheating others, then suddenly “a good life” doesn’t seem so good.
Here’s an interesting fact: Happiness and meaning are not the same thing. In fact, they’re not even related. People with highly developed meanings in life are just as likely to be unhappy as happy. This finding has been replicated for decades. In other words, thinking complexly about life is different than feeling good about it.
Before we consider how all this relates to life stories, let’s look at some of the prerequisites of eudaimonia, the good life, because happiness and meaning are luxuries.
Hitting the cortical lottery
Aristotle said that eudaimonia is not simply a matter of effort. It’s also a matter of luck.
Like it or not, much of our happiness is genetic. Research shows that happiness levels are more similar for identical twins than for fraternal twins.
Jonathan Haidt of the University of Virginia calls this “the cortical lottery.” Fortunately the odds in this lottery are much better than in the state lottery. Roughly 60 percent of people report being happy routinely. But we have a biological “set point” for happiness. We may have short bursts or depletions of happiness, but eventually we slide back to our endowed set point. (Really, our genes set a range of likely happiness levels that seem to become more channeled as our lives unfold.)
While this may sound discouraging, on the bright side it’s part of what pulls us up when things go wrong. Plus, it’s very important to note that happiness is not all genetic. Set points can change permanently, and approximately
40 percent of happiness levels are tied to our own personal actions.
Whew. There’s hope.
Cost of living adjustments
Aristotle also said that eudaimonia comes about only when a person has ample leisure. Leisure allows for time to think deeply about life. Having leisure also means we’re probably not worrying about basic needs like food and shelter. And that’s where wealth comes in.
Overall, it’s clear that money goes a long way in bringing happiness, but only if you’re poor. In every country around the world, people who worry about food, shelter and safety are less happy than people who do not.
Once basic needs are met, it’s a much different story. People around the world then start to focus on “psychological needs,” such as seeking pleasure, a sense of belonging, a sense of personal competence and esteem, and meaning in life. When focused on these kinds of needs, it takes huge increases in income — upwards of $100,000 in a year — to see a just-noticeable difference in happiness, on average.
Not only that, but sudden increases in happiness generally don’t last. We adapt. The new income level quickly becomes the new baseline. This is called the hedonic treadmill. We keep moving forward and exhausting our energies to gain something pleasurable but end up right where we started. Of course, it’s great that we adapt when things go wrong. But when things go great (“I won the lottery!”), well, we adapt to that, too.
Finally, we should ask: Which comes first, increases in income or increases in happiness? A longitudinal study tracking individuals over many years shows that increases in happiness come before increases in income. Why? Perhaps it’s that happy people can get others to like them and their work more easily, can think more optimistically and creatively, and can invest in the future accordingly.
The story of a researcher
I’m a terrible storyteller. I can write well enough, but when it comes to telling a story in person, it never works unless it’s one that I’ve told a million times. Of course, by then it only works with people I’ve just met.
This drives me crazy because I love good storytellers. Maybe that’s why I study people’s life stories for a living.
I first got the idea to study people’s stories as the editor of a weekly newspaper in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Now, I don’t know how familiar you are with the U.P., but you may have heard of its unparalleled beauty. They call it “God’s Country.” And it is beautiful. It’s also quiet. Dead quiet, painfully quiet, especially for a 22-year-old who only months earlier had moved to Chicago because, and solely because, Chicago is so fun. But an editor job was too good to pass up, so I traded culture for nature and headed north (like three hours north of Green Bay, Wis., which is why I only got one television station and ironically missed the first season of Northern Exposure).
In addition to editor, I was the (not “a”) reporter, photographer and layout guy. My publisher was shrewd. I worked 60-70 hours per week for $13,000 a year, but this was enough not to worry about food and shelter. My rent was only $200 a month for the spacious top floor of a house, and I survived happily on cheap pizza and black bean soup, which I heated up by myself when feeling particularly domestic. And I loved my job. I liked writing editorials and sports — mostly high school sports and Little League Baseball, but also dog-sled racing and the popular “Call in Your Kill” listings in November. But I most loved doing feature stories of people’s lives.
The problem was that, when designing the layout of the page with the feature story, I inevitably realized that I had written too much. Time was short on press day, and so was the editing process: I had to cut paragraphs off the end of the story until it fit the space available. This was maddening. Here I had spent hours interviewing someone, doing background investigation and throwing myself into this person’s life for a week — all to just hack the story to make room for the police report (naturally the most popular column) or an announcement of a bake sale.
I wanted to study people’s life stories in more depth and more systematically.
Science of stories
I view the questions of a good life — of how we create happiness and meaning — as scientific questions. I love philosophy, literature, the arts, religion, history and other disciplines that study life’s big questions. But for me, these questions are begging for observable, quantitative data and statistical models showing how Variable A (say, personal narratives) predicts Variable B (say, happiness or meaning).
Can we actually measure these things as well as the physical sciences measure planets, plants and protons? Of course not, never mind the fact that astronomers are still arguing over what a planet is.
But can we measure happiness, meaning and life stories well enough to predict which people are likely to be happy years from now based on their stories today? Most definitely. Such research is already well established in the social sciences.
Here’s how: Life stories, like any story, use narrative themes to convey what is important and why it’s important. These themes can be identified systematically and quantified.
Three of the great themes in life stories and stories generally (think literature, film) are power, love and growth. People use these themes to give meaning to events in their lives. An event may be important “because I had an influence” or “because I proved I could do it” (power). An event may be important “because we shared
it” or “because it brought us together” (love). An event may be important “because I grew stronger” or “because we learned” (growth).
The more we use a particular theme to convey the importance of an event, the more we identify with that theme in our lives. We can measure a theme quantitatively by getting independent researchers to agree how frequently it is mentioned across the episodes of a person’s life story.
What themes make up a good life story? Much of the answer depends on one’s culture, but if I had to pick one theme, I’d pick growth.
Growth is a major part of eudaimonia, and the concept of growth is deeply embedded in American ideals of progress and a good life. This is partly why self-help books have accounted for almost 50 percent of the best-selling nonfiction titles in the past 40 years. We love coming-of-age movies and stories of character development where the heroes realize the sins of their past and transform themselves into a force of good. Think of any story featuring character development where the protagonist tries to become a “better person.”
Our life stories can showcase growth in the past and in the planned future. In a week I will fly to Paris to participate in UD’s summer study abroad program. In this extraordinary program, UD students study abroad and are taught by UD professors, who propose the programs and locations. (While I was interviewing for my position at UD, Tricia discovered this program on UD’s website. She was clear on the phone that night: You get that job!)
When I did this program in Paris in 2009, my family joined me, and we all loved it. It was especially wonderful watching our kids (ages 6 and 4 at the time) explore a new city, new foods and new people.
On the academic side, I was reminded what it means to have a course come alive: Students were fully engaged in the class — I’ve never seen so often the expression of “OMG, I get it now, wow, life’s bigger than I thought” — as the course topics were linked to and energized by our experience in Paris. For me, Paris is Growth City.
It was for the students, too. Afterward, they wrote about their experiences. Growth themes were off the charts. Students uniformly saw the experience as a period of intense self-discovery and self-expansion. They wrote passionately about what they learned and how their appreciation deepened for other cultures and their American culture. They told stories of growing — experientially and intellectually.
The distinction is important. Recall that happiness and meaning are not the same thing. My colleagues and I have consistently found that personal growth stories lead down at least two broad paths. Stories emphasizing experiential growth (focusing on deepened experiences and relationships) lead toward feeling good about life (happiness). Stories emphasizing intellectual growth lead toward thinking deeply about life (meaning).
But there’s little cross-over. Growth stories and plans along one path are not likely to lead to growth along the other. Only the people whose stories emphasize both kinds of growth, like my students after Paris, tend to show evidence of both happiness and rich meaning in life — that is, to show evidence of eudaimonia.
Growing through grief
All this talk of growth sounds great. But what about when life gets tough? How much wiggle room is there in how we interpret the loss of a loved one or some traumatic event?
As it turns out, people going through the same tragic event, like 9/11 or personal abuse, tell very different stories. For some the event is simply tragic — that’s all, no growth. But for others, the tragic event also leads to something positive, some silver lining. Perhaps an important lesson or viewpoint about life. Perhaps strengthened relationships with family or friends. Perhaps personal strengths that were previously undiscovered. These people, whose stories convey themes of “post-traumatic growth,” are found to adjust better.
It’s important to note that growth is not the same thing as recovery. Almost everyone focuses on recovery during difficult times, but only some also focus on growth, and then with seemingly positive effects. But then did adjustment happen first, and the growth themes in narratives simply follow? Well, in one important study of psychotherapy, growth narratives came prior to improvements in psychological adjustment, and not the other way around.
Like James Brown said, ‘Get up offa that thang’
People who have growth stories seek growth in their lives. This is true for the old and the young, contrary to popular notions that “growth is for the young.” Plus, it’s not just that people tell stories about growth. It’s that these people do things that promote growth.
Certain kinds of activities are known for fostering eudaimonia. One is called “flow.” Flow is the experience of being in a groove, being immersed in something we find interesting, being focused on the present activity and not things like self-image or social status. Flow comes about when people do something that involves a high level of challenge but where their skills are up to that challenge.
Some of the most common examples include active leisure, such as sports and physical exercise, socializing (especially when it involves food), reading and sex. But watching TV does not; it produces inactivity, little excitement and little challenge.
Why then do we watch so much TV? Probably because at the end of a hard day, it’s much easier to click on the TV than to read a book or go for a run.
Flow activities take more initial effort, mentally and physically. But the initial investment pays off in terms of both meaning and happiness in life. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the great flow researcher, finds that the eudaimonic life comes when people routinely structure their lives to produce flow experiences.
Earlier I said essentially that money itself doesn’t buy happiness. But, some researchers find, money can buy happiness if we spend it right. We can spend money on either experiential purchases (activities) or material purchases (things). Here’s the payoff: Spending $100 on a baseball game or a concert is more likely to bring lasting happiness than spending $100 on a pair of shoes. When we purchase activities instead of things, we’re more likely to reminisce about them, to find meaning in them, to grow tired of them more slowly and to share them more with other people. That last one — other people — is key. If research has found one overarching key to happiness and meaning in life, it’s spending time with others.
So it seems that the American Dream of striving toward ever-newer cars and ever-bigger houses is a dream that we’re better to wake up from. In fact, research shows that pursuing this dream as a primary life goal may be an attempt to overcome a lack of more personally meaningful qualities in life. This leads to the question of why we do what we do.
Status, kids and what we emphasize
When it comes to happiness, it’s not so much the kind of activities we do as the reasons for doing them and for thinking they’re important. In study after study, in every age group, every income group and around the world, we see that happier people do things for person-oriented reasons more than for gaining material goods or social status.
Status and money aren’t necessarily problems in themselves. We all have both person-oriented and status-oriented reasons for doing what we do. For example, take the college student who wants to become a lawyer because she loves the legal process and feels she can help others (person oriented). She might also want to become a lawyer for the money and prestige (status oriented). What matters for her happiness is how much she emphasizes them in her life story.
This distinction is especially important when it comes to parenting. We all want our kids to be happy, but do we encourage our kids to pursue activities for the enrichment it brings for themselves and for others? Or for the acceptance and praise (think: grades) they’ll get from their parents, peers and teachers?
Chances are we’re doing both. After all, enrichment is good and noble, and it’s what brings happiness. But life in a complex society makes us jump through a lot of hoops, and status-motivated goals can help with that. Yet, such goals are not likely to bring happiness. Again, it’s a matter of which ones we emphasize in our life stories.
A related question: Are we as parents pushing our kids more for their own development as individuals or more to have them live out our ideals for our own lives? I try hard not to do the latter, but it’s not easy. On any given day I catch myself feeling proud or defensive, dishing out praise or punishment, because my children’s behaviors either reflect or contradict what I myself want to be. The hard part is that some of those ideals I would want for anyone (like being considerate or trying hard) and others I wouldn’t (like being controlling or perfectionism). And it’s not always easy to tell which is which when such situations spontaneously arise by the dozens each day. But it’s got to be worth the effort to try.
As far as I can tell, the only remedy is the age-old advice: “Know thyself.” Which brings us back to where we started: Examining our life stories.
What’s your story?
We have just scanned an enormous amount of research. Is there a simple conclusion for it all? A quick little piece of advice to jot down for future reference?
I don’t think so. Lives are complex. If I wanted to offer any insights that would actually be useful, I’d need to hear your particular story.
And if I already did hear it at one of those parties in Chicago, do you mind repeating it? It was pretty loud there, as I recall.
Jack Bauer (http://academic.udayton.edu/jackbauer) struggles daily to translate research findings into plain English. He holds the Roesch Chair in the Social Sciences and is an associate professor of psychology at UD. He is co-editor of the book Transcending Self-Interest: Psychological Explorations of the Quiet Ego and is currently writing about the topics in this article for a book on the ideal of growth in American life stories. Bauer is also an associate editor of the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology and, were this article to appear in that journal, he would have dutifully cited his research references in endnotes. He is happy to provide them to any interested readers.
Further reading suggested by Bauer:
Finding Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi
The Progress Paradox by Gregg Easterbrook
Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert
The Happiness Hypothesis by Jonathan Haidt
The High Price of Materialism by Tim Kasser
The How of Happiness by Sonja Lyubomirsky
The Redemptive Self and George W. Bush and The Redemptive Dream by Dan P. McAdams
The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz2 Comments
The Dayton alumni chapter got a good price on a bunny suit. For years the members had been renting, but they finally got around to buying one for $100. Call it an investment in the future.
Each Easter more than a hundred children are let loose on the Kennedy Union lawn in search of 800-900 hollow plastic eggs filled with candy and four silver and gold eggs that will win them a plush bunny or chick. It’s what Dayton alumni chapter co-president Gloria Marano ’88 describes as “controlled mass chaos.”
“But it’s a good kind of crazy,” she added.
With 21,891 alumni in the area, the Dayton alumni chapter is easily the largest chapter around. The Palm Sunday Easter egg hunt, an annual event more than a decade in practice, is the kind of event only the Dayton alumni chapter could hold because it’s the only chapter with the UD campus in its backyard.
“We do everything,” said chapter co-president Aimee Kroll Forsythe ’99, a systems analyst for Avery Dennison who hails from Cleveland. She came to Dayton in 1995 and, like a lot of her friends, hasn’t left.
The proximity advantage has also allowed the chapter to launch Dinner with 5 Flyers, a Students Today, Alumni Tomorrow program which brings alumni and current students together for dinner discussions about life and UD.
In 2006, the National Alumni Association named it Program of the Year. While it was once exclusive to Dayton, the initiative now is expanding to Philadelphia, New York and other cities where alumni chapters are thriving.
In addition to contributing to on-campus events like Christmas on Campus, the chapter holds game-watches throughout the basketball season and once a year fills 200 seats at the Dayton Dragons minor league baseball stadium.
Chapter members have provided meals for the homeless at St. Vincent de Paul hotel and dinner for the families of sick children of Ronald McDonald House. For the last two years, they have raised awareness for multiple sclerosis research through the MS Walk in Kettering, Ohio, with the Ray of Hope team in honor of former UD president Brother Raymond Fitz, S.M. ’64.
But it’s during the on-campus activities like the Easter egg hunt that alumni and their children get to engage most with the tradition and community of the University.
Those kids posing with a UD student wearing the $100-bunny suit might just be the next generation of Flyers.
1. The Oakwood Club “They have excellent food and excellent service. I’ve been going there since I was a little girl. I had my first Shirley Temple there with my dad.” —Anne Fahrendorf Sweeney ’71
2. National Museum of the U.S. Air Force “Not only do you get to learn about the Wright brothers, but you also get to see the modern jets. I suggest everybody visit the SR-71 Blackbird. It’s truly amazing — you can see the fastest jet in the world here in Dayton.” —Wayne Small ’02
3. RiverScape MetroPark “It’s a great place to take a stroll or hop on the bike trail and ride along the river. During the summer there are concerts, and in the winter you can go ice skating or join the Dayton Broomball Association.” —Jen Cadieux ’05
4. Boonshoft Museum of Discovery “A unique indoor zoo where you can interact with small animals, the wonderful planetarium and many engaging exhibits to help you understand the world — it’s the perfect place for a family with children.” —Julie Miller Walling ’80
5. John Bryan State Park and Clifton Gorge “They have a lot of hiking trails and streams that run through the parks. You can see layers of exposed rock from post-glacial canyon cutting.” —Kerry Glassmeyer Ulery ’99No Comments
Danny Srisawasdi’s mother inspires him by her selfless example.
Before immigrating to America, she harvested rice in Thailand’s paddy fields. Today, she works 12-hour days as a seamstress in Chicago. Her education didn’t go beyond eighth grade, yet she raised two children on her own.
“I come from a broken home, but that home is filled with love. My mother provided a healthy environment for her kids to be successful and happy,” he said during a break from his chemical engineering classes. “My mom came from nothing and created so much success. I don’t want to disappoint her.”
Thanks to the selflessness of another Chicago family — Cathy and Tim Babington — he hasn’t disappointed. Srisawasdi graduated this spring due, in part, to their financial help. They’ve endowed a scholarship fund in honor of Cathy’s parents, George and Kathleen Valenta, who made sure all eight of their children received what they valued the most — a Catholic education.
“My education was phenomenal,” Cathy Babington said. “I had such a fine education at the University of Dayton, and not just from the standpoint of academics. I grew as an individual and made lifelong friends. We’re giving back because we want to share that experience with other people. This is a great institution and getting better every day.”
Babington ’74, who serves on the UD board of trustees, earned a degree in dietetics and worked as a dietician before parlaying her knowledge and community-building skills into a career at Abbott Laboratories, a global health care company. She retired last year as vice president of public affairs for Abbott and president of the Abbott Fund, which invests millions to fight HIV/AIDS and expand health care in the developing world.
Srisawasdi and Babington, in separate conversations, repeat strikingly similar stories about what motivates them — and why they love the University of Dayton.
Srisawasdi says he studied engineering because of “a passion for the sciences and to simply help people and humanity.” The Babington family’s scholarship benefits underrepresented students majoring in science, technology, engineering and math fields.
“I would like to eventually start an engineering company that makes a difference,” said Srisawasdi, who was part of a service fraternity, Alpha Phi Omega, volunteered as a tutor at the Dakota Club and serves in the Ohio National Guard.
Babington traveled to Africa, India and China in Abbott’s effort to expand business in international markets while improving the health of people in impoverished villages. “It’s disturbing when you see people who need health care and clean water and can’t get it. There was a commitment at Abbott to making a difference. Our engineers often built wells and clinics. That became part of a broader health care initiative in these countries,” she said.
One day, Srisawasdi hopes to be in a financial position to help others, too — as gratitude for the scholarship he received and in honor of his mother. “Until I’ve paid off all my college loans and donated 75 percent of what I earn to charity, I’ll never feel I’ve done as much as my mother,” he said quietly.
“I’ve always been about giving back more.”No Comments
Four years of writing for Flyer News led me to this moment: signing a red metal mailbox.
The mailbox, stamped with the words CAMPUS MAIL ONLY, has been in the Flyer News office for almost a decade and on the UD campus even longer.
I talked to Tom Seifert, campus post office and mail room manager, to track down its history. Seifert has worked for the UD post office for 40 years, though the mailboxes have been here longer than that, probably since the late 1960s, he said.
Originally, there were two mailboxes in each academic building — the blue ones were for outgoing department mail, the red ones for campus mail. Around 1990, the University shelved the big metal mailboxes in favor of department mail service.
Our mailbox’s history is murky until the mid-1990s when Doug Lain ’97 found it in the basement of a campus house he was cleaning. He moved it to his father’s garage, where it was again abandoned. Flyer News adviser Larry Lain threatened to give the mailbox to his son for Doug’s 1998 wedding but was unwilling to rent a trailer to drive it to Massachusetts.
So there it sat until some Flyer News staff members saw it in 2004 and asked to bring it into the office.
During the year, the mailbox collects dust and discarded printouts; last year, I used the belly to hide the sports editor’s rubberband ball. But it comes to life and becomes tradition on the last day of deadline. The graduating staff signs in black Sharpie on the fading red paint and, with that act, hands off the newspaper to the new staff. On April 10, I added my name, class year and position to the growing collection of signatures. Now I am part of the mailbox’s history, too.No Comments
Amy Lopez-Matthews ’86 answered the call in 2005 to become a Marianist Educational Associate, part of a lay community who steward Marianist and Catholic values on campus and integrate the charism into their professions. As director of student life and Kennedy Union, she employs 80 students annually and works with many more in UD’s 200 student organizations.
You have varied experiences of Marianist education — student at Chaminade Julienne High School, working summer conferences, classroom teaching, leading all of KU’s ministries at the heart of the campus. What’s the most valuable lesson you’ve learned about being a Marianist educator? —Sister Laura Leming, F.M.I. ’87, UD professor
The Marianists talk about a community of equals. While I understand the unique role the faculty play in the classroom, we have staff members and people outside of campus who are completely dedicated to the mission of the Marianists and of the University. We can all have a part to play in educating students. Lots of people educate for values, but do they educate for formation in faith and combine that with the discipleship of equals? Do they combine that with our sense of hospitality? These come together at UD in a distinct way, and that’s what we’re all part of.
In a culture of change, how does the Mother of God give us a role model? —Robert Corgan, Maderia, Ohio
She lived in a culture of change. She didn’t question it, didn’t begrudge it, didn’t wish it away but accepted it and grew stronger through it — being there and saying “yes” and being so strong. I love the passage of the visitation where they talk about Mary’s confusion because I think we all have confusion and we think we shouldn’t. Many of us want clear-cut, even easy, answers. Think about it — what’s easy that we truly value?
What is one thing you appreciate that has endured throughout your time as a student and employee? —Leigh Hartley ’97, Chicago
It’s the sense of community that people feel here. When it comes down to it, they might describe it in ways that are different, but lots of people feel like it’s a place where they can be part of something bigger.
You have worked with students, staff and faculty on committees and initiatives at UD. What makes a group effective? —Kathy Watters, UD professor
If people are around the table because they value the work and if they have a commitment to it, it’s going to be effective. Students have been some of the most amazing contributors in that process. For the committee to recognize what the student experience can bring can be extremely helpful.
How are you able to provide your student workers with guidance and instruction while still allowing them the flexibility and independence to get the job done as they see fit? —BRIAN KOWALSKI ’99, Columbus, Ohio
We want and we need students to develop critical-thinking skills. If we prescribe every aspect of their job, they don’t learn as much as if we empower them to learn the job, make decisions, make mistakes. And jobs are dynamic. Students in the positions change, jobs themselves change, but that need to help students learn how to figure something out on their own is so important.
You have been an advocate for many students and for important justice issues. What motivates you? —Crystal Caruana Sullivan, UD campus ministry director
Have you ever seen The Book of Birthdays? [Opens book and reads Nov. 15, her birthday] “Ready to stand up for themselves and are champions for those who need protection … waiting for the right moment to act … make an issue of honorable behavior.” I just feel like it’s something I’m called to do. And we have examples of students all around us who feel compelled to act. They found organizations, they go lobby the statehouse. They are great motivators.
How do you continue to be gracious and kind, even when you have a lot of things going on? —Father Jerry Chinchar, S.M. ’66, UD campus minister
I try to keep my ungracious and unkind self behind a door because we all have moments. The work we are doing is pretty public work for the institution, and I feel like we have a responsibility to do that work with the models of graciousness and kindness we see in the Marianists, whether those are people we’ve read about or people whom we’ve observed or worked with on campus. I have a lot of models in my 23 years whom I’ve observed who are gracious and kind and still strong and do what they have to do in their jobs. And a sense of humor from Father Jerry doesn’t hurt either.
For our next issue ask Brother Tom Pieper, S.M. ’67, UD campus minister for Stuart Hall and its first-year students. He also moderates the UD Summer Appalachia Program, where 14 students live in community and serve children, teens and the elderly in Salyersville, Ky. He is planning the program’s 50th anniversary celebration for 2013. Email your question to: firstname.lastname@example.org.No Comments