NAI Blog

As we wrap up another year, it’s a good occasion to reflect back on meaningful events and accomplishments of the past 12 months. I’ve often likened NAI to a tree, comparing our efforts to prosper this organization as the kind of work that goes into nurturing a tree—you have to take the long view of decades or more to envision the eventual height and shape of the tree. Yet even ancient trees have annual growth rings and growth increments that help tell the story of the life of that tree and the environment it grew in. So if NAI was a tree, what would this year’s growth look like?

First off, I’d suspect the growth ring for 2009 might be relatively narrow. This was a harsh year for organizations of all sorts, including non-profits. Resources were scarce, opportunities for growth were limited. In particular, the prolonged fiscal drought created additional stress on our NAI tree.

But stress can have some beneficial effects as well. Some trees tend to extend their root systems to become efficient at finding water. They use water more efficiently, sometimes dropping some leaves or reducing growth. NAI responded in a similar way, exploring new ways to generate earned revenue and looking for ways to use existing resources in new, more efficient ways. In NAI the national office is the trunk that supports the regions and sections that are the limbs and branches of the organization tree. We’ve seen some sections and regions shrink or grow in the past year, and that may ultimately affect the shape and branching pattern of our tree.

As a woodworker, I’ve learned that those lean years where the rings are close together create the strongest wood with the most interesting grain. I expect that will probably be the case with NAI—that coming out of this year will make us stronger, and perhaps even more interesting from an outside perspective.

I hope that wherever you are, you had a chance to grow a little this year; that you get to rest a bit during the upcoming winter months, and that a glorious spring awaits you.

Happy New Year

- Jim Covel

I was sitting on the Boeing 757 at 2 AM, flying back from Hawaii, pondering the six inches of new snow piled on four inches of old snow in Colorado. Then a film short subject rolled onto the screen and caught my attention. A young executive in a suit and tie strolled confidently across a plaza in a European community and he passed an old man sitting on the ground begging. His sign read (In Italian I think) “I am blind.” He had a tin cup in front of him. The young executive paid no attention to him the first time. Others passed the elderly man and very rarely one would stop and drop a coin in the can.

The young man came by the next morning and stopped by the old man and picked up the crude hand scrawled sign. The old man touched his shoes to know who was in front of him as the young man modified the sign with a pen. The young executive left and the old man’s sign was again in front of him. Every person who came by stopped to drop in coins. The can was full several times that day and the old man gratefully scooped them out of the can and off the pavers and into his tattered jacket. Later that day the young man stopped by again and the old man identified him by his shoes. He asked the executive, “How did you change my sign.” The young man said, “It now reads, “Today is a beautiful day and I cannot see it.” The young man left the elderly man to his newfound wealth and improved sign.

Words can make a difference. Sam Ham presented a keynote at NAI’s National Workshop in Hartford, Connecticut, in November on the well known Tilden quote, “Through interpretation, understanding, through understanding appreciation, through appreciation, protection.” He pointed out that Tilden was quoting a National Park Service administrative manual. In 1957 we had no social science research to back up such a statement. Intuitively, Tilden knew it was right. Sam thoughtfully explained the research that supports this social marketing idea. When we get people to think deeply about resources that need appreciation and protection, the guests may begin to understand and become engaged enough to help protect the resources. A video of his talk is now on sale at the NAI Association Store. It was a very thought provoking and important presentation.

My mind returned to the film about the blind man. It was mostly a sleepless night on the redeye plane flight and I had the red eyes to prove it. I was touched by the video and recorded the young man’s words on my Iphone notes. We landed at 5 AM at Los Angeles International Airport and looked for a place to sit for our two hour layover. We walked past a sign by CARE, the international aid organization. The image was a young woman with brown skin and dark eyes looking straight at us hopefully. The sign read, “She can plant the seeds of change, if she can get the seeds.” I was sleepy and now can’t recall if it also said, “You can help.” I know that was the enduring message for me. “We can help.” Messages that provoke us to think and care about others or important places have great power.

People who work in heritage interpretation have the unique opportunity to help people understand complex stories in history and nature. We often have a need to raise money for a cause or encourage changed behavior to better protect important places and stories. Our words matter a great deal, spoken or written. Alan Leftridge of Swan Valley, Montana, and Judy Fort-Brennamen of Fort Collins, Colorado, are two of many different consultants who teach courses on interpretive writing. Alan’s book on the Interpretive Writing is an excellent resource also. Other interpretive writers and consultants may be found in NAI’s Interpreter’s Green Pages.

The words we choose, the themes we develop and the ideas we generate can be powerful . . . or lame, not provoking thought and understanding. And we can always get better at what we do with some coaching.

It’s Christmas today as this posts. It’s a holiday season  for most folks and a great time to think about what we do and the wonderful role we play in parks, zoos, historic sites, nature centers, museums, aquariums, tour companies and other settings. Our words can make a difference, when they are well chosen and get people to think.

Best wishes to you and your family over the remaining holidays.

- Tim Merriman

One of the concepts we utilize in interpretation is the idea that there are certain events, processes, ideas that are common to the experience of virtually every human. These are universal experiences—or simply “universals” as we call them. Whenever we incorporate those universals into our interpretive communication, we increase the appeal and relevance of our messages. I would submit that celebration may be one of those universals. That idea is easily observed this time of year.

Going back in time, many ancient cultures in the northern hemisphere observed some type of ritual or celebration around the winter solstice, perhaps celebrating the fact that the days would start growing longer again and we could look forward to Spring. Depending on which calendar is used by a particular culture, there are a number of New Year’s celebrations during the winter months. And nearly every major religion observes special celebrations during the winter.

I think the universal nature of celebration is linked to another universal—the power of the human spirit. At a time of the year when the world around us is the darkest and coldest, it seems to trigger a desire to create our own warmth and light. Gathering together; sharing a meal; incorporating lights, candles and fires; singing—these seem to be common properties of our winter celebrations.

Every year in Monterey, California, there is an even called Christmas in the Adobes. A number of the old adobe buildings are decorated for the holidays and opened to the public to experience what the holidays might be like in the 1830s. Most of the buildings also feature musicians and food in additions to traditional decorations. For many years a group of us have staged a fandango (essentially a dance party) in one of the old buildings.

Interpreting a party, such as our fandango, is one of the most effective ways I’ve found to help an audience understand what life was like in another time and culture. Everyone gets it because everyone can relate to the universal of celebration, and it ties into some great emotional connections with the audience. We get the audience up dancing with us, and everyone has a great time. This even seems to fall on stormy nights many years, and the worst weather seems to generate the best turnout. I think we need to exercise our human ability to celebrate from time to time, and winter seems to really bring out this part of the human spirit.

I hope you’re able to gather in the company of friends and family, and find warmth and light, sustenance for the spirit and the soul, during this season of celebration. It’s an essential part of our human nature.

- Jim Covel

We’re on vacation in Hawaii as I write this. The blue waters of Kona are splashing against the rocks below our lanai. We watched the sunset last evening as a humpback whale’s arched back appeared in the distance. We’re missing some snow in Colorado and glad to be here. Being on vacation always reminds me that everyone you meet at a vacation destination interprets the local landscapes and cultures.

We left Maui just a few days ago after completing the Interpretive Planner’s course with staff from Haleakala National Park and others from Honolulu Zoo and several other parks and programs around the U.S. We meet a lot of rental car clerks, bus drivers, cashiers, entry booth rangers, maintenance workers and other service personnel as we get into this vacation. Almost all of them interpret their sites, organizations and the local culture to some degree. Some do it really well and some do it very poorly.

The service staffs that greet us with “aloha” and say “mahalo” for thanks bring alive little bits of the Hawaiian language and the spirit of aloha, which is much more than a greeting. Most of these folks in Hawaii do this really well in the tourism industry. And some of them don’t. The occasional rude or unhelpful clerk makes a bigger impression that can outweigh the good ones. I recall a Disney trainer pointing out that it takes only one rude staff member to ruin the Disney experience. We all know that from personal experience at any vacation destination.

In 2002 and the early days of the Certified Interpretive Guide (CIG) course, staff at Texas Parks and Wildlife Department (TPWD) asked Lisa Brochu what National Association for Interpretation had for training staff who do not make interpretive presentations. They had heard us talk about the power of informal interpretation in the CIG course, but we did not have training for that specifically. They provided a grant and we developed the Certified Interpretive Host course with their thoughtful assistance and we tested it with their staff first.

The Certified Interpretive Host (CIH) course focuses on customer service for one-third of the curriculum and informal interpretation for the other two-thirds. It’s designed to help cashiers, receptionists, campground hosts, volunteers, docents, law enforcement, administrative staff and the many others who meet our audience understand their interpretive role in connecting people to natural and cultural resources. Two important messages shine through the course. They are: 1. Every conversation with a guest or visitor is a chance to make a connection with the resource or site. 2. The Mission is everyone’s responsibility. Certified Interpretive Trainers take a special two-day course to learn the host curriculum and become qualified to teach the 16-hour CIH course.

When we tested the course at Bastrop State Park with TPWD staff, one maintenance worker commented at the end, “This is the first day in my twenty-five years that I’ve felt like a member of the professional staff.” Just imagine the difference if a maintenance worker who is questioned answers with a thoughtful message about the place instead of saying, “I just clean up around here. Ask a ranger.” Most folks may not get a chance to talk to a ranger. All workers should feel they are part of the professional staff and have the ability to help people make a connection with the resources.

One day while in Yellowstone National Park, I kept track of the number of park employees I came across. It amounted to 37 individuals. Three worked for National Park Service (NPS). The rest were Volunteers in Parks (VIPs), Student Conservation Association workers (SCAs) or concessionaire employees. Some were great and some were not helpful. Seasonal training at the park that year did not include concessionaire staff, SCAs or VIPs, just the seasonal interpreters. The Yellowstone experience for a visitor is the totality of what happens, not just the contact with NPS rangers. We can lose our mission focus and ability to deliver interpretive messages by not training all who represent us. The public rarely knows which program provided the staff member.

Informal interpretation is powerful because its usually one on one. We can ask how the person is doing, what they enjoy, have they been here before and what would make the experience better. People who work with us in non-interpretive roles still interpret the park, museum, nature center, aquarium, historic site or vacation destination. They can help make it all work better in support of the mission or they can be a barrier between the public and a great experience. Empowering them through great training can be the difference. You can learn more about the CIH requirements here. If you want to be trained as an Interpretive Trainer to deliver the Host or Guide course, call Lisa Brochu at 888-900-8283 with questions or check out our website for upcoming trainer courses. You must become a Certified Interpretive Trainer with NAI before taking the host course to learn that curriculum.

Happy Holidays to all of you wherever you are. I hope you get to spend some time with family and friends as we are.

Now I’m going snorkeling.

-Tim Merriman

One of my favorite activities is answering questions for curious minds.  At the Monterey Bay Aquarium we get questions from guests as well as inquiries that come in via e-mail.  A number of us staff members respond to questions, but I’m sure I get the most interesting ones.  And, of course, the best answer is one that triggers yet more questions.

As a biologist, I’m often on the receiving end of some of the more indelicate questions.  And so it was the other day when one of our visitors asked, “Does it hurt the fish if you pee in the ocean?”  Such an insightful question indeed!  The simple answer is “probably not.”  The urine from a healthy human is mostly water, sterile, and contains a small amount of salts and nitrogenous waste.  One person peeing in the ocean isn’t a big deal.

But the bigger question is, How many humans pee in the oceans every day?  Can that hurt the fish? Now the answer is a definitive yes.  Consider that most rivers and streams flow to the ocean, as well as all the coastal sewer systems that discharge to the ocean.  It becomes apparent that at least hundreds of millions of humans pee in the ocean every day in one way or another.  Now this starts to make a significant difference.

But there’s still more to consider.  For those that can afford medicines or vitamins, it turns out that our bodies use only a portion of those compounds, and our kidneys filter out the rest to discharge as waste.  Even the best sewage treatment plants aren’t able to neutralize all those chemicals, so some flow into the ocean in waste water.  Fishes and other marine life may be exposed to artificial hormones, antibiotics, anti-depressants and all sorts of other pharmaceuticals.  We’re only now starting to look for the effects of these chemicals in the nearshore environment.  We’re seeing impacts on the reproductive biology of some organisms, for example.

So even the most simple question can lead to a deeper conversation.  And one answer or one bit of information is just a drop in the sea of knowledge available to us.  Every question is an invitation to inspire the inquirer and help them to a greater understanding of the world we live in.

-Jim Covel

Photo by Cristóbal Cobo Romaní - Flickr.com.

I heard Milton Chen, Executive Director of the George Lucas Educational Foundation, at the NAAEE meeting a couple of years ago and he talked about digital natives and immigrants. I’m a digital immigrant. This fascinating Internet, wireless, dual processor, liquid plasma, LED technological world is an emerging adventure that seems to compete with the natural world I love. But my son, Toby, is 32 years old and a digital native. He grew up with Apple IIe and Mac computers at our home and works today as a network manager for computers at Southern Illinois University. We both enjoy computers and digital technology, but his comfort with all of it is on a totally different level than mine.

Everywhere we work these days I hear discussions about “How do we appeal to Generation Y or Tweeners, these digital natives?” They are different and yet they are like us. They are very social. They just prefer to text each other. My generation talked on the phone. They play elaborate games for countless hours on the computer and the Internet. We Boomers and pre-Boomers played Monopoly, Checkers, Scrabble and Chess indoors and kick the can, red rover, football, baseball, stickball and many other games outdoors. How different are we?

Digital natives don’t seem to be “joiners,” in the same ways that Boomers are “joiners.” We (older folks) were in scouts, myriad high school clubs, fraternities and sororities, Rotary Club, Kiwanis, NAI and other social networks. Digital natives join myspace, facebook, and diverse other online networks and they meet people online that they eventually date or marry. It doesn’t seem so different, but do they want face to face meetings at conferences, workshops and training events? Some younger folks certainly want these opportunities. Many may not. Will they have the same interest in professional affiliation as their older colleagues? The jury is out.

If you are trying to appeal to young people with your interpretive programs or membership, are you using new approaches? Do you allow staff to use facebook.com and twitter.com as tools to contact people? Many agencies block these social networking sites on work computers. A few organizations encourage daytime participation in these networks as part of the promotional efforts and networking for the agency or organization. They want their staff to use these new tools.

Many of us made our first connections to nature or history through actual experiences. We may think that a virtual experience is not as valid or rich. Whether that’s true or not may not be as important as where it all leads. Hunting was my original entry into the intrigue of the outdoors. I have not hunted for forty years, but it was my portal to a passion for nature. Classic comic books introduced me to classic books and great stories. I did eventually read many of the great books. In July of 1947 CBS introduced a radio show, “CBS is there,” that evolved into a wonderful 1953 TV show, “You are there,” starring no less than Walter Cronkite. It took the viewer to a snowy, black and white TV image on a tiny screen and into unique events in history with actors portraying important historical characters. History classes at school bored me, but that show was fascinating. Reporters, like Cronkite, would interview people in famous historical events to give a deeper perspective.

Perhaps in the future, nature and history enthusiasts will fondly remember the Geoquest Itouch, Iphone, Pocket Ranger, GPS unit, Web Ranger or other techno-medium that first introduced them to the real experiences they enjoyed later in life. Perhaps we will have advocates for parks, historic sites, zoos, museums and nature centers that rarely visit the sites, but still support them because the virtual experiences they have are valued.

I continue to hope that people will get out and gain inspiration from the real places and experiences, but digital natives may have to have digital inspiration first. That means we all need better training on the new technologies, social marketing, Web 2.0 and the like. As we get better, we will find ways to make these digital services actually encourage the real experiences in new ways. It is an interesting time to be in the world of heritage interpretation with diverse opportunities to grow and change and get to know our digital native children and young adults even better.

- Tim Merriman

After the NAI workshop in Hartford, I took a few days to visit family and friends living in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. One afternoon I had a chance to go for a walk in those wintery New England woods with bare trees and crisp air—and that all-too-elusive solitude that is so refreshing. There is something uniquely relaxing in immersing yourself in nature during this time of dormancy. Nature is resting at the end of a busy year, and that restful state just seeps into you.

I used to delight in grabbing cross-country skis, or binoculars, or a favorite steelhead rod and heading out into the woods, wetlands or to a secluded stretch of stream for a little of that winter solitude. I know it’s not wise to wander off into the outdoors alone-but I was never alone. There was always a gray squirrel, a junco, a coyote to keep me company. Moreover, there’s a lot to be said for the company of one’s self. Those hours of winter solitude were the occasions of enlightening internal conversations, sorting out dilemmas and challenges, gathering one’s thoughts to help make sense of the realities that awaited.

As a teenager, my father ran trap lines in the Maine woods in the early 1920s. I asked him what that experience was like. His immediate response was “COLD!” But then he also said it was an excuse to go for a long walk in the woods every day and get to know the winter wildlife intimately. Then he’d be quiet for a minute, and I could tell he was re-living some of those memories for a moment. I have a hunch those days in the woods helped him get to know himself more intimately as well.

As an interpreter, I have to remind myself that my audience may crave some of that solitude as well. In fact, our audience research has turned up a category of visitors that we call “spiritual pilgrims,” people that seek individual, reflective, contemplative experiences with nature. The best opportunity we can provide the spiritual pilgrims is to point them toward places where they can find solitude—and then leave them alone to enjoy a very personal, individual experience. I’ll admit, it’s really hard to refrain from pointing out a few animals, telling some stories, striking up a conversation. Interpretation through silence is a rarified form of the art we practice.

While those spiritual pilgrims may not participate in interpretive programs or interact with us very often, they may be some of our most ardent fans. This group often comes already equipped with a deep emotional connection with the resource we interpret. They have an appreciation for the resource and may be very active supporters and protectors of that resource. We need to maintain a relationship with this visitor audience, but also give them space to connect in their own way.

I hope that in this winter season you are wrapped in the warmth of friends, family, home and hearth. However, I hope you also have an opportunity to leave those things behind for brief spells and experience some of that precious winter solitude.

We have recently returned from the 2009 National Workshop in Hartford, Connecticut, and I was reminded of the power of music in interpretation. Two separate incidents made me think again about this notion.

Rick McGee brought along a handout, as an auction item, I prepared for my first ever talk in front of a national audience in 1980 at Cape Cod. My title was “Using the Arts in Interpretation.” The handout had concrete poetry I wrote for the event and the lyrics of several old-time tunes that we performed. In 1980 I was not telling folks that music and poetry helps make emotional connections and has high appeal to those with audio and kinesthetic learning styles, but it does. I just knew it was powerful in how it engaged the audience. When my session at Cape Cod started, I had about thirty or so in the audience. By the end the number had swelled to a hundred plus. I involved the audience in performing concrete poetry, which was pretty funny and fun. I ended the program by demonstrating how easy it is to involve an audience in singing and performing familiar tunes. Several colleagues jumped up to play guitars and rhythm instruments. We had the whole audience singing, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” at the end. It all felt good. The modest little handout that Rick donated brought a very generous donation from John Morris of National Park Service and the funds go to scholarships.

Scott Mair presented on Soothing Savage Beasts on Saturday afternoon in the very last time slot and he had a growing audience through the program. Scott is from Canada and he presented a keynote on this idea at Syracuse in 1999. “When Elvis the Elk Sings” is one of his older and most wonderful lessons on the harem breeding behavior of elk. It was a hit in Syracuse and he gave us a glimpse of it in Hartford. He aptly demonstrated how simple songs and music can be created to teach a lesson, introduce an idea and engage an audience. He is masterful at this, but he also gives everyone ideas on how to do it. Anyone can use music in interpretive programming if they try, but you have to get past the idea that you must be a skilled musician.

Scott Mair also went to Korea with a group of twelve NAI members from six countries in 2006 to tour World Heritage Sites and speak at parks and Communities at the invitation of Dr. Kye joong Cho. He proved that his musical interpretive programs reach across cultures well since he had folks there very involved and most spoke no English.

I began using music as a regular part of campfire programs thirty-seven years ago as a park interpreter. I mostly facilitated getting others to sing and play instruments but I also began to play mandolin and get into the joy of jam sessions myself. Each month we held an open stage night at the park amphitheater for local acoustic musicians. Old-time, bluegrass, blues and folk music were the common language of the performers. The audience included families of locals and campers from afar. It was a celebration of local culture since most folks in the hills of southern Illinois had moved in from Tennessee and Kentucky. It was cultural interpretation in a very engaging interpretive medium since many of those songs tell a story about life and often they are variations of songs that have been around for centuries.

Music can be brought into programming through boomboxes, IPods, acoustic instruments, rhythm instruments and guest performers. You need to add value to whatever theme you have developed by use of the music, not just add music to whatever you are doing. Passing out lyrics of common songs or your own creations is a way of making it easy for others to get involved during a program.

Scott shows graphs of program attendance at the varied places he has worked. He showed sites where the attendance of park visitors at interpretive programs grew from 15% to 80% in just a few years. The rapid growth of audiences at his programs is due to his creative uses of music and theater. He brings the emotional connections to subjects that can be very boring if presented only as information. It doesn’t just soothe savage beasts. It touches all of us.

- Tim Merriman

My father was the Park Naturalist for the City of Oakland for nearly 30 years, so I had the great fortune to grow up in the tradition of the ranger/naturalist. I’ve had people ask me to explain what I mean by that ranger tradition, and I always think of a wonderful example around Thanksgiving.

My father understood that he was responsible not only for the parks, the plants and the wildlife under his care, but he was also responsible for the people that used the parks. Of course that meant providing visitor services, interpretive programs, and looking out for the safety of park visitors. But it went far beyond that. The responsibility for the park patrons meant learning their names and learning their stories. Just as he could name any number of species of birds or plants in the parks, my father could name most of the regular park visitors and tell you their personal stories. Some of those people had been captains of industry, war heroes, prize fighters, explorers, professors—and some had lead very simple lives without much of a story to tell. But they all came to Lakeside Park or any of a dozen other urban parks, and that’s what made them important in my dad’s eyes.

A number of the human denizens of the parks were older folks, retired, families living far away (if they had a family at all). Some lived on a shoestring and feeding the birds at the park was the biggest extravagance in their lives. Some lived in the park, curled up under layers of newspaper under the bushes for shelter at night. These people were part of the ranger’s responsibility as well. I can’t count the number of times I saw my father sit down on a bench with one of these folks, strike up a conversation, pour them a cup of coffee out of his thermos, maybe split his sandwich with them. That was just part of caring for the parks.

Thanksgiving at our house was a remarkable event. My mother was a wonderful cook and a gracious hostess. She’d be up early on Thanksgiving morning, starting in on a long day in the kitchen, and throughout that day the house would fill with wonderful smells of turkey, dressing, fresh baked bread, pies, and so much more. Meanwhile, my father would be rounding up some of the park regulars that had no family, no place to go other than the park, and he’d bring them all home. We would all gather around the table, gazing at a remarkable repast. For a few joyous hours, all these guests became our family and together we laughed, told stories, relived past adventures—and my goodness did we eat!  When we couldn’t possibly consume another bite, my mother would clear the table and divide up all the leftovers to send home with each of our guests. Then we’d give them a ride back home, wherever that might be. Sometimes it was back to the park.

I didn’t really understand or appreciate our special Thanksgiving tradition until I was older.  It was just part of the ranger’s way of life. While all those people are long gone, I try to keep alive the spirit of what I learned so many years ago. We are responsible for the care of resources wherever we work, and that includes our most important resource—people.  You couldn’t be a good interpreter if you didn’t care. Every year I give thanks for all the caring people that share this profession. You are a blessing.