Now and Then and Now Again

Franklin Terrace, Virginia Commonwealth University

It was 17 years ago this month when I began my VCU career. To say it's been quite the run would be an understatement. I am thankful for all the years of opportunities to use my skills to elevate the design of text, shape, and color to make a difference while creating a visual voice

Two weeks ago, I started my next VCU chapter by joining a small team of communication professionals supporting the Senior Vice President's office for their communication design needs. In my role as Senior Creative Lead, I'm thrilled about overseeing art direction, brand management, and photography for their team and the university.

Whenever I walk this urban campus along Franklin Street, it always takes me back to my VCUarts freshman year and the fall of 1983. As a young man, I was in absolute awe of this amazing place. And even now, with four VCU diplomas hanging on my office wall, and as I begin my 18th year as a staff member… I still very much am.

An Unnecessary Loss of Words

We undoubtedly live in a time when staying in touch with one another has become reinvented. Advances in technology have provided us with more innovation than ever before. And with 97%* of Americans now carrying a computer in their pocket, there's no longer a need to memorize events, statistics, or details. Again, nearly everyone walks around with a computer in their pocket. However, despite all of these technological advancements that significantly improve our proficiency, studies reveal that levels of human empathy have fallen by 48% since 1979**.

Despite these advances, our most inherent human exchange skill is gradually disappearing. Cartoon illustrations of bouncing hearts, thumbs-ups, and scowl-faced graphic icons substitute the most fundamental human interactions of respect and compassion. The refined art of human interaction is gradually fading as society's most genuine act of exchange becomes just another plastic cog in the technology machine, contributing to the insensitive degrading of empathy. 

Over the past year, I watched a dear friend gracefully battle the most significant fight of his life. His optimism was endearing, uplifting, and exceptionally spirited. He was epically courageous and documented his battle in an online journal several days a week for much of the past year. Each day's update was an honest look at the circumstances balanced by his enthusiasm to face the challenge. He closed each journal entry with hope and never any word of doubt. 

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Zach is one of the good guys. We’ve worked together for nearly 20 years, and regardless of the task, he's always committed to doing the right thing for his friends, colleagues, and community. He's always encouraging and respectful, even with those last-minute requests. You can always count on him.

Zach isn't any different than the rest of us. Or, perhaps, he's actually quite unlike most of us. He reached out to me around the first of the year to let me know he was dealing with some things. Those things forced him to resign just two months before celebrating his 25th employment anniversary. He shared just how excited he was about the two of us getting together for me to capture his next milestone portrait, the one that would mark his long and dedicated quarter-century career. Unfortunately, our scheduled photo shoot never happened due to his unforeseen health issues.

In prime, Zach style, he has optimistically faced his health hurdles. It's all documented. Those of us in his circles would receive regular updates. Some even arrived just days apart from his last one. With each post, Zach detailed the events of his treatments and consistently closed with words of encouragement, along with a photograph of something interesting that he had taken from wherever he was that day. I loved that his journal profile image was the portrait I had captured of him five years ago, the one with his honest and warm smile. Watching him move through the events of this past year with such promise has been inspiring. My friend doesn't believe in causing a fuss or being a burden, and he never once expected anyone's sympathy because of his illness.

Zach and I regularly stayed in touch throughout the year. And then, in late August, I had the opportunity to visit him. It was a joy spending time with him, and it was no different than all the many times he and I had gotten together over the years. With one exception, this time, he was in a private hospital room battling for his life. The sunlight streamed through the window as we enjoyed a great afternoon conversation. Zach has always enjoyed a good conversation. And if you know him, you know he filled the conversation with more details and spirit than anyone else in the room. I was more than delighted it was with me that day. I was all ears and added to the discussion when I had the opportunity, which didn't come often. During my visit, he shared that his bone marrow transplant from a few months ago had gone quite well. Recently, however, things have turned the opposite. He was once again facing several severe health challenges.

Knowing how devoted Zach was at the office and assuming there were many, I asked about his visitors. Because it conveniently concealed my stunned disappointment in his reply, I was incredibly thankful to be wearing a face mask that day. Aside from me, Zach conveyed that only one other person from work had been in touch with him. He mentioned that he had emailed his manager numerous times over several months to update him on how things were going—because he was sure his supervisor would want to know. Even though months had passed, he had yet to receive a reply. Once again, Zach, being Zach, responded with, "he was probably just busy." All I could do was sit silently and appalled behind my face mask. To hear that one of our best customer service associates would not even receive a simple email reply or a visit from our team left me numb.

Like he always had, regular journal updates came over the next month. In early October, Zach posted that he was going home. He was thrilled, especially since his isolated hospital room had become his permanent residence for the past three months. The optimism in his journal was pure Zach, vibrant, bright, and honest. He was eager to head home, spend time with his beloved dog, cats, and critters, photograph his rural landscape, and sit on his front porch listening to his favorite eclectic music with his loving and affectionate wife.

Zach's next journal post two days later read, "The doctor wants the disease to run its course next week. Home palliative care will switch to hospice." As he always does, he displayed optimism—even about entering this next stage. "It really seems like the natural next step, but I understand if people need to get emotional. It has been quite a run."

I learned so much about myself while following Zach's journal over the year. Regardless of his day's challenge, each one was an honest celebration. Throughout the past year, he displayed more dignity than anyone I have ever met. He was open and candid about his condition and invariably encouraging despite his obstacles. Each journal update reflected that same sentiment and his authentic zest for life—even that last one.

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Six days later, Zach passed away peacefully at home, surrounded by all the things he loved the most.

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As an educator and a communications professional, I fully appreciate the importance of technology to our always-learning society. But technology alone is simply a tool. Absolutely nothing more. As useful as they are, tools assume no sentiment and will repeatedly fail to register any notion of love, compassion, or empathy.

Zach was a sincere believer. He had faith in his medical team, the science, and the technology. He also believed in the genuine goodness of people. Our innate ability to be compassionate and present with one another is far more valuable than any new technological trend. And as fundamental as they seem, often, the simplest gestures, like an unexpected message or a handwritten note, perhaps a phone call just to say hello, or even an unplanned visit to share a laugh or two, can provide far more sentiment than any tool ever will.

As one of the good guys, I honestly believe Zach would've absolutely agreed.

All photography, ©Gary Garbett

* Mobile Fact Sheet Pew Research Center. https://www.pewresearch.org/internet/fact-sheet/mobile/
** Decline in Human Empathy Creates Global Risks in the 'Age of Anger' Zurich. https://www.zurich.com/en/knowledge/topics/global-risks/decline-human-empathy-creates-global-risks-age-of-anger

Journey of Mentorship

Gary Garbett, Senior Communications Lead for VCU Technology Services, has been named Fulbright Specialist for higher education communications and creative advertising mentorship.

Fulbright Specialists are competitively selected based on their knowledge, skill sets, and ability to contribute to global educational projects. The Specialist Roster includes a group of experts who represent a wide range of professional and academic disciplines.

Upon acceptance, Fulbright Specialists remain on the roster for three years. During their tenure, they are matched with projects from more than 150 countries designed by host institutions. Project placements are assigned a time frame of two to six weeks.

“My higher education introduction began as a full-time VCU Art Foundation student in the fall of 1983 while also working a full-time job and starting a family,” says Gary. “Every college student’s path is unguided and unique. Mine certainly was, and that path was mine to make.” Over the next 30 years, Gary earned his undergraduate and two Master’s degrees from VCU, each with honors. Later this month, forty years to almost the exact day of his first VCU class in Franklin Terrace, Gary will begin his next Master’s program concentrating on Media Communications and Leadership from the VCU Robertson School of Media and Culture. “I’m an optimistic life learner.

“Mentoring aspiring artists and designers has become significant in my professional journey.”

“Organic design of curiosity with planned negative space has always mattered. As an award-winning communication professional and a nationally exhibiting artist, mentoring aspiring artists and designers has become significant in my professional journey,” says Gary. “After a long and rewarding innovative career path, my ability to share and provide direction to others has been a natural progression. It’s allowed me to expand my art prowess while equally growing as a mentor. I’ve welcomed this role as a professor, working with new design interns and hosting visiting international students. Being involved and giving back through each of these relationships is always rewarding and honest.” 

“Being selected for a Fulbright tenure is such a prestigious recognition. I am extremely honored and look forward to being matched with an institution where I can positively impact educational communications while also encouraging students to explore their unique and individual path with purpose.” 

I’m a stickler for details, committed to good design, and was awarded second place in a Cap’n Crunch drawing contest when I was nine years old.

As an approved candidate on the Fulbright Specialist Roster, Gary’s tenure is scheduled through August of 2026. The Specialist program, part of the larger Fulbright exchange offering that includes Fulbright Scholars, pairs U.S. academics and professionals with institutions abroad to share expertise, strengthen relationships, hone skills, gain international experience, and learn about other cultures.

Founded in 2001, the Fulbright program sends 400 U.S. academics abroad each year to complete projects in 160 participating countries. This program was established by the U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs.

Abbey's Road

Although a Georgia animal shelter marked her as a throwaway, Abbey was the absolute sweetest soul. Thankfully, a devoted and passionate rescue group saved her just minutes before her scheduled euthanasia. After being transported to her Virginia foster home, we met Abbey and fell in love. After she and her foster family left, we immediately submitted our adoption application. Before long, we welcomed her home. Finally, Abbey was home. 

The sweet pup often hid her shyness with a smile. She never hid her excitement for sushi or for running through the wildflower gardens with her pack of four rescued rat terrier siblings. She was a bird chaser, and on the rare occasion when she did catch one, she wanted us to be proud of her brave work of protecting our home... her home. She and the gang always reminded us about their nightly 7:30 cookie. It was a favorite, so was dinner, and of course… how could you begin a brand new happy morning without breakfast? She loved big scoops of cottage cheese and neck massages… just under her chin. She also loved sitting in the big chair, directly in front of the window, and watching whatever caught her attention. Napping in her fluffy bed was always a favorite way to spend time, but never with a blanket. And with her big and radiant smile, it was easy to see that her greatest joy was being around those that she loved.

Abbey’s journey carried her across Rainbow Bridge this weekend. The day’s calm and steady rain reminded me so much of Abbey. It was quiet, beautiful, and perfectly melancholy. Smile big and run free, sweet girl. Run free. No more pain. Only love. 

Even with her shyness, Abbey always shared her smile.

Promise to Remember

It has been such a decade. A decade of change, one of growth, and even better… one remembered. After years and years of broken promises to myself, I was tired of all the regular hangovers and living a lie. It was a decade ago when I finally owned my shortcomings with alcohol and committed to a life more fulfilling.

Rather than mentioning a list of academic, personal, and professional accomplishments of the past ten sober years, I think the smiles and the hairdos tell of a far more spirited story. Turning 60 this year was certainly another milestone and is probably a good reason to begin that proverbial bucket list. But instead of following the standard rules, I think I’ll make it enjoyable and use my bucket to collect smiles—lots of them.

Days remembered. Days sober.

Looking back, my last decade was filled with the most incredible blessings, honesty, friendships, and ordinary days that were so much grander than just everyday ordinary. Sobriety is such an essential part of who I am today. It defines me, provides focus, and fills my soul each waking morning. Aside from today being a milestone, I don’t think about it much anymore. And thankfully, I don’t need to, but I’m always aware.

With that said, I revisited those thoughts and sentiments from my first 365-day anniversary that I wrote nine years ago. I’ve shared those below. Much love to each of you as you journey along your memorable path.

Gary

Chasing the Dream and Remembering It

December 30, 2010 - 2010 is nearly over, and with nothing more than clichés to come up with, the time just flew by. With that, it was a remarkable year for me, and I continue to place one foot in front of the next to move with a forward momentum. I'm not sure how else to do it. I continue my push to absorb life along with all of its riches. At least those that are within my reach. And for those that aren't, I work at getting myself closer.

One year ago, I had sincere concerns about my addictive nature and my health. Always being one in control, it was tough to confess to myself that my alcohol addiction had taken control of my long, personally controlled life. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, it wasn't me who was in control. I was scared and doubted that I'd be able to recover. It was time for "me" to make a change in "my" life.

I needed to find a focus. I needed to find me. I needed to believe. I needed to be alive. And, I needed to be sober. 

One day at a time was a huge challenge, and there were days when I wasn't sure I'd make it drink-free. Three hundred and sixty-five days later, I'm one year sober ...and still one day at a time. I'll always be, but I'm up for that challenge. With my decision of a year ago, I'm happier and more at peace with myself than I could ever be. I knew that I had to make a change. I had way too many things yet to do in my life, more goals to attempt, more people to meet, more love to share, more art to live, and another day to celebrate, followed by another, then another, and another. 

Many years ago, I watched as my father crossed the same path in his life. With a strong dedication and belief, he too beat his addictions. And although he died at a young age, his life was made so much fuller because of his taking control of those things that controlled him. 

I can do nothing more than to be true to myself.  With that, I'm another step closer to wherever it is that I'm headed. I don't have a road map or even a schedule... I'm just following my life path and today I'm challenged by it, I revel in it, and more importantly... today, I can see it.

This isn't meant to be "my" personal soapbox or preaching. It just isn't. That's not me. What this is, is an honest recount of where I've been and a true celebration of love, thank yous, and joys for today. 

Life moves forward. Embrace it, love it, and allow it to capture you in its moment.
Peace, health, and joy.

A moment. One decade later.

Caught In The Act

A look of love.

Cody was caught sneaking his muzzle in my coffee cup for the second day in a row. ‬

I’m pretty sure his stare back at me said... “Ohhhh... I didn’t know that was YOUR coffee. I thought for sure it was a miniature ceramic bowl with some handle thingy on the side.... which is really weird, cuz I don’t have thumbs. I saw it just sitting there on the side table... next to your chair. That was too weird, because how in the world would I get to that tiny bowl without standing on the armrest of your favorite leather chair to lap all the goodness from it? I mean…. you placed it there for me to enjoy all by myself. Right?

And yes, Dad... I do, I do, I do love coffee.