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
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