Journalism, the essential fourth branch of government

At least that’s what I used to teach. I drew a tree with three gnarly branches on the blackboard (remember those?), making a big deal as I added the fourth implied branch: Respected Journalism, gathered by people who were knowledgeable about different points of view, conducted in-depth interviews, did painstaking research, and didn’t report quotes out of context. Mistakes were made, but for the most part, these folks were dedicated to their profession.

Thank the universe for Amy Goodman, Bill Moyers and Rachel Maddow, journalists who do real research. And thank goodness for comedian Jon Stewart.
(http://www.jewishjournal.com/marty_kaplan/article/waiting_for_sanityman_can_jon_stewart_save_america_rally_to_restore_sanity/

What happened to mainstream journalists like those of yesteryear, Walter Cronkite, for example, who at one time was the most trusted man in America?

Full disclosure: My heroes in my ’20s were I.F. Stone of the muckraking I.F. Stone’s Weekly, broadcast journalist Edward R. Murrow (“Anyone who isn’t confused doesn’t really understand the situation.”), and Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas. Yeah, I swing to the left.

But I was trained as a questioner, as a teacher whose highest goal was to encourage students to think, to question their most staunchly held opinions. I remember teaching social studies at Hartford High School in White River Jct., Vermont in the late ’70s. Principal Frank Kennison called me into his office to relate a call from an irate Democrat, who insisted I was teaching Republican dogma. We both laughed. The call made me feel good and showed that I presented — and allowed — a wide range of opinions in my classroom.

These days, Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer and other Republican candidates refuse to debate their Democratic opponents. Brewer so embarrassed herself with her lack of expertise and her misuse of “did” at her one and only debate with Democratic challenger, attorney general Terry Goddard, that her handlers figured it was better to not let her loose again.

And forget about a Beck or Limbaugh spouting factual history to their radio minions. PEOPLE — I want to yell out the window like Peter Finch in the movie “Network”: “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore.” Beck, Limbaugh and their ilk are not journalists, they’re entertainers, making millions dredging up an economically frustrated citizenry’s latent anger.

At least Jon Stewart and Steve Colbert use humor to attempt enlightening, lightening up the seriousness of their message.

The Tea Partiers revert to their own revisionist history. (http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/10/18/101018fa_fact_wilentz)

I remember William F. Buckley, the late editor of National Review and a true conservative. I didn’t agree with his views but he was a true intellectual and a brilliant debater who stopped at the right-wing belief of a liberal-socialist-communist conspiracy trying to take over America.

My mentor, the late Howard Zinn, the radical (and proud to be so) Boston University professor emeritus and author of “The People’s History of the United States,” was often accused of writing revisionist history. I would call his work alternative, out-of the-mainstream history, but why was it less essential than the history of robber barons and generals?  His work illuminated  missing parts of traditional American history.

Last night Dan and I were watching one of this month’s new “Saturday Night Live” shows. On “Weekend Update,” Seth Myers noted U.S. Senate candidate Christine O’Donnell’s (R-Del.) complaint about the “media’s tricks.”

Two tricks the media [or real journalists] use, said Myers, “are record and play.”

I sure miss Howard Zinn.

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What, not Arizona?

Why do I live in a state that’s last in per capita spending on education, second only to Mississippi in poverty, against ethnic studies and supposedly  pro-refugee (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/09/us/09refugees.html ) but passed the loathsome SB 1070?

There are plenty of loony Tea Partiers here but they’re everywhere, even in fairly sane Maine. How does the Repugnican-dominated  Arizona state legislature get away with its often heartless cuts?

This morning I was hanging out with a few women friends discussing anti-aging facial products, when three of the five said they were considering leaving Arizona. The crazy right-wing politics had gotten to them.

Paul Le Page, Maine’s Republican candidate for governor has recently taken flak from sensible Mainers for announcing that when he becomes governor, he would tell President Obama to “go to hell.”

Mainers, or as I prefer, Maine-iacs, generally don’t like over-the-top proclamations. Many respect the presidency, no matter who’s in office.

I don’t know first-hand what political shenanigans are going on in other states (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/09/opinion/09collins.html?_r=1&src=me&ref=homepage
).

But malaise is rampant. I date it back to Ronald Reagan and his “Fuck the Middle Class” politics. And, says economist Robert Reich, former U.S. Secretary of Labor, “income in America is now more concentrated in fewer hands than it’s been in 80 years. Almost a quarter of total income generated in the United States is going to the top 1 percent of Americans.

The top one-tenth of 1 percent of Americans now earn as much as the bottom 120 million of us.” http://www.salon.com/news/great_recession/index.html?story=/news/feature/2010/10/18/the_perfect_storm

TGen years ago, my high school students yawned, complained about how bored they were reading French aristocrat Alexis De Tocqueville’s “Democracy in America,” which was written in the 1830s. Tocqueville was amazed by the sense of fairness, optimism and real hope for equality that he perceived in fledgling America.

A few students have since thanked me for imposing  Tocqueville’s old-fashioned drudgery; perhaps it gave them a sense of that now quaint “American Dream.”

I know a bright, wonderful young woman in the military who wants to be deployed to Iraq. She’s passionate about attending nursing school, but didn’t graduate at the top of her high-school class 15 years ago — the only avenue open to her would be the G.I. Bill.

Who’s running for office who cares about her “American Dream?”

Reagan’s “trickle down economy” was a facade for his pals to amass unimaginable wealth. Corporate giants were supposed to share their profits with their workers — really? Maybe Ben ‘n’ Jerry’s, those damn socialists, but who else?

One of my journalistic heroes, Bill Moyers, recently delivered a dynamite speech on the occasion of Common Cause’s 40th anniversary (http://www.ourfuture.org/institute/blog-entry/2010104008/honoring-common-causes-john-gardner-now-its-citizens-turn?t=1286654124).

What happened to the hope, the dream of America? Moyers says it best, quoting former Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis: “You can have wealth concentrated in the hands of a few or democracy, but you can’t have them both.”

There you have it my friends, which brings me up back to wacky Arizona. Remember when Americans of all political persuasions thought Sen. John McCain was a maverick (hell, he doesn’t remember but the dude is old and lost)?  Remember when he was the champion of campaign finance reform? If he hadn’t sold his soul before, he surely did by choosing Sarah Palin as his 2008 running mate, unleashing the lowest form of American politics yet.

Whip up anger.  Dumb people down. Remember when someone at a health-care reform town meeting yelled out, “The government better not mess with my Medicaid!” It’s not about taking back America — it’s about throwing it away.

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The Weight of it

“The Weight of It” by my niece Amy Wilensky chronicles growing up with her sister, Alison ( http://www.amazon.com/Weight-Story-Two-Sisters/dp/0805073124/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1286502400&sr=1-2#reader_0805073124/ref=sr.). I was always so impressed with Amy’s take — it didn’t matter to her that Ali was fat. But it mattered to Alison, partly because her svelte year-older sister, Amy, played sports, was popular, pretty and all that.

Do we always want to be something that we’re not? I used to have a flat stomach, never had stretch marks after birthing two big babies, and I figured I would always be thin. I didn’t eat much when I was a kid growing up in Waterbury, Conn. And I was a slow eater. My friends would sit on the back porch waiting for me to finish supper, reading comic books while I pushed bits of food around my plate.

Sans estrogen, my post-menopausal stomach rolls gushily sticking over the top of my shorts, possibly (oh no!) the precursor of some horrible disease.

I’m torn between wanting to eat whatever I want and imagining my own svelte self of yesteryear, which is also about staying healthy as an aging baby boomer. I’ve given up on the tiny black dress of five years ago, which made me feel like I could be 22 again, although I don’t want to be.

How do I balance feeling young, still being curious about life and what I might do next as I glimpse my aging body passing by the mirror in our bathroom.

I remember a children’s author who used to frequent my bookstore in Southwest Harbor. On her 6oth birthday she told me, “You know, I looked in the mirror this morning and I was truly surprised when I saw my face. I feel the same inside as I did when I was 20.” I understand that now. But I still wish my stomach was flatter.

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Books I remember

The Things They Carried and In the Lake of the Woods by Tim O’Brien, Amos & Boris by William Steig, Stranger in a Strange Land, Catch-22, Gift from the Sea, Divided Kingdom by Rupert Thomson, Sailor Dog by Margaret Wise Brown, The Giver by Lois Lowry, Refuge by Terry Tempest Williams, A Couple of Kooks by Cynthai Rylant, You Can’t Be Neutral on a Moving Train and The Politics of History by Howard Zinn, The Hunger of Memory by Richard Rodriguez, Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney, All the Little Live Things by Wallace Stegner, Herzog by Saul Bellow, Looking Back: A Chronicle of Growing Up Old in the Sixties, Black Olives by Martha Tod Dudman, Words Under the Words by Naomi Shihab Nye…

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Dogs are people too, or are they?

This morning I was off to Pilates class on my bike. Around 30 dogs were barking in the park, their people engaged in the Yoga child’s pose, which is supposed to be relaxing.

The sign said Doga Yoga. Yes, it’s all about the woof-woofs.

What the hell is going on, I wondered, passing by all the noisy creatures. Times have changed. I used to like dogs as much as the next person. When my kids were growing up we had two successive Samoyeds, 80-lb. fluffy white dogs with the Christmas spirit in their hearts, as the breed book announced. Once, our dog — whose name was Friend — was locked up in the Bar Harbor prison after an older woman reported seeing a polar bear on her front lawn.

These days, the police would probably haul a person in for questioning who doesn’t go ga-ga over dogs.

These days, people sometimes let their enormous dogs or their little yappy ones run free on hiking trails, while they smile and assure you that their dog (or pack of two or three) won’t hurt you, regardless of how uncomfortable you are.

Doggie psychologists, health insurance agents, dentists, pooper scooper merchants and even doggie spas cater to America’s top pets. Geez, why can’t we offer the same amenities to the homeless, mentally ill, poverty sticken, and maybe the children of dog owners? But let’s not get too wild and crazy.

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“Freedom”

I’ve been aware of how often Jonathan Franzen mentions freedom in his highly touted new novel, and how often responsibility kicks in. “Freedom,” the tome I’ve been reading while flying both directions cross-country these past few weeks, is partly about competition in relationships, in families, one-upmanship in love. It’s sad too.  I read somewhere recently that it ends happily, so I want to extend the last 150 pages as long as possible. Then be happy and totally satisfied with the finale.

Do we Americans have too much freedom, which contributes to be too much greed, selfishness and extreme wealth for the few?

In the book,  “The reason the system can’t be overthrown in this country,” Walter said, is all about freedom. The reason the free market in Europe is tempered by socialism is that they’re not so hung up on personal liberties.”

Everyone in the United States wants their privileges, their just due, their right to dump on everybody else. And why should we care about the homeless, the poor, the lost?

If some folks have had good luck, or their parents worked hard and left them tons of money, I can’t fathom why those people may not care about anybody else. Read: Tea Partiers and narrow-minded ilk of any stripe. Protect what’s theirs. Isn’t that freedom for some?

A dear friend once asked me, “Why can’t we have a benevelant dictator?”

“Well, that’s not the American way,” I told her, American history teacher that I was.

Hey, I know this is serious stuff to think about on the weekend. And my head isn’t on straight after all the flying, being stranded in airports, and being on vacation. All I know is that giant super markets afford way too much freedom for me. Grocery shopping with Ethan in the Ellsworth Hannaford, there were about 10 feet of different types of instant coffee: one-cup Hazelnut, fusion decaf/caffeinated, Sumatran or Chilean dark roast, soy-milk infused instant latte, to imagine only a few.

At least let’s put one person in charge of coffee.

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Geography of the Heart

It’s foggy and cold outside, but I’m warm in the Common Good Cafe, gazing at the ocean at Seawall in Southwest Harbor, Maine. Tomorrow I’ll return to sunny Tucson. I moved from winter ice, snow and darkness on Mount Desert Island to the  Southwestern Saguaro Desert eight years ago. No more black ice driving across Eagle Lake Road coming from a movie at Reel Pizza in Bar Harbor. Woo hoo!

A new career, new friends and a new love. How many other women in their 50s have done the same? Our hearts seem to crave change, but I was struck by a comment I heard recently: “Change is overrated.”

I haven’t changed. I’ve evolved.

Eight years ago, I quit my teaching job at Mount Desert Island High School, took off for Danskinetics/yoga dance teacher training at Kripalu in Lenox, Mass., then drove cross-country  with my most precious belongings.

Arriving in Tucson at sunset on Sept. 25 — my daughter Brook’s 25th birthday — I quietly said to myself, “No matter what happens, I did it.”

On my Facebook page, my current city is Tucson, Arizona; my hometown is Southwest Harbor, Maine. My two homes/lives continually merge. Last Saturday we celebrated Brook’s 33rd birthday here, all under one roof, coming from different lives, sharing the same history.

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Tucson Festival of Books #1

Once a teacher — or a bookseller — always one. I’ve been out of the book-selling world and children’s literature loop for 13 years now. If I’ve ever had any real expertise, it was in children’s books.

So when the magnificent Tucson Festival of Books (http://tucsonfestivalofbooks.org/) began two years ago, I had to be part of it. For the 2011 festival I’m chair of the memoir/history/biography committee. We’re all volunteers and our little group — one of around 25 subcommittees of the parent authors committee — are knowledgeable about local history, well-read and passionate about books.

I invited many of my author pals to participate in the 2011 festival but didn’t get very far (I’ll talk about the ones who are coming another time).

Me, I’m still a fervent child of the ’60s, but am willing to let younger folks march, sing “We Shall Overcome,” and like this morning on my way to work, yell out the window to kids and  teachers standing on the corner of River Road and Dodge, holding up peace signs and cheering.

“Hey you guys, yay social activists!” Right after I said it, I thought, “Hmm…maybe they don’t know what a social activist is. A teachable moment. They were young.

At a journalism conference I attended in June, I met a newspaper editor from Minneapolis. I told him about the upcoming third annual book festival on the University of Arizona campus and he gave me Mark Rudd’s e-mail address. Who, you ask? Rudd is the author of “Underground: My Life with SDS and the Weathermen.” I get to moderate “Right on! Far Out! Looking Back at the ’60s.” Look it up.

To be continued at a later date…

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Walktalking

Ever noticed how ideas flow more easily when you’re moving? Having your mouth going helps too; the words come out without thinking about them. Why not have business meetings walking along the Rillito, hiking up the road in Sabino Canyon, or wherever you live? You don’t have to get dressed up and it’s free. You can’t take notes? Bring a tiny tape recorder. Make an agenda — that would be one creative question you want to talk about with a friend or colleague. If anything comes up that’s worth remembering, trust that you will.

And now there’s proof that exercise helps thinking. Apparently, only 20 minutes walking before a test– even if a kid is otherwise unfit or obese — can improve her score (not that I care about scores, but it shows that your brain is functioning). http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/09/15/phys-ed-can-exercise-make-kids-smarter/?src=me&ref=homepage

An added benefit is that walking clearly helps your mood. Why do I find myself humming after strolling for 15 minutes in the desert? (Maybe I’m happy that I haven’t stepped on a rattlesnake, which happened to my friend Penny once).

Watch for my story about Steve Stone, a 70-year-old exercise physiologist, in the Oct. 1 Arizona Jewish Post. He says that “mind and body are the same thing,” and there’s this misconception about each influencing the other. And, if you hold stuff in, he says, you don’t feel the sensations in your body, which thwarts emotions. This all makes me think of James Brown belting out, “I feel Good.”

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Getting past hatred

My Jewish past is complicated. I was raised hypocritical Orthodox. My mother went to synagogue on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the the year, to see what the other women were wearing. This didn’t sit well with me.

Friends who also aren’t practicing Jews get all huffy about Israel. “Aren’t you a Zionist?” they ask. It’s complicated. Now there’s this video I just watched with Nicolas Kristoff on nytimes.com. I’m so impressed with Rabbis for Human Rights. Watch it, you’ll see.

http://video.nytimes.com/video/2010/09/14/opinion/1248068929638/rabbis-for-human-rights.html

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