In a nod to the apparent path of all mass media, I'm going all-digital with my third annual Christmas letter. OK, the truth is I just didn't get around to the Christmas letter until now and it's probably a little too late to send them by snail mail.
It's been another busy year, full of change and plenty of blessings. 2010 started out with me volunteering through Americorps and working for my hometown newspaper after getting laid off from my first full-time job. It is ending with 20 Washington Post bylines, half a master's degree and a bunch of new friends.
I've been in the University of Maryland's one-year master's in journalism program now since July. It's been a great ride so far, getting to learn from faculty members who are veterans of USA Today, the Washington Post, CNN, the L.A. Times and the Baltimore Sun. After years in sports, I've been reacquainting myself with hard news writing and trying to pick up some new multimedia tricks. I'm particularly proud of this group project: College grad risks deportation to fight for DREAM Act.
I've also enjoyed getting to know my new classmates. There's about a dozen of us in my "cohort" and we come from a lot of different backgrounds (including two lawyers). The other master's students are intelligent and goofy at the same time, which means they're just the type of people I like to hang out with.
For the last four months, when I haven't been at school I've often been working for the Post. I applied for a part-time spot there as an editorial aide in the sports department — a position that includes answering phones, compiling high school box scores, designing a few pages and editing online photo galleries. I got the job and, before I even started, I was told that a slot had opened up in the high school sports writing staff. So, by virtue of my work experience and being in the right place at the right time, I got to be the paper's girls soccer writer this fall. Thus the 20 bylines, including this story, which I think appeals to non-sports audiences as well: Soccer helps sisters cope with dad's death.
I've also kept up with some of my meningitis awareness activities out here on the East Coast. In August I spoke to medical students at the University of Pennsylvania along with a friend of mine who lost her brother to the disease the same year I got it. She's now in her second year of med school at Penn and is going to be a tremendous doctor. In October I accepted one of those big novelty checks on behalf of the National Meningitis Association at a golf fundraiser in Reston. It's now displayed prominently in my bedroom (apparently the check NMA actually cashes is of normal size, despite what you may have seen in Happy Gilmore).
It's been hard being away from my family and friends in Minnesota and Kansas City. I'd still like to return to the Midwest sooner rather than later, but the job market remains tight and right now I'm confident this is where I'm supposed to be. In the coming year I will be: reporting out of the National Press Building for school (possibly on the Supreme Court), covering high school wrestling and a spring sport to be named later for the Post, and doing an independent study with one of my professors, Carl Sessions Stepp, to work on my meningitis memoir.
The book manuscript is finished, but I haven't had any luck pitching it to publishers or literary agents yet. Sessions Stepp is the former editor of USA Today and the author of two books on writing, so with his help I hope to get it more publishable.
So the world keeps spinning, and my life keeps changing. I approach the big 3-0 not nearly as settled in my career or personal life as I'd once hoped I would be at this age, but meningitis taught me to embrace life for what it is, rather than regret it for what it might be. I have good health, great friends, a tremendously supportive family and incredible professional opportunities on the horizon.
In other words, I'm doing just fine.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
My take on the TSA
I got the infamous "enhanced pat-down" on my way through the Milwaukee airport Thanksgiving weekend. Since then I've been meaning to release my first-hand account of the controversial technique onto the world, but I've been busy. Anyway, here it goes:
First off, you have to remember that every time I've flown over the last six years I've enjoyed the regular, garden variety TSA pat-down. Every time I go through the metal detector I get the "Please, take your shoes off, sir," followed by my, "I can't walk without them," delivered with a completely fake apologetic smile. Then I stroll through with what's left of my feet encased in carbon fiber, and the metal detector beeps, and I'm pulled aside and someone yells,"Male assist," and the pat-down commences and if I'm lucky I get to my gate 20 minutes later.
This was the process at Reagan airport on my out of DC. But on my way back the heavyset, heavily-mustached guy in the blue TSA uniform warned me that I would be in for one of "our new pat-downs that you've been hearing so much about." Great. Game on.
It started out the normal way, with me stretching out my arms and sacrificing myself for the security of all, like Christ on the cross (OK, maybe that's a bit egotistical, but after six years of pat-downs, I feel like I deserve it). He patted down my sleeves with his gloved hands and apparently was satisfied that those were actually my arms in there and not flesh-colored pipe bombs.
Then he moved on to the legs, and here's where it got PG-13. The normal pat-down did not include any crotchal contact, but those days are apparently over thanks to Al-Qaeda's willingness to ignite its members' genitals in the name of Allah.
To be fair, the TSA guy made sure I wouldn't be caught by surprise, saying, "Now I'm just going to slide my hand up the inside of your leg until I meet some resistance." Ummmm, OK? That's not something I ever expected to hear in an airport (although I guess if I happened to be in a bathroom stall next to Larry Craig, it might not have seemed that unusual).
Then he said "If you want to go to a private room at any point, just let me know." Is it just me, or does that make the whole process seem more creepy? Still, I stood there and took it, perhaps still desensitized by the fact that dozens of doctors and nurses had brushed up against my "private parts" during my hospitalization, without the benefit of clothing.
Of course, there's been so much hype about these pat-downs that a small crowd gathered to watch me go through it. It included two small children, who stared unabashedly even as I tried to give them a reassuring smile. It crossed my mind that the pat-down probably violated everything they've learned in school about "good touch" and "bad touch." The TSA guy definitely touched me in my bathing suit area, if only for a brief moment.
But in the end I proved my non-terrorist status and was allowed to fly. And I was on Frontier so I got a warm chocolate chip cookie.
Believe it or not, I'm not angry or bitter about this (sarcastic yes, but that's just my style). Do I like these pat-downs? No. Did I like the old ones? No. Are these more intrusive and uncomfortable? Sure, but they're probably more effective for detecting the odd underwear bomb. My brother insists that the new pat-downs are unconstitutional and maybe he's right. But the tension between privacy and security is a constant and questions of constitutionality are rarely spelled out in black and white.
There are some alternatives that I like, such as bomb-sniffing dogs. But some people are allergic to dogs and some people have deep-seeded religious or cultural beliefs that cause them to view dogs as dirty and untouchable. I'd also prefer the magnetic full-body scanners (which apparently aren't operational yet in Milwaukee), but there are privacy concerns surrounding those too. I understand why some people don't want the TSA to view images of them basically naked, even if I have no problem with it.
The one alternative I don't like is racial profiling. First off, it's unjust. Making your average Arab person go through a mandatory pat-down is no more fair than making your average amputee go through one every time. There needs to be some substantial reason for suspicion (like setting off a metal detector). Race only counts as a substantial reason if you're a racist.
Secondly, racial profiling is ineffective. Terrorist groups are not racially homogenous and "lone wolves" come from all races and religious backgrounds. Racial profiling would not have stopped Timothy McVeigh, Terry Nichols or Ted Kacynski.
Personally I think we're spending way too much time, energy and money as a nation responding to a threat (terrorism) that is statistically much less dangerous than cancer, drunk driving or infectious disease. But we've decided as a nation that this should be a top priority and this is a democracy, so I've got to go along with it.
So I'll endure the pat-downs because I want to fly and because right now they seem to be the balance we've struck between privacy, security, efficiency and fairness. But I'd love to see a day when that's no longer the case.
First off, you have to remember that every time I've flown over the last six years I've enjoyed the regular, garden variety TSA pat-down. Every time I go through the metal detector I get the "Please, take your shoes off, sir," followed by my, "I can't walk without them," delivered with a completely fake apologetic smile. Then I stroll through with what's left of my feet encased in carbon fiber, and the metal detector beeps, and I'm pulled aside and someone yells,"Male assist," and the pat-down commences and if I'm lucky I get to my gate 20 minutes later.
This was the process at Reagan airport on my out of DC. But on my way back the heavyset, heavily-mustached guy in the blue TSA uniform warned me that I would be in for one of "our new pat-downs that you've been hearing so much about." Great. Game on.
It started out the normal way, with me stretching out my arms and sacrificing myself for the security of all, like Christ on the cross (OK, maybe that's a bit egotistical, but after six years of pat-downs, I feel like I deserve it). He patted down my sleeves with his gloved hands and apparently was satisfied that those were actually my arms in there and not flesh-colored pipe bombs.
Then he moved on to the legs, and here's where it got PG-13. The normal pat-down did not include any crotchal contact, but those days are apparently over thanks to Al-Qaeda's willingness to ignite its members' genitals in the name of Allah.
To be fair, the TSA guy made sure I wouldn't be caught by surprise, saying, "Now I'm just going to slide my hand up the inside of your leg until I meet some resistance." Ummmm, OK? That's not something I ever expected to hear in an airport (although I guess if I happened to be in a bathroom stall next to Larry Craig, it might not have seemed that unusual).
Then he said "If you want to go to a private room at any point, just let me know." Is it just me, or does that make the whole process seem more creepy? Still, I stood there and took it, perhaps still desensitized by the fact that dozens of doctors and nurses had brushed up against my "private parts" during my hospitalization, without the benefit of clothing.
Of course, there's been so much hype about these pat-downs that a small crowd gathered to watch me go through it. It included two small children, who stared unabashedly even as I tried to give them a reassuring smile. It crossed my mind that the pat-down probably violated everything they've learned in school about "good touch" and "bad touch." The TSA guy definitely touched me in my bathing suit area, if only for a brief moment.
But in the end I proved my non-terrorist status and was allowed to fly. And I was on Frontier so I got a warm chocolate chip cookie.
Believe it or not, I'm not angry or bitter about this (sarcastic yes, but that's just my style). Do I like these pat-downs? No. Did I like the old ones? No. Are these more intrusive and uncomfortable? Sure, but they're probably more effective for detecting the odd underwear bomb. My brother insists that the new pat-downs are unconstitutional and maybe he's right. But the tension between privacy and security is a constant and questions of constitutionality are rarely spelled out in black and white.
There are some alternatives that I like, such as bomb-sniffing dogs. But some people are allergic to dogs and some people have deep-seeded religious or cultural beliefs that cause them to view dogs as dirty and untouchable. I'd also prefer the magnetic full-body scanners (which apparently aren't operational yet in Milwaukee), but there are privacy concerns surrounding those too. I understand why some people don't want the TSA to view images of them basically naked, even if I have no problem with it.
The one alternative I don't like is racial profiling. First off, it's unjust. Making your average Arab person go through a mandatory pat-down is no more fair than making your average amputee go through one every time. There needs to be some substantial reason for suspicion (like setting off a metal detector). Race only counts as a substantial reason if you're a racist.
Secondly, racial profiling is ineffective. Terrorist groups are not racially homogenous and "lone wolves" come from all races and religious backgrounds. Racial profiling would not have stopped Timothy McVeigh, Terry Nichols or Ted Kacynski.
Personally I think we're spending way too much time, energy and money as a nation responding to a threat (terrorism) that is statistically much less dangerous than cancer, drunk driving or infectious disease. But we've decided as a nation that this should be a top priority and this is a democracy, so I've got to go along with it.
So I'll endure the pat-downs because I want to fly and because right now they seem to be the balance we've struck between privacy, security, efficiency and fairness. But I'd love to see a day when that's no longer the case.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
College grad risks deportation for DREAM Act
Congress could vote on the DREAM Act as early as tomorrow. Three University of Maryland colleagues and I just finished a semester-long multimedia profile of one young lady, Isabel Castillo, who is risking deportation to lobby for the bill. It would grant conditional legal status to people under 30 whose parents brought them into the U.S. illegally when they were under 16, if they go to college or serve in the military. Check out the full story under the "DREAM of a future" tab on this page:
College grad risks deportation to fight for DREAM Act
College grad risks deportation to fight for DREAM Act
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Soccer helps sisters cope with dad's death
This didn't make it into print for space and time reasons, but I think it might be the best thing I've done at the Post so far. These are two strong young ladies.
( http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/11/09/AR2010110903897.html)
( http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/11/09/AR2010110903897.html)
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Paywall pandemonium
Used to be that the newspaper industry was a cash cow. Set up your little publication on Main Street, start pulling in legal notices and classified ads and show up at the city council meeting and high school football game once a week and you were set.
The biggest challenge was the pesky cost of buying and operating a printing press. As it turns out, that barrier to membership might have been what kept the whole thing so profitable in the first place. Once the Internet came along, any Tom, Dick and Huffington with a computer and a modem could create or aggregate news and suddenly the competition for those ad dollars was much stiffer.
So what's a suddenly destitute publisher to do? Increasingly, they seem to be banking (quite literally) on online paywalls.
At least one publisher turned his back at the "everything-on-the-Internet-should-be-free" model with the express purpose of trying to return to the glory days of print. Last year the American Journalism Review reported on Albert K. "Buck" Sherman, who installed a $345 annual paywall on his Newport (R.I.) Daily News site (http://www.ajr.org/article.asp?id=4813).
Why charge 138 percent more for an online subscription than a print one? In the hopes of driving more people back to the ink-and-paper Daily News (circulation 12,000), which was far more profitable. Newsweek reported that sales of newsstand copies of the Daily News went up by 200 a day and cancellations of print subscriptions virtually ceased in the wake of Sherman's uber-paywall (http://www.newsweek.com/2009/08/31/this-news-doesn-t-want-to-be-free.html). A year later, Sherman has retired as publisher but his wall is still standing (exceedingly) tall — a monument to a man who scoffed at the "everything-is-going-digital" conventional wisdom.
That seems to be a rare case, even as paywalls go, though. Other news organizations are looking for a hybrid model which will allow both their print and online products to make money. That's been the Wall Street Journal's modus operandi for more than a decade, offering some free online content and putting some behind a paywall.
That's also the direction NewBay Media went in Oct. 4, ending its practice of offering everything that was in its Broadcasting & Cable and Multichannel News magazines online for free (http://www.poynter.org/column.asp?id=132&aid=192098).
"We charged for a subscription and then we were taking all the content of the magazine that came out every week and putting it up on the Web for free, which wasn't really fair to our subscribers," Tony Savona, NewBay's marketing director, said in a phone interview. "Also, at the same time we were paying [to produce] some quality content that we were just handing over there as well, so we really did it just to put a value on both our content and our subscribers."
NewBay is still offering breaking news online, updated daily, for free. Savona said the deeper analysis of those events will be in the print product or behind the online paywall. Through the paywall's first week, Savona said complaints have been minimal.
"We haven't really seen too much negative stuff," Savona said. "It seems that people are using [the paid online content]. They're registering, so... so far, so good."
It seems that paywalls can work for trade mags or the WSJ, but those are publications with specialized audiences. How would a mass audience newspaper fare, especially in a market bigger than Newport, R.I. (pop. 26,475), where it's competing with more than just Grandma Rudy's newsletter for audience share? Well, The New York Times is about to find out.
Yes, the Old Grey Lady, who herself has not been immune from the ravages of revenue-killing digital media, will be going paywall starting January 2011 (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/21/business/media/21times.html).
Like the WSJ, some NYTimes.com content will remain free, and print subscribers (even those who only take the 150-pound Sunday monstrosity) will have full access. The Times is doing this is an attempt to solve the "10 percent problem," (http://publishing2.com/2007/07/17/newspaper-online-vs-print-ad-revenue-the-10-problem/), which basically broke down thusly in 2007:
NYTimes.com online unique users (12-month average): 13,372,000
Print circulation (daily): 1,120,420
Print circulation (Sunday): 1,627,062
(Significance: The New York Times has roughly 10 percent of print readership vs. online)
Total advertising revenue: $483,594,000
Online advertising revenue: $51,000,000
(Significance: The New York Times gets roughly 10 percent of its ad revenue online)
In a nutshell, print circulation was about 10% of total audience reach, while online advertising revenue was about 10% of total ad revenue. Or, as the Publishing 2.0 technology and media blog put it: "The economics are nearly the perfect inverse of what they should be."
Obviously not a sustainable model. So, The Times (in a surreal and odd bit of shameless self-coverage), quoted its own executives saying they decided on a hybrid free/paywall website because "they wanted to create a system that would have little effect on the millions of occasional visitors to the site, while trying to cash in on the loyalty of more devoted readers."
A beautiful thought, but is it possible in a city where residents can turn to two other daily newspaper websites for free local news and CNN.com for free national and world news?
It hasn't happened at The Times of London, which went paywall along with many of Rupert Murdoch's other News Corp. holdings in July. The Guardian reported (perhaps gleefully, as one of The Times' top competitors) that online readership at thetimes.co.uk dropped 90 percent in the first month of the paywall — from 150,000 registered users to 15,000 paying registered users (http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2010/jul/20/times-paywall-readership).
Yet Murdoch persists with his paywall. Is he just a stupid businessman who can't see the writing on the wall? Forbes says he's worth $6.7 billion, which seems to suggest he knows a bit about making money. Given the paltry ad revenues that come from online users, it might just be that Murdoch would prefer to have 15,000 pairs of paying eyeballs than 150,000 pairs of freeloaders.
And if some people decide they'd rather pick up a printed copy than pay online, then so much the better, financially — with a nod and a wink to Mr. Albert "Buck" Sherman.
The biggest challenge was the pesky cost of buying and operating a printing press. As it turns out, that barrier to membership might have been what kept the whole thing so profitable in the first place. Once the Internet came along, any Tom, Dick and Huffington with a computer and a modem could create or aggregate news and suddenly the competition for those ad dollars was much stiffer.
So what's a suddenly destitute publisher to do? Increasingly, they seem to be banking (quite literally) on online paywalls.
At least one publisher turned his back at the "everything-on-the-Internet-should-be-free" model with the express purpose of trying to return to the glory days of print. Last year the American Journalism Review reported on Albert K. "Buck" Sherman, who installed a $345 annual paywall on his Newport (R.I.) Daily News site (http://www.ajr.org/article.asp?id=4813).
Why charge 138 percent more for an online subscription than a print one? In the hopes of driving more people back to the ink-and-paper Daily News (circulation 12,000), which was far more profitable. Newsweek reported that sales of newsstand copies of the Daily News went up by 200 a day and cancellations of print subscriptions virtually ceased in the wake of Sherman's uber-paywall (http://www.newsweek.com/2009/08/31/this-news-doesn-t-want-to-be-free.html). A year later, Sherman has retired as publisher but his wall is still standing (exceedingly) tall — a monument to a man who scoffed at the "everything-is-going-digital" conventional wisdom.
That seems to be a rare case, even as paywalls go, though. Other news organizations are looking for a hybrid model which will allow both their print and online products to make money. That's been the Wall Street Journal's modus operandi for more than a decade, offering some free online content and putting some behind a paywall.
That's also the direction NewBay Media went in Oct. 4, ending its practice of offering everything that was in its Broadcasting & Cable and Multichannel News magazines online for free (http://www.poynter.org/column.asp?id=132&aid=192098).
"We charged for a subscription and then we were taking all the content of the magazine that came out every week and putting it up on the Web for free, which wasn't really fair to our subscribers," Tony Savona, NewBay's marketing director, said in a phone interview. "Also, at the same time we were paying [to produce] some quality content that we were just handing over there as well, so we really did it just to put a value on both our content and our subscribers."
NewBay is still offering breaking news online, updated daily, for free. Savona said the deeper analysis of those events will be in the print product or behind the online paywall. Through the paywall's first week, Savona said complaints have been minimal.
"We haven't really seen too much negative stuff," Savona said. "It seems that people are using [the paid online content]. They're registering, so... so far, so good."
It seems that paywalls can work for trade mags or the WSJ, but those are publications with specialized audiences. How would a mass audience newspaper fare, especially in a market bigger than Newport, R.I. (pop. 26,475), where it's competing with more than just Grandma Rudy's newsletter for audience share? Well, The New York Times is about to find out.
Yes, the Old Grey Lady, who herself has not been immune from the ravages of revenue-killing digital media, will be going paywall starting January 2011 (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/21/business/media/21times.html).
Like the WSJ, some NYTimes.com content will remain free, and print subscribers (even those who only take the 150-pound Sunday monstrosity) will have full access. The Times is doing this is an attempt to solve the "10 percent problem," (http://publishing2.com/2007/07/17/newspaper-online-vs-print-ad-revenue-the-10-problem/), which basically broke down thusly in 2007:
NYTimes.com online unique users (12-month average): 13,372,000
Print circulation (daily): 1,120,420
Print circulation (Sunday): 1,627,062
(Significance: The New York Times has roughly 10 percent of print readership vs. online)
Total advertising revenue: $483,594,000
Online advertising revenue: $51,000,000
(Significance: The New York Times gets roughly 10 percent of its ad revenue online)
In a nutshell, print circulation was about 10% of total audience reach, while online advertising revenue was about 10% of total ad revenue. Or, as the Publishing 2.0 technology and media blog put it: "The economics are nearly the perfect inverse of what they should be."
Obviously not a sustainable model. So, The Times (in a surreal and odd bit of shameless self-coverage), quoted its own executives saying they decided on a hybrid free/paywall website because "they wanted to create a system that would have little effect on the millions of occasional visitors to the site, while trying to cash in on the loyalty of more devoted readers."
A beautiful thought, but is it possible in a city where residents can turn to two other daily newspaper websites for free local news and CNN.com for free national and world news?
It hasn't happened at The Times of London, which went paywall along with many of Rupert Murdoch's other News Corp. holdings in July. The Guardian reported (perhaps gleefully, as one of The Times' top competitors) that online readership at thetimes.co.uk dropped 90 percent in the first month of the paywall — from 150,000 registered users to 15,000 paying registered users (http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2010/jul/20/times-paywall-readership).
Yet Murdoch persists with his paywall. Is he just a stupid businessman who can't see the writing on the wall? Forbes says he's worth $6.7 billion, which seems to suggest he knows a bit about making money. Given the paltry ad revenues that come from online users, it might just be that Murdoch would prefer to have 15,000 pairs of paying eyeballs than 150,000 pairs of freeloaders.
And if some people decide they'd rather pick up a printed copy than pay online, then so much the better, financially — with a nod and a wink to Mr. Albert "Buck" Sherman.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Baltimore Orioles class project
Me and four classmates put together this website on the futility of the Orioles and how it impacts Baltimore. Kind of interesting, since most of the time sports coverage focuses on good teams.
http://bmore.jschool.umd.edu/summer11
http://bmore.jschool.umd.edu/summer11
Sunday, August 29, 2010
An odd encounter in Philly
So I met a lot of super-smart young medical students last week in Philadelphia while giving a presentation on meningitis at the University of Pennsylvania. I also met a guy named Joe on the subway.
Joe rolled onto the car in a wheelchair and stopped next to me. He was missing a leg and had some pretty nasty burn scars on the remaining leg. He noticed my hands and immediately asked what happened.
"I got a bacterial infection six years ago," I said. "A form of meningitis that got into my bloodstream and cut off the circulation to my hands and feet."
Up to that point, the conversation was not all that unusual for two amputees. Then it took an odd turn.
"You get that from shootin' dope?" Joe asked.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"You get that from shootin' dope?" Joe asked... louder.... in a crowded subway train.
"Um, no," I said.
I explained that I supposed one could get sepsis from shooting up with dirty needles, but that in my case I got it from a bacteria that lives in people's throats.
I'm not sure how much of that he understood, but he immediately launched into a long, involved, graphic story about his own injuries. While a lot of people around us gave him uncomfortable glances.
The more he talked, the more mumbly he got. In fact, by the time he'd gotten through the backstory, I never did quite catch specifically how he was injured. But as the story went on, I kept hearing the phrase, "When I was on fire..."
Three possible explanations for why that phrase kept coming up: 1. He used to play basketball and was quite a good shooter. 2. He spends a lot of time at Christian revival camps. 3. He was actually engulfed in flames at one point in his life.
I'm guessing it was No. 3. And, based on his questions for me and his inability to articulate properly, I'm guessing it might have been the result of a meth lab accident.
Then I got off the train, walked around Chinatown and found a place advertising $5 haircuts in the window. So I sat down and got my hair cut next to a guy with a tattoo of a naked girl with gigantic breasts on his arm. No kidding, those things were freakishly big.
Joe rolled onto the car in a wheelchair and stopped next to me. He was missing a leg and had some pretty nasty burn scars on the remaining leg. He noticed my hands and immediately asked what happened.
"I got a bacterial infection six years ago," I said. "A form of meningitis that got into my bloodstream and cut off the circulation to my hands and feet."
Up to that point, the conversation was not all that unusual for two amputees. Then it took an odd turn.
"You get that from shootin' dope?" Joe asked.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"You get that from shootin' dope?" Joe asked... louder.... in a crowded subway train.
"Um, no," I said.
I explained that I supposed one could get sepsis from shooting up with dirty needles, but that in my case I got it from a bacteria that lives in people's throats.
I'm not sure how much of that he understood, but he immediately launched into a long, involved, graphic story about his own injuries. While a lot of people around us gave him uncomfortable glances.
The more he talked, the more mumbly he got. In fact, by the time he'd gotten through the backstory, I never did quite catch specifically how he was injured. But as the story went on, I kept hearing the phrase, "When I was on fire..."
Three possible explanations for why that phrase kept coming up: 1. He used to play basketball and was quite a good shooter. 2. He spends a lot of time at Christian revival camps. 3. He was actually engulfed in flames at one point in his life.
I'm guessing it was No. 3. And, based on his questions for me and his inability to articulate properly, I'm guessing it might have been the result of a meth lab accident.
Then I got off the train, walked around Chinatown and found a place advertising $5 haircuts in the window. So I sat down and got my hair cut next to a guy with a tattoo of a naked girl with gigantic breasts on his arm. No kidding, those things were freakishly big.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
My first Capital News Service wire story
Here's the link:
http://www.journalism.umd.edu/cns/wire/2010-editions/08-August-editions/100818-Wednesday/FirstsThird_CNS-UMCP.html
It's an article about the 1st District Congressional race in Maryland. A Republican has put up almost $500,000 of his own money to campaign against the party-endorsed candidate in the upcoming primary. Could have national implications — the seat seems primed for a Republican takeover, but a fight between the two Repubs could help the Democratic incumbent stay in power.
http://www.journalism.umd.edu/cns/wire/2010-editions/08-August-editions/100818-Wednesday/FirstsThird_CNS-UMCP.html
It's an article about the 1st District Congressional race in Maryland. A Republican has put up almost $500,000 of his own money to campaign against the party-endorsed candidate in the upcoming primary. Could have national implications — the seat seems primed for a Republican takeover, but a fight between the two Repubs could help the Democratic incumbent stay in power.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
A day with some dogs
Here's another video I put together for my multimedia journalism class. Again, this isn't meant to be hard-hitting reporting, it's just supposed to show that I know how to use Final Cut to splice together these clips naturally and add some voice-over narration and titles.
It's a video with dogs, which I think most people enjoy.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
My first D.C. clip (sort of)
OK, so I got my first article published in a D.C. area newspaper, an African-American weekly called the Afro. That's cool and all, except that they didn't give me a byline:
http://www.afro.com/sections/NEWS/Prince-Georges-County-News/story.htm?storyid=1970
Note how it says "Special to the Afro" instead of "by Andy Marso." This is kind of a big deal, because when you're a student journalist shopping stories around for free, the only real benefit is getting a "clip" to put in your portfolio. Unfortunately, without a byline, there's no way to prove to potential employers that it's mine.
But maybe it's just as well. The lead isn't too strong (I changed it in the version I submitted for class). I still got course credit, anyway, and if nothing else it illustrates that there's a lot more media opportunities out here. I'm pretty sure there was no African-American newspaper in St. Cloud.
Still, would have been nice to get that little byline. *Sigh*
http://www.afro.com/sections/NEWS/Prince-Georges-County-News/story.htm?storyid=1970
Note how it says "Special to the Afro" instead of "by Andy Marso." This is kind of a big deal, because when you're a student journalist shopping stories around for free, the only real benefit is getting a "clip" to put in your portfolio. Unfortunately, without a byline, there's no way to prove to potential employers that it's mine.
But maybe it's just as well. The lead isn't too strong (I changed it in the version I submitted for class). I still got course credit, anyway, and if nothing else it illustrates that there's a lot more media opportunities out here. I'm pretty sure there was no African-American newspaper in St. Cloud.
Still, would have been nice to get that little byline. *Sigh*
Monday, July 19, 2010
My "Man on the Street" masterpiece
This is one of the first projects I did for my "slice" technology class (video/audio/photo). It's what's known as a "Man on the Street" interview. I just asked a few people on campus what they do to "beat the heat."
The project wasn't about the actual journalism or reporting (which is good, because weather news is not really too exciting). It was more about making sure I could frame the subjects correctly and edit their comments in a way that makes sense. My professor's main criticism was that the lighting wasn't great. He pointed out that with darker-skinned subjects you have to make sure you get good light on their faces.
Any other thoughts?
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Grad school Week 2: The earth moves
OK, so first week of classes is done. So far, so good. It's a lot of work, and the tech stuff seems to take me twice as long as it should, but I'm hanging in and starting to get comfortable with my schedule and workload (looks like if I give up the whole idea of a "weekend," it should be manageable. I'll start posting some of my work soon, I promise.
Meanwhile, the big news is that I survived my first earthquake! OK, so it was only like a 3.6 — not exactly The Big One. But I actually did feel it. In fact, it woke me up.
About 5 a.m. Friday I woke up to this low rumbling noise that seemed to coincide with a slight shaking of the bed. "Is that thunder?" I thought, groggily. Then it got a bit stronger. "Is that a train?" I thought, still groggy enough to not realize that all train tracks are at least a few miles from my apartment. For a moment I thought I heard some of the pictures on the wall rattle, but I couldn't be sure. Then I fell back asleep.
I woke up two hours later with my radio alarm going off and a guy telling me I'd survived an earthquake. So, there you go. Two weeks away from Minnesota and I'm already experiencing all-new natural disasters. Well, "disasters" is probably too strong. All-new natural phenomena, I guess.
Crazy.
Meanwhile, the big news is that I survived my first earthquake! OK, so it was only like a 3.6 — not exactly The Big One. But I actually did feel it. In fact, it woke me up.
About 5 a.m. Friday I woke up to this low rumbling noise that seemed to coincide with a slight shaking of the bed. "Is that thunder?" I thought, groggily. Then it got a bit stronger. "Is that a train?" I thought, still groggy enough to not realize that all train tracks are at least a few miles from my apartment. For a moment I thought I heard some of the pictures on the wall rattle, but I couldn't be sure. Then I fell back asleep.
I woke up two hours later with my radio alarm going off and a guy telling me I'd survived an earthquake. So, there you go. Two weeks away from Minnesota and I'm already experiencing all-new natural disasters. Well, "disasters" is probably too strong. All-new natural phenomena, I guess.
Crazy.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Grad school week 1: the prelude
Classes start Monday. I'm ready.
I've done pretty much everything I want to do to the apartment. I've bought and arranged furniture (not enough to fill the place, but enough for my needs), hung pictures and even carted in enough cinder blocks to jack the futon up to a reasonable level for sitting. It made me feel way too old when I had to struggle to get up from the thing.
I met most of my future classmates on Friday. Our master's group is called a "cohort," which sounds vaguely sinister to me, but I guess I'll get used to it. It seems like a friendly, intelligent bunch of people so it should be fun working with them. More ladies than guys too, which is OK with me.
My only uncertainty right now is transportation. When I was searching apartment complexes online, I Mapquested the routes to campus from each one to make sure I picked one within biking distance. Thus, my apartment is quite close to school. Unfortunately, Mapquest didn't not reveal to me that most of the short trek is uphill, at about a 35 degree angle. It's steep. I tried it today as a dry run and had to get off and walk the bike about halfway up (it's a cruiser bike, not a mountain bike, so it's only got one gear. Who knew I'd have a mountain between me and my school?). The return trip to the apartment is much easier (as long as my brakes don't go out).
It still only took 20 minutes to get to the journalism building, so I guess the bike option remains in play. Maybe if I keep at it, I'll be able to make it up the whole hill someday. And I'll have freakishly huge thighs too. It seems like we're in for several weeks of 90-degree weather, though, so biking to school may mean arriving very damp and not so sweet-smelling. That would have been OK as an undergrad, but I think grad students are supposed to strive for a bit more professionalism. Right?
There's also a shuttle bus that I could take for free ("free" as long as you've paid the astronomical tuition and fees to obtain a student ID). But it seems to appear only sporadically on my side of town. And it would be kind of frustrating to stand there waiting for a half-hour for a bus when the campus is literally within sight.
The third option appears to be driving, which is something I wanted to avoid. It wouldn't take much gas, but there's wear and tear on the car and the big thing is parking. I'd have to pay a few hundred dollars for a permit and I'm not sure I'm prepared to do that. Even if I do, it's not like open spots are always easy to find. It helps to be handicapped, but even then I might end up parking halfway between my apartment and my classroom, and it doesn't make a lot of sense to pay for that.
For now I think I'm going to ride/walk my bike. Of course, when winter comes it will probably be the bus. Which will give my thighs time to get back to normal.
I've done pretty much everything I want to do to the apartment. I've bought and arranged furniture (not enough to fill the place, but enough for my needs), hung pictures and even carted in enough cinder blocks to jack the futon up to a reasonable level for sitting. It made me feel way too old when I had to struggle to get up from the thing.
I met most of my future classmates on Friday. Our master's group is called a "cohort," which sounds vaguely sinister to me, but I guess I'll get used to it. It seems like a friendly, intelligent bunch of people so it should be fun working with them. More ladies than guys too, which is OK with me.
My only uncertainty right now is transportation. When I was searching apartment complexes online, I Mapquested the routes to campus from each one to make sure I picked one within biking distance. Thus, my apartment is quite close to school. Unfortunately, Mapquest didn't not reveal to me that most of the short trek is uphill, at about a 35 degree angle. It's steep. I tried it today as a dry run and had to get off and walk the bike about halfway up (it's a cruiser bike, not a mountain bike, so it's only got one gear. Who knew I'd have a mountain between me and my school?). The return trip to the apartment is much easier (as long as my brakes don't go out).
It still only took 20 minutes to get to the journalism building, so I guess the bike option remains in play. Maybe if I keep at it, I'll be able to make it up the whole hill someday. And I'll have freakishly huge thighs too. It seems like we're in for several weeks of 90-degree weather, though, so biking to school may mean arriving very damp and not so sweet-smelling. That would have been OK as an undergrad, but I think grad students are supposed to strive for a bit more professionalism. Right?
There's also a shuttle bus that I could take for free ("free" as long as you've paid the astronomical tuition and fees to obtain a student ID). But it seems to appear only sporadically on my side of town. And it would be kind of frustrating to stand there waiting for a half-hour for a bus when the campus is literally within sight.
The third option appears to be driving, which is something I wanted to avoid. It wouldn't take much gas, but there's wear and tear on the car and the big thing is parking. I'd have to pay a few hundred dollars for a permit and I'm not sure I'm prepared to do that. Even if I do, it's not like open spots are always easy to find. It helps to be handicapped, but even then I might end up parking halfway between my apartment and my classroom, and it doesn't make a lot of sense to pay for that.
For now I think I'm going to ride/walk my bike. Of course, when winter comes it will probably be the bus. Which will give my thighs time to get back to normal.
Monday, July 5, 2010
A new adventure
Well, I made it. I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Greenbelt, Maryland, enjoying the air conditioning (did I move to the East Coast or the tropics?) and the free internet (mine won't be hooked up until next Friday). My new apartment was a pleasant surprise. You can tell it's an old building that's just gotten a face-lift, but it's clean and much more spacious than I was expecting. I've spent the past few days buying things to fill it up (thoughts after first IKEA experience: prices were right, stuff was easy to assemble, but finding what I wanted in that crowded maze of merchandise wasn't my idea of fun).
Moving in proved easy (for me anyway) thanks to my friend Tim and his brother Mike. Mike lives in the D.C. area and Tim drove with me from Minnesota, which was no small favor (we both agreed that we'd never hack it as long-haul truckers). The two of them had most of my stuff out of the vehicles and into the apartment before I'd finished filling out the paperwork.
So really I have had very little to worry about — except for the whole "complete life change" thing. There's certainly been moments of doubt on that front. The night before I left St. Cloud I sat awake wondering "What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?" I was leaving my family and most of my friends to move across the country and start school again just one short year away from my 30th birthday. The safer play seemed like staying home with mom and dad and sticking it out at the St. Cloud Times until a full-time position opened up.
But something happened on the drive out here that reminded me of why I'm doing this in the first place: I listened to "The Alchemist" on audiobook. Odd how that happened, really. As I was packing up my stuff I came across the 4-CD set, which I had never listened to. It was a gift from a long-lost friend (Elizabeth, who's off working for the parks system somewhere, probably dodging bears) years earlier. I had no idea what the book was about, but I figured a 20-hour drive to D.C. was the perfect time to give it a listen.
God's hand was in there somewhere. The story is about a young Spanish shepherd who has a dream about a treasure buried near the Egyptian pyramids. He chucks aside his safe, familiar life to trek across the Sahara after this treasure for years, learning new trades and falling in love along the way, but never losing sight of the ultimate goal. The book was all about fulfilling your "personal legend," even when life tries to beat it out of you. It was just what I needed to hear.
I believe in my talent. I believe in my drive. I believe in my personal legend. I believe that this next year will help me make it a reality.
Moving in proved easy (for me anyway) thanks to my friend Tim and his brother Mike. Mike lives in the D.C. area and Tim drove with me from Minnesota, which was no small favor (we both agreed that we'd never hack it as long-haul truckers). The two of them had most of my stuff out of the vehicles and into the apartment before I'd finished filling out the paperwork.
So really I have had very little to worry about — except for the whole "complete life change" thing. There's certainly been moments of doubt on that front. The night before I left St. Cloud I sat awake wondering "What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?" I was leaving my family and most of my friends to move across the country and start school again just one short year away from my 30th birthday. The safer play seemed like staying home with mom and dad and sticking it out at the St. Cloud Times until a full-time position opened up.
But something happened on the drive out here that reminded me of why I'm doing this in the first place: I listened to "The Alchemist" on audiobook. Odd how that happened, really. As I was packing up my stuff I came across the 4-CD set, which I had never listened to. It was a gift from a long-lost friend (Elizabeth, who's off working for the parks system somewhere, probably dodging bears) years earlier. I had no idea what the book was about, but I figured a 20-hour drive to D.C. was the perfect time to give it a listen.
God's hand was in there somewhere. The story is about a young Spanish shepherd who has a dream about a treasure buried near the Egyptian pyramids. He chucks aside his safe, familiar life to trek across the Sahara after this treasure for years, learning new trades and falling in love along the way, but never losing sight of the ultimate goal. The book was all about fulfilling your "personal legend," even when life tries to beat it out of you. It was just what I needed to hear.
I believe in my talent. I believe in my drive. I believe in my personal legend. I believe that this next year will help me make it a reality.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
A soccer team to savor
The euphoria from Landon Donovan's Team USA-saving stoppage-time goal against Algeria has barely had a chance to settle into a deep, smiley contentment, and at least one talking head is already throwing dirt on the celebratory heart-fire.
Los Angeles Times sportswriter Bill Plaschke argued on the ESPN show Around the Horn this afternoon that the American World Cup team had not done anything to be proud of. He noted that eking out a 1-0 win against Algeria -- a team that has never advanced in the Cup -- was not exactly like the ragtag US hockey team defeating mighty Russia in 1980.
Plaschke's point is not entirely without merit. One could argue that the 1-1 draw against England was a gift by way of goalie gaffe, while tying Slovenia and barely topping Algeria does not suggest a squad ready to take its place alongside Brazil and Italy on the world stage.
But in soccer, perhaps more than any other sport, the final score does not necessarily tell the story. You've got to actually watch the game to know how it went. And any Americans who watched all three of Team USA's games know they have at least one thing to be proud of: resilience, resilience, resilience.
Nothing has come easy for this team (except, perhaps, that gift-goal against England, which is admittedly kind of a big "something."). The Americans suffered several injuries going into the Cup, losing a possible starting striker (Charlie Davies) and seeing a defensive cornerstone (Oguchi Onyewu) enter the tournament achey and rusty. The Americans have had two goals in three games called back for no good reason. The Americans have had to come back from two early deficits, deficits that would have folded many teams.
Soccer squads are not exactly known for mental fortitude. A team that goes down 1-0 generally loses. A team that goes down 2-0 almost always does. Goals are so hard to come by that scoring one is inspiring and allowing one is deflating. But Team USA has clawed back from two deficits to earn ties and kept playing through a stolen goal and a million missed chances to finally break through against Algeria.
This team simply does not quit. Some of that is likely due to coach Bob Bradley, whose steely gaze, perpetually firm-set jaw and even-keel approach seem to have rubbed off on his squad. But I like to think that this dogged, never-say-die attitude is also an American trait. It's the trait of a laid-off Detroit auto worker who spends his severance pay on computer classes. It's the trait of a young NYC teacher who has far too many students and far too few resources, but still shows up every day energetic and engaged. It's the trait of a nurse in Minneapolis desperately trying to wade through all the patients in a perpetually overcrowded emergency room so that none of them have to suffer needlessly.
No, the results for Team USA thus far have not been particularly impressive, but the way the Americans have gotten those results have been plenty impressive. The Americans have not always played great, but they have, unfailingly, played gutsy.
Shortly after today's stirring win, Donovan said, "Today I feel damn proud to be an American." And there were millions nodding their heads in agreement.
Los Angeles Times sportswriter Bill Plaschke argued on the ESPN show Around the Horn this afternoon that the American World Cup team had not done anything to be proud of. He noted that eking out a 1-0 win against Algeria -- a team that has never advanced in the Cup -- was not exactly like the ragtag US hockey team defeating mighty Russia in 1980.
Plaschke's point is not entirely without merit. One could argue that the 1-1 draw against England was a gift by way of goalie gaffe, while tying Slovenia and barely topping Algeria does not suggest a squad ready to take its place alongside Brazil and Italy on the world stage.
But in soccer, perhaps more than any other sport, the final score does not necessarily tell the story. You've got to actually watch the game to know how it went. And any Americans who watched all three of Team USA's games know they have at least one thing to be proud of: resilience, resilience, resilience.
Nothing has come easy for this team (except, perhaps, that gift-goal against England, which is admittedly kind of a big "something."). The Americans suffered several injuries going into the Cup, losing a possible starting striker (Charlie Davies) and seeing a defensive cornerstone (Oguchi Onyewu) enter the tournament achey and rusty. The Americans have had two goals in three games called back for no good reason. The Americans have had to come back from two early deficits, deficits that would have folded many teams.
Soccer squads are not exactly known for mental fortitude. A team that goes down 1-0 generally loses. A team that goes down 2-0 almost always does. Goals are so hard to come by that scoring one is inspiring and allowing one is deflating. But Team USA has clawed back from two deficits to earn ties and kept playing through a stolen goal and a million missed chances to finally break through against Algeria.
This team simply does not quit. Some of that is likely due to coach Bob Bradley, whose steely gaze, perpetually firm-set jaw and even-keel approach seem to have rubbed off on his squad. But I like to think that this dogged, never-say-die attitude is also an American trait. It's the trait of a laid-off Detroit auto worker who spends his severance pay on computer classes. It's the trait of a young NYC teacher who has far too many students and far too few resources, but still shows up every day energetic and engaged. It's the trait of a nurse in Minneapolis desperately trying to wade through all the patients in a perpetually overcrowded emergency room so that none of them have to suffer needlessly.
No, the results for Team USA thus far have not been particularly impressive, but the way the Americans have gotten those results have been plenty impressive. The Americans have not always played great, but they have, unfailingly, played gutsy.
Shortly after today's stirring win, Donovan said, "Today I feel damn proud to be an American." And there were millions nodding their heads in agreement.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
What Lost meant to me
I'm not going to claim I'm the world's biggest Lost fan (some of those folks are crazy) and I'm not going to claim that I have any special insight into the show. But I will say that the show has a sort of meaning for me that I'm not sure another TV program ever will match.
When Lost premiered in October of 2004, I had been out of the hospital for about a month. I was living in a cramped apartment with my parents and grandma, stuck in a wheelchair, my hands still wrapped in bandages, mostly helpless to function on my own. My life at that time consisted mostly of trips to the hospital for physical and occupational therapy, with a lot of staring at TV and computer screens in between.
So, like millions of people across America, I sat in my living room, ready to kill a few hours by watching this new show. I had seen the many previews and was intrigued by the premise. I'd always liked the book Lord of the Flies, and this seemed similar.
The pilot did not disappoint. The plane crash featured cinema-quality special effects and the island scenery was breathtaking. But what drew me in that very first night were the characters. I felt a sort of connection with them. Like me, they had been through a trauma and were left confused, scared, clutching at strands of an old life that had unraveled.
It became an appointment for me every week, something to look forward to in an otherwise dreary, boring existence. Jake, Kate, Hurley and the rest became almost like friends (as slightly pathetic as that might sound). I saw every second of every episode that first season.
As the series wore on, I have to admit I fell away from it a bit. There were still great moments, emotional moments like hardly any I'd ever experienced watching TV ("Not Penny's Boat"). But I missed more and more Lost "appointments" as the seasons went on. My life got back on track, and I didn't always have my nights free for TV, especially this year. Also, when the show introduced time travel and alternate dimensions, it became a bit harder to follow.
But when I watched tonight's pitch-perfect series finale (after spending an hour reading episode guides to catch up) it was still a nostalgic experience for me. Unlike 99 percent of TV these days, this was a show that made you think, and made you think about important things. Perseverance, love, betrayal, hope, despair, hate, sacrifice, redemption, human nature, togetherness.
For me, it also made me think about how to move forward after an illness that changed my life forever. At a time when I really needed to do that.
When Lost premiered in October of 2004, I had been out of the hospital for about a month. I was living in a cramped apartment with my parents and grandma, stuck in a wheelchair, my hands still wrapped in bandages, mostly helpless to function on my own. My life at that time consisted mostly of trips to the hospital for physical and occupational therapy, with a lot of staring at TV and computer screens in between.
So, like millions of people across America, I sat in my living room, ready to kill a few hours by watching this new show. I had seen the many previews and was intrigued by the premise. I'd always liked the book Lord of the Flies, and this seemed similar.
The pilot did not disappoint. The plane crash featured cinema-quality special effects and the island scenery was breathtaking. But what drew me in that very first night were the characters. I felt a sort of connection with them. Like me, they had been through a trauma and were left confused, scared, clutching at strands of an old life that had unraveled.
It became an appointment for me every week, something to look forward to in an otherwise dreary, boring existence. Jake, Kate, Hurley and the rest became almost like friends (as slightly pathetic as that might sound). I saw every second of every episode that first season.
As the series wore on, I have to admit I fell away from it a bit. There were still great moments, emotional moments like hardly any I'd ever experienced watching TV ("Not Penny's Boat"). But I missed more and more Lost "appointments" as the seasons went on. My life got back on track, and I didn't always have my nights free for TV, especially this year. Also, when the show introduced time travel and alternate dimensions, it became a bit harder to follow.
But when I watched tonight's pitch-perfect series finale (after spending an hour reading episode guides to catch up) it was still a nostalgic experience for me. Unlike 99 percent of TV these days, this was a show that made you think, and made you think about important things. Perseverance, love, betrayal, hope, despair, hate, sacrifice, redemption, human nature, togetherness.
For me, it also made me think about how to move forward after an illness that changed my life forever. At a time when I really needed to do that.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
My grad school choice
Last week I turned down Columbia University, arguably the top name in journalism instruction. Am I crazy? Perhaps. But given the value I'll get at the University of Maryland - the school I chose over Columbia - perhaps I'm crazy like a fox living a cushy life under a backyard deck in Olathe, Kansas.
Maryland made my decision quite a bit easier late in the game. The Terps offered me a fellowship that will pretty much cover all the tuition. The only condition: that I start in July. So I said, "Gee, let me think... um, SURE." Frankly, I was pretty intimidated by the idea of taking out a bunch of loans to get a journalism degree, so that was a nice load off my mind. But it isn't the only reason I chose Maryland.
After talking to the dean there, I learned that I'll be able to test out of at least one, and possibly two, of the early courses that seemed a lot like ones I took at KU. So that pretty much addresses my main concern with the Terps' academic program. By starting in the summer I'll also be able to finish in less than a year (read: before I'm 30), which is pretty awesome.
Columbia's a great school, but I think I may have been more drawn to the idea of a Columbia degree than a Columbia education. The Maryland program is more flexible. I'll be able to cover a number of different topics and maybe even take a sports reporting course taught by Kevin Blackistone (that name means something to ESPN addicts like myself). Maryland's got all kinds of great teachers. They recently lost a couple of well-known faculty members, but the program is still littered with Pulitzer winners. It's known for producing good writers.
Yes, it would have been amazing to live in New York for a year, but the DC area is nothing to sneeze at. Yes, Columbia's professional network is pretty much peerless, with alums at basically every major media outlet. But Maryland's network reaches far and wide too, and given that I already feel like I have a pretty good relationship with the dean there, I think I'll be in a better position to access that network. In the end, that was a big part of what sold me on Maryland: the people. Not that the people at Columbia and Northwestern weren't great too, but I just felt like I connected with the profs and administrators I met at Maryland more.
The goal is still to get a full-time reporting job and if that comes along in the next month I'd have to rethink my plans. But right now I'm prepping to become a Terp in July. And I'm pretty psyched about it.
Maryland made my decision quite a bit easier late in the game. The Terps offered me a fellowship that will pretty much cover all the tuition. The only condition: that I start in July. So I said, "Gee, let me think... um, SURE." Frankly, I was pretty intimidated by the idea of taking out a bunch of loans to get a journalism degree, so that was a nice load off my mind. But it isn't the only reason I chose Maryland.
After talking to the dean there, I learned that I'll be able to test out of at least one, and possibly two, of the early courses that seemed a lot like ones I took at KU. So that pretty much addresses my main concern with the Terps' academic program. By starting in the summer I'll also be able to finish in less than a year (read: before I'm 30), which is pretty awesome.
Columbia's a great school, but I think I may have been more drawn to the idea of a Columbia degree than a Columbia education. The Maryland program is more flexible. I'll be able to cover a number of different topics and maybe even take a sports reporting course taught by Kevin Blackistone (that name means something to ESPN addicts like myself). Maryland's got all kinds of great teachers. They recently lost a couple of well-known faculty members, but the program is still littered with Pulitzer winners. It's known for producing good writers.
Yes, it would have been amazing to live in New York for a year, but the DC area is nothing to sneeze at. Yes, Columbia's professional network is pretty much peerless, with alums at basically every major media outlet. But Maryland's network reaches far and wide too, and given that I already feel like I have a pretty good relationship with the dean there, I think I'll be in a better position to access that network. In the end, that was a big part of what sold me on Maryland: the people. Not that the people at Columbia and Northwestern weren't great too, but I just felt like I connected with the profs and administrators I met at Maryland more.
The goal is still to get a full-time reporting job and if that comes along in the next month I'd have to rethink my plans. But right now I'm prepping to become a Terp in July. And I'm pretty psyched about it.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Target Field
It's now been a little more than a week since my buddy Tim and I went to our first Twins game at the new stadium. Let me preface this by saying I am 1,000 percent against taxpayer funding for pro sports venues. I think it is the worst kind of corporate welfare there is. That being said... Target Field is pretty sweet.
The sightlines are outstanding. We were about as far up in right field as you can be and it still felt like we were close to the action. The Twin City skyline was behind us in all its semi-impressive glory and the sun was shining (at least it was in left field — we were in the shade, which was a little chilly, but not bad). There's many more food choices, including gelato and even a fresh fruit cart – although I'm not sure how many apples they're going to sell for $3 apiece. Then again, it's hard to find anything there for less than $3. I got two small tacos from Senor Smoke's (Juan Berenguer shout-out, for all you hardcore Twins fans) for $5. They were tasty, if not particularly filling.
It was a great day for a ballgame and the place was packed. The Royals, of course, didn't cooperate. They insisted on bashing out a rare 10-5 win (Alberto Callaspo for MVP!), but I left feeling pretty satisfied. At $17 for each seat the ticket prices weren't rage-inducing, but I still miss the $5 seats at the Dome.
The one complaint both Tim and I agreed on was the rightfield bathroom, which seemed like an afterthought. It was a cramped, triangular room with only one door in and out, which made for an uncomfortable bottleneck. Maybe it wasn't built with sellout crowds in mind, but you would think it should have been.
Anyway, maybe the other bathrooms are better. And when you've got a great view and there's a good team on the field, it's hard to complain. Except when the taxpayers have to pay for it. That I think we should always raise a fuss about, no matter how enjoyable the finished product is.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Master's tour, final leg: Columbia University
At first glance Columbia seems quite similar to Northwestern -- amazing program, untenable price tag. But there are a few things that make Columbia more enticing.
I was admitted to the Master's of Arts in Journalism: Health and Science reporting concentration. That is a very small program that will ensure I get plenty of individual attention from professors who, for the most part, are also award-winning authors. My classes will all be small and they'll generally be full of people who have as much or more (usually more) professional experience than me. I will also have the opportunity to take graduate-level classes at Columbia outside the J-school, in subjects like psychology, public health, or pretty much anything else related to my concentration that I can fit in. There's no doubt I'd have to work my butt off just to stay afloat in this program. On one hand, that's kind of scary. On the other hand, maybe that's just what I need — to be challenged, pushed, forced out of my comfort zone. Could be a great thing.
Columbia is also in New York City, which, aside from the astronomical cost of living, is the perfect place for a journalist (or student who is an aspiring journalist). It's a huge place full of people from every corner of the globe, so there's a million stories. Its the media capital of the world, so there's lots of places to work and people to network with. NYC also happens to be probably the only city in the USA where knowing a little Italian might come in handy. In fact, it helped me speak to a bunch of old ladies when I visited Ground Zero last weekend. (Side note: Old ladies really take to me. I'm not sure why this is, and it doesn't seem to translate to their granddaughters, but the NYC trip only reinforced it).
That said Columbia's not cheap. It's not as expensive as Northwestern, though, in large part because it's only a nine-month program versus 12 months at Northwestern. The nine month duration is also attractive. For some reason it seems like a plus to be able to get done with school before I turn 30. I know age ain't nothin' but a number (RIP Aaliyah), but I'm still not crazy about being a 30-year-old college student. The downside of a Master's program condensed into nine months is that, like Northwestern, no graduate assistantships allowed.
It's hard to pass up Columbia. In a lot of ways Columbia IS journalism — they have pictures of Pulitzer up all over that place, for Pete's sake. I was fairly surprised I got in; that was a nice e-mail to get. But it just doesn't seem wise to incur a massive amount of debt getting a journalism right now, no matter where that degree comes from. I've put in an appeal for more financial aid. If I get good results from that, and a guaranteed spot in on-campus housing (rent is a tad steep in NYC, as you might have heard), then I'd have to take a good, hard look at Columbia.
Otherwise, I think I'm a Maryland man.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Master's tour, second leg: Northwestern University
After spending two days in Chicago at Northwestern University's Master's in Journalism open house, my impressions are this: 1. It's a great program, 2. It's a large program, 3. It's a ridiculously expensive program.
1. It's a great program:
Just about anything you can imagine doing in media, you can do at Medill (Northwestern's school of journalism). If you want to start a magazine, you can do that. If you want to make a documentary film, you can do that. If you want to start your own news website, you can do that. If you want to report in Chicago, you can do that. If you want to report in DC, you can do that. If you want to report in London, Dubai or Cairo, well, you have to fill out an application and pay for an extra semester, but there's at least a decent chance you can do that. It's like a smorsgasboard of media and if you're passionate about journalism, I can see how you'd be like a kid in a candy store there.
2. It's a large program:
This was a turn-off for me. Last year they had 90 students start in the fall. That seems like a heck of a lot for a master's program if you ask me. Maryland had fewer than half that. The current students Northwestern brought in to talk to us insisted that they still got as much individual attention as they could possibly want, but I'm skeptical. One of them said he had a class with 38 people in it, which is not my idea of graduate school. Even the open house seemed ridiculously crowded at times, especially when they brought all of us to downtown Chicago to check out the Medill newsroom there. On the one hand the size of the program helps Northwestern maintain a great professional network -- more grads out in the workforce make for more connections once you get out of school and start job hunting. But I don't like the idea of paying a bunch of money to be just another fish in a rather crowded pond.
3. It's a ridiculously expensive program:
Ah yes, the price. Truly one of the greatest sticker shock moments of my life when I saw it. The all-inclusive estimate for the 12-month program (tuition, fees, room and board) comes to... wait for it... wait for it... about $83,000. That's right, $83,000. Have you picked your jaw up off the floor yet? I was awarded a $20,000 scholarship, which is nice and all, but the rest of my financial aid package consisted of four different loans totaling about $60,000. Loans that have interest rates of up to 7.5 percent. I was told that teaching assistantships are not possible at Medill ("Our program is too rigorous. We just don't think our students could handle it"). Taking out that much in loans seems crazy. I think that much debt would just be an absolute crushing weight on me. I mean, it's not like I'm getting a master's in chemical engineering. Even in the best of times it would not be easy to pay off those kind of loans with a journalism job. Right now, with the economy uncertain and the industry in flux, it seems like an exceedingly risky proposition. Especially for someone like me, who can't exactly go get a construction job if this whole journalism thing doesn't work out.
Conclusion: I like Northwestern a lot. It's in the Midwest, which feels comfortable. It's very close to my brother, sister-in-law and two adorable little nieces (see photo below), which is enticing. The campus is beautiful and it's right on Lake Michigan. The journalism program is globally renowned, with highly visible alums and all kinds of exciting opportunities. But the size of the program left me feeling like there's not many personal touches. I didn't get the same warm reception I got at Maryland. At times during the open house it honestly felt like Medill was a journalist factory, just trying to churn out as many alums as possible. Then there's the price, which makes me think that the only people who can honestly afford to go to Medill are the ones whose last names are on some of the buildings on campus. I've been brought up to not spend money I don't have. I just can't justify going into that kind of debt. I think I have basically ruled out Northwestern.
1. It's a great program:
Just about anything you can imagine doing in media, you can do at Medill (Northwestern's school of journalism). If you want to start a magazine, you can do that. If you want to make a documentary film, you can do that. If you want to start your own news website, you can do that. If you want to report in Chicago, you can do that. If you want to report in DC, you can do that. If you want to report in London, Dubai or Cairo, well, you have to fill out an application and pay for an extra semester, but there's at least a decent chance you can do that. It's like a smorsgasboard of media and if you're passionate about journalism, I can see how you'd be like a kid in a candy store there.
2. It's a large program:
This was a turn-off for me. Last year they had 90 students start in the fall. That seems like a heck of a lot for a master's program if you ask me. Maryland had fewer than half that. The current students Northwestern brought in to talk to us insisted that they still got as much individual attention as they could possibly want, but I'm skeptical. One of them said he had a class with 38 people in it, which is not my idea of graduate school. Even the open house seemed ridiculously crowded at times, especially when they brought all of us to downtown Chicago to check out the Medill newsroom there. On the one hand the size of the program helps Northwestern maintain a great professional network -- more grads out in the workforce make for more connections once you get out of school and start job hunting. But I don't like the idea of paying a bunch of money to be just another fish in a rather crowded pond.
3. It's a ridiculously expensive program:
Ah yes, the price. Truly one of the greatest sticker shock moments of my life when I saw it. The all-inclusive estimate for the 12-month program (tuition, fees, room and board) comes to... wait for it... wait for it... about $83,000. That's right, $83,000. Have you picked your jaw up off the floor yet? I was awarded a $20,000 scholarship, which is nice and all, but the rest of my financial aid package consisted of four different loans totaling about $60,000. Loans that have interest rates of up to 7.5 percent. I was told that teaching assistantships are not possible at Medill ("Our program is too rigorous. We just don't think our students could handle it"). Taking out that much in loans seems crazy. I think that much debt would just be an absolute crushing weight on me. I mean, it's not like I'm getting a master's in chemical engineering. Even in the best of times it would not be easy to pay off those kind of loans with a journalism job. Right now, with the economy uncertain and the industry in flux, it seems like an exceedingly risky proposition. Especially for someone like me, who can't exactly go get a construction job if this whole journalism thing doesn't work out.
Conclusion: I like Northwestern a lot. It's in the Midwest, which feels comfortable. It's very close to my brother, sister-in-law and two adorable little nieces (see photo below), which is enticing. The campus is beautiful and it's right on Lake Michigan. The journalism program is globally renowned, with highly visible alums and all kinds of exciting opportunities. But the size of the program left me feeling like there's not many personal touches. I didn't get the same warm reception I got at Maryland. At times during the open house it honestly felt like Medill was a journalist factory, just trying to churn out as many alums as possible. Then there's the price, which makes me think that the only people who can honestly afford to go to Medill are the ones whose last names are on some of the buildings on campus. I've been brought up to not spend money I don't have. I just can't justify going into that kind of debt. I think I have basically ruled out Northwestern.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
The University of Maryland
So I just returned from the first leg of my three-pronged "Master's in Journalism" tour: the University of Maryland. I would say my impression was about 75 percent positive.
First the good parts:
I loved the people. I met with the associate dean, the graduate coordinator, a professor and a handful of the current master's students. All of them gave me more than an hour of their time. The fact that it was Good Friday and there were hardly any classes going on may have freed up some of their time. But they all seemed genuinely interested in answering all my questions and just generally chatting.
I liked DC. I saw the cherry blossoms (beautiful--see photo below) and the FDR Memorial (powerful) and got to catch up with some old friends. I even found a cool little sports bar/lounge that I could see becoming a regular hangout if I do decide to spend next year at Maryland.
I really like the price. Maryland is about half the cost of my other two schools, Northwestern and Columbia. And I was told that it would be a snap for me to get a graduate assistantship, all of which provide 10 free tuition credits per semester and some of which apparently pay up to $21,000 for a year of working 20 hours a week. That's more than I make now working 65 hours a week. Between an assistantship and my Americorps award, it's conceivable that I get my master's at Maryland and graduate debt-free. That's huge.
Now the not-as-good stuff. The curriculum is a mixed bag. I would be required to take some classes that are very similar, if not identical, to some I've already taken at KU. That seems like a waste. It will take a full semester before I can work in the DC news bureau, which is really the experience I'm going for.
The other thing is that the main reason I'm going to grad school is to get a really good newspaper/magazine job when I get out. I think the other two schools might have a slight advantage in that department. The dean admitted that Maryland's program is more of an up-and-comer, whereas Northwestern and Columbia are old standbys that have larger networks of journalism grads. That being said, he also said he couldn't recall a master's student during his tenure who didn't get a job soon after graduating, though he noted that not all the jobs were in journalism. At least two of the current students I talked to had been published in the Baltimore Sun, so that's great exposure.
So, it's not perfect, but then maybe perfect doesn't exist. Maryland is pretty darn good. And there's a decent chance I could do it debt free, so what do I have to lose, right? Unless either of the other schools can come up with a darn good financial aid package, I'd have to say Maryland is the frontrunner.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Bouncing back from a tough loss
About a year ago this time, I was serving my last days as a sportswriter at The Olathe News after getting laid off. I was down — not because of a loss of income (it wasn't that much anyway), but from other losses. Loss of relationships, loss of role within a community, loss of a job that never felt like a job. It was not an encouraging time.
In the 12 months since then I have helped 46 kids learn to read, written the article that got the most hits on the St. Cloud Times website in 2009, finished a book and begun shopping it to literary agents, and been admitted to three of the top Master's in Journalism programs in the country.
I write this not to toot my own horn (well, maybe just a little bit), but to illustrate an important point: life is 10 percent what happens to you and 90 percent how you react to it.
Times are tough right now. Jobs are not easy to find, especially if you're set on finding one in a specific profession or specific geographic area. But if you're open to new possibilities and willing to work more hours than you used to for less money, there are still opportunities.
Everybody needs a little help. I had help from a stimulus package that brought my COBRA health care premiums down from a crippling $400-some per month to a manageable $100-some per month. I had help from a federal Americorps program that allowed me to make about $750 a month and have health insurance in exchange for tutoring kids who were behind on their reading. I had help from two parents who welcomed me (and an occasionally ornery dog) back home.
With a little help and a little motivation, you can turn a negative into a positive relatively quickly. I think this is something I learned, in part, from playing sports growing up. Sports teach you at an early age that life isn't always fair. Sometimes no matter how hard you try, you're still going to lose. There's some things you just can't control — like the weather, the strength of the opposition, or the health of the newspaper industry.
But you can always control the way you react to losing. You use it as a motivator, you use it as an opportunity, you don't let it drag you down — then you're a winner. There's always another game or another season coming up, after all.
In the 12 months since then I have helped 46 kids learn to read, written the article that got the most hits on the St. Cloud Times website in 2009, finished a book and begun shopping it to literary agents, and been admitted to three of the top Master's in Journalism programs in the country.
I write this not to toot my own horn (well, maybe just a little bit), but to illustrate an important point: life is 10 percent what happens to you and 90 percent how you react to it.
Times are tough right now. Jobs are not easy to find, especially if you're set on finding one in a specific profession or specific geographic area. But if you're open to new possibilities and willing to work more hours than you used to for less money, there are still opportunities.
Everybody needs a little help. I had help from a stimulus package that brought my COBRA health care premiums down from a crippling $400-some per month to a manageable $100-some per month. I had help from a federal Americorps program that allowed me to make about $750 a month and have health insurance in exchange for tutoring kids who were behind on their reading. I had help from two parents who welcomed me (and an occasionally ornery dog) back home.
With a little help and a little motivation, you can turn a negative into a positive relatively quickly. I think this is something I learned, in part, from playing sports growing up. Sports teach you at an early age that life isn't always fair. Sometimes no matter how hard you try, you're still going to lose. There's some things you just can't control — like the weather, the strength of the opposition, or the health of the newspaper industry.
But you can always control the way you react to losing. You use it as a motivator, you use it as an opportunity, you don't let it drag you down — then you're a winner. There's always another game or another season coming up, after all.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
A girl, a Chihuahua mix, a success story
I started volunteering at the Tri-County Humane Society this week as part of my ongoing quest to complete the 1700 hours of service I signed on for with Americorps. Monday was my orientation, but that was mainly just paperwork. Tuesday was when I started getting down and dirty with the dogs (and cats, grudgingly).
I cleaned out some cages, played tug with some puppies, replaced a peed-on blanket, retrieved a skittish cat from under some low shelves (without getting clawed, thank you very much) and did an industrial load of laundry. But the really exciting thing was... I got a dog adopted!
OK, so I didn't actually do the paperwork (I'm not qualified apparently, although I feel like I'm pen-and-paper gifted). But I did greet the prospective adopter, take out the dog she wanted, supervise as she played with it and answer her many questions (with the help of the handy-dandy info packet that I snatched off the cage before we went outside). After about an hour this gentle, quiet, four-year-old white Chihuahua mix had a new home with a very good-looking young lady. Gotta admit, I was a little jealous of that dog (for the record, she mentioned that the dog's fear of children was no problem because it was just "me and my boyfriend" at home — not that it would have made any difference. I've gotta keep things professional, right?)
So it was an outstanding day, very rewarding. If you or anyone you know is looking for a pet (and lives in central Minnesota, preferably), stop by the Tri-County Humane Society. There are some great dogs there (and cats too, if that's your thing. I don't understand it, but I'm not gonna judge).
I cleaned out some cages, played tug with some puppies, replaced a peed-on blanket, retrieved a skittish cat from under some low shelves (without getting clawed, thank you very much) and did an industrial load of laundry. But the really exciting thing was... I got a dog adopted!
OK, so I didn't actually do the paperwork (I'm not qualified apparently, although I feel like I'm pen-and-paper gifted). But I did greet the prospective adopter, take out the dog she wanted, supervise as she played with it and answer her many questions (with the help of the handy-dandy info packet that I snatched off the cage before we went outside). After about an hour this gentle, quiet, four-year-old white Chihuahua mix had a new home with a very good-looking young lady. Gotta admit, I was a little jealous of that dog (for the record, she mentioned that the dog's fear of children was no problem because it was just "me and my boyfriend" at home — not that it would have made any difference. I've gotta keep things professional, right?)
So it was an outstanding day, very rewarding. If you or anyone you know is looking for a pet (and lives in central Minnesota, preferably), stop by the Tri-County Humane Society. There are some great dogs there (and cats too, if that's your thing. I don't understand it, but I'm not gonna judge).
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Time for a "War on Cancer"
I've had it with cancer.
Like most people, I've always had a certain animosity towards the disease, but it's been building recently and Tuesday the camel's back received the straw that it just couldn't handle.
I was at Madison Elementary, tutoring a kindergartner on her letter sounds when it happened. This adorable little girl, Sofia, noticed the black bracelet on my arm and asked me about it. These rubber "cause" bracelets have become kind of cliche, but this one was given to me by a mother who lost her daughter to meningitis at the National Meningitis Association conference last year, so there's plenty of compelling reasons for me to wear it: 1. To honor Rachel's memory (if you're in the mood for a good cry, check out this tribute video some of her friends made:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBDTu6uUdNY
2. To give me a reality check every time I start feeling sorry for myself because my hands look weird or because I can't play basketball any more. I was one of the lucky ones.
So I explained the bracelet to Sofia and I watched as this always-vibrant and sometimes even annoyingly energetic 5-year-old suddenly turned as serious as I'd ever seen her. "My auntie died too," she said. "She had cancer. The doctors couldn't help her." As is common with kids that age, her emotions suddenly swung the other direction and she flashed a giant smile as the rollercoaster went back up: "I have a big family," she said. "I still have lots of aunties and cousins." Then the rollercoaster crashed back down: "But I miss her."
That was when I decided I just couldn't stand cancer anymore. It needs to be wiped off the face of this planet as soon as possible. It frustrates the hell out of me that there's so little I can do about it.
Cancer took my maternal grandfather long before I ever got a chance to know him. It left my Grandma a widow in her mid-40s. Sometimes me or my brothers have asked her about marrying again, but she always just says that burying one husband was hard enough. She doesn't want to risk going through that again. After almost 40 years, the wounds are still raw. When she hears glowing reports about the Mayo Clinic, she gets bitter. "They couldn't save my husband," she says. There's a heartbreaking echo between her words and little Sofia's: "The doctors couldn't help her."
Several other more distant relatives have also fought or are still fighting cancer. I guess I could say it runs in my family, but I think we're probably not that far out of the norm. Either I'm getting more aware of all the cancer around me, or it has become oddly common.
My friend Jess lost an eye to a rare form of it a few years ago. She thought she had it beaten, but it came back and she just recently had another major surgery to remove facial tumors. She just wants to be a regular college student and instead she has to worry about surgeries, pain and insurance. If you'd like to help her, go here:
http://jessicaroark.org
Of course, she's not alone. Several walls at Madison feature fliers about Ryan Prow, an eight-year-old boy with relatives at the school who is being treated for Ewing's Sarcoma. Imagine that for a minute — being eight years old and going through regular chemo and radiation. When I was eight I thought it was a tragedy when I fell off my bike and skinned my knee. Ryan's family is holding fundraisers to help pay for his care as well.
My friend Sarah, who works with me at Madison, recently lost a young family friend to cancer. My friend Matt, who I lived with in Olathe, recently sent out a prayer request for this friend who recently learned she has cancer:
http://future-and-a-hope.blogspot.com
These are young, vibrant people. We need to do something about this.
I know money is very tight right now, and the words "government spending" seem to send a certain portion of the U.S. population into a frothing rage, so here's my zero-sum proposition: The Department of Defense's budget was $500 billion dollars last year, which seems obscene in a time when we have few real threats to our national security. Calling Al-Qaeda a real threat is giving it too much credit. As I pointed out in my earlier post, those guys aren't evil geniuses and the reality is, there aren't really that many of them. There is no threat out there that even remotely compares to Nazi Germany or Soviet Russia, yet we keep buying tanks, fighter planes and weapons of mass destruction at a ridiculous rate. And the irony is, these weapons aren't even particularly effective against terrorists.
So why not take half of that $500 billion and put it toward cancer research, prevention and treatment? How many more lives could we save with $250 billion to fight cancer? I don't know, but I'd sure like to find out.
That's the best I can come up with. Anyone else have any suggestions?
Like most people, I've always had a certain animosity towards the disease, but it's been building recently and Tuesday the camel's back received the straw that it just couldn't handle.
I was at Madison Elementary, tutoring a kindergartner on her letter sounds when it happened. This adorable little girl, Sofia, noticed the black bracelet on my arm and asked me about it. These rubber "cause" bracelets have become kind of cliche, but this one was given to me by a mother who lost her daughter to meningitis at the National Meningitis Association conference last year, so there's plenty of compelling reasons for me to wear it: 1. To honor Rachel's memory (if you're in the mood for a good cry, check out this tribute video some of her friends made:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBDTu6uUdNY
2. To give me a reality check every time I start feeling sorry for myself because my hands look weird or because I can't play basketball any more. I was one of the lucky ones.
So I explained the bracelet to Sofia and I watched as this always-vibrant and sometimes even annoyingly energetic 5-year-old suddenly turned as serious as I'd ever seen her. "My auntie died too," she said. "She had cancer. The doctors couldn't help her." As is common with kids that age, her emotions suddenly swung the other direction and she flashed a giant smile as the rollercoaster went back up: "I have a big family," she said. "I still have lots of aunties and cousins." Then the rollercoaster crashed back down: "But I miss her."
That was when I decided I just couldn't stand cancer anymore. It needs to be wiped off the face of this planet as soon as possible. It frustrates the hell out of me that there's so little I can do about it.
Cancer took my maternal grandfather long before I ever got a chance to know him. It left my Grandma a widow in her mid-40s. Sometimes me or my brothers have asked her about marrying again, but she always just says that burying one husband was hard enough. She doesn't want to risk going through that again. After almost 40 years, the wounds are still raw. When she hears glowing reports about the Mayo Clinic, she gets bitter. "They couldn't save my husband," she says. There's a heartbreaking echo between her words and little Sofia's: "The doctors couldn't help her."
Several other more distant relatives have also fought or are still fighting cancer. I guess I could say it runs in my family, but I think we're probably not that far out of the norm. Either I'm getting more aware of all the cancer around me, or it has become oddly common.
My friend Jess lost an eye to a rare form of it a few years ago. She thought she had it beaten, but it came back and she just recently had another major surgery to remove facial tumors. She just wants to be a regular college student and instead she has to worry about surgeries, pain and insurance. If you'd like to help her, go here:
http://jessicaroark.org
Of course, she's not alone. Several walls at Madison feature fliers about Ryan Prow, an eight-year-old boy with relatives at the school who is being treated for Ewing's Sarcoma. Imagine that for a minute — being eight years old and going through regular chemo and radiation. When I was eight I thought it was a tragedy when I fell off my bike and skinned my knee. Ryan's family is holding fundraisers to help pay for his care as well.
My friend Sarah, who works with me at Madison, recently lost a young family friend to cancer. My friend Matt, who I lived with in Olathe, recently sent out a prayer request for this friend who recently learned she has cancer:
http://future-and-a-hope.blogspot.com
These are young, vibrant people. We need to do something about this.
I know money is very tight right now, and the words "government spending" seem to send a certain portion of the U.S. population into a frothing rage, so here's my zero-sum proposition: The Department of Defense's budget was $500 billion dollars last year, which seems obscene in a time when we have few real threats to our national security. Calling Al-Qaeda a real threat is giving it too much credit. As I pointed out in my earlier post, those guys aren't evil geniuses and the reality is, there aren't really that many of them. There is no threat out there that even remotely compares to Nazi Germany or Soviet Russia, yet we keep buying tanks, fighter planes and weapons of mass destruction at a ridiculous rate. And the irony is, these weapons aren't even particularly effective against terrorists.
So why not take half of that $500 billion and put it toward cancer research, prevention and treatment? How many more lives could we save with $250 billion to fight cancer? I don't know, but I'd sure like to find out.
That's the best I can come up with. Anyone else have any suggestions?
Monday, February 8, 2010
A month's worth of blogging
So it's been almost a month since my last blog. Which is what happens when you're working 60 hours a week and trying to edit a book so that it's ready to send to agents/publishers. Anyway, here's a quick-hits version on stuff I might have blogged about if I had the time/motivation:
1. Be careful about eating at sub shops around 3:30
The only reason I'm blogging today is that I'm staying home to recover from a nasty bout of food poisoning that I think I can trace back to a Bo Diddley's sub I had Saturday afternoon. My theory is that they used ingredients that had been sitting out since lunch time. That was the most miserable night I've had in awhile.
2. The Saints and Drew Brees are good
Watching the pre-Super Bowl hype (in between frequent trips to the bathroom) on Sunday I was annoyed by how much hot air was spent debating whether Drew Brees needed to win a championship to be considered an "elite quarterback." First of all, it's completely subjective and just semantics anyway. That being said, how can you look at that guy's numbers and not say he's an elite quarterback? Football is a team game and one guy can never carry an entire team to a championship no matter how good he is. Dan Marino ring a bell? I'm glad the Saints won just so the talking heads can put that time-filler argument to rest.
3. The Saints and Drew Brees are not good enough to rebuild the Lower Ninth Ward
All the post-game hyperbole about "how much this means to the city of New Orleans" also became ridiculous. I'm glad Saints fans had something to go nuts over and New Orleans got a brief economic boost from people partying, but it's still just a football game. It in no way erases Hurricane Katrina or heals the wounds of losing homes and loved ones. It's football, not manna from heaven.
4. Brett Favre proved me wrong
The old guy hung in there a whole season and was just plain great. Sure his interception at the end of the NFC championship was mind-bogglingly dumb, but he had far fewer of those this season than I expected. You can't blame him for that loss. The O-line let him get popped around like Heidi Montag's nose and Adrian Peterson looked like he was trying to hold wet soap every time he carried the ball. Here's hoping Favre comes back for one more try, although if he doesn't Donovan McNabb would be a nice consolation prize.
5. ACLs are a fool-proof argument against intelligent design
Somebody has to figure out a way to buttress our athletes weak anterior cruciate ligaments. In the span of a few weeks, the KU women's basketball team lost its best all-around player, Danielle McCray, and top young playmaker, Angel Goodrich, to ACL tears. What could have been a breakthrough season now looks very shaky. These injuries are way too common.
6. Why don't we stop giving terrorists too much credit?
As Jon Stewart wisely pointed out, it has been six years since the "shoe bomber" and the best plan Al-Qaeda could come up with in that time is "send another guy on a plane, but this time put the explosives in his underwear." These guys are not criminal masterminds. Yet we're spending $500 billion a year mostly to fight the few thousand of them that are out there. Some perspective might be in order here. What if we put that money toward cancer research instead? How many more lives could we save? Personally I'm much more concerned about dying of cancer than dying at the hands of a terrorist. And while we're on the subject, why is there any outcry about trying terrorists as criminals in U.S. courts rather than as "enemy combatants" in military tribunals? "Enemy combatants" sounds suspiciously like "soldiers" to me, which is exactly how these Al-Qaeda fanatics would like to think of themselves. I'd prefer to call them criminals and lump them in with other murderous thugs. That's all they are. They are not bogeymen, they are not "masterminds" they are just common, murderous thugs and if we start treating them that way maybe they will find it a bit more difficult to recruit new members. Marginalize them rather than glorify them. If it was good enough for Timothy McVeigh, it's good enough for foreign terrorists too.
7. The Timberwolves are almost worth watching now
Four wins in a row is not going to turn their season around at this point, but it's certainly a start. Al Jefferson is looking like his old self, Ryan Hollins is becoming better than anyone ever thought he would and Corey Brewer is showing that he's a legitimate NBA starter, even without a reliable jumper. I would like to see Jonny Flynn assert himself more, though.
1. Be careful about eating at sub shops around 3:30
The only reason I'm blogging today is that I'm staying home to recover from a nasty bout of food poisoning that I think I can trace back to a Bo Diddley's sub I had Saturday afternoon. My theory is that they used ingredients that had been sitting out since lunch time. That was the most miserable night I've had in awhile.
2. The Saints and Drew Brees are good
Watching the pre-Super Bowl hype (in between frequent trips to the bathroom) on Sunday I was annoyed by how much hot air was spent debating whether Drew Brees needed to win a championship to be considered an "elite quarterback." First of all, it's completely subjective and just semantics anyway. That being said, how can you look at that guy's numbers and not say he's an elite quarterback? Football is a team game and one guy can never carry an entire team to a championship no matter how good he is. Dan Marino ring a bell? I'm glad the Saints won just so the talking heads can put that time-filler argument to rest.
3. The Saints and Drew Brees are not good enough to rebuild the Lower Ninth Ward
All the post-game hyperbole about "how much this means to the city of New Orleans" also became ridiculous. I'm glad Saints fans had something to go nuts over and New Orleans got a brief economic boost from people partying, but it's still just a football game. It in no way erases Hurricane Katrina or heals the wounds of losing homes and loved ones. It's football, not manna from heaven.
4. Brett Favre proved me wrong
The old guy hung in there a whole season and was just plain great. Sure his interception at the end of the NFC championship was mind-bogglingly dumb, but he had far fewer of those this season than I expected. You can't blame him for that loss. The O-line let him get popped around like Heidi Montag's nose and Adrian Peterson looked like he was trying to hold wet soap every time he carried the ball. Here's hoping Favre comes back for one more try, although if he doesn't Donovan McNabb would be a nice consolation prize.
5. ACLs are a fool-proof argument against intelligent design
Somebody has to figure out a way to buttress our athletes weak anterior cruciate ligaments. In the span of a few weeks, the KU women's basketball team lost its best all-around player, Danielle McCray, and top young playmaker, Angel Goodrich, to ACL tears. What could have been a breakthrough season now looks very shaky. These injuries are way too common.
6. Why don't we stop giving terrorists too much credit?
As Jon Stewart wisely pointed out, it has been six years since the "shoe bomber" and the best plan Al-Qaeda could come up with in that time is "send another guy on a plane, but this time put the explosives in his underwear." These guys are not criminal masterminds. Yet we're spending $500 billion a year mostly to fight the few thousand of them that are out there. Some perspective might be in order here. What if we put that money toward cancer research instead? How many more lives could we save? Personally I'm much more concerned about dying of cancer than dying at the hands of a terrorist. And while we're on the subject, why is there any outcry about trying terrorists as criminals in U.S. courts rather than as "enemy combatants" in military tribunals? "Enemy combatants" sounds suspiciously like "soldiers" to me, which is exactly how these Al-Qaeda fanatics would like to think of themselves. I'd prefer to call them criminals and lump them in with other murderous thugs. That's all they are. They are not bogeymen, they are not "masterminds" they are just common, murderous thugs and if we start treating them that way maybe they will find it a bit more difficult to recruit new members. Marginalize them rather than glorify them. If it was good enough for Timothy McVeigh, it's good enough for foreign terrorists too.
7. The Timberwolves are almost worth watching now
Four wins in a row is not going to turn their season around at this point, but it's certainly a start. Al Jefferson is looking like his old self, Ryan Hollins is becoming better than anyone ever thought he would and Corey Brewer is showing that he's a legitimate NBA starter, even without a reliable jumper. I would like to see Jonny Flynn assert himself more, though.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Lindsay's come back to me
Ok, I'll admit it, I had a crush on Lindsay Whalen as I watched her lead the Gophers to the Final Four while I was at KU. It didn't have much to do with her looks. She's cute, but I don't think I'd look twice if I saw her on the street. On the court, though, she's mesmerizing.
Now that Whalen's coming back to Minnesota, consider me one of the thousands who are suddenly taking an interest in the Lynx again. She's everything that's great about women's basketball. I don't care how many times Candace Parker and Brittney Griner dunk, the women are never going to compete with the men when it comes to playing above the rim. But that doesn't mean women's basketball isn't entertaining. In fact, often times the women play with fundamentals and teamwork that are much more what Dr. Naismith had in mind.
Whalen's not super athletic, but she's got the right mix of fundamentals and flair. She can shoot the 3, she can handle with either hand and cross over behind her back or between her legs with ease and her passing and ball fakes make defenders look silly. She's just got that rhythm, that feel for the game that is hard to quantify, but very exciting to watch. The best way to describe it is probably that she knows what's going to happen before it happens.
The Lynx gave a lot to get her — a No. 1 pick and another talented point guard, Renee Montgomery, who's substantially younger. But it's still a no-brainer. Whalen's going to up attendance probably by 50 percent or more. And I might be one of those in the stands some nights.
Thoughts on other sports news:
Gilbert Arenas (and Javaris Crittendon, for that matter): I'm sick of the whole "gangsta gun culture." Guns aren't "cool," and they're not toys. They're tools and very dangerous ones at that. They need to be treated with the utmost respect. He should have his contract torn up, he should never be able to buy another gun as long as he lives and if he has to spend a few months in prison, that wouldn't bother me.
Mark McGwire: He used steroids. Duh. Leave him and the other retired 'roiders out of the Hall of Fame since that's the only punishment we can really mete out at this point.
Vikings vs. Cowboys: Cowboys are arguably the hottest team in the NFL, but the Vikes have had two weeks to get healthy and prepare and are very tough at home. Plus the Vikings haven't gotten people's hopes up enough to totally break their hearts yet. Prediction: Vikings 28, Cowboys 21
Now that Whalen's coming back to Minnesota, consider me one of the thousands who are suddenly taking an interest in the Lynx again. She's everything that's great about women's basketball. I don't care how many times Candace Parker and Brittney Griner dunk, the women are never going to compete with the men when it comes to playing above the rim. But that doesn't mean women's basketball isn't entertaining. In fact, often times the women play with fundamentals and teamwork that are much more what Dr. Naismith had in mind.
Whalen's not super athletic, but she's got the right mix of fundamentals and flair. She can shoot the 3, she can handle with either hand and cross over behind her back or between her legs with ease and her passing and ball fakes make defenders look silly. She's just got that rhythm, that feel for the game that is hard to quantify, but very exciting to watch. The best way to describe it is probably that she knows what's going to happen before it happens.
The Lynx gave a lot to get her — a No. 1 pick and another talented point guard, Renee Montgomery, who's substantially younger. But it's still a no-brainer. Whalen's going to up attendance probably by 50 percent or more. And I might be one of those in the stands some nights.
Thoughts on other sports news:
Gilbert Arenas (and Javaris Crittendon, for that matter): I'm sick of the whole "gangsta gun culture." Guns aren't "cool," and they're not toys. They're tools and very dangerous ones at that. They need to be treated with the utmost respect. He should have his contract torn up, he should never be able to buy another gun as long as he lives and if he has to spend a few months in prison, that wouldn't bother me.
Mark McGwire: He used steroids. Duh. Leave him and the other retired 'roiders out of the Hall of Fame since that's the only punishment we can really mete out at this point.
Vikings vs. Cowboys: Cowboys are arguably the hottest team in the NFL, but the Vikes have had two weeks to get healthy and prepare and are very tough at home. Plus the Vikings haven't gotten people's hopes up enough to totally break their hearts yet. Prediction: Vikings 28, Cowboys 21
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