Little Things That Matter

Next Tuesday 12/23 will be Festivus 2025 for those who celebrate, and as a longtime Seinfeld fan with a blog, I will definitely be engaging in the Airing of Grievances that day. But lest I seem like a typical curmudgeon who does nothing but grouse and complain in my blog, I want to use the space this week to express appreciation for lots of little things in the world. It’s not really a personal gratitude post like I made at Thanksgiving; this post is devoted to random good things I observe at times (and yes, I do manage to notice lots of cool things at least as much as I perceive idiocy). And it’s designed to acknowledge the benefit of such things.

Some of the items in this post may, no doubt, elicit cynical and/or negatives responses from some readers. That says more about the reader’s experience than anything else. Remember that I’m writing from the perspective of my own experience, mainly over the past year, but often over the course of several years. So if your experience is different, feel free to address it in your own Festivus Grievances next week.

Let’s dive right in—

Supportive Parents of School-Age Children: This thought actually originated in the fall when I was announcing marching band shows and witnessing multitudes of parents assisting in the parking lot and on the field. A typical marching band production costing thousands of dollars and involving hundreds of students could not happen without the service of these parents, and I wanted to acknowledge that. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that in every aspect of education, supportive parents are crucial. Much like with problem students, educators often end up devoting way too much time to dealing with problem parents – the ones who complain to the coach that their child isn’t playing enough, isn’t first chair, doesn’t make 100s on every assignment…you know the type. It’s time we acknowledge that we see the supportive parents, and we appreciate them. The parents who work with their children to reinforce good behaviors, to improve academic habits, and to practice more. The parents who always bring their children early to school and to events, and who are there on-time ready to take them home at the end. The parents who attend every game, every show, every performance, every concert, not to complain to the refs or the coaches, not to criticize the performance, but to cheer their child’s team, win or lose, to applaud the performance regardless of minor mistakes. The parents who take care of other children who need it. The parents who devote their time and energy to this school or this program because their child loves participating, and they want to help make it a good experience. These parents need to be seen and credited, and even though they can never be shown enough appreciation, they must know that there are countless teachers, coaches, directors, and other adults who value them.

City Services: I live in Arlington, Texas, and have since 1971. The city’s population has more than quadrupled in my lifetime. As much as people will recognize my hometown as the home of the Dallas Cowboys and Texas Rangers, or the home of Six Flags Over Texas, or the “Entertainment Capital of Texas,” or “The American Dream City,” there are factions that criticize Arlington for being too big now, or for not having enough culture, or a variety of other perceived shortcomings. And I have personally experienced times when I have been unhappy with street conditions and other aspects of the city. But in the end, what I’ve grown to appreciate about Arlington are the multitude of city services available here that are top-notch. For one, this city has an amazing selection of parks. I’ve become an avid walker and runner – typically 2+ miles of one or the other each morning – and I am fortunate that this city has at least a half-dozen parks accessible to me with excellent trails to pursue, all within a 10-minute drive from my house. Additionally, although we haven’t needed them this year (thankfully), we have had need of the Arlington Police and Fire Departments in years past, and they have also been amazing in our experience. My oldest son, who has autism, has a job for which he needs transportation, and we’re able to use Arlington’s Handitran service for him on roughly 95% of his work days. It’s safe, reliable, and cost-effective transportation for him. We’re grateful that it easily allows him to get to work, and it also gives him a level of independence rather than relying on his parents all the time. Speaking of transportation, I had occasion to ride the Trinity Railway Express into downtown Dallas recently for a voiceover event. TRE connects to the DART railway system in Dallas, and again – safe, reliable, cost-effective transportation. The one thing I still wonder about with Arlington is why we don’t have public transportation, and why we haven’t gotten connected to DART. It seems rather short-sighted to me that Arlington voters have denied access to service like this in the past, and I’m frankly disappointed that there are municipalities to the east who are actually considering abandoning DART. As someone who loves to visit New York, and who has no problem navigating that area’s subways and trains, I find the reliance on constant automobile transportation in Dallas-Fort Worth to be exhausting at times. So I would hope that any suburbs that break from DART pursue a different option. And I think it’s worth pursuing light rail as a city or even statewide service instead of just building another tollroad. Either way, I think Arlington’s city services are worth acknowledging, and I appreciate them daily.

Competent, Courteous Drivers: Because of the lack of public transportation options in my area, I find myself driving most of the time, as do most of the residents of the DFW area (and most of Texas, for that matter). And while it is proverbial low-hanging fruit to complain about clueless drivers (I will include a very specific grievance next week) all the time, I want to acknowledge the competent, courteous drivers, instead, in this space today. And I think there are actually more of them out there than we think. Again, we devote our energy to the problems without appreciating the level of quality actually on the road. Another recent experience: I also had to travel to downtown Dallas twice by car recently, and both times, I exited the city via the Woodall Rogers Freeway to I-35E. Anyone familiar with that area knows that the right lane entering the freeway also serves as the exit for traffic headed from I-35E to the Dallas North Tollway. So there’s a stretch of road with lots of merging – drivers like me moving one lane to the left while other drivers move one lane to the right. Let me tell you this: few things on any road are better than a dependable merging experience, where drivers are signaling, paying attention, matching speeds, and switching lanes simultaneously so that each gets where they need to be smoothly and safely. I experienced this on two consecutive days in Dallas, and both times, I waved to the drivers switching places with me to thank them. I hope they saw and appreciated this little thing as much as I did. I experience this frequently on I-20 in Arlington, as well, between Cooper St and Matlock Rd. There are far more courteous, competent drivers in those areas than there are bad ones. Sure, the bad ones going too fast and using lots of lanes draw our attention, but the good drivers need to greet each other more in solidarity. We need less honking, yelling, road rage, and all that entails on the road. We need more positive communication among the drivers for jobs well-done. Texas still has signs that say “Drive Friendly,” and we really should take more time to wave and acknowledge each other when drivers are doing things correctly.

Healthcare Professionals: I think this topic grows nearer and dearer to me as I age, but this year has been especially active for us when it comes to healthcare. I’ve already indicated the reasons why in my Thanksgiving post, and I also credited our excellent primary care physician. My wife worked with a host of healthcare professionals during her scans, biopsy, and surgery. I worked with several healthcare workers, as well. I had my first colonoscopy this fall. I realize that A) it means I’m old, and B) I probably should have had at least my second one by 57 years old. But I’m a bonfire coward who had put off the procedure, and I was quite nervous about it when the time came. Yet everyone I worked with through the process was patient and professional with me, compassionate about my trepidation and doing their best to assuage my fears. We’ve also worked with healthcare professionals who care for my mother, now 95 years old and living in hospice care in an assisted living facility. They care for her with an impressive level of integrity and grace. What I realize pondering all these experiences is just how exceptional everyone we’ve encountered has been. I’m talking every single individual – office staff, physician’s assistants, nurses, anesthesiologists, and of course, physicians…every one of these people we saw this year was terrific. Not once did we come across someone who seemed ornery, incompetent, flustered, frustrated, clueless, or even anxious. Anytime we dealt with healthcare professionals, it was clear that these people were, in fact, professionals. In retrospect, it was both astonishing and gratifying. At the same time, I’m frustrated for these people because we all know that the healthcare system in the US is, if not broken, then deeply flawed. Yet these workers continue to give excellent care within the confines of that system. That reflects a personal commitment that deserves a salute.

Event Planners: You might think, given how each of the previous items in this post seemed to imply a certain nobility, that this item seems odd. But hear me out on this. It’s easy to read the phrase “event planner” and conjure some type of pop cultural image, where the person involved is making massive sums of money managing lavish soirées. You know…the person wearing a headset to communicate with all the people under their charge as they give orders…in a movie, this person is typically a self-absorbed jerk, or the central character who’s too overworked and in need of some significant other to give life meaning, or perhaps even the comic relief. Maybe such people exist in the world, but the reality most of the time is that you’ve experienced the work of an event planner you’ve never seen, heard, or known. That person – a real person – earns a modest, nominal amount of money for the work, if any at all. Often, they’re either planning the event as an additional duty to their main job, or as a volunteer. And the goal of that individual is to craft and coordinate the best event possible for you as a member of a community. A show, a concert, a contest, a prom, a tournament, a spelling bee, a parade, a carnival, an athletic event, an awards program, a graduation. Someone is in charge of that event, trying to ensure that everyone involved knows what to do and actually does it when and how they’re supposed to. I often have the privilege of working with these people, because they need me to speak into a microphone at an appointed time to read a script, say a name, or deliver a message. I’ve talked in a previous post about how much I love contributing to a team in that role, but I also want to highlight here that we should all take opportunities to reflect on and appreciate the contributions of these people “in charge.” The vast majority are not doing it for large amounts of money; they’re doing it out of love for and commitment to the activity at hand and its participants. We, as citizens, community members, parents, family, and friends, desire to have memorable experiences for ourselves and our families, and that makes this work critical. Someone has to do it, and we should be appreciative of the people who step up and do.

Service Workers of all Types: Speaking of “someone has to do it,” let’s conclude by talking about service workers. My son, who I mentioned earlier, is one such worker. He’s one of thousands of workers in school cafeterias. For him, the work is stable and predictable, which is important for the nature of his autism; he craves routine. But from a broader perspective, I am quite proud of the work he does because anyone who’s spent time working in a school likely has an appreciation for all the work that goes into feeding the student population day-in and day-out. My own grandmother spent her career as a manager of a school cafeteria. Society often finds it easy to rag on the school lunch as something lame, but the truth is that it is extraordinary how well the system works. Heck, the general work involved in feeding the entire population of this planet, whether you’re talking about farming and ranching, fisheries, grocery stores, restaurants, food pantries, or anything else, is just this side of a miracle. And most of the people involved provide a service. And yet, for some reason American society so often looks down on them. Why? Why is it considered acceptable by some to denigrate the local barista or even the guy grilling burgers or making fries? Is it really OK to be awful to your server because the kitchen is slow? Is it acceptable to cuss out the fast food worker because they added mayo when you asked for none? Is it fathomable to look down on someone pouring your coffee when you work in an office job? Every single one of these people is a human being worthy of respect and dignity. The person changing your oil, rotating your tires, repairing your sink, replacing parts on your garage door, fixing the air conditioner, making your latte, cooking your food, bringing your food to the table, taking your garbage and recycling from your home, changing the sheets on your hotel bed, moving your baggage on and off the plane, serving your beer and hot dog. Humans. Every. Single. One. I don’t intend to get on a soapbox about living wages for all these people, but let’s at least commit to seeing them, recognizing their humanity, and showing some basic decency and respect.

The bottom line, in this post that preemptively seeks to counter the negative, albeit comedic, sentiments of Festivus, is that life is ultimately about trying to become a better person each day. Why bother getting up each morning if you’re not trying to become the best version of yourself? I think that’s why a different show, Ted Lasso, resonates so much with so many people, especially in this day and age. The central message of the show has always been to seek out the best version of us, to work constantly toward better. As someone who is acutely aware of the reality that I’m getting older and not, in fact, going to live forever, it’s all I really want now. I’m still going to have days when I falter in the quest to be a better person than I was yesterday, or last year, or last decade, or when I was only 30. But I’m still going to try. And particularly in this day and age, I think an important step in that direction is looking around and noticing the good things in this world. The little things. Noticing, acknowledging, and celebrating them.

Reflections on Life. (Hint: It’s Short.)

The past few days have been really busy, including two performances of the UTA Maverick Marching Band’s 40th season without football. (Read all about that HERE and HERE.) Hearing UTA’s new Fight Song after each of those shows reminded me about Dr. Douglas Stotter, the Director of Bands who orchestrated the song for the MMB, and who would have turned 65 years old today had he not passed away suddenly last April. So in his honor, I’ve decided that for this week’s blog post, I will share a piece I wrote for a memory book compiled for his memorial concert last spring.


“I will admit that, when I heard Dr. Douglas Stotter was named Director of Bands at the University of Texas at Arlington back in 2005, I probably wanted to dislike him.

Mind you, I didn’t know him. What I did know was that Phil Clements was the Assistant Director of Bands at UTA from 1994-2004 and had served as Interim Director of Bands in the year following the retirement of Ray C. Lichtenwalter. I had become friends with Phil, both as the Voice of the UTA Marching Band and as President of the UTA Band Alumni Association at the time. And it seemed to me that Phil deserved to be named Director of Bands and have “Interim” taken off his title. When that didn’t happen, I was disappointed, and I may have wanted UTA’s new Director of Bands to be problematic. You know, full of faults and ego, and generally unlikeable. This person should only stick around about 3 years because UTA was merely a stepping stone to his next career objective. That way, whatever disappointment I felt could be justified, and I could wallow in bitterness and self-satisfaction and say “I told you so” about what was happening.

So here comes this guy, Doug Stotter, to my alma mater by way of Indiana University. Someone coming from a high-tone program in the Midwest just might be that person.

But Doug Stotter was the complete opposite of any and all of those horrible things, and he completely doused my disappointment and quelled any bitterness.

Affable. Amiable. Approachable. Self-deprecating. Humorous. Loved music. And I mean, LOVED music. Most of all, loved teaching music, and was great at it. Down-to-earth. Disarmingly nice. Surprisingly understated and composed.

Clearly, UTA was no stepping stone for Dr. Stotter. It was a career destination, sharing his knowledge of and love for music year after year, with quiet wisdom and humility. The music world often embraces loud, boisterous directors with showy conducting styles. I was never in a Doug Stotter ensemble, but I always got the sense from seeing him in front of his students that he didn’t need to yell at anyone, wear conspicuous clothing, or make grand gestures to get his point across. But don’t mistake lack of show for lack of preparation. Dr. Stotter’s ensembles were always prepared, and he conveyed messages clearly through eye contact with the performers, which is probably why he didn’t need grand gestures. His face was telling the performers, “we’ve worked on this, now play it.” He had a reserved acumen, a restrained energy that still projected passion for the music being performed. Love for music doesn’t always need to be shouted, and Doug showed that. The performance of his ensembles speaks to the effectiveness of Dr. Stotter’s teaching, and by that metric, it was remarkable. I didn’t attend every concert, but every time I did, I wondered, “Were we ever that good?” Because Dr. Stotter’s ensembles were SO good. And what turned out to be his final concert was truly sublime, an experience I will never forget.

But countless students can speak better than I can about Dr. Stotter’s love for and approach to music, and the lessons he imparted to his students. What I really value now are the interesting conversations we would always have. Sure, Doug loved music, but he had interests far beyond the world of band. I would typically encounter him the most during the marching season, usually in the pressbox before a UTA show. I was always impressed that Doug remembered my wife and sons and asked how and what they were doing lately. He also had knowledge of and interest in my own career, even though it had moved fair away from the music world. It’s a little ironic that we would see each other at marching band shows and talk about almost anything but marching band. Seriously, how many band directors would you expect to carry on a conversation about economics or educational assessment? One of my favorite MMB memories was the overnight to the Broken Arrow Festival near Tulsa, OK in 2016. The staff and I rode separately in a rented van that Doug drove throughout the trip. We had a stopover outside the Tulsa area for a rehearsal, and Doug and I ended up taking the van to pass some time driving around the area. We talked about a variety of things – sharing college band stories, discussing Kappa Kappa Psi, etc. He asked me about teaching a “traditional” high school class since he wanted my perspective on how it compared to a band class. It was probably only an hour or so, but it was truly engaging conversation. I only wish there was time for more, and I will miss my encounters with Doug immensely.

Thanks for subverting my expectations, Doug. I will always take comfort knowing that you got to conduct an epic concert right before you were called home. RIP”


I find it fitting that UTA hasn’t immediately replaced Dr. Stotter with an Interim Director of Bands and has, instead, enlisted a slate of guest conductors to work with their Wind Symphony throughout 2025-26 for The Dr. Douglas Stotter Artist-In-Residence series. An excellent course of action given the sudden nature of the situation last April.

Here’s a fundamental thing I learned from Dr. Stotter, and certainly in the course of my education career, as well: People Have Value, So Value Them. That doesn’t mean you have to be a super-gregarious extrovert shouting “let’s make a difference.” Just be kind. At his core, Doug Stotter was simply a kind person who wanted to help his students, and who was nice to others. He quietly showed people that he valued them. He happened to do so professionally as a band director, but anyone can achieve the same objective, no matter what their profession is.

Doug’s sudden passing also underscores another important lesson: Hug your loved ones, and let them know that you care. Show appreciation to mentors, colleagues, anyone who has had a positive impact on your life. Life Is Short, and you may not know when it’s the last time you get to speak with someone.

And just for good measure, one additional lesson: Because Life is Short, spend yours doing something you enjoy. I was deeply disturbed and shocked by Doug Stotter’s sudden passing, but I took solace in the fact that he got to do exactly what he loved at perhaps the highest level right before he left this life. And that realization was at least part of the impetus for me to retire from public education. There was no way on this earth that I wanted even a remote possibility that I could pass away in the midst of…testing. No. Way. There were other factors in my decision, but if you’ve read some of my earlier posts, you know how I grew to feel about the testing realm, and it was time to say goodbye. Know when it’s time to say goodbye in your own profession (or personal life), because we won’t always know when it’ll be our time to go.

Some Funny Things Happened on the Road to Retirement

It truly is about time I retired from public education. I’ve actually been planning this for several years now. I came across an old unpublished blog post from January 2021 in which I triumphantly stated that 2021 was “what I intend to be my last year as an educator.” 2021.

2020-2021 was my 27th year in education, when I hit the “magic number” for retirement in Texas: Age + Years of Service = 80. On August 7, 2021, I turned 53 years old, so from that day onward, I was officially eligible to exit my career. But 20-21 was also only Year 1 in my final district, and by August 7, I don’t think I was actually ready and was headed into Year 2 there. I enjoyed the campus where I worked immensely, had made many new friends, and was able to find fulfillment in my work as the Campus Testing Coordinator. So I pressed on…2021-2022, 2022-2023, then 2023-2024.

Each of those next 3 school years grew progressively more difficult. The district kept adding testing responsibilities while simultaneously gaslighting everyone with a message of “we’re actually doing less than years past.” I suppose, as George Costanza said, “it’s not a lie if you believe it.” The State of Texas was also adding new things at least every odd-numbered year. And I was burning out while yearning for more time for VO work, worrying that I might miss a critical chance, if only from the opportunity cost of time spent with education and not VO.

So in June 2024, I actually filed the paperwork. Sent a paper copy off via USPS Certified Mail – I still have the receipt. I informed my principal, who was moving onto a revised life and career in New Mexico. Also informed the staff. The timing actually seemed perfect – 30 years, weary, new principal, new superintendent – let’s make a break for it.

Into my office walks a former principal of mine from a previous campus, now a district administrator. “I want you to reconsider,” she says. We talk about the bureaucratic issues within the district, as well as my salary, and she pledges to work on a pay raise for me. I figure if she can make something happen with my pay that is worthwhile, I might dig deep and muster up another 3-4 years of effort. So I cancel my retirement in anticipation of her delivering. She didn’t. Or really, she couldn’t. With a new superintendent, she found herself professionally pidgeon-holed (districts called it “reassigned”) and therefore had very little leverage to influence my pay, at least to the level I hoped. “But you’ll like working with [new principal].”

And I did. Great guy, hard worker, dedicated. Trouble is, he found himself just trying to stay afloat amidst even more district bureaucratic nonsense. Everyone at our campus did. It became comical, and we joked about it openly. I joked about these things in e-mails to campus staff. And of course, that got me in a little hot water. “You sound like you’re pitting the campus against the district.” No, the district is destroying our morale, and I’m trying to show empathy with our teachers through humor. (But that’s another story for a later post…or maybe a podcast episode once I get that going.)

So after year 31, I filed the paperwork again (this time electronically). Then a central admin position comes open in another nearby district – “Director of Assessment & Accountability.” Way back in 2018, this was where I was headed in my first district before the rug was yanked out from under me (Another story for still another post.) I apply. I contact this district’s superintendent, also a former principal of mine. (No, I am NOT above leveraging old professional relationships, and neither should you be.) I get an interview. Probably the best I ever did in an interview. The committee lead calls and tells me it was a great interview, the committee was very impressed, and he needs to contact my references next.

Now you might be thinking, “What about voiceover? What about THE DREAM?!? Weren’t you ready to commit full-time?” Yes, but this central office job would’ve been a substantial pay increase and set me up for an even more lucrative retirement situation in just a few years. I owe it to myself to try, at least. And if this job is meant to be, I can cancel my retirement again and stick it out a little longer. And a week after the interview, it’s looking like that shall be the plan. They want to hire me. Then another week goes by. And another. And finally, I get the e-mail saying “we have decided to move forward with another candidate for this role.” Probably the guy with an Ed.D.; districts love doctorates among central administrators. (Yet another post or episode.)

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry.” Please don’t feel sorry for me – no condolences, no regrets. I applied, I put in appropriate effort and performed well, but that other district went a different direction. I like to think they’ll regret not hiring me, but it doesn’t matter. In the end, I know from experience that central office work is just a little soul-crushing (wow, FOUR future posts), so that potential additional pay would’ve likely come with…suffering. And now, I simply have to hustle as a freelance VO talent, keep building my skills, market and find clients, and do the work. If I do it right, I may be able to cover the potential difference in salary from that job, and then some. And because I enjoy VO, there won’t be any soul-crushing or suffering. It truly is about time I retired from public education.