(audience applauding) - The Lasting Lecture was conceived as a final opportunity for a senior professor to promote her or his pronouncements on life, the universe and everything. It's a reflection that age, sometimes, conveys a gravitas, a sense of wisdom. To paraphrase Han Solo, Folks, I've flown from one end of the country to the other, and I've seen a lot of strange stuff. Or consider less dated pop reference, Farmers Insurance, I know a thing or two because I've seen a thing or two. (audience laughing) There's definitely a practicality in the expertise of experience. But as the late, great Dr. Benjamin Franklin observed, Experience is the best teacher, but a fool will learn from no other. So what follows are some observations gleaned from 72 years on the big, blue planet called planet Earth and others fairly won from decades of reading, research and focused study. I was born in Bryn Mawr Hospital on the western suburban sprawl of Philadelphia, on June 13th, 1946. For those of you generationally-minded, 1946 was the first year of the national, and sometimes infamous Baby Boom. The locale, Philly, has meant that even though miles may separate me from the banks of the beautiful Schuylkill, (chuckling) not really, and Delaware Rivers, I still follow the varying fortunes of the Eagles, the Phillies, and the 76ers. Being a Philadelphian means may things. There's a reverence for history to be sure, but we grasp the moments of triumph with surprising clarity and tenacity. That's because we know victories do not come easily or often. (audience laughing) Savor the good times, treasure them in your memory. As a side note, I must also share with you that I believe cheering for the Yankees or any professional team based in Massachusetts is like cheering for Microsoft. (audience laughing) It's indicative of a deep character flaw. But I digress, which is an occupational hazard of professors. My father died when I was in 8th grade, after a protracted battle with colon cancer. My mother had gone back to work, I started my perennial summer jobs when I was 14, the first as a kennel boy, for a local vet. Tales of the Great Depression and the ability to find and retain a job were always paramount. So was the value of education, and my summer income went into a college fund. As I've aged, the lessons of my childhood have gained an even greater relevance. For example, back in the day, unbelievable as it may seem now, there was only one telephone per household, so when my smartphone rings, I answer it immediately. Who knows? It might bring news of some sort. All too often these days, it conveys messages of extended auto warranties or free vacations to timeshares, and other assorted junk calls. But I still answer the phone. It's Pavlovian. You never know. Another childhood lesson was an appreciation of nature, and especially water. We lived in an old suburban neighborhood with homes that had been built by individual families. Ours was relatively isolated amongst the trees of beechwood, as our community was called. I had Cobb's Creek a mere half block away. Kids in those days, the decade of I Like Ike, and I Love Lucy, played outside incessantly. Sometimes, it was touch football, in the fall, or baseball in the summer. More often, it was just goofing around in the woods or the creek, where we built temporary dams and hunted crayfish. Because this was Pennsylvania, not Louisiana, we let them go. When I was six, my father loaded up the family Mercury and drove US 1 to Florida. Back then, the trip took three complete days. I remember bits and snippets, the coarse sand on the beach outside of Jacksonville, the trek across the Gulf and Atlantic waters to Key West, and the most momentous event, dropping a baited handline along the pilings of the fishing pier at Naples, on the Southwest Florida coast. My father guided me as I pulled up an assortment of snappers, grunts, and pinfish, all colorful, and all thrown back alive to their Gulf of Mexico abode. But in a word, I was hooked. It took some years as other pursuits and interests preoccupied me, but fishing remained like some quest-like pastime that I scarcely understood. I devoured issues of Field & Stream, and marveled at tales of tarpon, bass and trout. I saved my allowances to purchase my first rod and reel. Along with my friend, Butch Martin, we would explore local Springton Reservoir, and catch bluegills, yellow perch, and once, in a great while, the ultimate prize, a largemouth bass. Looking back, I recognize that I found an early path to a significant bliss. As Joseph Campbell related in his classic, The Power of Myth, if you follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you. And the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. One's bliss is more than a hobby, it demands a very real commitment, an investment of self that provides personal satisfaction, and, at the same time, elevation. It's enjoyment and immersion in an activity that can extend across years and decades, and fishing, quite simply, has been my enduring bliss. For me, it provided and still provides a connection to the natural world that, in far too many places, is in full retreat from bulldozers and repetitive developments. It connected me with my dad, who, despite his illness, took me fishing, and after his passing, it gave me solitude and solace to remember what I lost. Through decades of plying streams, lakes, bays and surf, I gradually learned the craft. I've given some thought to what those days on the water have taught, five items in an angler's code, so to speak. And like the pirate's code, they are merely, they're more a set of guidelines to quote Captain Barbossa from The Pirates of the Caribbean. The first is patience. Fishing teaches us that gratification comes on its own terms, in its own time. Isaac Walton, author of the 17th century tome, The Complete Angler, cautioned, study to be quiet. It remains sound advice today. Second, persistence. Fishing often consists of repetitive actions, such as casting. You must cover the water. We sometimes speak of the fish of a thousand casts. That's true, but the end result is almost worth, always worth the investment. Third, experimentation. Fishing teaches that trying different approaches and different spots can yield unexpected success, and sometimes, it doesn't. Developing a sense of when to innovate is important in fishing as it is in life. Fourth, fisherman's luck. It's a common phrase and concept that is frequently misunderstood. It is better to be lucky than good, but don't depend on it. Once knowledge and expertise kick in, the importance of luck diminishes. Finally, appreciate the gifts. By my 50s, I'd accumulated decades of casting, striking, plying, and netting some, and I've counted, 87 species of fish. I've caught pan fish by the thousands, large and small mouthed bass beyond measure, weak fish and stripers, which is the real name for rockfish, flounders and eels, redfish and snooks, snappers and groupers, sea trout in Ireland, brown trout in Scotland, landlocked salmon in Maine, northern pike in Canada, white marlin in the Baltimore Canyon, as well as halibut, coho, pink and chum salmon in Alaska. For each, I always appreciate following the dictate of Charles Cotton, Walton's friend and angling companion, in everything give thanks. What's more, share and teach, which brings me to my second bliss, teaching. Back in the late 1960s, our college initiated a January term program designed to foster inventive and unusual educational endeavors. For three weeks, students would embark on intensive studies of courses that simply could not be offered in the standard curriculum. We've maintained that program for almost 50 years. Some courses are taught on campus, others involve travel abroad. For 15 years, I offered Exploring Belize. For those of you who haven't heard of Belize, but don't know exactly where it is, well, it was once described as the most irrelevant corner of the British Empire, that's back when it was called British Honduras. (coughing) Excuse me. Famed novelist and philosopher, Aldous Huxley wrote of it, If the world has any ends, Belize would certainly be one of them. It is not on the way from anywhere to anywhere else. However, Belize does contain along its coast the second largest barrier reef on the globe. It also happily holds a history of peace and tranquility. Its national holiday on September 10th celebrates the 1798 Battle of St. George's Caye, when Belizeans beat back in attempt by Spain to invade. There was a total casualty count on both sides of three wounded. We stayed in the town of San Pedro on Ambergris Caye. There's no McDonald's, Starbucks or Taco Bell, or buildings, that matter, over three stories tall. And in Belize, we fished, as you see, we fished a lot. Now, some in the audience are probably wondering why a college would sponsor course in fishing. And others, perhaps, are wondering, how can they sign up? Well, for the former group, permit me to cite some 2016 statistics from the U.S. Department of Commerce. And I quote, nationally, 9.8 million saltwater anglers took recreational fishing trips in 2016. Saltwater recreational fishing supported 472,000 jobs, generated $68 billion in sales across the economy, and contributed $39 billion to the Gross Domestic Product. So aside from wholesome and environmentally sound recreational pastime, fishing can also be an economically viable occupation. However, when one speaks of economic utilities, fishing does pale in comparison to my professional, professorial specialty, political science. The largest employer in the United States, like it or not, is government, federal, state and local. My interest in politics dates back to my teenage years. I had an English teacher at Haverford Junior High School, which is what we used to call middle school, Ms. Wiser, and she was, well, let's just say she was demanding. I struggled in her class until she gave me an assignment on the Pennsylvania Gubernatorial Election. I became intrigued, researched, and subsequently, aced the essay. There's nothing like positive reinforcement, and thus began an academic specialization that continued through Ursinus College, and my graduate work at the Johns Hopkins University. I became a political science professor who emphasizes the practical and applied aspects of the governmental process. At Hopkins, I played hooky to learn the pragmatic arts of urban and campaign politics from such skilled practitioners as Maryland state senators, Jack Lapides and George Della, Circuit Court Judge Tom Ward, and Baltimore County Executive, Ted Venetoulis. While I earned my Ph.D in political science, and began professing here in 1973, I continued to ply political arts and crafts in Baltimore City and throughout Maryland. I have served as a campaign manager, a campaign consultant, a media coordinator, and public opinion pollster for offices as varied as governor, county executive, judge, city council reps, and mayors. While these roles add depth and texture to my lectures, their real value resides in the opportunity for student learning. Often, these forays provided internships for McDaniel undergraduates. My students have worked as exit pollsters for WBAL TV and Fox News, and canvassers for numerous state-wide and local candidates. Many have gone on to careers in the public sector, and I believe all have come away with a fresh understanding of the American citizenry as well as the democratic process and procedures. I always stress the value of internships. That's because they work. Internships can range from semester long tenures in the Maryland General Assembly, or short-term campaign experiences. They connect book learn, book-based, theoretical knowledge with the practicalities of the real. A professor can eloquently explain the necessity of legislative bargaining and compromise, but actually seeing delegates and Maryland state senators wheeling and dealing in a conference committee communicates these concepts in a way never to be forgotten. I consider myself fortunate to walk into a classroom and guide students through the intricacies of our political process. I remain amazed at the varieties and challenges presented by my field. In applied political science, new data is generated on a day to day basis, and constant revision is imperative. My lecture notes, well, they're a mess. They're almost always in a constant state of becoming, with marginal notes and news articles coexisting with earlier interpretations. The one organizing principle that has guided me in 40 odd years of college teaching is this. I have never forgotten what it means to be an undergraduate student. I remember the professors who inspired creative and independent thought, I remember the professors who maintained classrooms where discussions were freewheeling, yet productive, and I remember those who generated a spirit of fun and innovation, who demonstrated a simple but constant caring for their students. I have tried to emulate them, in each reading, every assignment, and in the totality of my lectures and seminars. Student-centered learning is the core of my approach, and the best way to accomplish that is to establish that value at the very beginning. So here are some teaching protocols that have served me well in the course of my career. Number one, sensible assignments. To establish importance and interest in analytic research, topics must have a direct relevance to the students. For example, in PSI2201, American Political Institution, I used James David Barber's classic, The Presidential Character, in which he developed a psycho psychological paradigm of four presidential personality types. In presidential years, I require students to apply the paradigm to the presidential candidate of their choice. In non-campaign years, students analyze themselves, kind of self-introspection, mid-course correction, what have you. Usually, over half of the papers submitted substantially exceed the assigned length, a sign that an assignment well and truly engages student interest. Secondly, simple fairness. Teaching courses in American Politics and Government is sometimes akin to negotiating a minefield. Students come in with preconceived political and partisan notions that are absent in such courses as, say, Microbiology or Macroeconomics. While few doubt my political leanings, like Will Rogers used to say, I belong to no organized party. I'm a Democrat. I strive to present contemporary politics in an impartial and balanced fashion. Some measures of my success are evident. I have served as faculty advisor to both the McDaniel College Democrats and the McDaniel College Republicans. I also advise our delegation to the Maryland Student Legislature, 14 colleges and universities in the state belong to it. It's a state-wide, bipartisan group if there ever was one. Here, I teach Republicans how to debate Democrats and vice versa. McDaniel students often fare well in the simulation of the state legislative process that's actually conducted in late April, in the House of Delegates and State Senate chambers in Annapolis. We've won the Best Delegation award five times in 15 years, which is a pretty good win ratio, when you consider our competition includes College Park and Hopkins. Constructive, third, constructive critiques. This applies to both classroom discussions and paper comments. Almost always, there is something of worth in a student's contribution, and that deserves recognition. Building personal self confidence and a centered assertiveness takes small victory after small victory. I can provide those without sacrificing research, writing or content standards. Fourth, frequent and timely feedback. About 30 years ago, I established a personal goal of returning all graded exams, quizzes and research papers by the next class period. Now, in truth, I almost always schedule such evaluations for a Friday, so I can use the weekend to grade. However, students appreciate the quick turnaround. And finally, assignments are opportunities and not obstacles. Overcoming the long established student mindset that research papers and exams are things I've gotta do takes both professorial lobbying and innovation. I always connect assignments to challenges students will face after graduation. Oral presentations are a case in point. Speaking to small groups is a requisite skill for virtually every professional career. Students hearing that repeatedly will buy into the experience and treat it as the very real opportunity for skillset development that it is. Finally, as a political science professor, I recognize the trust that others have placed on me to educate their daughters and sons. Mine is not a field of abstraction. It is immediate and demanding. James Madison once wrote, Knowledge will forever govern ignorance, and a people who mean to be their own governors must arm themselves with a power knowledge brings. I try my very best to arm my students with that knowledge. Our democracy demands nothing less. So that's an overview, a reflection of my twin passions, fishing and teaching, that have so marked my tenure on God's good Earth. I would be remiss, however, not to express some gratitude to certain personalities who have helped me on the way. I am grateful for Douglas Adams, who taught me the great lesson to the meaning of life is 42. That's a reference to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Google it. Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, for Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail, and serving as the model of Uncle Duke in the comic strip, Doonesbury. Google him. H.L. Mencken, an original thinker, iconoclast, and scholar of the American language, he was, from an early age, the pride of Baltimore in arts and letters, and you really should Google him. Dan Rodricks of The Baltimore Sun, my fishing and podcast buddy, who has never forgotten the journalistic ethic that a good newspaper should comfort the afflicted, and vice versa. Megan and Tyler, my daughter and son, and Stacy and Kim, my stepdaughters, who were and remain even better than they remember. And last, but far from my least, I am grateful for Beth, my wife of some 20 years, who teaches me every day the lesson of Annie Proulx's final sentence, in her masterpiece, The Shipping News, and that is simply, Love can come without pain and misery. Which lends itself to my final and ultimate lesson of bliss, and a happy, contented life. Find love, cherish it, protect it, and pass it on. Thank you very much for your attention. (audience applauding)