Quick trip to New York City this weekend to visit the Tenement Museum on the lower East Side to do a little research for a future story. (More on that in a future blog.)
Also caught a Broadway play, Time Stands Still.
A photographer (Laura Linney) and her boyfriend of nine years, a writer, are back in Brooklyn after she has narrowly missed death from an IED in the Middle East. She is badly hurt physically and he's a mess emotionally. Meanwhile their editor, who's older than they are, plans to marry his pregnant ditzy juvenile girlfriend.
I know journalists just like the Laura Linney character -- smart, sarcastic, eye rolling and absolutely convinced that her contribution to humanity is to chronicle the inhumanity of war even if it means getting blood and brain tissue spattered on her camera lens. She does it by making herself into a brick wall that never crumbles. The baby would have died anyway, she tells the ditzy girlfriend. I helped it by taking its picture minutes before it died. Otherwise no would have known.
Her boyfriend doesn't buy it the argument. He's seen all that she's seen and he doesn't want to see any more. He wants to get married, have children. Make a direct contribution to the world.
That Laura Linney character is me, I thought to myself. Brave, strong, convinced she can only be right all the time. Watching the play made me want to be a war correspondent, I thought.
As we walked down Broadway back to our hotel, I asked my daughter Becky, 14, what she would do. Would she go back to photographing war, famine and genocide, or would she stay in a comfortable home where she knew she would have food, shelter and all the penicillin she needed?
"I would continue to document the awfulness until I reached the point where evil was my
drug, my addiction," she said after a long silence. "But once seeing pain and suffering felt good, I'd go home."
She's a wise girl I look forward to knowing as woman.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Minnesota Nice Guys and Somali Community
I was slugging down the last of my double espresso when Thom, my editor, stopped by my work area.
"I assume you saw the story about the Minnesota Nice Guys getting charged," he said.
Of course I had. A few months ago I had written about guys just like them who were hooking up with very nice girls recruited by an evil principal who preyed upon them at the Mall of America. (Where's Billie?)
People think that nice guys -- businessmen, lawyers, men held in esteem in the community -- don't get involved in despicable acts like prostitution. I learned long ago that nice folks have a bad side and bad folks often have a nice side. That's what motivates me in my work, writing stories that dispel the commonly accepted perception.
"Did you see the story today about the Somali gang prostitution bust?" Thom asked. "I think there's a deeper story there behind the indictment."
Hmmmmm, I thought. I think he's right. Maybe I should look into that.
"I assume you saw the story about the Minnesota Nice Guys getting charged," he said.
Of course I had. A few months ago I had written about guys just like them who were hooking up with very nice girls recruited by an evil principal who preyed upon them at the Mall of America. (Where's Billie?)
People think that nice guys -- businessmen, lawyers, men held in esteem in the community -- don't get involved in despicable acts like prostitution. I learned long ago that nice folks have a bad side and bad folks often have a nice side. That's what motivates me in my work, writing stories that dispel the commonly accepted perception.
"Did you see the story today about the Somali gang prostitution bust?" Thom asked. "I think there's a deeper story there behind the indictment."
Hmmmmm, I thought. I think he's right. Maybe I should look into that.
Monday, November 8, 2010
When is it bullying? When is it just kids?
So I pulled into the newsroom, dumped yesterday's coffee into the poinsettia on my desk, filled my cup with today's brew and grabbed the New York Times, my favorite way to start my day. A story about bullying caught my eye because Suzy had been teased about being "too smart" by some neighborhood kids. I asked my friend, Gail, another reporter and mom, who sits next to me what she thought about the idea that people who teach kids not to bully really have a hidden agenda promoting gay marriage. The article said that some teachers think they have to start teaching tolerance in kindergarten.
"I don't want the schools to teach my kids that its okay for men to marry men and women to marry women," she said. "I want to have that discussion with my kids, with my values."
I told her I thought she was right. Values begin at home. But values belong in school, too. And kids have been seriously hurt lately when their fellow students tease them about being gay.
"I have a friend who has a white biological son and an adopted Korean daughter. The daughter was getting teased in school. Her mom raised holy hell saying the bullying was racist. Then her son pointed out that everyone -- white kids and Asian kids -- gets teased about something," Gail said. "Being teased is part of growing up."
But that's the problem, I told her. Teasing shouldn't be a part of growing up. It's unacceptable for any reason.
"You need to get real, Skeeter," she said, then turned back to her computer.
"I don't want the schools to teach my kids that its okay for men to marry men and women to marry women," she said. "I want to have that discussion with my kids, with my values."
I told her I thought she was right. Values begin at home. But values belong in school, too. And kids have been seriously hurt lately when their fellow students tease them about being gay.
"I have a friend who has a white biological son and an adopted Korean daughter. The daughter was getting teased in school. Her mom raised holy hell saying the bullying was racist. Then her son pointed out that everyone -- white kids and Asian kids -- gets teased about something," Gail said. "Being teased is part of growing up."
But that's the problem, I told her. Teasing shouldn't be a part of growing up. It's unacceptable for any reason.
"You need to get real, Skeeter," she said, then turned back to her computer.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Those who watched the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear no doubt could see way better than I the show on the National Mall Saturday. Even though I stood on a backpack trying to pick up a couple inches to match the sight lines of somebody who was, say, five foot ten, I could only catch occasional glimpses of the six Jumbotrons. Mostly I looked at the backs of reasonable heads.
But a quarter of a million people and I didn't go to the rally to see the stage. We went to see each other and affirm in flesh and blood that we aren't alone when we think all this shrill insanity we see around us is crazy. We went to demonstrate to ourselves and anyone who might be watching that there are still reasonable people in America who once in a blue moon, or a gorgeous Saturday afternoon In D.C., make time to rally. Even if some of us have to leave early.
That said, here's what I saw, and felt, that I wouldn't have had I watched the whole with great camera angles from the comfort of my couch, beer in hand.
In the broader sense the folks who showed up were polite and reasonable, with profuse apologies when they stepped on you. Sort of like the crowd at the Minnesota State Fair. There were people pushing strollers and others who brought fold up chairs because they figured, correctly, that their feet would hurt after standing on the hard-packed mall for four or five hours.
Age-wise the demographic was probably late teens to early seventies. There were plenty of us who were too young to go to Woodstock, but not too old to go to this rally. Racially, the crowd was overwhelmingly white, with only an occasional splash of color, despite Jon Stewart's claim otherwise. People wore jeans and sensible shoes.
Zoom in a little tighter. A couple of young men in skintight, zip up the back full-body spandex suits jumped and danced to Ozzy Osbourne. When Fr. Guido Sarducci gave the benediction they wondered aloud who he was. As the temperature rose they began to smell.
In front of them stood a 60ish man in a leather jacket and hat who carried a sign that said "$2billion a day isn't a defense it's a scandal." it was a big sign that he obligingly lowered when the people behind him politely pointed out that it blocked their view. Next to him was a guy from North Carolina who has listened to Garrison Keillor every Saturday for 20 years.
The signs were the most entertaining aspect of the rally. Some of my favorites:
* A woman in a chicken suit whose sign said, "think outside the Fox."
* Babies are going to steal our jobs in 20 or 30 years.
* Please don't stomp on my head
* Law of the American jungle: *remain calm *share your bananas
*This sign contains correct spelling and grammar.
* Facts are our friends
Through most of the rally I was hoping that Stewart would bring out a surprise show stopper, like maybe Bruce Springsteen to sing "Born in the U.S.A." instead it closed with Tony Bennett. But like I said, most of us didn't go to the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear to see the stage.
But a quarter of a million people and I didn't go to the rally to see the stage. We went to see each other and affirm in flesh and blood that we aren't alone when we think all this shrill insanity we see around us is crazy. We went to demonstrate to ourselves and anyone who might be watching that there are still reasonable people in America who once in a blue moon, or a gorgeous Saturday afternoon In D.C., make time to rally. Even if some of us have to leave early.
That said, here's what I saw, and felt, that I wouldn't have had I watched the whole with great camera angles from the comfort of my couch, beer in hand.
In the broader sense the folks who showed up were polite and reasonable, with profuse apologies when they stepped on you. Sort of like the crowd at the Minnesota State Fair. There were people pushing strollers and others who brought fold up chairs because they figured, correctly, that their feet would hurt after standing on the hard-packed mall for four or five hours.
Age-wise the demographic was probably late teens to early seventies. There were plenty of us who were too young to go to Woodstock, but not too old to go to this rally. Racially, the crowd was overwhelmingly white, with only an occasional splash of color, despite Jon Stewart's claim otherwise. People wore jeans and sensible shoes.
Zoom in a little tighter. A couple of young men in skintight, zip up the back full-body spandex suits jumped and danced to Ozzy Osbourne. When Fr. Guido Sarducci gave the benediction they wondered aloud who he was. As the temperature rose they began to smell.
In front of them stood a 60ish man in a leather jacket and hat who carried a sign that said "$2billion a day isn't a defense it's a scandal." it was a big sign that he obligingly lowered when the people behind him politely pointed out that it blocked their view. Next to him was a guy from North Carolina who has listened to Garrison Keillor every Saturday for 20 years.
The signs were the most entertaining aspect of the rally. Some of my favorites:
* A woman in a chicken suit whose sign said, "think outside the Fox."
* Babies are going to steal our jobs in 20 or 30 years.
* Please don't stomp on my head
* Law of the American jungle: *remain calm *share your bananas
*This sign contains correct spelling and grammar.
* Facts are our friends
Through most of the rally I was hoping that Stewart would bring out a surprise show stopper, like maybe Bruce Springsteen to sing "Born in the U.S.A." instead it closed with Tony Bennett. But like I said, most of us didn't go to the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear to see the stage.
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