The Curious Generalist

“Some people tell stories with words. Some tell them with images. I do both.”

I came up with that tagline — liberally quoting from Dave Alvin, one of my favorite musicians — when I tried to sum up the work I do as a freelancer. Given the career-driven nature of those who live in the Washington, D.C., area, asking about your line of work usually comes up within the first 5 to 10 minutes of meeting someone new.

Sometimes I say I’m a writer and/or photographer, or the other way around, although I view the roles as co-equals now. But, when it comes down to it, my work is simple storytelling.

Today, storytellers tend to work in niches, that one unique thing that distinguishes you as an expert on a particular subject or topic. That’s never been my style. I like to think of myself as a curious generalist, someone who knows a little about everything and a lot about, well...

I do go nerd on subjects I find of interest, like music, movies, sports and theater, and my writing specialty — if there is such a thing — has been K-12 school leadership. As a photographer, I started shooting dancers because that’s what my kids were doing. Through much repetition — and sincere (though occasionally scathing) critiques by Ben and Emma — I slowly became better at it.  As a storyteller, I find capturing moments in theater and music to be somewhat innate, but I enjoy telling the stories of others through my eyes.

Being a curious generalist has its drawbacks, especially when you’re trying to build a business, but it has allowed me to meet fascinating humans from all walks of life. I’ve learned so much from meeting many different types of people over the years, folks who have helped shape my way of thinking as it is now.

Years ago, I took part in a Methodist church group at the University of Houston. The group’s leader, Lawrence Herbert, was a terrific guy with a big laugh and a fun sense of humor. What I appreciated about him most was he was nonjudgmental; if anything, he emphasized that we did not need to be think alikes and act alikes. He understood everyone’s journey was individual, and that you came together as a collective to share and learn from others.

As a student with undiagnosed ADD and a boatload of childhood issues that — generally speaking — would be classified as trauma, I sailed through elementary, middle and high school academically without learning how to study. I read voraciously, applied myself on those rare times when I had to, and moved into adulthood without a clue. On more than one occasion, I’ve paid for it.

Scaffolding is a term educators use often to illustrate the tools they try to provide to children. The first time I heard the term used was when our oldest daughter, Kate, was struggling with ADHD and bipolar in late elementary school/early adolescence. Her issues were impairing her ability to learn and to process information in a traditional way; the hope was that by providing scaffolding to cover the deficits caused by the disorder(s), we could help put her in a position to be successful.

It took a lot on everyone’s part for Kate to get there but, thankfully, she did.

My scaffolding came in the form of books and general curiosity. I enjoy gleaning information and knowledge that I can reflect on and try to apply to life as a writer, photographer, husband, parent, and friend. I’m proud that we raised our children not to be think alikes and act alikes, that we continue to respect their individual journeys into adulthood.

Last week, I started taking part in a Substack Go group for writers. Because a lot of the work I do revolves around personal stories about parenting — both from childhood memories and from being one to the fearsome foursome — I was put in the parent cohort. The group connected over Zoom two days last week and will continue this work/critiques through the month of February.

It has been wonderful to connect and gather with this diverse group of people from all walks of life to share and discuss the issues we face as writers. With grown kids, I’m the oldest “parent” in the group and the only dad. My place — both in the group and in these essays — is that of someone who is looking back and talking about the lessons learned along the way.

And so, with that, I’ll leave you with a list of those lessons. Several years ago, when our kids were graduating or soon-to-graduate from high school, I started on this list to have something to give them later. It’s been tweaked here and there, but overall I think it holds up. What do you think?

The PowerPoint of Parenting

• Sometimes you try and succeed. Sometimes you try and fail. Sometimes, you just try.

• Don’t forget to take a moment to realize that a young person is never too old for a hug, or that simple kindness is greatly underrated. 

• Don’t be afraid to take responsibility for your actions and mistakes. An apology is not a mark of failure, but of maturity.

• Don’t forget what brought you to this point, or those who brought you there.

• Don’t be afraid to call out someone when necessary. 

• Don’t forget to be thankful, even when the day/week/month/year/decade sucks.

• Don’t be afraid to embrace uncertainty. It's where creativity begins.

• Don’t forget the meaning of “civil discourse.” Being kind and assertive are not mutually exclusive.

• Don’t believe your life’s work is ever done, even after you’re long gone. Whether you know it or not, your influence — good and bad — will be felt for generations to come.

• Flush and wash. Please. That is all.

p.s. One lesson I learned from working with this Substack group is how to make sure these emails are getting to the right space on your inbox, especially if you use gmail. If you can, send me a reply to this column and it will magically move to your inbox rather than to your “promotions” folder, which will make it easier to find these once- or twice-weekly musings. Thanks again for your support!