Weddings and other celebrations

Social media in general, and Facebook in particular, have provided me with some pleasant surprises. Take the photo to the right, for example. It was taken at a wedding 34 years ago today, on Dec. 31, 1977. My mom is on the left, my dad is second from the right. The groom, Ron, is on the right, and the best man, Allen, is second from the left between my mom and dad. Ron, Allen and mom, along with about 6 other people, worked together at a school that was part of a state prison.

Yep, my suburban-white-housewife-mom worked in a prison. Best professional experience of her life, but that's for another post.

On Facebook last summer, there was a wave of new pages centering on people's memories of their hometowns. I joined one for the town where I grew up, and got lots of questions like "Are you Bill's sister," or "Didn't you used to be on the radio?" (Answer to both: yes). One woman named Jean caught me off guard by asking, "Are you Barbara's daughter?" Turns out, Jean graduated from high school with one of my brothers - and is Ron's wife. We became FB friends.

Tonight, Jean posted this picture of my parents at her wedding. I'd never seen it before and when I did, I nearly cried.  Mom's younger there than I am today, but it was my dad's expression, in particular, that caught me off guard. It's as though he's looking straight at me from 1977 as I sit here on the cusp of 2012, the camera somehow acting as a communication conduit transcending time and space, and he's trying to tell me something. But what? He looks truly happy and content. I know for a fact that wasn't his regular state of mind at the dawn of 1978, so I like to think that's how he is feeling today, wherever his spirit now makes its home.

Here's the kicker: I saw my reflection in my father's face. I've spent my life being told how much I look like my dad, but I never saw it - until tonight.

I'm still trying to take it in, but Jean is an angel for posting the photo. I greatly appreciate it. And to my dad I wish a Happy New Year in heaven - or wherever. Whatever you're trying to tell me, I'll figure it out eventually!

The Book of Mormon shout out video - Dec. 28, 2011

Josh Gad was gracious enough to do a shout-out to my son, Nate, who is a HUGE fan of the Book of Mormon and anything else related to South Park. 

2011: Great year to be alive!

2012 starts tomorrow. Lots of folks are saying 2011 was terrible, but I, personally, had a great year. 

Highlights: hired by Capital Community College, Division of Continuing Education. Hired by The Conference of Churches as the Cause Communications manager, which got me back into radio (Lite 100.5 WRCH) after 12 years away! Started DigitalAmber.net. Saw two tapings of The Colbert Report and one taping each of The Daily Show and MAURY. Visited the 9/11 Memorial in NYC. Saw The Book of Mormon on Broadway. Worked with Savannah Faith to paint almost all of our home's main level, got her through high school graduation and off to Gateway Community College, New Haven. 

Shenandoah was on UCONN's Dean's list (twice) AND accepted to study abroad at the University of Amsterdam. Nate made his Confirmation and earned high honors in the first quarter of his sophomore year in high school. Spent more time with my mom. Visited my nephew Joe in New Hampshire. Renewed friendships via FB. Started a personal blog (www.vocalscore.blogspot.com). 

Thank you Governor Malloy, or Roy Occhiogrosso or whoever for not reappointing me to my former post at CT DPH. Turns out that 2011 was a year of blessings beyond measure that never would have played out as it did had I stayed there. 

For me, I hope my luck continues into 2012. For each of you it is my sincere hope and wish that your dreams for the coming year will come to pass. 

Happy New Year

South Park Inn podcast 12/18/2011

South Park Inn podcast from 12/18/2011

From the department of "duh"

Do dads EVER multitask? 

Marriage is a funny thing...

Staying together for the sake of the kids. 

The background to the conversation

I've known "D" in passing for years. I attended her Pampered Chef parties and even bought a few things. I was close to her brother-in-law and his family when they lived next door to us. I've never, to the best of my knowledge, done anything to offend her.

Unfortunately, the burbs are the place where, if you do offend someone, there is going to be lots of talk about it - just not to you. The 'burbs are the capital of passive-agressive behavior.

I suppose that explains D.'s utter silence at my direct but firm question.

As it happens, "D" works with my husband's brother's wife, Ann. Ann and I have certainly had our differences. The main one being that she subscribes wholeheartedly to the "Stepford Wives" (let's not think "outside the box," much as I hate that term) way of life. I do not.  So I would not be surprised to learn that D.'s negative impression of my daughter has more to do with what Ann has gossiped to her than anything D. heard from her own son.

So for D. to say to her son (and her son to Savvy and Savvy to me) that Savvy is on the "wrong path" is inaccurate on its face.

I would venture to guess that the following people were also told that they were on the wrong path: Steve Jobs. Martin Luther King, Jr., Rosa Parks. Galileo. Jesus. Mohammad. Albert Einstein. George Washington. Abraham Lincoln. Barack Obama. Vincent Van Gogh. Steven Spielberg. The list is endless.

Now, I know Savvy isn't on their level - yet, but she has the potential for greatness BECAUSE she has been encouraged to make her own way, think her own thoughts and create her own path. These concepts are foreign - and therefore threatening - to life in the 'burbs.

Savvy is intelligent and headstrong and beautiful. She's sensitive and loves animals. She's always supporting the underdog - the poor, the homeless, the jobless, the elderly, injured, sick and abused people and animals. She has several piercings and plans on a tattoo. She loves horror movies and volunteers countless hours at a local haunted house that raises money for local charities.

She is not in jail. She doesn't steal or smoke crack or pot. She has never crashed a car. She takes responsibility for her chores and her schoolwork. She draws beautiful portraits, movies and photographs.

If that's the "wrong path," we're all in trouble.

The conversation (background to follow)

Scene:  Big Lots, Sunday afternoon around 4:15 PM

I spotted D. and her teenage daughter shopping in the cleaning products aisle. D.'s son is a friend of my daughter, Savvy.

I passed D. once. Our eyes met. She said nothing. I said nothing. I wanted to ask her something, but probably should have kept my mouth shut. I circled around, my heart beating, my thoughts racing. I looked at her, looked away, and then looked back again to start the conversation:

ME: You're D., right?

D.: Uh, yeah. Hi.

Me: Do you know who I am?

D.: Yeah, you used to live next door to G. (her brother-in-law).

Me: Yeah. I hear that you think that my daughter, Savvy, is going down the wrong path.

D.: (Jaw drops, stunned silence for about 3 seconds) I never said that.

Me: Well, that's what Savvy was told by your son.

D.: Well, I never said that (stammering)

Me.: Savvy has her faults, but lying isn't one of them. Or maybe you heard that from my sister-in-law??

D.: Well, we work together.

Me.: I know. Let's just hope I don't hear anything like that again. (Me, making a dramatic turn back to my shopping).

<heart pounding, sweating profusely, can't wait to get out of there>

Social media basics

According to J. Richard Byrd: Social media is about relationships. It's about knowing who you are and knowing who you want to reach. Exactly. Who have you been called to reach? Who are you? What do you do? Why should we care? What's in it for me?

Should be on the front page of your website. Your website is the basis of all your social media outreach.

Facebook is for people that you know. Twitter is for people you want to know. You need to drive everyone back to your website.

Can closure happen?

An open letter to the family of Officer Mark MacPhail family:

I am very sorry for your loss. From what I have read Officer MacPhail was an accomplished Army veteran and an experienced police officer with much to offer to his family, friends, colleagues and community.

I have never lost a family member violently like you. But Bill Petit has. He lost his wife and two daughters to a 2007 Connecticut home invasion. He describes his loss as having left behind "a hole with jagged edges, and over time, the edges may smooth out a little bit, but the hole in your heart, the hole in your soul, is still there, so there is never closure."

Closure. Is that what you were looking for in executing Troy Davis? We already know that the death penalty does not deter crime, but in the past few years, it seems as though capital punishment is being touted as the means by which victims' families find closure. Is that how you feel now that Troy Davis is gone?

Marietta Jaeger Lane has a little different spin and she speaks from experience. Her 7-year-old daughter was murdered and she is quoted as saying, “Our loved ones deserve more beautiful, noble and honorable memorials than premeditated state-sanctioned killings.”

I tend to believe that she is right.

RIP Troy Davis

They know not what they do. 

And the great but not quite as great pumpkin that my husband grew

This one weighed in at 650.5 lbs. Not bad for his first time, I guess. He's hoping it lands him in the top 20 at the Durham (CT) Fair this weekend.

The Great Pumpkin lives at the Durham Fair

A new CT state record, weighing in
at a whopping 1,487.5 lbs.
(PHOTO: digitalamber.net)

Size matters: Grower Ken Desrosiers
of Broad Brook at the weigh-in
tonight in Durham, CT
(PHOTO: digitalamber.net)

Never in my wildest weirdest dreams did I ever see myself attending a giant pumpkin weigh-in. Yet there I was on the grounds of the Durham Fair, watching pumpkins and their people. These folks are intense!

Rejection emails and other forms of humiliation

I take rejection way too personally. My stomach clenches. My back tenses. My cheeks flush. My jaw tightens. 


People have spent a lifetime (mine) telling me not to take it personally. If only it was that easy. I can't even pinpoint exactly why these physical sensations take over at the most inopportune times, but they do. 


That said, here is my latest rejection email. This was for an organization with which I had a 20-minute phone interview yesterday: 

Thank you so much for taking the time to talk with <communications consultant> and me yesterday about your prior experiences and interest in (our organization).  After a thorough review of your past experiences and preparation and a reflection on our phone call, we have decided to zone in on applicants that better suit our needs.

We thank you for thinking of us and hope that our paths will cross again. Best wishes in your future endeavors.

This was a tough one, as it indicates to me that my phone interview could have gone better. So, tell me - are you looking for someone who knows Connecticut media? I'm your person, despite hemming and hawing my way through the answer to that question. Honestly, if you gave me a chance, I'd be able to meet your needs better than any candidate on your list. 


Here's another one from an institution of higher learning:

We wanted to let you know that the search process for this position recently concluded.  We were very fortunate to find an applicant who comes with the exact experience for which we were optimally looking.

Why does it seem as though a few sentences are missing from this email?  Like "and that applicant isn't you! HAHAHAHA!!!"


Dang, I hate rejection. 

Death is so...final.

A man who could very well be innocent of murder is just hours being put to death by the State of Georgia.

Troy Davis is accused of killing a Savannah police officer in 1989. Unanswered questions surround the case, raising doubts about Mr. Davis's guilt.

Much of the case rests on the eye witness testimony of nine witnesses, seven of whom have recanted their original testimony. Yet tonight the Georgia Board of Pardons refuses to stay Mr. Davis's execution. 

For a moment set aside the usual anti-death penalty arguments: the fact that murder is barbaric, that the United States is just one of two Western countries (along with Belarus) that continue using capital punishment, that the death penalty is disproportionately kills African American and Latino men (which, under any other circumstance, would be considered a public health issue).

The fact remains that the circumstances surrounding this particular case leave way too much doubt in the minds of most thinking people to proceed with his execution.

The NY Times makes the argument eloquently.

Have we become just a mob?

Joshua Komisarjevsky

Today begins the trial for Joshua Komisarjevsky, the second defendant in the murders of Jennifer Hawke-Petit and her daughters, Haley and Michaela, of Cheshire, Connecticut.

Another man, co-defendant Steven Hayes, sits on Connecticut's death row for his role in the crimes committed against this family over a six-hour period in July 2007.

And a mob mentality seems to have taken hold of the public.

People are angry, and rightfully so. What occurred that warm, rainy summer's night reminds each of us that we remain vulnerable to stranger violence even while tucked snug in our beds in our homes. Though the chances of such an attack actually happening to any one household are quite remote in this country, what happened to the Petits hit way too close for many, both emotionally and geographically. Some would rather get this nightmare over with by dispensing with due process and invoking mob justice.

The complex emotional reaction of the public at large can seemingly be summed up by a New Testament paraphrase: crucify them.  Some have even suggested in print (usually in post-news article rants) that a trial is not required and they these men deserve to be taken out and ________________ (insert preferred violent method of killing here). They are deadly serious, their judgement clouded chiefly by anger and a sense of "there but by the grace of God go I."

Have we forgotten that the United States is a nation of laws and processes? Simply put, due process is about fairness. It's about preventing the wrongful conviction of the innocent. It's about the scales of justice being blind and balanced and rendering judgement only after all of the evidence is presented before a jury of our peers.

Our forefathers were so passionate about due process that they put it into the Constitution in Amendments 5 AND 14. It is strongly support by case law. In the U. S., we don't throw 200-plus years of case law just to satisfy the human need for revenge. Leave that to the world's dictators.

It is a process designed to protect the innocent from being wrongly accused and convicted.  Defending Joshua Komisarjevsky will not be an easy task. He and Hayes rank high among the most despised men in Connecticut history.

L to R: Jeremiah Donovan, Todd A. Bussert and
Walter C. Bansley, III. (PHOTO CREDIT: Bettina
Hansen, Hartford Courant)

Therefore, I must express my admiration for his defense team of Jeremiah Donovan, Todd A. Bussert and Walter C. Bansley, III. Despite overwhelming odds and vehement public sentiment against this defendant, they have taken on the monumental (and likely futile) task of giving him the best possible defense. I don't always agree with their legal tactics, but they are to be praised for endangering both their practices and their lives in the name of a bigger ideal: a fair and accessible justice system.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

My son fancies himself a younger version of the obsessively compulsive clean and orderly, afraid of change, title character from the TV show Monk, played by actor Tony Shalhoub.  Nate wears essentially the same outfit every day: a black (sometime grey, but only if all the black ones are in the wash) t-shirt, jeans, sneakers and, if required by the weather, an unbuttoned flannel or wool shirt.

Having started painting the main rooms in our home last spring, he has been quite vocal about the change in color. It's been the same since before he his birth nearly 16 years ago and Nate likes structure and order. So what if the walls had food stains,  pencil and crayon markings, dirt, peeling paint and wallpaper. With two rooms complete, he still makes his displeasure known.

Today's minor home project is to install a new toilet seat in our full bathroom upstairs. Nate spotted me, and when informed of my intentions stated:

"Mom, you're heartless."

He immediately went into that bathroom just ahead of me to take a shower. And, presumably, say good bye to the old toilet seat.

And no, son, you cannot have the old one after I install the new one.

<sigh>

I hate cleaning

My house is messier now than ever before. I'm not working full-time, so I should be cleaning it, right? Yet I have not desire. I'm not a hoarder. I do get to it eventually. I just hate it. I don't understand anyone who likes to clean.

Just thought I'd share.

Little things I didn't know about the 9/11 Memorial site

The tree that survived everything
(PHOTO CREDIT: digitalamber.net)

• The bronze bearing the names of victims is cooled to 78 degrees during the summer. This makes the names cool to the touch. 
• The bronze is also heated in winter. 
• The water in the falling will be heated in the winter so that it continue to flow. It is, BTW, chlorinated. 
• There is a single tree that survived the fall of both towers, the search and recovery and the construction of the memorial (see photo)
• The phrase "and her unborn child" appears following the names of at least four female 9/11 victims. This phrase is not searchable on the 9/11 memorial site. 
• The victims' names are etched through the bronze so that light may shine from underneath, illuminating each name into the night sky. 

NY Post

09/13/2011: A visitor creates a crayon rubbing of a
victim's name at the National 9/11 Memorial, NYC
(PHOTO CREDIT: digitalamber.net)

Yes, there is an official 9/11 Memorial gift shop. It must be a temporary set up, as it was extremely small and crowded. It was hard to move without hitting another human. The check-out line was long. I sent Nick into the line while I looked at the merchandise. The sign stating "A portion of your purchase will benefit the 9/11Memorial and Museum" assuaged my guilt about buying 9/11-associated items.

With two t-shirts, a magnet and a bumper stick in hand, I joined Nick at check-out and immediately noticed a woman standing just outside the gift shop exit. She was handing menus to a local Chinese restaurant. 

For a fleeting moment, she looked out of place. So close to this gaping wound on the city's the nation's landscape? Really, lady?  

Then I realized that this is New York.  Handing out flyers, menus, tickets, papers and product samples is guerilla marketing in its best and rawest form. 

Total spent: $36.87. 

Exiting the store, I was tapped on the shoulder by Amber Sutherland, a reporter from the NY Post. She wanted to know what I thought about people merchandising outside the 9/11 Memorial. I told her of my initial reaction inside the store, and my resolution in my head. That it's New York, and we live in a free country with freedom of speech, which comes with responsibility, including the need to be respectful. 

Her photographer, Bill Farrington, took my picture. He's originally from Springfield, MA and that we have a couple friends in common - including at least one who went to jail for embezzling. 

No article or photo in the Post though. It's either a none story or I broke the camera. 

How I almost saw the Book of Mormon, but didn't

I love The Book of Mormon. For the uninitiated, it's a multi-Tony Award winning musical by Trey Parker, Matt Stone and Robert Lopez. Think South Park and Avenue Q. It's irreverent and hilarious and musically ambitious. I know the soundtrack by heart - almost. Enough to know I want to see the show.

So after going to the 9/11 Memorial, Nick and I went to lunch and had a couple beers. Not a musical theater fan, I think the beers helped me convince Nick to go over to the Eugene O'Neill Theater to enter to win tickets to see the Book of Mormon. For every show, two hours prior to curtain, the staff there allow people to enter their names for cast tickets that are not used. They are usually front row or box seats. Either way, it's worth the price of entry (which is nothing) to try for the tix, for which they charge just $32 each. We had two hours to kill before off-peak rates kicked in on Metro North, so we each entered to win - and both got into the standing room only line ($25 a pop).

No luck with the lottery, but when we got to the front of the SRO line, there was one ticket left. I was deliriously happy and had already pulled my credit card out when my husband said "Carol, the woman behind us is from Minnesota. We can get to New York anytime."

He was right. I let her have my spot. Turns out, she works for Apple Computers. She took us out for drinks to celebrate her good fortune.

At least now I know I have to be at the theater seven hours in advance of curtain to be guaranteed SRO. Maybe next week...

9/11 Memorial: The Sound of Healing

The design of the 9/11 Memorial is called "Reflecting Absence." The buildings are absent. So, too, are 2,983 human beings who found themselves at the WTC buildings, the Pentagon or on those three ill-fated flights that beautiful, awful day a decade ago.

What remains present is the cacophony of noise that combines into the dissonant first movement of a Lower Manhattan symphony.  It's layers of talking, jack hammering, singing and honking compressed with subways screeching, vendors selling, and sirens blaring. It's a soundtrack ebbs and flows throughout the 24-hours of each day, day after day, decade after decade. It's a bit like a radio station with John Cage as the music director.

On September 11, 2001, I imagined that Lower Manhattan's soundtrack had gone terribly off-key, starting with the roar of low-flying jetliners descending on the city's skyline and culminating with the screams of those who jumped and the crash of the Twin Towers.

So when I visited the 9/11 Memorial yesterday, I was under the misconception that the city's soundtrack had been paused at the very moment when the towers crashed yet the remaining screams had yet been vocalized. A memorial for the dead demanded, after all, requires respectful silence.

I was wrong. New York's soundtrack never paused. It simply developed by way of the strum und drang of 9/11 and the decade that followed.

Today, Lower Manhattan's soundtrack is in recapitulation. It's theme remains recognizable, taking into itself a new, refreshing sound layer - that of falling water. The reflecting pools that now occupy the footprints where the towers once stood provide a continual soothing of both the ears and the soul.

If you have the privilege of visiting the new 9/11 Memorial, take a moment to reflect upon that which is not absent. Close your eyes and feel the vibrations of the music pulsing through your ears. That is the music of recovery, rebuilding and forgiveness.

That is the sound of healing.

Backstage at the Carolina Herrara spring 2012 show - September 12, 2011

As the mom of a diagnosed anorexic, this photo is incredibly 1) sad, 2) offensive and 3) painful.

Casey Kelbaugh for The New York Times

Part 2 of Krugman

Krugman's latest post on 9/11. It appears he wanted to clarify his earlier comments. He's not taking anything back, mind you, just adding to what he already said. 

I still agree with him - and always have. My husband told me I was stupid when I opposed the wars. I have a tendency to back off when it appears I might not be right, so I kept silent at the time, but no more. 

Krugman is right

It takes a brave person to speak his mind and stand ready to take crap from the uninformed.

Paul Krugman is that person and here is his post.

He will be vindicated - someday.

Closest to how I feel today...

Colin McEnroe's 9/11 column

Ugghhh...

Fried a USB drive with two - count 'em TWO- fresh interviews for my new show. Staples wants $400 to retrieve the data. For two WAV files, I'm going to eat some crow and re-do the interviews....unless.

In a last ditch effort to retrieve the data, I'm going to try this

My last nerve

When she was frustrated, mom would say she was on her last never. That's what today was like for me.

First, a day of technical difficulties. Lost two radio interviews because of a failing USB flash drive. Staples wants $400 to retrieve the data. I've already set the stage to eat crow and redo the interviews. I'd rather spend the money on a new microphone and take the show on the road.

And I forgot to retrieve about 10 minutes of the show when I was in Hartford early in the day. Had to go back and get that. <sigh>

Then Audition was giving me problems. Then I couldn't upload to the FTP from any of my Macs. Finally uploaded the radio show from my son's PC (and I questioned his decision to get a PC over a Mac!)

Yeah, I'm talking tech, but it's like any job - one of those days where everything goes wrong. You can relate.

Second,  my daughters decided to have a shouting match that I tried to ignore - until it came to blows. Took an hour to settle that down.

<sigh>

Next up: get ready for Saturday's class.

Again, I say: <sigh>

The guy in Starbucks

So a guy with a big mouth walks into a Starbucks (no, this is not the start of a bad joke - or, maybe it is) and wants to sit at a table. With none available, he tells me and the young man next to me to leave - he was joking of course, but I could tell he was going to be one of those annoying types. Using "fuck" as both an adjective and a verb in reference to his ex-wife, his 22-year-old daughter and his female algebra instructor.  Yeah, not exactly a classy type.

In less than 10 minutes I knew more about him than I wanted to know: 42-years-old, crazy ex-wife who's 30, father of seven, runs 12 different construction businesses, hangs out with his daughter's friends, worked as a tool maker, creating the prototype machine for the manufacture of a well-know razor brand ("And you know how much money I got out of it? My $11.00 an hour, that's it!"), owned and lived on an island in the Sound  (to which he brought homeless people to eat, work and live - my comment was that I hope he didn't get in trouble by infringing on their 13th, 14th or 15th amendment rights), had a car accident that left him with amnesia for 8 months, walked around after the accident with his brains hanging out ("LITERALLY hanging out, you know what I mean??").

But he's leaving all that behind and studying to become a nurse.

I got a bad vibe from the guy when he insinuated that he'd thought about being with his oldest daughter but that he could "never be in someone who had come out of" his ex-wife. He also took alot of time settling in to his "less than desired" place at the window and did his homework out loud - until I asked him to do it quietly.

Oh, and he plans on getting his algebra instructor fired because he doesn't like her. <sheesh>

It's the little things that make all the difference...

Actress Paltrow changed life on 9/11/01

Can I just be a little suspicious that this is just coming out now? Just a little too convenient that she's promoting a movie and the tenth anniversary is happening and all...

The hairbrush

After 9/11 everyone wanted to give blood.

In Fairfield County, CT, the Red Cross held a blood drive the Sunday after the 9/11 attacks. People came from all over the region to donate. I was there to deal with media inquiries. I still had pneumonia and the folks from the local Red Cross chapter allowed me to rest in their chapter house about half a block from the blood drive site.

Alone in the house, I dozed off until I heard a woman in the foyer call out "Hello? Anyone here?" I answered her and came out from the front room to find a woman holding a hairbrush. She tried handing it to me.

I was still feverish and, having just emerged from a light sleep, I didn't know why she was here handing me a brush. I must have looked confused, for the woman proceeded to tell me that the hairbrush was her husband's. She'd been told to bring it to the Red Cross for entry into a DNA database. Still it wasn't computing, until...

It finally dawned on me that her husband was missing at the WTC site. I felt a chill run down my spine.

Thankfully, two chapter employees came in at that point, and redirected her to the family support site where volunteers would help her.

That's the moment it all became real for the first time. 

Telling the kids

NY Times front page (09/12/01)

 

 

 

A friend recently posted on her Facebook page a question regarding how to introduce the topic of 9/11 with younger children.

On September 11, 2001, my kids were ages 10, 8 and 5. We didn't have lots of time to figure out what to say and how to say it. We had to wing it.

My older daughter was in 5th grade. They were told in school some generalities of what had happened - the oldest and only grade of students in that school to be told.

My younger daughter (grade 3) and my son (starting kindergarden), had started at an out-of-town magnet school just a few weeks earlier. They were not told anything about what had happened, but knew something was amiss: the school - big on technology - had banned kids from being exposed to TV or radio that day. And recess was REALLY long.

My husband picked the kids up from after school care at the regular time (about 5:30 PM). It never crossed our minds to pick them up early that day, and I still don't understand why one would do so. On the short ride home, he told all the kids a bit more about what had happened. Planes in NYC - where we'd been the previous Christmas season to see the Radio City show. The Pentagon. The field in Shanksville, PA. No, it wasn't near your grandparents house in Pittsburgh. Yes, you can call them when we get home.

I arrived home around 7:30 PM - an early day compared to some Red Crossers, mainly due to the pneumonia. My husband and I decided to let the kids watch the towers fall while I sat by to answer questions.

Big mistake.

The girls were stunned into silence. My son stood on a chair and yelled "My Daddy's gonna get those bad men." Though I was more worried about the girls' reaction, over the coming days and weeks, they processed what they saw better than their brother. He became more and more insecure. He never before used a blanket or pacifier for comfort. After 9/11, he started collecting Beanie Babies he called "The Goochie Family." And Beanie kitties. The Goochie Family and the kitties lived in a box that was their home, with a mom and dad.

His obsession with the Goochie Family started to fade around springtime, only to be resurrected when the media started stirring the pot about 6 weeks before the first anniversary. The Goochies were back, but only for about a couple months.

A week after the 9/11 attacks, I listened to WCBS-AM Radio out of NYC. The week seemed to have gone by so quickly.  Driving home, I considered the human perception of the passage of time, and wondered if the next month and year and decade would seem to pass as quickly.

Seemingly, the decade passed quickly. In reality, ten years passed in the same amount of time as 10 years has always passes: 5,250,000 minutes (math made easy by Jonathan Larson).

I still haven't cried. Is that bad? 

Chilling

Sometimes it's the small decisions that determine our fate. These 9/11 survivors are a testament to that.

My own decision to go to work that day was no where near as dramatic, but strange nonetheless. As Communications Manager for the local Red Cross blood bank, I had been on medical leave for pneumonia since just before the previous Labor Day weekend, and not expected back until Monday, September 17, 2001.

Feeling better and noting the beauty of the day, I went into work to check emails and voicemails - both of which I could do from home but I wanted to show my face. I figured I'd do half a day and be ready for a long nap that afternoon.

I distinctly remember looking up at the sky around the time I arrived (a little before 9 AM) and thinking to myself, "What am I doing here? It's gorgeous and warm. I should be out on the back porch in the chaise lounge baking this illness out of me." I was still unaware of what had happened, as were my co-workers.

The first sign of something amiss was when a co-worker's training when the local Red Cross chapter took the room over for the TV so they could watch the news about a plane hitting the WTC. I was reminded of reading about a small plane hitting the Empire State Building many decades earlier and thought this was similar. We put out a small $25 TV to watch the coverage and joined it just in time to see United Flight 175 hit the second tower.

Everything else that day is pretty much a blur. The phones went dead until about 11 AM, then started ringing off the hook for hours. I did numerous TV, radio and newspaper interviews. I called my mom to check on my brother who worked in NYC. He was fine, thankfully.

I still wonder what made me go to work that particular day. I know I worked 19 days straight after that. More on that as the week progresses.

Malloy's two most common utterances

Malloy address the powerless (and those without electricity)
in Ledyard, CT yesterday.
Credit: Bill Thorndike/Stonington Mystic Patch

According to the lead in this morning's Hartford Courant, "power" and "frustration" were the two most common words in used by CT Governor Dannel Malloy at a presser last night about Tropical Storm Irene.

To be technically correct, the two most common utterances from his mouth were "um" and "ah." The guy is not a gifted extemporaneous speaker. How did he become governor again?

Oh yeah, lesser of two evils.

If this photo doesn't make me lose weight...

...nothing will.

Seriously????

Got pot? 

Starbucks is my office

Indeed, it is Starbucks where I do my best work. Without the distractions of home and without the resources of a real office, I am fueled by their coffee and free Internet.

The goal this week is to apply for fifty jobs (ten per day and I'm already two days behind), write and produce a radio show, revise a proposal package to sell the radio show, look into promotional venues for my business and take a HIT exam for which I haven't studied.

Nothing much. Hand me another iced coffee, would you please?

Raining, pouring, Hurricane Irene boring...

Lots of leaf litter, lots of wind and rain, but no power loss and no flooding. I slept through it - all of it. All day. All night. Guilt is setting in...

Hatches battened...

Actually, I don't have any hatches, but I did spend an hour picking up potential airborne missiles from my back yard and tying down the patio set. Hubby not all that helpful at the moment.

Yorkie Max (left) is feeling something. He barked all night (pre-storm) and won't go outside with me. I had to drag him out, and all he did was hide under the deck.

Wait Wait Don't Tell Me is a "best of" today. NOW what do I have to look forward to? Certainly not a week's worth of Stewart & Colbert, 'cause they are repeats, too!

Irene = peace

It's a beautiful if humid day in New England and, like an unwanted house guest, Hurricane Irene is on her way.

Just thought I'd let you know, in case you've been living in a cave or something.

And yes, Irene is Greek for "peace." I think they call that "irony."

Bad mommy!

While good parents across our great land prepare to send their children to college, I am off with my 18-year-old to see a live taping of The Maury Show.

You're jealous, you just won't admit it. ;)

Koppel compares Colbert to Clemens

Photo by Chion Wolf

Ted Koppel came to Hartford's Mark Twain House for the 2011 Clemens Lecture, moderated by WNPR's John Dankosky. Despite the annoyingly hissy audio quality,  it made for great radio and TV. Radio version: "Where We Live."  TV version:  CT-N website. Here are my favorite quotes: 


Koppel on Twain: "Through his writing we're able to see this sort of irascible charm that these days, I guess, is best exemplified by Stephen Colbert. He's the closest thing we have to Mark Twain these days."


Dankosky: "Does television news really need to exist moving forward?"
Koppel: "Um, no...it doesn't need to, but then I don't need to be sitting here answering your stupid questions." 

In New England, if you don't like the weather...

...wait a minute.

EARTHQUAKES: Until yesterday, a rarity on the East Coast. Probably still are. Meanwhile, California is laughing at us. They use 5.8's to stir their coffee.

TORNADOES: Trailer parks in Oklahoma, Arkansas, Kansas and other parts of the southwest/midwest have lost their exclusivity with twisters.  Just ask the residents of Monson and Springfield, MA. Check out what's left of the home of one of my students (left).

HURRICANES: Duck! No, really, they're for ducks. Latest reports indicate Hurricane Irene has New England in her sights. Media build-up for Irene is larger than for both Hurricane Bob (1991) and Hurricane Gloria (1985), as they were pre-Internet. As storms go, both were surprisingly disappointing. There I go, tempting fate again.

BLIZZARDS: Winter 2010/2011. 'nuff said.

I love New England.

Steve Jobs

Jim Wilson/The New York Times

Steven P. Jobs in San Francisco in June.

Though I don't own either an iPhone or iPad, I love Apple products. So my first reaction to the Steve Jobs resignation? He's dying - and soon. Second reaction? Watch the stock. It's sure to drop. Like a rock.

What earthquake?

Leave it to me to be seated at a virtual reality slot machine that shakes, rattles and rolls at the very moment the East Coast had a 5.8 magnitude earthquake. First in 67 years and I missed it. <sigh>