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.