ACCORDING TO ZAC

I’ve been overcome this weekend by the significance of people in my life and all they have done and continue to do for me. This isn’t new, given my reflections on Shaley , my two best friends , and how much a ward family can mean in recent times. But I feel it in my bones yet again, and it feels important to pay attention to. A lot of this started at a White Coat Ceremony for my second year PT students on Saturday. I loved hearing families and friends cheer as their loved one’s name was read. There was a really dapper older guy a few rows away from me (the rare occurrence where a fedora really worked; he looked great!). He was sitting alone, and when his person’s name was called he stood and clapped, not making much of an audible or visual statement in such a big space. Yet his act of showing up as one person in a busy room to support someone he cared about that was deeply touching to see. To be one in a sea of many can feel like it’s not much impact, but this guy knew that somet...

Because of who I am (gregarious, emotion-driven, etc.), I’m predisposed to become emotional when I watch other people doing something cool. And usually it’s emotional in a good way, thankfully. And sometimes it feels sort of cosmic, or like there’s this great big interconnectedness between complete strangers that I can only catch a glimpse of every now and then. Instead of making me feel small, given how many people there are in the world, it actually makes me feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be by virtue of the commonality I share with literally every person on the planet: we’re all human, and we’re all trying. Yesterday I went to my first concert since last 2019. The screaming was fun, the singing was great, we didn’t get trampled in the pit like I thought we would. There was a lot of good happening! But I think what was most significant was early on in the band’s set when I thought about how incredible it is that there were a few thousand people in one place for the same re...

My brain is sort of all over the place. The last week has been unlike any other I've ever been through. Thankfully, I'm alive and well (as far I know), although there's global panic over a new virus that no one is particularly prepared for. Grocery stores have food, but lots of shelves are empty. Folks are hoarding toilet paper. We've been told to start practicing "social distancing," or not physically going places or being around more than just a few people at a time if at all possible. I started working from home this week, as did my roommates. I already have cabin fever. This week I saw a post by a rabbi that reminded me that hunkering down in self-protection isn't the whole goal. He suggested that socially distant doesn't mean emotionally distant. For all the times you want to do something you probably shouldn't do, like go out, see someone, or do something, our response should become a phone call made, a kind message sent, or a good deed d...

I didn't know when I first started my feature writing class how much I would come to enjoy learning from my professor, Bill Schmidt. He's a former New York Times bureau chief that retired to Tucson to teach and kick back a bit. He told good stories, managed to make a loosened tie look really classy, and used his expertise to make me a better thinker and writer. One of the lasting gifts he gave me, however, was turning me on to The Atlantic , a really interesting news magazine that I otherwise hadn't heard about. Since I took Bill's class back in 2014, The Atlantic  has been a place where I have learned a lot  about the world, the way people think, race and class issues, critique (mostly of TV and movies, but also of social norms and trends), and a host of other things. This year when they chose to go to a paywall model (subscribe to good journalism to keep it alive, folks!) I immediately purchased a subscription and have been thrilled to have unlimited access onlin...