Shane Casebeer
I am going to take on a quasi-autoethnographical and pseudo-embodied geographical perspective and analysis in tackling my brief autobiography. In effect, as the Rod Stewart song goes, every picture tells a story—and yes, I am a child of classic/dinosaur Rock&Roll. To begin, my sideways stance in the photo reflects how this bio will play out in the sense that I have great difficulty in putting myself up for public consumption. Thus, as many have complained over the years, I am not easy to get to know. Still, as an example of my contradictory, paradoxical and oxymoronic nature, there are times when this is less the case: this is one of the few photos in which I am not wearing sunglasses—and I am also looking directly into the camera! Now, strap yourselves in as we march forward on this embodied or disembodied journey of all that is Shane.
See those scrawny little chicken legs? Well, they have traveled quite a long way from playing on Tahoe City commons beach to where I am currently writing this—the McHenry Library at the University of California at Santa Cruz. Of course, the literal distance of this time space prism is not so far. However, the amazing journey from a lower working-class small town boy to the wild and wooly streets of Santa Cruz as Anthropology major at UCSC has been a ginormous distance, metaphorically speaking. Going back to the photo, this was taken in Tahoe City CA. On the sign in the background above my mug, “Tavern Bridge Tender and Grill,” reads the new name for what was once “Fanny Bridge Inn” in the 1970’s. My mom worked in the deli, and my brother and I were notorious for harassing her in order to get quarters for the pinball machines at the arcade a couple blocks away. These were the days before video games—which gives an idea of current age as somewhere between forty and death. My other brother and his friends used to amaze the tourists by jumping into the river below the bridge—many times right from where my meathooks are planted in the photo. Memories…yet we move on. Do not want to bore anyone.
Looking at this photo transports me back to about ten years ago when it was taken. This was during a summer vacation—I have not actually lived in Tahoe for many years. I remember when this picture was taken very distinctly, because it was during a time when I had what seemed like a grand mall crisis-of-confidence. For me, this is reflected in how thin I was—having lost about 10 or 15 pounds in the previous few months. This was from a ‘face-in-the-mud’ experience at Columbia College while taking Paula Clarke’s Cultural Anthropology and Ted Hamilton’s History 17 and Physical Geography classes (if memory serves). Skipping the gory details, it was during the early years of my Ted & Paula classes, and I was overwrought with questioning my abilities and such in the collegiate landscapes. Of course, as is obvious for anyone who knows their pedagogy, this is exactly the sort of experience that is designed into their classes – within a framework of support. With their help, I eventually worked through this experience, and as the cliché goes, came to see it as a learning experience.
This is just one of the treasures I pried out of them in nineteen of their classes. Additionally, this is one of the life lessons I brought with me in making the transition to UCSC. I had a very successful first quarter; however, this quarter around, I am once again in a crisis of confidence. Nevertheless, with the strategies and tactics I learned from Ted and Paula, this is not the earth-shaker it would have been otherwise.
At the time this photo was taken, I had no idea what lay dead ahead: in (whatever year) Ted and Paula selected me for that years’ Future Promise Award. Words cannot express how much this meant and means. However, if you know anything about them or this award—then you have some idea.
In a nutshell, I hope this little historical excursion has not been too revealing, nor would I want it as impenetrable. Such is my life—always trying to create an unhealthy balance between conflicting ideals. Thanks for the company, adieu!