"But I'm a journalist!"

John and I returned from six days in New Orleans Wednesday night.  It was a GREAT conference!  It was the first iteration of a joint partnership between RTDNA and SPJ.  A resounding success.  We also included some meetings with other Scripps managers so I've returned to KC with my brain quite full.

You should start making your plans for the 2012 confab right now.  September 20-22 in Fort Lauderdale.

Something happened at the airport yesterday that was disturbing.  We dragged our bags to the Continental kiosks and proceeded to pay the usury.  I heard a shrill voice at the counter and watched a woman thoroughly berate two airline employees.  She was upset about the baggage fees and believed that she had already paid them.  She apparently did not have the additional $25.  She was told that she had to pay or she would not be allowed to fly. 

"Do you know who I am?" she demanded.  "Do you know what I can do about this?"  She went on to shout that she was a journalist, that she had just finished attending a conference and that, upon her return home, she intended to write a story about her shabby treatment.  She dropped two or three f-bombs.

To their credit, the Continental folks never lost their cool but I almost did.  Journalism isn't to be used as a threat.  I wanted to shake her.

Eventually, she called someone who provided a credit card to pay for the bag and she huffed off.  Next time, I hope she flies Southwest or Jet Blue.  And she has a lot to learn before she's a journalist.

Viewfinder BLUES: Schmuck Alert: Milwaukee's Worst

Thanks to Stu Pittman for this right on blog.

Viewfinder BLUES: Schmuck Alert: Milwaukee's Worst: Since my only visit there was as a drunken sailor, I have fond if fuzzy memories of Milwaukee. Which is why it's such a buzz kill to see a m...

Reno Air Races

Jimmy Leeward's P-51 Mustang just before impact.  Photo courtesy Garret Woodman via Reno-Gazette Journal

I had just gotten home from work Friday when I saw the news about the crash at the Reno Air Races on my Facebook feed.

After calling Carly to make sure she was ok, I spent the next few hours watching the streaming live coverage from three Reno television stations websites, thinking all the while of my experiences covering the races in the 80s.

The Reno Air Races is one of the most well-known and popular annual events in Nevada and it's exactly what it sounds like.  A race in the sky involving different kinds of airplanes.

When I first moved to Reno, I scoffed at the idea of spending money to watch planes fly fast in a circle but after my first visit to Stead Airport (probably carrying the BVU deck for Buddy Frank) my opinion changed.  Perhaps it was Buddy's knowledge of all things aeronautic or maybe it's a genetic appreciation for military flying machines from my dad (an Air Force aircraft mechanic) or maybe my love of going fast (I used to get a lot of speeding tickets) or the more visceral thrill of the danger.

Imagine a car race in the sky, with planes flying wingtip-to-wingtip as low as 50 feet off the sagebrush at speeds sometimes surpassing 500 mph. Pilots follow an oval path, screaming around pylons, with distances and speeds depending on the class of aircraft.  The most exciting were the Unlimiteds.

Probably the most memorable was either 1983 or '84 when one of my co-workers (and for the life of me I cannot recall who) secured us a spot at Pylon 7.  I can't remember which news car we drove to through the desert but it was not a 4WD and should have been.  We parked at least a half mile away and walked in to the pylon which is just a tall telephone pole with a metal barrel at the top.  We set up the camera and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And then the Unlimited race started.  The first time one of the vintage WWII planes screamed around Number Seven, I dropped to the ground in fear and awe.  The planes are at almost a 90-degree angle to the ground as they round the curve and it felt like I should keep my head down, lest it be ripped off by a wing.  I have no idea how many times we felt the rush which was punctuated immediately by desert silence, the smell of sagebrush seasoned with exhaust and the feeling that we were in the middle of nowhere.  Until another Bearcat or P-51 cut through the quiet in the quest for first place.
I will never forget it.

Jimmy Leeward and all of the pilots were rock stars and I hope the initial reports are true -- about his-decide-in-a-micro-second heroism; steering the doomed craft away from the grandstands to save as many lives as possible.  Godspeed Jimmy Leeward and everyone who perished September 16, 2011.

A tip of the hat.

A flashback and some musing.

This blog was originally posted on October 20, 2004: 

Severe weather kept us all hopping Monday and Tuesday...
I am sure that all of the Memphis news directors...got irate emails from viewers about extensive coverage of the severe storms that passed through our northern counties Monday night. Frankly, I was happy that we weren't a CBS station because CSI has been doing gangbusters at 9pm. I answered every email Tuesday and most of my messages got responses like this:
Sent: Tuesday, October 19, 2004 6:50 PM
To: Phillip, PeggySubject: RE: weather coverage
Thank you for your thoughtful reply. I can certainly understand the interest someone in the affected area would have in keeping "on top" of the situation. However, I also feel that this could be accomplished by one of several methods; the least obtrusive would be to use the scrolling banner across the bottom of the screen or simply "break-in" for brief updates.
Good luck with your Gordian Knot.
I had to look up "Gordian Knot."
...for those of you who want to be news directors or news managers. Answer the email! Answer the telephone calls and return the voice mail messages when a telephone number is available. My message is something like this--Thank you for notifying us of your displeasure with Monday night's severe weather coverage. We strive to provide you with the best possible news and weather information, and when you feel that it fails to meet your expectations, it’s important for us to know.
We’re sorry you missed programming that prompted you to contact us with a complaint, and we regret any inconvenience or frustration that our coverage caused you.
There's more to my email response but you get the idea. Bottom line. TV viewers/customers deserve an explanation about disruptions in regular programming and in some cases, you might learn something...or be reminded of something you forgot.  
And finally, I clipped this from the wire today: WASHINGTON (AP) - In emotional appeals, people whose loved ones died in the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks vouch for President Bush or Democrat John Kerry in new TV ads that try to persuade voters that each would best lead the country in a time of terrorism.

I wonder if/how our lives would be different if John Kerry had become president in 2004.

When your child gets hurt

This was a text that tested my strength.  I got it three days after I decided to go on a "blog vacation."  I had just begun a daily walk as part of the KC Slimdown Challenge so I read this in a sleep-addled fog at about 5:30am on a Monday morning in front of an overscheduled week of work.

Incredibly, I read this text and then continued on my walk.  Along the way, I grew increasingly concerned and then texted my daughter back an hour later.

Then I looked at her Facebook page.

Frantic?  You betcha.  I woke John at 6:30am and headed to work for some 7am meetings.  Meanwhile, he called both hospitals in Reno.  Carly was at Renown, formerly Washoe Med...listed as "Trauma 5."

He talked to her nurse and then a few hours later, I talked to her.  Finally, we both got to talk to Carly after she woke up.

She was camping with friends at Lake Tahoe.  She borrowed an unfamiliar bike to ride on a trail and the brakes didn't work.  She realized she wouldn't make a curve on the road so decided to ditch it in a clearing but wasn't aware of the 8-foot drop off.

The result?  Broken wrist, cracked shoulder, broken ribs, punctured lung.  She was not wearing a helmet so God was watching over her.

I have never felt so helpless.

When your kids are small and they get hurt, you take 'em to the ER and they get fixed.  Been there, done that.

When they are adults what are we supposed to do?

Summer vacation

It's been exactly two months since I last posted something.  I have a half-dozen unfinished entries on various topics...3-D TV, job-hunting (what not to do since I've been trying to hire managers and anchors forever), what to do when a colleague gets a serious illness, moving into a new house, when your youngest child (finally) graduates from college...you know, the stuff that's happened in the past two months. 

I get started and the phone rings or the husband barks or a new neighbor wants to visit or I go to South Dakota to see my family.

Floods, July book, tornadoes, drought, debt ceiling, murder, mayhem, people come and go.

I was asked about this today and I don't have a good excuse so I just decided to announce that I'm on summer vacation and I'll be back in September.  See ya!

Chris Hernandez upon his return from Joplin, MO

News release.

JOPLIN, Mo. – The Missouri Department of Public Safety tonight announced that 31 individuals have been confirmed as deceased as a result of the tornado that devastated Joplin on May 22.

At the direction of Gov. Jay Nixon, Missouri State Highway Patrol troopers have been deployed to expedite the notification of next-of –kin.

As of 9 p.m. Friday, May 27, the deceased victims whose next-of-kin have received notifications of their deaths are:

Grace Aquino, 46, of Joplin

Tami L. Campbell, 28, Joplin

Trenton Caton, 6, Pierce City

Raymond Chew, 66, Joplin

Clyde Coleman, 72, Galena, Kansas

Adam Darnaby, 27, Joplin

Ellen Doyle, 75, Joplin

Caley Hare, 16, Joplin

Hayze Howard, 1, Webb City

Harli Howard, 11, Webb City

Thomas Russell Howard, 29, Webb City

Nancy Martin, Miami, Oklahoma, age not confirmed

Randall E. Mell, 49, Joplin

Donald R. Miller, 49, Joplin

Doris Montgomery, 83, Joplin

Sharyl Nelson, 34, Joplin

Dennis M. Osborn, 34, Seneca

Shelly Marie Ramsey, 42, Neosho

Loretta Randell, 54, Joplin

Troy Raney, 39, Joplin

Johnny Richey, 52, Joplin

Tonya L. Sawyer, 41, Fort Scott, Kansas

Judy Smith, 71, Joplin

Virginia Solomon, 80, Joplin

Kayleigh Teal, 16, Pittsburg, Kansas

John Thomas, Jr., 40, Joplin

Sandra K. Thomas, 55, Carthage

Margaret Tuit, 92, Joplin

Miles Wells, 49, Webb City

Tiera Whitley, 20, Fulton, Kansas

Zach Williams, 12, Joplin

The Department of Public Safety will release a daily update of those individuals confirmed as deceased as a result of the tornado, following notification of next-of-kin.

Tornado Alley

Last Friday there was a wire story exclaiming how strange the severe weather season in Kansas had been so far...no tornadoes in May.  I suggested we have Gary Lezak, our chief meteorologist do an "explainer" about the science since so many other communities, most notably The South, had been hit so hard.

Managing Editor Brooke Givens told us we were tempting fate and she (knocking wood) voted no.

We did the "explainer."

The next day a tornado hit Reading, Kansas.  Then Sunday, Joplin, Missouri.  We expected bad weather Tuesday.  Didn't happen although it looked bad.  Then Wednesday, Sedalia and Poplar Bluff.  Both in Missouri.  Also Wednesday, baby tornadoes danced around the Kansas City metro area, sending kids in school to the hallways, business people to the basement.

 Brooke may have been right.  Maybe we tempted fate.  After all these years in the news business, I'm more than just a little bit superstitious when it comes to situations. 

At around noon Wednesday at 4720 Oak Street, moments before the storm was to arrive at Country Club Plaza, I ordered everyone left to stay away from the windows.  I looked around the newsroom and saw all of the STUFF that reporters, anchors and producers keep around them.  Photos in frames, rocks, videotapes.  I focused on a baseball bat, imagining it flying through the room as a deadly missile.

(Note to self.  Clean up this place.)

All of the TV stations were hard pressed to find real damage in Kansas City proper after four hours of wall-to-wall coverage.  Frankly, we were saved by the temperature.  Our baby funnels would have been much worse had they happened in the afternoon with more heat earlier in the day.

Scientists tried to explain why we in Missouri have experienced a "tornado tsumami."  (We called our coverage Tornado Outbreak, by the way.  I've broken myself of the alliteration trap.)

I don't know why but I do know this.  Larry Seward,  Mike Butler, Fernando Ochoa, Jill Jensen, Chris Hernandez, Sloane Heller, Lindsay Shively, Christina Medina, Beth Vaughn, Russ Ptacek, Jonathan Goede, Brandon Billinger, Chase Lucas, Lisa Benson, Al Miller, Nathan Shain, Matt Reeb and Tim Hellhake have done INCREDIBLE stories from Louisburg, Sedalia and Joplin.  Please look at some of their work and see if you don't agree.

My message to the other KC tv stations (for the July book)

On Katie's last day...I salute her for her finest interview.

Fast forward to 2:24...Katie's question: "Do you think the Pakistani government is protecting Al Qaeda within its borders?:

Great quote from the movie "Casino Jack"

...mediocrity is where most people live. Mediocrity is the elephant in the room. It's ubiquitous. Mediocrity in your schools. It's in your dreams. It's in your family. And those of us who know this - those of us who understand the disease of the dull - we do something about it. We do more because we have to. The deck was always stacked against us. You're either a big leaguer, or you're a slave clawing your way onto the "C" train.

Horrible Bosses Trailer

Believe!

Grizzlies bring big momentum to Game 4 vs. Thunder - USATODAY.com

To my Mom.

On this day when we honor our mothers, I can't stop thinking about the many times I irritated, angered, frustrated and perplexed my mom.

I was a difficult child.  Headstrong, willful.  Never obedient.  Because I was firstborn it's amazing, really, that my folks had any more!  Luckily Pam, Paula, Pat, Penny, Piper and Perry who were born after, gave them hope.

How lucky I am to have grown up in the 60s and 70s...a time when feminism bloomed and my life choices were much wider than Mom's.  When she was growing up, women who worked outside the home were teachers or nurses.

Mom always supported my choices, even when she didn't agree with them.  

Like when I moved to Reno to follow a boyfriend, leaving my stunned family behind in December, 1978.  My hand-written notes, attached to the Christmas tree, just made it worse.  My co-habitation with a man fifteen years my senior horrified Mom but she was never judgmental.  

Or when I married a man she had not even met.  I know she celebrates, as do I, our Carly who was the fruit of that union.

Or my politics, which are almost always the polar opposite of hers.

Today, I read an op-ed piece in the NYTimes entitled "When We Hated Mom." 

This piece does not describe our life on the farm north of Wagner, South Dakota.  Mom and Dad were ahead of the curve; they shared the responsibility of raising all seven of us.  However, one thing does ring true:  "...in the 1960s, full time homemakers spent 55 hours a week on domestic chores, much more than they do today."

I am grateful for the efforts my mom put into raising her seven children. Especially, the difficult one.  Me.

A tip of the hat to Jerry Webber.

Jerry was the main anchor of KJRH's newscasts for many years.  His editorial on the night of the attack on the Murrah Building is legendary. He talked about the pride of the people under incredible stress, about their perseverance, about their courage.

I was recently contacted by a former KJRH colleague regarding a copy of the words by Jerry, now-deceased, uttered during our late news on April 19, sixteen years ago.

On my desk to this day is a piece of the building.  I can't remember who brought it to me but I keep it as a constant reminder of one of the biggest stories of my career.  I've looked and I can't find the video of Jerry's words, sadly.

My thoughts on this day always go to the news team in Tulsa, Oklahoma on that horrible day in April 1995. The incredible work of our co-workers. The stories that were never fully told. The right decisions. The mistakes I made. I will never forget.

Oklahoma City Remembers Terrorist Attack, 16 Years Later

The Story of Spike.

During the post mortem of Thursday's 6pm newscast, the conversation turned to pets.  I mentioned that we had not yet "re-dogged" after Dottie and Elizabeth Alex seized the opportunity to suggest that we not get a new canine and that we adopt her guinea pig Zack, instead. 

Zack is a delightful animal, according to Elizabeth, albeit a little "overweight."  You can contact her if you're interested.

I had a flashback and forced the team to hear yet another story about my past, which of course, they dutifully and patiently heard.  Bless their hearts.

Rewind to 1990.  We had just relocated from Reno to Deerfield Beach, FL where I ran the Broward bureau for WSVN.  Carly was in the second grade; Chaz, a toddler.  We rented a two-bedroom condo (and paid more than twice than we had in Nevada.  A bit of financial shock, to be sure).

We checked out the public schools and determined them unfit for our smart little girl so we enrolled her at Zion Lutheran Christian School. 

Carly was a good student but perhaps the transition from public school to a Christian private school was a bit much to ask of a seven-year-old.  Her teacher was kind but stern.  Her classmates were not as welcoming as they could have been.  A highlight, though, was the class pet.  A guinea pig named Spike which each student was allowed to take home for the weekend.  Carly really looked forward to "her weekend" because we had sadly left our family pet, a cat named Louise, back in Nevada.

At last the Spike Weekend arrived.  John and Carly carefully put Spike's home on the dining room table.  She was so excited, I didn't even protest.  Spike seemed pretty harmless so I put my rodent-hatred aside.  I think I may have even held the creature briefly, stroking its soft fur.  Both kids were absolutely enamored with having another live thing in the house. 

While she was doing her homework, John and I took a Friday evening walk, leaving the kids alone for about 20 minutes.

When we got back, both Carly and Charlie were coloring or playing with Legos.  I can't remember exactly but they were very calm.  All was well in the Phillip household.

Spike was sleeping in his cage.  The children are playing nicely.  I had a great job at a great TV station and a handsome husband who took good care of me.  Life was good.

At some point after the kids went to bed, we realized that Spike had not moved.  For hours.  My worst fear realized.  Spike was not sleeping.  He was DEAD.

How to tell the kids?  They would be devastated.  Just hours before, we had all held and cuddled the little furry creature, cooing about how sweet and funny and cute he was. 

And how would this impact Carly's stature in the school?  Would she be seen as the child who was unlucky enough to be in charge of the class pet when it died?  How could she recover from the shame?

Happily her teacher was benevolent.  She handled the news for the class with class and allowed the grief to be deflected away from Carly.

Many years later, Carly admitted that Spike didn't die from natural causes.  The poor thing apparently met his demise from fear after a ride in her Barbie car.  Imagine the screams...  Spike went on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride at the wheel of a red plastic Corvette.

I'm still not a fan of rodents-as-pets but Spike will always be a part of the Phillip Family Lore.

Brush with the Crypt Keeper

Yep.  That's Martin Landau.  During our past weekend of house-hunting, we encountered a man at least a decade older than Mr. Landau.  You can imagine.
John called him the "Crypt Keeper."

When we arrived at a house for our scheduled showing in Fairway, he was at the door.  He begged us to stay quiet because someone was sleeping upstairs.  I don't recall the Crypt Keeper's exact words but he said someone "would scream" if we opened the door.

We didn't.

We never saw the master bedroom in the place that smelled funky but was filled with antiques, had incredible architectural design touches (like so many Fairway houses) and was within our price range.  The yard was amazing and all the home needed was a kitchen re-do and a new roof.

Alas, the Crypt Keeper followed us closely throughout our tour, chattering nonstop about parties they had had, where they'd put the card tables, what they served, why they decided to seal every exit on the south side of the house and why they removed the outside steps from what would have been a lovely sunporch on the south side of the house.

The man was a real estate-disaster.  He stuck to John and me like glue as we walked around the upstairs and downstairs and in the basement.

We never did see the master bedroom.  I hope whoever was in there is important to the owner.  We won't ever forget that showing!

Our search continues.

Twenty-four reasons; one for each year

April 2 is our anniversary and it's time for the annual assessment of my relationship to the One That Sleeps Next To Me.

This is the third year of a "love list" for the long-suffering John Phillip.  I challenge myself to come up with the real glue that keeps us together and although the task may seem daunting because according to self-imposed Peggy Rules, I can't repeat myself, it's really not that difficult.

Here, on the eve of the eve of our 24th anniversary, are twenty-four more reasons I love my husband:

Dear John...

1. I love how you water the plants that I love-but-sometimes-neglect even though you don't care about them one bit.  Especially the basil.
2. I love it when you make breakfast on the weekends.  It doesn't happen often but your scrambled eggs are always great.
3. I love when you agree to try a new restaurant despite every cell in your body is screaming NO NO, NEW THINGS ARE BAD.
4. I love when you instinctively realize that my car is on "E" again and fill the gas tank in the dark, rain or snow even though I could have stopped at a service station on the way home.
5. I love how you call to find out exactly when I'm leaving work so you can make my steak rare, just the way I like it.
6. I love how you tell me to tell our kids-who-are-now-adults what to do because you think they only listen to The Boss (not true).
7. I love how you understood immediately how important it was for me to get to South Dakota when my dad was so sick in February.
8. I love how you continue to look for New York-style pizza smack dab in the middle of the country.
9. I love your (sometimes feeble) efforts to make me a low-cal breakfast smoothie to my exact specifications.  
10. I loved watching "Big Love" with you and I'm sorry it's over.
11. I love that you've realized you can get the internet other than from AOL.  
12. I love how, when I'm cooking up a storm, you come to the kitchen and kiss the back of my neck.  Goosebumps!
13. I love seeing you read the Sunday edition of the New York Times.  You enjoy it as much or more than I do.
14. I love the picture of us taken at the Washoe Valley shack more than two decades ago when I was young and thin and pretty and the one we took in January, 2011 in the same place by our kids-who-are-now-adults.
15. I love the choices you make on our Netflix movie account.  Haven't we seen some great movies together?
16. I love the silent battle for bathroom space for your toiletries and mine.  You move stuff to my side, I move it to yours, back and forth, back and forth. 
17. I love that you become a South Dakota State University fan whenever necessary.  Go Big. Go Blue. Go Jacks!
18. I love that you exclaimed "no more pools"  which was recorded on my Flip camera after your bracket was busted (again) and I look forward to how you will explain your NCAA bracket fixation in 2011.
19. I love your devotion to crazy television shows on HBO and Showtime and that you don't expect me to watch "True Blood" or any of that other crazy stuff that I hate.
20. I love that you pack for a two-day trip with a giant suitcase filled with clothes for every possible weather/social event.
21. I love that you carry a switchblade on our walks through the benign Olathe trails, just in case a serial killer accosts us.
22. I love how you wish for grandchildren.  I do too.  (No pressure kids-who-are-now-adults, it will happen when it's meant to happen)
23. I love your devotion to our beloved dog Dottie, now gone for more than a year.  It's time for us to re-dog, honey.
24. I love the rare, rare weekend mornings when we get to sleep in, wake up at the same time, open our eyes simultaneously and smile at each other with the warm familiarity of our years together.  Magic!
    

The Trains! The Trains!

After 20 months on Fantasy Island, aka Olathe, KS, John and I are back to house-hunting on weekends. Last Friday, a monumental event happened that has given my husband pause to reconsider our desire to move closer to 4720 Oak Street.

Here's the news release:

Downtown Quiet Zone Completion Announced by Mayor Copeland

To rousing applause during his annual State of the City address, Mayor Michael Copeland announced that...trains are no longer required to sound horns on the western tracks through downtown Olathe.

There are exceptions to the quiet zone regulations. For safety reasons, train engineers are responsible for sounding horns, even within the quiet zone, when workers are within 25 feet of the tracks or when other hazardous situations are observed including the presence of persons, animals, or vehicles.

An average of 120 trains travel though the city daily. The 11 crossings on the western tracks running through downtown generated about five hours of whistle noise each day alone. During the transition to a quiet zone, residents and visitors are asked to be patient as train engineers adjust to the new exemptions.

The Downtown Quiet Zone Project began in 2008 and is budgeted at nearly $6,000,000. The project involved constructing safety modifications at 11 at-grade crossings from Woodland Ave. to Dennis St.

I knew that I was losing sleep as a result of the train horns at all hours of the day and night but FIVE HOURS of whistle noise?

View Larger Map

You can see the proximity of our rental house to the tracks (less than a mile to the west). No wonder I'm so crabby! I haven't slept all night in twenty months!

I happily report that in the three days since Olathe became "Quiet Town," I've definitely noticed the difference. It's not enough to keep me from house-hunting on the weekends but getting a full night's sleep should certainly improve my disposition in the car. And maybe in the newsroom!

March Madness

My poor husband spends...well...hours on his NCAA tournament brackets. He races to the nearest newspaper stand to buy the USA Today and studies each team. This year has been hell for him. This past weekend just about sent him over the edge and he made a bold statement that I was lucky enough to capture on my Flip. I can't wait until March 2012. :)

Hello? Where is Pebbles Flintstone in this list?

Memorable TV Women in the Making...

Banging erasers.

This is for my South Dakota friends and family...or the ones who are old enough to recall a simpler life and time.

My first school was Kennedy #2. A one-room schoolhouse (all eight grades are taught in one room) 3/4 mile north of our farm north of Wagner, SD. Our school did not have indoor plumbing. We drank water from cone-shaped paper cups filled from a large crock. The bathrooms were two-hole outhouses (one for each sex) just north of the school building. Everybody brought their own lunch in brightly colored tin boxes advertising the most popular Saturday morning cartoons. I recall being jealous of my cousins who sometimes had hot dogs from a Thermos. Another family had perfected the art of grilled cheese sandwiches using toast and American cheese wrapped in tinfoil that languished on top of the furnace all morning and smelled DELICIOUS by 11am every day.

Mostly, I had baloney sandwiches on Wonder bread (building strong bodies 12 ways).

Kindergarten was six weeks in the spring prior to the year a child was eligible for first grade...so for me, I think it was 1962 when I got my first taste of Sally, Dick and Jane.

I really loved those three kids. And their friends. And their pets, Spot and Puff. Couldn't get enough, couldn't wait to learn to read. Of course, the books are now the subject of some ridicule for their simplistic view of life (too many white folks, plenty of money, no troubles) but for this farm child, they were The Perfect Family. I remember asking Mom if she could please adopt an older brother so our family would be more like Dick, Jane and Sally.

I had two classmates at Kennedy #2. Neighbor David Kokesh and my cousin, Kendall Wiechmann. There were no other larger groups than ours so we received more attention (I think) than the classes with just one or two.

Our teachers were Miss Uecker (kindergarten and first grade), Mrs. Glanz (second grade) and Mrs. Cuka (third and fourth grades). It was Miss Uecker who sent us home in the middle of the afternoon when I was a first grader after President Kennedy was assassinated.

A seismic shift occurred at some point and although I don't recall Mom and Dad telling us much about it, my fifth grade year began in "town school." Kennedy #2 closed, there was an auction, all of the books, etc were sold including the building which was moved from it's acre and we rode a bus to East Charles Mix #102.

We lived six miles north of town but drew the short straw when the bus routes were determined. Ours was the first stop at about 7:10am. Rollie Jespersen was the driver that first year and he was patient. He beeped the horn a few times and waited for us (four that year) to run out of the house to the end of the drive. The family farms I remember from the route--Kokesh, Seiner, Broz, Soulek, Petrik, Hawley, Hrdlicka, Morrow, Doty. Of course there were many more and I wish my 54-year-old brain could remember but I hope you'll nudge me!

Our bus ride lasted until 8:30am (I'm pretty sure an hour and twenty minutes would be illegal now) and then the school day began for real. In the fifth grade, Mrs. Eitemiller was my home room teacher. A tiny thing, she kept order by being the master of the quick retort for anyone who tried to act up in her class. She was a great leader and I really adored her.

Back to the title of this entry. In country school, we had blackboards and chalk, naturally. Not being very math-proficient, I dreaded the invitation to solve a problem "on the board" but loved to practice my penmanship there.

The chore of banging erasers together to rid them of chalk dust was considered an honor. Something earned.

At some point, I earned that honor during my fifth grade year. In my memory, Nancy Smith (now Fernandez) was the partner Mrs. Eitemiller assigned to the eraser-dust-eradication task but I could be wrong. It was not another farm kid. To my amazement, there was a MACHINE that sucked chalk dust from erasers at "town school."

That was the first time I thought that city life might not be so bad after all.

Dad

My dad is the youngest son of German immigrants who came to America in 1882. He was born in 1930, just before the "Dirty Thirties" got started. His father died of a heart attack when my dad was just a teenager so Dad didn't finish high school but he's one of the smartest men I know. My high school algebra was never a problem for him, nor figuring out how to get an engine running or building a complicated machine to do a task that he didn't want to do anymore. My dad is not a Luddite, at all. He likes machines and figuring out how to make something do the menial work.

He also built things for fun. We had a little tractor that could mow the lawn but could also be use as a 5-mph tow truck for a wagon filled with delighted children from other farms nearby. Remember the flimsy backyard swing set?

We had the biggest, best swings in the 60s because he looked at the design and made it better, sturdier in his shop, welding leftover pipes together perfectly in a frame that still stands today. Our teeter-totter has been the source of splinters for three generations. And yes, we are proud.

Dad farmed for decades, scratching out a living for my mom and his seven kids. When I was a child, he worked long hours, often leaving the house before we woke up and returning long after we were in bed.

He owns the house he grew up in on the acres that he bought from my grandmother after my grandfather passed away.

He realized that irrigation was the way to save his crops from the harsh South
Dakota summers when rain is never a certainty. He also raised cattle (Herfords) and pigs (Chester Whites)

but it always seemed like it was the corn, beans and sorghum that sustained us. If the price wasn't right, he'd store his grain in bins until the money improved. It was a gamble that sometimes paid off. Sometimes not.

Dad didn't have much choice in the 80s when he stopped farming and starting driving semi trucks for a living. He rented the farm land and supplemented the annual income with a more regular check from hauling hogs, cattle and grain (probably some from his own fields) hither and yon. He never stopped working hard, though. He continued driving trucks until 2010, well into his 79th year.

How lucky I am to have a father who always had the interests of his kids at heart. He still serves as an usher at the First United Methodist Church in Wagner. He and Mom still play cards with the neighbors once a month. He served in the Korean War (it was more than a Conflict) and proudly loves the United States of America. Yes, we have had our differences...I'm a Democrat...he's the Other Party. We don't always agree but what we he taught me is to work hard, play hard and never give up.

Thank you, Dad, for modeling the way for me. I am very, very grateful.

I love my new hometown!

Risky Business

The Lara Logan assault is shocking. Risky Business

Rep. Kristi Noem: Head of the Class

How does a small state like South Dakota continue to churn out leaders on both sides of the aisle? McGovern, Daschle, Thune and now Noem.

Rep. Kristi Noem: Head of the Class - HUMAN EVENTS

Fight at 4:30pm. Tune in Tuesday and Wednesday!

Can't really call this "Fight Night" because it happens in KC at 4:30pm but I must admit, I have been intrigued and slightly frightened by the IBM computer that takes on two human brains in a highly-touted man-versus-machine trio of Jeopardy programs.  There was too much IBM minutiae in Monday's episode.  And the eye candy with the bright lights between Ken and Brad was just that--an avatar playing the role of a stack of computers in another room.

But I wish the Watson voice wasn't so damn close to that of HAL, the computer in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

God help me if there is breaking news that forces us to interrupt any of Jeopardy between now and Wednesday at 5pm!

How not to clean a dirty DVD.

Saturday Night is often "movie night" for John and me.  I know it didn't get great reviews but I was really looking forward to "Secretariat."  I like Disney movies.  I like horses.  I like history.  I like strong female characters.  I like John Malkevich.  The perfect combination!  Except for...when the picture scrambled and became unwatchable at about an hour in.

Grrrr.  Just then, the phone ran.  Our son Charlie is pretty technical and offered the following solution:

• Smear a thin film of toothpaste or peanut butter (we used Crest) on the DVD.
• Put the DVD in the toilet and flush.
• And flush.  And flush.  And flush.
• And flush.

Supposedly the swirling water cleans the toothpaste/peanut butter off, leaving a pristine surface.  Maybe we used too much Crest but after 15 flushes, there was still residue on our DVD and I was feeling pretty guilty about the wasted water.  Then we realized how ridiculous we would look to anyone who walked into our bathroom and saw us watching the DVD bob around in the toilet bowl.  We fished it out and tried again but it still did not work.

John found the movie on pay-per-view so for five bucks we were able to watch the end.  Spoiler alert!  Secretariat wins the Triple Crown.

And Netflix sent me an apology.

	Dear Margaret, We're sorry to hear that Secretariat was unplayable. We go to great lengths to ensure the movies you get will play without any problems but occasionally a few get through our inspections, or are damaged in transit. Please return the unplayable disc and if you've requested a replacement, we will ship it out as soon as possible. We apologize for the inconvenience. -The Netflix Team

I wish they'd pay my pay-per-view charge.

Slippery slope.

Bottom Line Communications™

Sad news

Rick Gevers announced today that Greg Koelfgen passed away suddenly Monday. Greg and I worked together in Reno back in the 80s. Great guy. Smart guy. Loved his family very much and was especially proud of his daughters' success on the softball field.

"I have been on the mountaintop" - Martin Luther King jr.

Seriously?

Starbucks offers now the Big Gulp version of its cold coffee.  Is this really neccessary?

Let's disagree but be more thoughtful, ok?

U.S.

Obama Calls for New Era of Civility in U.S. Politics

By HELENE COOPER and DAVID M. HERSZENHORN

Published: January 12, 2011

The president offered the nation’s condolences to the victims of the Tucson shooting rampage, urging Americans to usher in a new era of civility in memory of the fallen.

The NYTimes has already posted it's first story about President Obama's speech.

I must admit, the early cheers, whistles and hoots made me uncomfortable.  But when the announcement came that Gabby Giffords opened her eyes today, I was thrilled.

I was following the speech on Twitter and not surprisingly, our local Darla Jaye called the president an android with no soul.  (sigh)

We have a long way to go.

Choosing our words and images carefully

I can't disagree with the advice of this article:
Threats, Violence and the Language We Should Remove From Civil Political Discourse

I think we in the media can ALL do better in our coverage on multiple platforms.

CNN reports.

And Business Week.

How to pursue a story. Every story.

Tommy Lee Jone's character in "The Fugitive" gives a great roadmap on how all journalists should track down leads.

Paraphrasing...

"Alright, listen up, people. The STORY has been on the run for ninety minutes. Average foot speed over uneven ground barring injuries is 4 miles-per-hour. That gives us a radius of six miles. What I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in that area. Checkpoints go up at fifteen miles. The STORY is still out there. Go get it!"

One call to the police PIO is not enough.

With apologies to James Brown...Hot Tub!

A story from our Reno trip that will re-told umpteen times:

We went to Mt. Rose Ski Resort for some downhill action.  Charlie and Carly on snowboards, John on skis, me in the lodge.  That's how I roll.

It was a great day, okay, bitterly cold and windy but we were dressed for the weather and enjoyed our time outside.

When we got back to the hotel, we decided to head to the 17th floor of The Sands to spend some time in the jacuzzi tub, relaxing, etc.

Charlie and I were the first to arrive and yes, I did notice the wheelchair but I didn't give it much thought.  We both stepped into the bubbling water, joining another couple.  We exchanged some pleasantries and enjoyed the sensation of being meat in a pot, slow cooking.  Very relaxing.

About ten minutes later John and Carly joined our group and for some reason, the woman decided to chat with John.  We learned that she had two children.  We learned that she would not be spending the New Year in Reno because her kids' dad had died and she was going to return to the Bay Area to see them.  We learned that the man sitting next to her was a long-time companion who had recently been through an amputation.  At some point, he asked quizzed us.

"Do you know how I lost my leg?"

Obviously we had no idea but John tried to guess (much to my dismay).

"An accident?  Diabetes?"

"Nope," he said, somewhat proudly.

"Bacterial flesh-eating disease.  I was in the hospital for six months.  I almost died."


















Dude!  Harsh my mellow!

I wanted to pop out of that churn like toast out of a toaster but not wanting to be rude, we all stayed for about five minutes more before politely excusing ourselves.

Ignorance is ignorance.  I now know flesh-eating bacterial disease is not contagious in a hot tub.

Now you know too.

Thank you, Art Long

Art Long is a major building block in my life.

In the early 80s. I was a reporter at KTVN-TV, the CBS affiliate in Reno.  Ed Pearce was the news director.  During the time I worked there, I shared office space with lots of media-future-stars including Ginger Casey, Elizabeth Vargas, Pat Naegle, Tony Kovaleski, Patricia McRae.  Interestingly, I stopped by the KTVN crew's area on New Year's Eve and introduced myself as a former co-worker.  The reporter and photographer gave me little more than a passing glance.  They had no interest in me or my stories.  But that's another blog...

I like to say I was much younger, cuter and thinner (not than those previously listed, just as compared to me now).  Those things are true.

Art was the guy we in the media called when we wanted to do a story at John Ascuaga's Nugget in Sparks.  Back then, the Nugget was the only major casino that had an elephant as it's spokes-animal and it was the only big casino NOT in downtown Reno (located in Sparks, next door).  Art handed us media-types drink tickets sparingly but we knew that if we needed an interview about a gambling story, he could get it.

At some point in my professional career, I grew weary of reporting.  Frankly, it happened pretty quickly after Ed allowed me on the air.  Maybe because I wasn't very good!  I loved the news but hated being on camera.

After a snit with the new managers who replaced Ed when he was unfairly dumped by KTVN's new ownership, I convinced Art Long to hire me as the Nugget photographer.  I was not qualified for the job, having never darkened a darkroom door.  Art gave me a chance.  And the rest, as they say, is history.

John's office was next to mine.  I have a loud voice so he knew my secret failings and failures as soon as I spoke them out loud.  Which, at age 27, I did often.  To anyone who would listen.  And yet, we fell in love.  (awwwww).

Recently, John and I visited Art when we were in Reno.  Mainly, we wanted to thank him.  For hiring me.  For being the conduit to our more than two decades of married life.  Art is now 85-years-old and still has the best stories about Reno, ever.  He's a book, waiting to be told.

We are grateful.  Thank you, Art Long.

Playoffs?!? Playoffs.

We are spending more money on "experiences" than physical gifts now that our kids are older.  One such experience was the Chiefs-Titans game and although it was ridiculously cold, we had a really great time.  We had end zone seats and didn't get a great deal of action but we got to see Eric Berry's pick-six perfectly.  A real highlight for Chaz who attends Tennessee, EB's alma mater.

More than 70-inches of snow so far!

I really enjoyed this story about the hardy people in The 'Cuse!  And I thanked God for moving me to Kansas City.

There are areas...where a modest snowfall can be a great white disruption, closing schools and airports, paralyzing businesses and erasing traffic from most streets.
Syracuse is not one of those places. As much as the people here enjoy complaining about the snow, they may take greater pleasure mocking the less hardy citizens, for whom snowfall is a catastrophe rather than just weather.
Through all of this snow, public schools in Syracuse closed for just two days, and the airport shut down for 15 minutes. Piles of cleared snow grew to two-story heights, but the roads were plowed and kept open.

"Hello? My name is Peggy."

Top ten commercials of 2010!

Minnesota journalists, please heed!

We Need Your Help by this Friday to Get Cameras in the Courtroom!

Entertainment Nightmare!

Bizkit the dog supposedly suffers from nightmares and this past weekend, I endured a potential Entertainment Nightmare that almost had me hitting the wall like Bizkit.

I had invited the NBC Action News managers over Sunday for the Chiefs-Chargers game...and decided to follow the advice from The Food Network.  I'd make chili!  But those who know me well, know that I like to live on the edge.  Whenever I invite people to my house for vittles, I like to make something I've never made before.  Untested, unknown.  I generally choose my recipes by typing in some search words and most of the time, I trust The Food Network because...well, I just do.  Cooks.com is also a great resource.

Frankly, it's been awhile since we entertained.  I used to have parties in Memphis regularly but we didn't live in Syracuse or Baltimore long enough to build much of a "friend" base so it's been a few years.  Still, old habits die hard so Saturday morning, I was on the internet, searching for that perfect new recipe.  Testing my culinary skills.  Testing the tenuous bonds between me and my managers. 

The Food Network has more than 2,000 entries when you search "chili" but I quickly settled on this one for "Steak Fajita Chili" because it encourages adding important food groups like tortilla chips, cheese and sour cream to the dish prior to eating.  Now that's chili!  (Sorry gang, I'd never heard of Aaron McCargo, Jr. until Saturday.)

John and I spent an hour-plus at the Hy-Vee, purchasing the short ribs and other items for our party.  We cleaned the house, moved furniture around to seat as many as possible in our family room and Saturday night, I baked two different kinds of brownies because if I'm going to break the diet, I'm going to BREAK IT BAD.

The deep freeze storm gripping most of the Midwest meant about an inch of snow that blew around mightily into the early hours of Sunday and I woke up to find 1.  No newspapers and 2.  Disfunctional cable TV.  I guess I can live without the KC Star and NY Times for one day but the TV thing was disconcerting.  How could we invite people to watch football on the digital mosaic that we were getting on both the analog and digital channels?  (And why the hell do I pay so much for cable, anyway?  I'll tell you why.  ESPN.)

At around 11am I started cooking the chili because my plan was to have it ready for consumption when folks arrived at 3pm.  I got through the first part of the recipe just fine.  I can brown meat.  But then I read that I needed to cook the onions/peppers/spices/flour in one cup of canola oil.  Which for me was two cups because I doubled the recipe.  What?!?!  I broke one of my cardinal rules which is to follow the recipe to the letter and used a cup of oil instead of two but it still seemed like waaaayyy too much.

Meanwhile, John spent an hour on the phone with the Comcast representative who promised to do what he could.  Which ended up to be nothing but as the day unfolded our signal improved and by game time, only a few glitches remained.

At about 3pm, our guests began to arrive and that's when I tasted the chili for the first time.  OMG!  It was like eating Crude Oil Soup!  I tried not to panic.  I greeted people.  I smiled.  Inside, I was freaking out.  And as more folks showed up, I realized that I did not have an edible main course.  There was a hint of flavor to my chili but it was completely masked by grease.

Thank God for the cold.  Outside, the thermometer read 20-degrees so I took the entire pot out to the deck and left it there in the wind and chill for the entire first half of the game.  There were other things for my guests to eat and drink and while the Chiefs were stinking up the field, I was dying a thousand deaths.  With about four minutes left in the half, I excused myself and prayed all the way to the kitchen.

Thankfully...the weather did its work and my chili was covered by a frisbee-sized frozen disc of fat.  I chunked that garbage out to the freezing birds and other creatures (probably the Basset hounds from next door), returned my dutch oven to the burner and when the half was over, I was just about ready to serve my guests their chili.

They said it was good, some had seconds and one even asked for the recipe.  Even my finicky husband declared it a success.  I think it's a typo and the amount of oil needed to saute those veggies can be 1-2 tablespoons.  You'll like this chili, though.  Dee-lish!

Unfortunately, the Chiefs were not nearly as successful in dealing with adversity.  Three games to go and they need to win out.  Meanwhile, I'm planning my next get-together!

Is There Life After TV News?

At some point, I'll probably be looking for another job.

Not if but when, according to this article on TV News Check.

I'm just about 54 years old, soon to be statistically invisible and insignificant in the eyes of Nielsen.  The question of what I will do next isn't constantly on my mind but I do think about it more than I used to.

Love and joy come to you...

 Instead of a Saturday morning newscast on Christmas Day, we're featuring local high school choirs.   Here's a taste from Ruskin High School which might include former Hickman Mills students who merged with the Ruskin student body last August. (warning. there is a short pre-roll commercial on this clip)

How can you not feel great about our future when you look at the earnest faces of these young people? I'm in love with the kid that you see at about 1:41...isn't he adorable!

Great lessons on leadership

I've got a news management position open and I've interviewed five executive producer candidates in the past month. Finding the right person has become harder because I refuse to settle for "good enough." I'm taking a lesson from the Chief's General Manager and this article helped keep my eye on the goal.

Drawing on a lifetime of lessons and a - 12.06.10 - SI Vault

My favorite quote from Pioli: "Do you want to build a team that will win once and then implode? I don't think that's the job. The job is to make the difficult decisions so you can build the kind of team that can be in position to win every single year."

It helped me focus on what I need to do at KSHB.

Jimmy's 1993 ESPY speech reminds me of Bill Phillip

On the day that America grieves for Elizabeth Edwards, for her incredible grace under unthinkable stress and the pressure of knowing her husband cheated on her while she was battling an incurable disease, I can't help but remember my dear mother-in-law, Bernice Phillip.

We called her Bushy (pronunciation guide Booz-schee) because that's what my father-in-law Bill called her.  It was something they started in high school when they fell in love.  Bernice and Bill never fell out of love, not when she was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 1998, not when she suffered through radiation and chemo, not when he was suddenly and unexpectedly felled by a brain tumor.  We lost Bill in 2003, Bernice in 2005.  I hate cancer.  It took both John's parents from us way before we were ready.  And tonight, I realized while watching Jim Valvano's brave speech for what seems like the umpteenth time, that I should be thinking of Bernice but I can't stop thinking about Bill who has been gone for more than seven years.

Jeez, I miss him.  I went back through my files and found the eulogy that I read at his funeral on October 17, 2003:

We've come together today to celebrate the life of my father-in-law, Bill Phillip. Bill was a man who played many roles in our lives. For more than fifty years, Bernice Phillip knew him as her husband and best friend. John and Billy knew him as Dad and Maureen and I knew him as a wonderful father-in-law. Carly and Charlie knew him as Grandpa. 
Bob, Ken, Rita, Richie knew him as a Brother.Janet, Harvey, Sonny, Elaine, Lillian, Frank, Phyllis and Kathy knew him as a brother in law.
Connie, Rainey, Ed, Michael, Colleen, Jim, Barbara, Stacey, Joe. Debi, Terri, Laurie, Jessica and Jennifer knew him as Uncle Bill.
The rest of you knew him too. And you are better for it............But he was so much more. Yes, Bill Phillip was a husband, a father, a brother, an uncle and an in-law but that “in-law” word didn’t exist to him...we were all blood once we got into this family.
Bill was more than that.Bill was a friend, a craftsman, the breadwinner, a care giver, a woodsman and our patriarch. When I think of Carly and Charlie’s early childhood, there isn't a time that I can't remember them not being involved with their Grandparents. Grandpa was as much a part of their life as breathing is. His presence was essential to them, and even though we lived hundreds and sometimes thousands of miles away over the years, I don't feel as if our cord was ever cut.
We've kept in constant touch, and it was comforting to know that if we needed him, all we had to do was pick up a telephone. I especially cherish the memories of our camping and fishing trips. Chaz would throw the line in and pull out a tiny fish, and he always counted on Bill to take off the hook! For that matter, so did John!
I remember Charlie following him around constantly. And Bill followed Charlie around constantly too. What a wonderful relationship between a boy and his Grandpa. But Bill didn’t just hold his love for Chaz–he instantly accepted Carly as his granddaughter and made sure both kids had all the love he could give. He loved hearing about their various triumphs at school and on the soccer and softball fields.
Even John says that Bill’s name was passed on the right son. Billy and Maureen were so very special to him and one of the greatest blessings is knowing that he knew Maureen’s health is no longer an issue and they were going to soon move into their own home.I remember many happy days, just sitting with him and the rest of the family on the deck, telling stories and laughing over some of his antics from his early years, especially when he was courting Bernice.
By his very interaction with Bernice, and with his behavior towards her, he demonstrated to me what true love is. He absolutely adored her and everyone in this family knows it.Watching John’s parents together for the past seventeen years instilled in me some of the values I wanted in our family early on. To be able to mirror their marriage and devotion to each other would be one of the highest tributes we could pay to Bill.
Bill's haven was his garage. He spent a lot of time on his hobby, woodworking there...I recall the paintings of ducks he would show me and how he would always make carvings of ducks and other birds for every special person in his life.. I’m so thankful that my parents were able to meet Bill and Bernice when we lived outside of Boston–and my folks treasure hand carved gifts he sent them after. I’m sure all of you have Bill Phillip crafted treasures somewhere in your homes and I hope you realize the love and care that went into each one.
I hold dear what Bill was able to do with his hands, and while his physical being is not around, his spirit is left alive in the things he created. He truly had a gift and he shared it so well! Bill was a man of his generation. He was the man who provided for his family and who was a stalwart. A rock. That strength was passed along to Bernice, John and Bill as they made very difficult decisions this past week.
He was pretty decent with the cards too. I wish you could have heard us trash talking each other over gin rummy or cribbage. If he was here right now, I’d let him win just one hand. He was a guy who was known for his common sense, quick wit and practical approach to life. He was a man who taught love through actions, not words.
He would give a homeless person the shirt off his back and more than once, got into trouble with Bernice for giving money to strangers.There are so many funny stories to describe my father in law. He was strong willed to the extent of being stubborn if he needed to be. He felt that when he wanted something, nothing would stand in his way to get it. He was tenacious, and never gave up on anything that was important to him. He was committed and had the fortitude to stick to his commitments
I doubt that Bill had many regrets in this life - he lived a great life! He may have wished a time or two that he kept John’s baseball cards instead of the bowling trophies but hey...whaddya gonna do?
As we leave here today, we do so knowing that the love we have for Bill Phillip will not diminish in his death. We will always hold his love in our heart, and his memories in our minds. He was a one of a kind, and he will be sorely missed. Bill would not want us to be sad over his death, rather he’d want us to be joyful in our lives. So, today, as we say "good bye" to Bill Phillip, take a look around the hills and trees of Connecticut that he loved so much. Do you see the myriad of colors before you? Whether it is the feathers of the birds he loved to paint, the flowers he’d pick for Bernice, or the brilliant leaves on the trees in the woods where he loved to hunt... Look at those colors and know that we celebrate the life of Bill Phillip today a life lived with clarity and brilliance, a life that was led in full bloom.

As we approach the holidays, may I remind you to hold close the ones you love?  Rebuild broken relationships.  Tell somebody you care.  Make something.  Live.


Thanks.

I. Have. Made. Address. Labels!

Movie Videos & Movie Scenes at MOVIECLIPS.com

Remember the scene in "Cast Away?"  Tom Hanks dances around after starting a fire with sticks.  I felt that way today after I worked through ELEVEN pages of directions from the Office 2007 "help" area to re-create my Christmas card address list which was lost in the Great Computer Crash of 2009.  Last year, we addressed our cards by hand but I got real crabby, real fast when I considered doing it again.

So I re-typed the addresses of friends and family from South Dakota, Nevada, Florida, Oklahoma, Washington, Tennessee, New York, Maryland, Connecticut, Wisconsin and Minnesota into an Excel spread sheet.  That was the easy part.  Step one of the eleven-page instructions.  It took another 90 minutes to create my labels.  When it finally worked, I was quite delighted!  John helped me with the rest and dozens of cards will be in the mail tomorrow.

Jubilation!  (I'm a little embarassed at how pleased I am with myself.)

This is brilliant!

November sweeps -- good for us!

Bottom Line Communications™

What will winter bring?

I'm going with Gary! What will winter bring? Forecast depends on whom you ask - KansasCity.com

WE ARE THE CHIEFS

Last week is just a bad memory.

Feel better. Watch this video. Go to the game. Look for me in Section 330. Or stay home. No matter what, if you're in Kansas City, cheer for the Chiefs!

Home Sweet Home!

South Dakota = Storm Magnet.

Circle Game

Some days I feel every minute of my nearly-54-years-on-the-planet.

Tuesday I stumbled across this article about my first professional sports crush, Larry Csonka, AND NOW I REALLY FEEL OLD.

I graduated from East Charles Mix #102, aka Wagner High School, in 1975.
That year Volkswagon introduced the "Rabbit."
That year "Wheel of Fortune" was inflicted on a Hangman-deprived nation. Saigon fell. FBI agents got into a shootout on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation and three died. Jimmy Hoffa disappeared. (He did NOT "go missing." How I hate that phrase!)
SNL delighted me and my college pals. Tiki Barber, the worst Today Show correspondent (until Jenna Bush), was born. So was his brother Ronde. And rapper 50 Cent.

In 1975, Larry Csonka had left the Dolphins and was playing for (gasp) the Memphis Grizzlies. If you click on nothing else, click on that link. Csonka is in the middle. What a stud! Sidebar: he played college at Syracuse (where we lived in 2007-08). And the reason I wore his jersey in the mid-70s was because the then owner of the Dolphins, Joe Robbie, awarded me a scholarship of $500 to join the debate team at what was then Northern State College in Aberdeen, South Dakota.

I'm still crazy about you Larry!

And the painted ponies go up and down.

Kansas City Chiefs Touchdown Song

I admit it. I'm not just on the Chief's Bandwagon. I'm driving it.

Wisdom from Brokaw

Brokaw: 'There's Always a Reason to Turn Over a Rock & Find Out What's Under it