James D. Hogan

The 50 x 50 Project

On July 5, 2024

Let’s go.

There are many accidental factors that contributed to my career change from teaching to college fundraising, but one of the most compelling reasons I remember was the fact my new fundraising position paid me to travel.

It was something I couldn’t afford to do very much on a high school teacher’s salary, and even when we had the money, we were more often than not bound to the school calendar. We traveled on school breaks–the time when it’s more expensive to travel. Getting paid to travel (and yes, do my job as a fundraiser) sounded like a dream.

I learned to travel efficiently. Even if I had fundraising work scheduled throughout the day, I could often sequester off a few hours on every trip to do something on my own agenda. Sometimes it was a baseball game (I visited lots of cities with ballparks), other times it was a museum or historic site. I tried to experience each place I visited with an open, curious mind. When I would call on donors, I asked about where we were and what made it special. What do you love about here? I wanted to know.

Of Thee I Sing

By James D. Hogan

On June 1, 2024

In writing

An extraordinary day, and a simple act of decency.

We are standing in a dark room where photography of any kind is prohibited. Before us, in a light and climate controlled room, is the original garrison flag raised over Fort McHenry in September of 1814 following a long night of British bombardment. In the early morning light, the sight of the flag inspired Francis Scott Key to compose words that eventually became The Star Spangled Banner.

Thomas and I are standing, a bit speechless, looking at its faded colors, its clearly hand-sewn composition, its tattered edges. In the years after the War of 1812, the flag was owned by a family, who scissored off snippets of fabric to give to war heroes and friends. It was eventually given to the Smithsonian in 1907, where we are viewing it. And of course, now we all sing about the flag. This flag. I think about how singing a song with others brings us together.

Minutes later, I pause to take a seat on a wooden bench while Thomas checks out another gallery of our nation’s artifacts. I’m nursing a fractured foot, and our day started early this morning as we hiked around the Library of Congress, the Supreme Court, and the U.S. Capitol Building. The day before we’d hoofed it more than 10 miles. My orthopedic boot was not the most comfortable footwear. As I sat, I glanced at my phone and saw I had a LinkedIn message, and for whatever reason I opened it, read it, and came to a startling conclusion.

I was missing my wallet.

The Way Out

By James D. Hogan

On February 21, 2024

In writing

FAITH

a painterly portrait of a groundhog alone in a field — *This winsome groundhog portrait was generated by Bing’s AI image generator.*

Well, it’s the season of Lent. Again.

Lots of folks look at Lent as a period of time during which they’re obligated to abstain from something meaningful as a means of proving themselves as Christians. And about this time of the year, I usually try to give something up–coffee, alcohol, fried food, Facebook, etc.

Sure, my doctor probably thinks it’s a decent idea for me to eat less fried chicken, even if only for a period of time before Easter. But it probably doesn’t bring me closer to God.

I’ve long appreciated liturgy. The downside of liturgical seasons is that, over time, they might start to feel rote. Worn out. Tired. Like you’ve been here before. Celebrate the birth of Christ, put away the Christmas tree, and soon it’s time to roll out the purple again and rub ashes on our foreheads.

Well, it’s the season of Lent. Again*.