Gene

Posted on July 17, 2025 | 4 comments

The word “hero” rarely fits those you actually spend time with up close, but I use it often to describe Gene Logan. I have told Gene Logan stories to people all around the world.

Gene was somehow both tender hearted and tough as nails, and I loved and respected him deeply. At many times in my life, I made intentional decisions because I thought it was what Gene would do. I think they call that sort of person a role model. When it comes to Gene, I prefer hero.

Gene died yesterday. Although separated by miles and years, I feel the loss deep in my soul.

There are many stories, but the most dramatic come from our shared leadership experience in response to Hurricane Katrina twenty years ago. To me, Gene’s leadership was legendary, and I suspect the historic element of that natural disaster is why I associate Gene with the heroic.

It was Gene who said “let’s go” just hours after the worst of the storm had passed, and I followed him in the dark with a flashlight, defying curfew, climbing over rubble, smelling and hearing the gas from the ruptured main, searching for one of our church widows who had chosen to ride out the storm at home.

But the story that I have told the most, and the one that will forever be my living definition of leadership is something that he did unannounced, which was his leadership style. So many of us in our church community lost our homes, but Gene did not. His home was not far from our church’s building, which was our relief headquarters, and for those first few weeks after the devastation those of us who were freshly homeless bedded down on the floor each night alongside incredible volunteers who continually came to our rescue. One night I noticed that Gene was sleeping on the floor with the rest of us, too, and it occurred to me that not only did Gene have a perfectly fine bed a few blocks away, but he also had a bad back. If you knew Gene you would know that this is not the sort of observation that you share directly with him, so I went to his wife, Eileen, and wondered what he was thinking. Eileen said, “Oh, he said that he would not sleep in his bed until everyone in the church had a bed to sleep on.”

I get emotional thinking about that every time, but especially today. If ever a single action defined a person — defined a leader — defined a hero — that is it for me. How wonderful to have someone in the world that will be with you in your worst moments and refuses to leave your side until your worst moments have passed.

And how sad that the someone who showed that to me isn’t with us anymore. It is his turn to rest, although I can’t see that making him happy, but I trust that somehow his extraordinary love will be rewarded on whatever is on the other side of this life.

Thank you, Gene. For everything.

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Impossible Shoes to Fill

Posted on July 12, 2025 | 1 comment

“I’m the new dean of students at Ripon College” is a statement that has not been uttered in a quarter century, but I have permission to say it today. Yesterday, my friend and mentor, Chris Ogle, retired after an extraordinary forty-five year career (including the last twenty-five as dean of students), and it is an indescribable honor to be entrusted with the opportunity to carry on his legacy. 

Although I have only worked at Ripon College for a single year and am brand new to this particular role, I have served as dean of students at three previous institutions in three separate states, so it is familiar work. And the succession challenge is somewhat familiar, too: two of the three administrators that I succeeded went on in time to be college presidents, so I know what it feels like to crawl under the microscope. But I confess that following Dean Ogle feels like uncharted territory.

Chris Ogle graduated from Ripon College in 1980 (including and concluding a hall-of-fame athletics career) and immediately transitioned to a full time staff role. So if you do the math and include his four years as a college student, yesterday ended forty-nine consecutive years on campus for this legend. 

The longevity itself is extraordinary, but the person is even better. To know him is to love him. Nobody loves students more. Nobody is more disarming. Nobody tells better stories. Nobody has more historical knowledge. Nobody has more wisdom. Nobody is more beloved. Although he is not on social media, it was no surprise that the press release regarding his retirement generated hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of well-wishes and special comments of how he changed lives and inspired others. The press release also shared that the rotunda in the heart of campus would be named in his honor, so fitting for someone who represents the very heart of campus.

Imagine following someone like that.

Serving as the dean of students at a college or university is a unique experience. My wife once tried to explain the role by comparing it to a high school principal but at the college level. That’s a pretty solid analogy, but there is nothing exactly like it. You get to walk alongside so many impressive human beings at such a special time in their lives, which includes incredible high moments and devastating low moments. It is simultaneously beautiful and heavy work, and I absolutely love it. I know that Dean Ogle did, too.

I am prepared to tell my team and everyone that cares to know that the bad news is that there is only one Chris Ogle. The potential good news, however, I am honored to say, is that working together this past year revealed that we share a common vision for student affairs work, so I don’t think that there will be whiplash when it comes to leadership style. Regardless, a legend has retired, and we will do our best to carry on the work.

Today somehow feels both momentous and natural, mixed feelings in the very best of ways, leaving me in a good place both emotionally and quite literally. In fact, while knowing fully that I have impossible shoes to fill, in a certain sense it feels like my complicated past has somehow culminated in this special challenge at this special time in this special place.

So here we go. If you see me walking around campus wearing clown shoes, remember that I’m the clown; it’s just the size of the shoes that I am learning to navigate.

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An Uncomfortable Truth

Posted on June 27, 2025 | 5 comments

I published an article in The Smart Set in early 2024 titled, To Binge or Not to Binge: That Is the Question, and my friend, Sandi, responded by suggesting a couple of books by Michael Easter. Not wanting to binge (ha! not really, I have no excuse), I waited a year before finally accepting her excellent advice and recently finished, The Comfort Crisis: Embrace Discomfort to Reclaim Your Wild, Happy, Healthy Self. Now, I wish I would have read it thirty years ago (but since he published it in 2021, I can’t really beat myself up).

The opening lines inside the dust jacket frame the question that Easter seeks to answer: “In many ways, we’re more comfortable than ever before. But could our sheltered, temperature-controlled, overfed, underchallenged lives actually be the leading cause of many of our most urgent physical and mental health issues?”

I hate to spoil it for you, but the answer according to the author’s research is Yes. In the long arc of human history, no generation has had more tools in the Comfortable Toolkit than ours — and yet we don’t seem to be better off for it.

So, what to do? How do we live balancing a natural desire for (and immense pressure to experience) constant comfort with a realization that this is not in our best interest? Well, if you are open to further spoiling, Easter intersperses five practical themes along the way:

  1. Rule one: Make it really hard. Rule two: Don’t die.
  2. Rediscover boredom. Ideally outside. For minutes, hours, and days.
  3. Feel hunger.
  4. Think about your death every day.
  5. Carry the load.

I’ll make you work for it and read the actual book to get all the good stuff about each suggestion, but today I will share what is bouncing around my head and heart about each one:

MAKE IT REALLY HARD. DON’T DIE: I prefer the easy/fast/pleasant way. Like Goldilocks, I want everything “juuuust right.” From this moment on, I will remind myself that nothing worthwhile comes easy and choose to make “hard” a habit. Attempt things that scare me. Not succumb to cowardice. Embrace oppressive heat. Experience bitter cold. Test my limits. Chase the impossible. I want to keep at least one (non-fatal but crazy-challenging) life goal in the hopper at all times.

REDISCOVER BOREDOM. IDEALLY OUTSIDE. FOR MINUTES, HOURS, AND DAYS. I prefer entertainment. I like to keep busy. From this moment on, although the smartphone, laptop, and television are necessary evils in my world, I will learn to accept that necessary is the adjective and evil is the noun. I will turn the television off. Leave my phone in another room. Spend more time outside. Spend more time in silence. Go for long walks. Practice a Sabbath. I want to incorporate intentional boredom into my daily, weekly, and annual routines.

FEEL HUNGER. I prefer not hurting. I like the feeling of satisfaction. From this moment on, I will remember that there is also a positive definition for being “hungry.” I will grasp the difference between want and need. Learn to wait. Avoid the unnecessary snack. Practice portion control. Refuse the impulse purchase. Do without. I want to master the ability to feel hunger without resorting to instant gratification.

THINK ABOUT YOUR DEATH EVERY DAY. I prefer life over death. I like to revel in the illusion that I can emerge from all things unscathed. From this moment on, I will remember that I am a speck in a vast universe and not the center of it. I will acknowledge my mortality. Value each and every day. Not waste time. Live with intention. Worry less. Smile more. I want to (finally) learn how to appreciate and live in the present moment.

CARRY THE LOAD. I prefer traveling light. I avoid walking with a heavy load. From this moment on, I will emphasize getting strong. I will no longer make excuses to avoid strength training. I will challenge neglected muscles. Embrace pain. Experience soreness. Overcome weakness. Do my part. I want to be the best version of myself so that I can pull my weight.

I need to face the uncomfortable truth that being uncomfortable is necessary for a healthy life and that avoiding discomfort is, in fact, counterproductive. Accepting that truth will not be easy, but it will be worth it.

As Albert Camus once said, “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, there’s something stronger — something better, pushing right back.”

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Lunch in Bismarck, North Dakota

Posted on June 14, 2025 | 5 comments
Sitting on a cliffside bench on the Maah Daah Hey Trail overlooking the Little Missouri River and the North Dakota Badlands

I am never short on plans and ideas, so when my wife mentioned that our youngest daughter invited her to fly to Europe to hike the last seventy miles of the famed Camino de Santiago with her this summer, I considered various options for my own solo vacation. Several came to mind, and when I asked my wife which sounded least interesting to her, she chose the road trip through North Dakota and into Eastern Montana. So that became my summer vacation. Jody wasn’t sad to miss out.

If you wonder, a road trip across North Dakota and into Eastern Montana allowed me to cover states number forty-four and forty-five on my bingo card, and it also provided the opportunity to add a few epic runs (and photos) to my growing collection, which included the Lake Wobegon Trail (Minnesota), Maah Daah Hey Trail (North Dakota), and Makoshika State Park (Montana). Adding states and running trails were the reasons I had the trip in the hopper.

But it turned out to provide much more.

It also introduced me to the North Dakota Badlands, which is a giant miss for globetrotters unaware of such a breathtaking place. And I discovered the Medora Musical, an outdoor production that is both fun (e.g., wonderfully talented performers in a spectacular setting) and strange (e.g., cheesy mascots and regular voice-overs from the deceased creators of the show sixty years ago) and simply too much to truly put into words. And it led me through the Theodore Roosevelt National Park where I encountered majestic bison wandering down the highway, a zillion adorable (maybe?) little chirping prairie dogs, and stunning wild horses posing on hillside pedestals.

I crossed the Mississippi River, the Missouri River, and the Yellowstone River. And I stayed in sketchy hotels and dined in country restaurants and ate raspberry sorbet in front of a tiny new ice cream place that can never make enough money to survive even though I tipped well. It was my own version of a special two-thousand mile roundtrip.

It also provided a moment far less magnificent but much more meaningful.

On the first leg of my journey home, I stopped for lunch at a Chick-fil-A in Bismarck, North Dakota. Other than the chicken, of course, there is nothing very special about stopping for lunch at a Chick-fil-A in Bismarck, North Dakota. But as I sat there alone in a crowded restaurant, I had an unexpected personal moment. For some reason, I thought of little me growing up in Arkansas, who even with quite the imagination never pictured that I would someday be eating a fast food lunch in Bismarck, North Dakota. I’m not sure I can adequately describe how that realization struck me.

I get that you might find it sad, this man in his mid-fifties eating his grilled chicken tenders alone. Others there probably felt that way about it, too. I, on the other hand, found it deeply satisfying. Of all my own personal critiques of my life, one of my favorite parts is the large number of unexpected places that my journey has led. That was the sweet thought that occurred to me there: Who would have thought that I would ever be in that place at that moment? I know that I didn’t, and that is exactly what made it special.

I don’t know, maybe that’s just a definition of wanderlust. Regardless, that moment made the entire trip worthwhile.

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Portfolio in Pictures

Posted on June 2, 2025 | 6 comments

I saw Doc Hollywood in the movie theater way back in 1991, but it stuck with me over the years. In fact, I have repeated its storyline many times now, but it wasn’t until a year or so ago that my Malibu buddy, Dillon, recognized that it is basically the same storyline as the 2006 Disney Pixar movie, Cars. Must be a pretty good yarn to generate two popular movies.

I share that storyline often because a particular scene generated a personal tradition that I maintain on the back of my office door. In the original movie, the young arrogant doctor arrived at the embarrassing epiphany that the old crotchety doctor knows much more than he suspected. It was a hard and surprising lesson. Later, after learning that truth, the wise old doctor opens an antique armoire in his office to show pictures of the hundreds of babies that he had delivered over the years in that small town that were pasted inside that piece of furniture. The old doctor explained, “Well, this is my portfolio.”

For good reason, although I don’t remember the specific occasion, I remembered that scene during the 2012-2013 academic year, my second working in higher education, and my first in a major administrative role. It occurred to me then that my personal portfolio — what truly matters — would be comprised of each student that I have the honor to serve and see grow into their respective futures.

At the end of that academic year, I made a poster of a collage of pictures taken with students over the course of that year together. And in a sort of homage to Dr. Aurelius Hogue in Doc Hollywood, in place of an antique armoire, I taped my poster to the back of my office door. I told myself that I would look at it from time to time and remember what truly mattered.

I have looked at it more times than I can count, and I now have eleven additional posters taped to the back of my office door for each of the years that followed. Twelve posters for twelve years at three institutions, all filled with precious people and special memories. And I just received my thirteenth in the mail from my first year at Ripon College. If all goes as planned, there are many more to come.

Old Dr. Hogue told young Dr. Stone (aka Doc Hollywood) during his shameful epiphany, “I doubt you’d know crap from Crisco.” But later, discovering a suddenly willing protégé, he taught him gently that it is the people that matter more than anything. The people — “. . . this is my portfolio.”

That’s what the back of my office door says to me.

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Oh, the Places to Run!

Posted on May 3, 2025 | Leave a comment

Submission guidelines:

  1. Email running photographs for consideration to ohtheplacestorun@gmail.com
  2. Include the location of the photo (i.e., city; state; nation)
  3. Share a brief description of the photo (e.g., the place, the run, the people, etc.)
  4. Categories include: nature (beautiful scenery); roadside attractions (interesting things); humor (funny things); friends/people (running buddies); and travel (pics taken on runs while traveling)
  5. You retain all rights to your photograph and will receive photo credit when posted on Oh, the Places to Run! (note: if you want to promote your personal social media account or running club, please share that information)

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I wish I could remember.

There are certain things I do recall. Like joining my wife for a super slow 5k jog in Westlake Village way back in 2010 after I had taken a couple of decades off from running. And my subsequent decision to purchase a cheap pair of running shoes and try running again, knowing it wouldn’t last. And my surprise and excitement later that it did.

And I also remember that someone shared the Nike Run Club app with me even though I never used GPS. And then the app itself remembers that it was July 2, 2013, when I first used it, jogging 1.27 miles with my wife on Malibu Road, which led to thousands and thousands of miles shared with that app over the past twelve years.

But what I don’t remember is the first time I decided to add a picture as a memory of one of my runs. I wish I remembered. Because that changed my life.

I am not a world-class photographer. And I am not a world-class runner. But what I have become is someone with a habit of going out into the world with open eyes, searching for the beauty that is everywhere once you start looking. I want to capture that beauty when I run. To remember.

I have a lot of running pictures now. A lot. And not to brag, but some of them are actually pretty good (if you take enough pictures, you get lucky every now and then). I have shared many running pictures on my social media accounts over the years, and periodically friends have encouraged me to collect them in a book—and I might do that someday. But today I have a different plan.

Today, I am launching a new Facebook page and an Instagram page titled, “Oh, the Places to Run!” (Imagine Humans of New York but for running places.) It will start small, I’m sure, sort of like my running habit, but I hope that it will grow to change the lives of other people, too.

My habit began in Malibu, California, and many said that I would struggle to find beautiful photo material once I moved away from breathtaking ocean and mountain scenery, and I took that as a personal challenge. I soon discovered that my suspicion was correct: There is beauty to be discovered everywhere. At least that’s what I discovered living in urban Tennessee, and then rural Illinois, and now rural Wisconsin—and actually everywhere I have traveled along the way.

I will keep taking pictures and sharing them on my new pages, and I hope you all will add the new pages to your algorithms and follow, like, share, and comment along the way. But my dream is much bigger. I hope that past, present, and future runners will share their favorite running place photos with me, too, and that these pages become places where everyone can discover that there is beauty everywhere when we have eyes to see.

So please click on the following links and follow along on Facebook and/or Instagram if you would be so kind. And, if you are willing to share some of your own running photos for consideration, submission guidelines are at the top of this blog post.

As Dr. Seuss famously wrote: “You’re off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting…so get on your way!”

Let’s go!

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Holy the Firm

Posted on April 16, 2025 | 4 comments

We misplaced our hiking habit in our move to Wisconsin, but it magically reappeared last weekend during our trip to the Wisconsin Dells to celebrate Jody’s birthday. And that makes me happy.

“The Dells” refers to a scenic gorge on the Wisconsin River about an hour’s drive from our home, but the accompanying small town is widely known in the Midwest as a tourist destination, branding itself as the “Waterpark Capital of the World.” We found the touristy town hard to describe but fun to experience. You might imagine Gatlinburg and Las Vegas had a baby that loves cheese curds.

Jody had the brilliant idea of doing a weekend trip in the offseason as our introduction to the Wisconsin Dells, which worked out well. I’m really not sure that either of us can handle it when all the screaming children — um, I mean, when all the well-behaved children arrive en masse with their extraordinary parents on summer vacation. It might be best that we remain an hour’s drive away from Memorial Day to Labor Day.

We had a fantastic weekend. When we arrived on Saturday, we wandered through shops and bought peanut butter fudge. We had way too much fun taking selfies (in “totally rad” costumes) at Totally ’80s Immersive Experience. We had a lovely dinner and tried our luck at bowling afterward. But on Sunday morning, we drove a few miles out of town for a hike at Mirror Lake State Park. That was the best.

Winter is persistent in Wisconsin, as you might suspect, so a mid-April hike has a different appearance than past hikes in many of our former homes. But it was so lovely. We hiked for several miles and were alone the entire time. Nobody around but us.

And the snow birds returning overhead.

And the evergreen trees.

And the crunchy leaves.

And the bare branches with the tiniest buds.

And the mirror lake.

And the quietness and “peace of wild things,” as Wendell Berry called it.

The news seems pretty shitty these days. The rule of law is in question. The economy is drunk texting our 401ks. The government is making mistakes on who they deport to brutal prisons in El Salvador. If you add in a few personal problems, it is enough to make one consider despair.

Going for a walk in the woods might not solve the world’s problems, but I suggest it anyway. At least I found it worthwhile last Sunday morning.

Annie Dillard wrote the mystical masterpiece, Holy the Firm, in 1977 following news of a plane crash that disfigured a small child and got her to wrestling with the problem of pain and evil in the world. How does one carry on in a world that is often cruel and feels meaningless?

Her title, Holy the Firm, as I understand it, referred to something the earliest Christians believed existed beneath the Earth’s surface, something that was connected to their conception of God, which meant that it was connected to absolutely everything. That’s what Annie Dillard pointed toward in her little book. In her quest to find meaning in the meaningless, she went outside and ventured into nature, where she touched the actual planet in a quest to discover the “firm” that is “holy.”

I’m suggesting that, too, for what it is worth.

Last Sunday morning, I noticed the tiniest buds on the bare branches that seemed to say to me that all good things will return to life someday. I noticed the geese squawking above the treetops on their return trip home that seemed to say to me that loneliness won’t last forever. I noticed the evergreens standing proudly over the still water that seemed to say to me that some good things really do last forever. And I happened to notice all of this with my forever friend who was poised to celebrate yet another gorgeous trip around the sun.

As we hiked, we came to joke about the “Caution: Steep Hill” signs that we encountered often, signaling hills that really were somewhat challenging but not that difficult for us. Afterward, I noticed the Northwest Trail loop that we completed described as “the most difficult trail in the park.” We laughed, having navigated some far more difficult trails in our brief hiking careers.

Maybe that’s worth remembering, too. On this hike called life, the more that we experience, the better equipped we can be for the trails that are to come. When you find despair attempting to lock you indoors, crawl out the window and go on an actual hike. And just walk, and watch, and listen.

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Is Contentment Overrated?

Posted on March 29, 2025 | 3 comments
The Far Side, by Gary Larson

Happiness has me surrounded.

I have been married to my best friend in the world for 30+ years. We live in a cool, historic house in a cool, historic town, and we both work for a small college that we adore and hope to work at for the rest of our careers. We have two incredible daughters who are good and independent human beings who make us proud and do important work that truly makes a difference. We aren’t wealthy, but we have a comfortable income and money in the bank.

There is more.

I teach “sports law,” combining three things—teaching, sports, and law—that I have loved for a long time. I preach periodically for a church where I can fully be me. I am on the board of a nonprofit that once changed my life for good. I have developed a habit of reading good books that constantly teach me about life. My back is doing well, so I can once again engage my love for running. I have adopted a weird diet where I feel awesome every day.

I’m embarrassed to admit there is still more.

I have now lived long enough to do many things. I have lived all over this country, experiencing Gulf Coast sunrises and Malibu sunsets, Arkansas ridges and Tennessee lakes, Illinois harvests and Wisconsin winters. And I have traveled all over the world, too, from an African safari to a Brazilian rain forest, from the Eiffel Tower to the Taj Mahal, from a Mexican resort to a Spanish cathedral. And best of all, I have developed meaningful relationships with so many wonderful humans in so many wonderful places that reflect every imaginable aspect of the beauty in diversity. I have been loved, and I have loved.

So I am happy. As happy as I have ever been. And I wonder if I am the only person who can possibly be unhappy about being happy? I am the ridiculous cow in The Far Side cartoon informing Wendell that she is somehow not content.

I should explain what I have recently concluded: My true desire is neither happiness nor contentment. I desire living with passion and purpose instead.

David Brooks recently published a lengthy essay in the New York Times titled, “A Surprising Route to the Best Life Possible.” Brooks wonders why people choose “voluntary pain” and through exploring many examples, including himself, concludes that humans are better when taking on challenges and enduring difficulties in their quest for something significant. Brooks argues that there is somehow a “blessing” in “human instability” and that to be “enchanted” or “entranced” or “seized” by a great calling is preferable to the alternative, despite the inevitable pain.

You have no idea how much his essay means to me—especially at this stage of my life when I sense a temptation to count your blessings and call it a day, and especially when confronting my guilt for resisting contentment with so many reasons to be happy.

Maybe contentment is simply overrated. Brooks writes, “We want to be in love — with callings, projects and people. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference, and indifference is an absolutely terrible state to endure. I guess there are some people who have earned the right to want contentment above all, to sit back and enjoy whatever prosperity they’ve achieved. But I rarely meet such people, even people in retirement.”

I really do appreciate all of the very good things in my happy life. (And no, I’m not silly enough to move again, giving up the beauty we have discovered.) And contentment is fine in a particular sense, i.e., not being greedy, accepting every moment for what it is. But I crave a challenge, and the bigger the better. I want more. I need to want more.

As Brooks chose to close his essay, “People tend to get melodramatic when they talk about the kind of enchantment I’m describing here, but they are not altogether wrong. The sculptor Henry Moore exaggerated but still captured the essential point: ‘The secret of life is to have a task, something you devote your entire life to, something you bring everything to, every minute of the day for your whole life. And the most important thing is — it must be something you cannot possibly do!’”

I’m really not content, and I’m happy to admit it. Even at my age, and even surrounded by so much good, I crave a monumental task instead.

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A Line in the Sand

Posted on March 9, 2025 | 3 comments

Confession: I struggle to keep up.

The well-orchestrated and rapid-fire actions of the second Trump administration are dizzying, and while I have many opinions on many issues, I just can’t seem to keep up. I have a job (that I love) that consumes a significant amount of time, and by the time I attempt to be informed enough to formulate thoughts potentially worth sharing, those issues are old news.  

And to be honest, part of me wants to remain silent, partly from the dizziness of it all, but also because I recognize that President Trump and his party won the election and have a relatively short amount of time to make their case for remaining in power before the American people render a verdict at the midterm elections. But another part of me wants to speak out constantly, not only because I care about so many of the issues, but also because I recognize that silence contributes to a gaslighting effect for those that suffer from certain words or actions, including many friends from historically-marginalized groups that wonder if anyone sees their pain.

Despite the tennis match going on in my mind, I have something to say today that I hope will be heard.

I’ll probably lose some of you at the start when I reference Erwin Chemerinsky. Erwin Chemerinsky is dean of the law school at UC-Berkeley, and just the mention of Berkeley will lead some to tune out, but I beg you to stay with me anyway. Chemerinsky is a constitutional law scholar, on the liberal side as you might suspect, but if one can recall such a time, he was also a good friend of the late Ken Starr, a constitutional law scholar on the conservative side who was dean at the law school I chose to attend in 2008. Chemerinsky and Starr rarely arrived at the same interpretive conclusions, but they shared a love and respect both for each other and the United States Constitution.

The New York Times published a guest essay from Chemerinsky two days ago titled, “The One Question That Really Matters: If Trump Defies the Courts, Then What?” Please recognize this title question is neither liberal nor conservative but a question of constitutional structure that is simultaneously an existential question for the American form of government.

It is a short essay that I suggest you read, but I will share the highlights. Chemerinsky writes:

“It is not hyperbole to say that the future of American constitutional democracy now rests on a single question: Will President Trump and his administration defy court orders? . . . [T]he Constitution gives judges no power to compel compliance with their rulings — it is the executive branch that ultimately enforces judicial orders. If a president decides to ignore a judicial ruling, the courts are likely rendered impotent . . .. It is unsettling even to be asking whether the president would defy a court order. Throughout American history, presidents have complied with mandates from the courts, even when they disagree . . .. [T]here are no definitive instances of presidents disobeying court orders. The line attributed to Andrew Jackson about the chief justice, that “John Marshall has made his decision, now let him enforce it,” is likely apocryphal . . .. In addition, modern scholarship has undermined the story that Abraham Lincoln defied an order from the chief justice invalidating a suspension of habeas corpus during the early days of the Civil War . . .. Thus far, the Trump administration has given conflicting signals as to whether it will defy court orders. On Feb. 11, Mr. Trump said, “I always abide by the courts, and then I’ll have to appeal it.” . . .But just one day prior, Mr. Trump posted on social media, “He who saves his Country does not violate any Law.” . . . The reality — and Mr. Trump and those around him know it — is that he could get away with defying court orders should he, ultimately, choose to do so. Because of Supreme Court decisions, Mr. Trump cannot be held civilly or criminally liable for any official acts he takes to carry out his constitutional powers. Those in the Trump administration who carry out his policies and violate court orders could be held in contempt. But if it is criminal contempt, Mr. Trump can issue them pardons . . .. Defiance of court orders could be the basis for impeachment and removal. But with his party in control of Congress, Mr. Trump knows that is highly unlikely to happen. If the Trump administration chooses to defy court orders, we will have a constitutional crisis not seen before. Perhaps public opinion will turn against the president and he will back down and comply. Or perhaps, after 238 years, we will see the end of government under the rule of law.”

I have repeatedly emphasized Chemerinsky’s question in private conversations for weeks now, and I wish I could elevate it above all the noise. It is an existential question for American democracy, and I want to have done my part at least to try to place it in the spotlight it deserves.

Let me be blunt: Presidents and parties come and go, but if any American president, ever, adopts an approach that defies the decisions of the courts, then we no longer have “the rule of law,” which has been the central feature of the United States government since the Constitution was adopted in 1787.

President Trump has famously said many things, including:

  • “I can find a cure to the most devastating disease . . . or announce the answers to the greatest economy in history or the stoppage of crime to the lowest levels ever recorded and these people sitting right here [Democrats in Congress] will not clap, will not stand, and certainly will not cheer for these astronomical achievements.”
  • “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose [MAGA] voters.”

Unfortunately, I think that for many he is correct on both counts. But I hope not for everyone.

I know full well that for many the support of a political party or a specific political leader is unwavering. But I hope that is not true for all. I hope that for many there are certain lines that cannot be crossed. And for anyone that values democracy as a form of government, this question regarding a respect for the “rule of law” has to be at the top of the list.

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The Televised Revolution

Posted on February 16, 2025 | 6 comments

“The revolution ‘bout to be televised. You picked the right time, but the wrong guy.” – Kendrick Lamar (New Orleans, February 9, 2025)

“He who saves his Country does not violate any Law.” – Donald J. Trump (Truth Social, February 15, 2025)

I consider myself a decent student of American history and a terrible interpreter of hip-hop music, but here goes anyway.

Last Sunday, while watching the Super Bowl Halftime Show featuring Kendrick Lamar, I recognized that the artistry on stage was communicating more than I understood. I was somewhat aware of the Kendrick v. Drake feud and that part of the performance concerned the former’s accusation of the latter’s possible relationships with underage girls (which is denied), but introducing Samuel L. Jackson as Uncle Sam and dancers forming the American flag signified much more than an artist feud. After considerable reading, learning, and reflecting, I have come to believe that the message from the Pulitzer-Prize-winning artist is both profound and sobering.

The message? We are experiencing an actual political revolution.

At the beginning of the performance, while standing on top of a Buick and in reference to a poem by Gil Scott-Heron in 1970, Lamar said: “The revolution ‘bout to be televised. You picked the right time, but the wrong guy.” The original poet had written “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” and later explained his meaning, i.e., that true change originates in one’s mind, but Lamar flipped the script and left his lyrics for our interpretation.

I buy the following interpretation: We are watching a political revolution unfold, and although revolution might be called for, we picked the wrong revolutionary.

Maybe it is just me, but I had always imagined that a government overthrow involved guns and tanks, but it makes sense that a revolution can occur even through a peaceful transfer of power. We are now living through the subsequent dismantling of a government.

What many anti-Trumpers struggle to see is that many MAGA supporters either want the government destroyed or don’t mind that it is. It simply makes sense that those desiring to upend a constitutional system aren’t overly concerned if an action is unconstitutional. And lawsuits over checks and balances don’t mean much if you really don’t care about the checks and balances in the first place.

Whether MAGA fully appreciates the ramifications is beside the point. The reality is that a point exists where one despises government so much that its reform is uninteresting. 

Donald Trump’s post on Truth Social yesterday is telling: “He who saves his Country does not violate any Law.” He pinned it to the top of his page for emphasis, and I suspect that he is well aware of its association with Napoleon Bonaparte, who came to power in the French Revolution. Regardless, it suggests himself as an American savior who stands above the law that governs the nation.

What we are seeing unfold is fundamentally different from your typical debate between a conservative form of American government and a liberal form of American government. There have absolutely been power grabs before, but none that look like this, and the others, when rebuffed, have retreated under the veil of respect for the rule of law and our system of government.

The revolution is frightening for the groups that the revolution intends to marginalize, of course,  but it is also concerning for many more that do not know what an American government unmoored from constitutional checks and balances might be.

For those that desired revolution, their joy is logical, but it will be depressing for other supporters who may come to see that their beliefs, fears, and/or prejudices were played by an impressive propaganda machine to overturn rather than reform a system of government—and allow a small group of people to acquire immense power and wealth for themselves.

I am particularly disturbed by the  professed devotion to the flag and the public oath to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States. I am convinced that what we are witnessing is an upending of that Constitution and the flag that has heretofore represented an imperfect but unique form of government.

I am not unequivocally devoted to the American style of government, nor am I opposed to nonviolent, revolutionary change. In fact, I desire revolutionary change for the poor and marginalized in this nation and around the world. But if I heard him correctly, I happen to agree with Kendrick Lamar. We picked the right time, but the wrong person.

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