48 years ago

I still remember the day when my president was killed. I was in the first grade. We were sent home early from school. I was wearing red boots and there were slippery patches of ice on the road. When I got home, both parents were watching TV.

They watched TV for three days.

We all did.

Modern Dallas coming to grips with Kennedy assassination

Powerful.

I hate it when this happens...watch all the way to the end.

This guy cracks me up.

Viewfinder BLUES: Some Kind of Monster: In an industry that keeps hiring younger and cheaper, it's almost impossible to age gracefully. And while I'm no longer the Velociphotog I ...

I love this.

A story of old-school entrepreneurial journalism:

When was the last time you received a personal letter in the mail? I received one recently from a woman I met at the Society of Professional Journalists conference in New Orleans in September and it totally made my day.

Becky Dickerson is the editor and publisher of The Community Current in tiny St. John, Wash. We “met” when Dickerson spoke up in the first of two sessions I did about entrepreneurial journalism at the conference and offered a quick version of her story: She started a community newspaper 17 years ago and serves 1,000 homes with a 24-page tabloid that prints every six weeks. (She was kind enough to include a copy of the paper with her letter.)

The town had been without a newspaper for 20 years when Dickerson decided to go into the business of news armed with a journalism degree and an affection for the town of St. John, which she calls “amazing.” (Her husband Todd runs the family farm.) She started the business with a simple letter to businesses asking them to advertise and a credit card to charge her printing expenses.

I spend most of my time talking about shiny new digital startups and the transformation of news in the digital age. But the basic principles that decide whether those businesses work or not are the same that Dickerson used. She met a need in the market and has been rewarded with a career as editor and publisher. While I’ve never visited St. John, I have to believe the community is stronger and much better informed because of her efforts. I wish I had met her in time to include her story in my new book.

Congratulations, Becky. And thanks for the letter.

Tip of the hat to the Pitch!

It's sweeps month. We give you a different reason to yell at your TV during the local news:

The days of KCTV Channel 5 busting dudes who have set out to bang underage kids? They’re likely over.…

[ Read more ]

This could be as close as we get to an NBA season.

Somebody has an NBA-themed washroom floor because it’s completely appropriate:
We don't know who built, uses or abuses this particular basketball court, but it is worth posting with the abject lack of basketball source material floating around the World Wide Web these days.

It's a bathroom floor painted like an NBA frontcourt. Complete with charge line under the, uh, rim.




As relayed to SB Matt Ryan earlier Wednesday, most of us would have Steve Kerr-type range for most of the day, but that dissipates into Joel Anthony-type range at certain points following a ride home from our local public house early on Sunday morning.

(Seriously, though ... a charge half-circle?)

(Via Midwest Sports Fans.)

Wow. Terrible timing or perfect orchestration by police?

Gil Scott-Heron Was Right:
The revolution is definitely not going to be televised












That ought to win them a local Emmy. The only thing it was missing was “A-bidi A-bidi A-bidi… That’s all folks!” and some Looney Tunes outro music…

Addictive website

Talk about short stories, here's a blog by a guy who wanted to write 101 words of fiction five days a week.  Read my one of my favorites and then click the random entry tab.

Again and again.

Excellent advice on protecting credibility

How to Manage Corrections, Clarifications & Retractions

One (correct) response to why the media should not turn over raw tape

I want!

Throwable Panoramic Ball Camera:

We present the Throwable Panoramic Ball Camera which captures a full spherical panorama when thrown into the air. At the peak of its flight, which is determined using an accelerometer, a full panoramic image is captured by 36 mobile phone camera modules.

[Via @Johl; Images courtesy of Jonas Pfeil, CC]

Here we go again

Kansas City Stations Refuse to Share Raw Footage with Investigators in Lisa Irwin Case - TVSpy

A Profound Workday

The 5 Principles of a Profound Workday:

‘Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.’ ~Laozi

Post written by Leo Babauta.

Let us toss out all we know for a moment.

Toss notions of productivity, time management, efficiency, and the bottom line.

Empty our workdays of all we’ve packed them with, and sit still with an empty room.

What should we put in this room? Do we want to spend our limited space on busy-ness, on making money, on quick transactions and calculated meetings?

What if we put into it only that which matters? What if we left everything else out?

We would be left with a workday that was poetry, profoundly beautiful.

(click the link above to read the rest!)

Parenthood

Parenthood.  Funny thing.  This morning on my walk, my iPod on "shuffle," this Enya song came on and I started thinking about a part of the lyrics:

One by one my leaves fall.
One by one my tales are told.

At 54, I'm staring mortality right in the face.  My children, at 29 and 24 years, respectively, no longer need me (except for cash, sometimes).

Jacquelyn Mitchard wrote a book entitled "Deep End of the Ocean" that I read even before it got onto Oprah's hit parade.  And because of that book, I bought another written by her.  "The Rest of Us" is a compilation of her columns and on our recent trip to New Orleans, I re-read it on the plane.

Her description of parenthood goes like this:

"...our sons and daughters are only passing through.  At first, they are of you, born to come to your arms.  Rapidly, they are with you, pausing only long enough for you to dab a few hurried strokes of paint on the canvas they are becoming--they are on their way to belonging to themselves, and then to the world.  If we are lucky, they always will consider our home their harbor, but they are headed out to the open sea, almost from the first."

I still consider the farm six miles north of Wagner, SD my harbor.  But which home, of the many we've had, will my children consider their harbor?  Germantown?  Kansas City?  Somewhere else?

I wonder.

More on the assault of a Milwaukee photojournalist

Your Right to Know: Photojournalist’s arrest is troubling incident

MICHELLE VETTERKIND | president and CEO of Wisconsin Broadcasters Association | Posted: Friday, October 7, 2011 6:00 am
On Sept. 19, Clinton Fillinger was arrested while doing his job — perhaps because he was doing it.
The 68-year-old veteran photojournalist, employed by Milwaukee’s WITI Fox6, was filming a house fire from behind yellow police tape.
A Milwaukee police sergeant approached and ordered Fillinger to move back, “all the way back.” Fillinger’s video appears to show him moving backward as he challenges the order: “If the public is out here, I’m allowed to be out here.”
Read more on Madison.com

This is getting ridiculous

Occupy Wall Street Arrests; Fox 5 Crew and Protesters Hit by Pepper Spray, Batons

Giant.

Steven Jobs on June 12, 2005

"No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

Wah wah wah in the Big Apple.

 This made me laugh:

"If you are not a Yankees or Red Sox fan — and rumor has it, the behemoths have not swallowed everyone — there is nothing quite like watching this two-for-one panic special. And Yankees panic is like no other kind. It’s like watching the guy in the brand-new Mercedes cursing out traffic on the George Washington Bridge with his forehead veins bulging. It’s a personal affront. Why doesn’t this traffic just move aside for us?! Why didn’t we buy better pitchers?! Somehow, it’s all A-Rod’s fault!"

Read more from the NY Times.

How the time do fly.

35 Years Ago Today, Barbara Walters Became the Nation’s Highest Paid Journalist - TVNewser

Stupid move, Bank of America

From an AP story today:

Angela Malerba, who works in public relations in Boston, carries a debit card because she likes to know when she buys something that she has enough in her account to pay for it. But paying $5 a month to use her own money? That's too much.

   So when Bank of America starts charging the fee next year, Malerba figures she'll rely more heavily on her credit card. Or, in a strategy that seems almost quaint in these swipe-and-go times, she may just carry more cash.

   "Paying $60 a year in debit card fees just seems absurd," she says.

   The 38.7 million people who carry Bank of America debit cards will face a similar decision in the latest example of banks raising fees or establishing new ones -- not just for debit cards but for visiting ATMs or talking to a teller.

 Thirty-eight-point-seven million minus me.  And my kids, if I can help it.  And anyone else who will listen.  We, your loyal customers are outraged, BOA.  You underestimated us.  We stuck with you through the TARP.  Through the stories of your terrible decision making about mortgages.  We've endured a minimal return on our savings accounts and (mostly) cheerfully paid more for "free checking"  We trusted you in spite of your mistakes.

But this?  I'm done.  So are many others.

See ya, Bank of America, I'm taking my meager investments elsewhere.  I look forward to walking into the branch office in Kansas City and telling the poor local manager that I'm moving my assets and credit cards elsewhere.  

You can have the big dollar guys who won't pay a cent for the "perk" of using a debit card to access their own money.  Enjoy.

"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.