Cynthia Wagner's blog

The books on leadership will tell you that the best time to think about your legacy is at the beginning of your tenure at the top. Another good time is right before you squander it with misbehavior, but that's not my subject today.

I was recently asked to take the reins of a small, venerable little organization, whose dedicated membership had dwindled to a handful of enthusiasts: The Shakespeare Readers.

Yesterday I got to see Designing Tomorrow: America's World's Fairs of the 1930s exhibit at the National Building Museum in Washington, D.C., conveniently located across from the Judiciary Square Metro stop.

Every now and then I need to pick up a back issue of THE FUTURIST to check a quotation, reference, or some idea that's being discussed in the issue we're working on now.

As someone who’s spent her entire career and the majority of her life at THE FUTURIST, I smile when I think of myself as the “new” editor. So let me first thank Edward Cornish, our Founding Editor, for his mentorship and for having confidence in me.

On solutions to the nuclear crisis in Japan: If the decision is made to entomb the entire Fukushima complex, as has been most recently recommended by physicist Michio Kaku, at least one constituency needs to be informed: The future.

My mother, who died two and a half years ago, probably would have had some sympathy for Hosni Mubarak this week, for no other reason than that she once shook his hand.

At our small office in downtown Bethesda, Maryland, the World Future Society welcomed the former Haitian ambassador to the United States, Raymond Joseph. He was accompanied by his son, Paul Joseph (a futurist and activist who arranged the meeting), and Emmanuel Henry, a retired Panasonic executive. The goal of the meeting was to explore ways that the tools of futuring can help rebuild their nation.

I just wanted to share these pictures from my New Year's Eve treat at the Kennedy Center - a chance to go backstage after seeing our "futurist" songwriter Nnenna Freelon perform with the Jon Faddis Jazz Orchestra of New York.

Last night I dreamed (and don't blame me for my dreams) that I was about to address a diverse audience. I wasn't nervous at all (hey, it was a dream), but I was anxious about how to address the group.

"Ladies and gentlemen" seemed wrong. What if there were people in the audience who were gay? "L" and "G" are are still "ladies and gentlemen," but what about "B," "T," and "Q" (bisexual, transgender, and questioning or queer)?

Music can express ideas and feelings both through the rhythms, melodies, and harmonies that evoke passions and through the words that distill complex thought into poetry.