Fairness & Civility

Front entrance of WRC-TV

In the early 1980s, I was a TV producer with the NBC owned and operated station in Washington, DC. I was only there a few years before a job change moved us to Philadelphia, but it was a heady time to be in DC with the advent of the Reagan administration. 

I worked with consumer investigative reporter Lea Thompson and was accountable for up to two minutes of air time a day. We covered topics like food safety, product alerts, and sometimes testing of commercial product claims. One memorable product test was set up to answer the pressing question of which battery truly lasted the longest. We bought novelty eyeglasses with wipers, each powered by a major battery brand, lined them up in a row, and turned them on at the same time to record how long each battery lasted. Important information for consumers, no? Today I have no idea which battery lasted the longest, but I do still buy Duracell. 

It was a very different era for TV news and among the differences was an adherence to the Fairness Doctrine in all of our reporting. The Fairness Doctrine was an FCC rule introduced in 1949 that required any entity holding a broadcast license to present controversial issues of public importance and to do so in a way that fairly reflected differing viewpoints. 

Although I’m not certain how controversial an issue battery life is or was, we were careful and diligent in reaching out to the public relations officers of all those brands we tested for comment to report on their responses in the interest of fairness. 

The Fairness Doctrine also encouraged WRC-TV’s radio station to host a talk program with Tom Braden and Pat Buchanan at our studios. I would frequently encounter Pat Buchanan as he was dropped at the station by his lovely wife, walking in to greet his friend Tom Braden for their radio show. Some of you probably remember Pat Buchanan as one of Nixon’s top aides and a staunch conservative while Tom Braden was a former CIA agent, author of “Eight is Enough”, and an equally staunch liberal. 

Their articulate commitment to opposing viewpoints was balanced by a respectful friendship that allowed them to argue thoughtfully and retain the ability to engage on core shared values. I always learned something by listening to those two men discuss issues of public importance without vitriolic name calling. They were never mean or nasty in their comments. Civil, actually.

I miss that today. The Fairness Doctrine was eliminated in the late 1980s and along with it the idea of fairness on the nation’s airwaves. In its place are stations that preach partisan viewpoints with little balance. 

Once upon a time, people were able to disagree and still engage in civil discourse, to listen carefully to differing viewpoints, and to seek to understand where those differences came from rather than merely deliver canned messaging designed to diminish The Other. I wonder whether that will ever be possible again. 

Treasures Amongst The Boxes

Leaving Deshler for their honeymoon in July, 1950.

We’ve made a pact this year. Those boxes we have schlepped from our home in DC to Philadelphia and on to Harrisburg and finally here to Minneapolis will be sorted, discarded, or recognized for the treasures they are. 

Meant to do this during the pandemic - what a perfect opportunity, no? But we found ourselves distracted by such essential pastimes as the Tiger King series, BBC’s Ghosts, and Schitt’s Creek.

So we’re on it five years later. 

We began with what should have been easy - pulling the boxes out of the closet with baby clothes and items from my 30-something year old children. We thought Grandbaby #1 might just benefit from something useful or meaningful within them.

In short - less useful than one would have hoped. Some items were downright dangerous - it’s remarkable my kids survived the stuff we hung in their cribs. But we made it through six plastic boxes of clothing, toys, dolls, and scrapbooks of cards sent on the occasion of each child’s arrival.
And then we found a mystery box. No baby clothes. No toys. Just a box of small journals and papers that included letters.

There are diaries and musings by my Grandma Blue from the late 1930s through the mid 1950s. I’ve only begun rolling through the journey of her days. They’re filled with the cares and worries of her daily life. Did she prepare the chicken well? Were her neighbors concerned with the way she kept her garden? These will be a source for more thought and discovery.

Wedged in the box, I found a set of ten letters written by my father to my mother the spring and summer before their wedding in July of 1950. If my parents were alive today, they would be 116 and 106, so these are a snapshot of 1950 from the 40 year old Art to his 30 year old fiancee. 

He writes to Miss Mercedes Blue Deshler, Ohio from his drafting desk at Humphryes Manufacturing Company on blue lined graph paper.  

“After seeing that beautiful stationery you use I feel like a tramp using this stuff. I have better stationery at home, but I’m at the plant now and want to mail this on the way home to be sure you receive it tomorrow.”

Can you imagine? Mail out one day that’s received across Ohio the next? Of course, my parents couldn’t have imagined instantaneous email, either. 

Amid updates on his efforts to find a suitable apartment for rent after their wedding, he regaled Mom with news of his engineering and drafting work for Humphryes.

“We are going to bring all three of our mold conveyors up-to-date…and…today, I hired the concrete busting labor and equipment from Mr. Purdy, and the new foundations to be built by Jacob Wolf Co. I am now writing orders for steel work. Luckily the drawings were all made.” 

And he follows that with a line drawing, complete with dimensions in the midst of the page.

“You will see the discharge hole at the bottom is off center in both directions, which means each of the four corner seams is at a different angle…I will lay them out Saturday and Sunday so that Mansfield Structural can get the plates ready next week.”

Heady romantic material, no? That was my pragmatic practical father believing the structural engineering details of his work should be shared with the woman he was preparing to marry

But at least he signed this letter  with a - Love, Arthur -  instead of the earlier - Sincerely, Arthur. 

I really need to find the box that has the letters mom must have sent in reply. Was she equally detailed in her descriptions of picking out china patterns and wedding arrangements? 

And the Games Begin...

It was seventeen below zero when I got up this morning on the North Coast of this country. That’s not totally unusual in Minnesota - although it does feel oddly appropriate that the whole country seems to be shivering today.

The two realities of our nation will be observed as we commemorate the life and impact of Martin Luther King, Jr. and inaugurate Donald John Trump as President.

Bizarre, eh?

One man championed social justice and civil rights for all and the other plans to revoke birthright citizenship today. 

I’ve spent the last couple months trying to avoid news to focus instead on healing this body of mine. Stress is never a healthy addition to life. But the enforced sedentariness made it hard to miss all of the shenanigans - and now, it feels like time to pay attention again.

This weekend, for example, provided puzzling theater. The man who declared TikTok a threat to the country in 2020 and pushed for a ban was credited with restoring the platform for its 170 million American users. 

Makes one wonder, doesn’t it? Which Donald Trump do we believe? The one who declared TikTok a threat to national security as it provides user data to China? The one who pushed his cronies in Congress, including his Secretary of State appointee Marco Rubio, to pass the Averting the National Threat of Internet Surveillance, Oppressive Censorship and Influence, and Algorithmic Learning by the Chinese Community Party Act, or the ANTI-SOCIAL- CCP Act. Or the one who has invited the head of TikTok to sit on his inauguration dais with him? 

This flip flop could provide a road map for the future, though. It appears million dollar contributions to the Trump White House will shift policy positions.  

Those of us interested in autonomy for women’s health decisions, for the principles of diversity and equity, and who believe all people regardless of religion or practice have an equal right to pursue a life of freedom and dignity just need to fundraise to make contributions to Trump, Inc. 

Grieving LA...

We didn’t live there very long. A fleeting four years or the expected span of a college degree. But in that time, I fell in love with LA.

It’s the place. The history and thriving neighborhoods of the place. It’s the arts and creative community of the place. And, for me, it was the people I met and worked with in that place.

And for all of them - all of that - the heart that I left behind is breaking. 

We moved to LA - actually Pasadena - in late 2011. So I was there when the last major Santa Ana winds did significant damage to old growth trees all along the San Gabriel Valley. They were punishingly harsh, but of limited duration. And there was no fire involved in those.

But this destruction - this devastation - this is beyond understanding. And it’s not done yet. The winds keep blowing and fires seem to start spontaneously in canyons and parks. And the loss and grief mounts.

I find myself wandering around our 120-year-old home in Minneapolis, looking at our stuff and trying to decide what would be in my go bag. And I’ve realized this week that it’s not the stuff itself I would miss, but the loss of this comfortable haven we’ve created for ourselves full of the warm memories of life events with family and friends over the years. It would be the loss of the neighborhood and the familiar faces that smile, before a friendly wave as they walk by on the way to the stores and restaurants down the block.  

I can only imagine the pain of that loss for the thousands in the Palisades and Altadena - and it is heartbreaking. 

LA has such a unique impact on the culture of this country. It  is a place built on the dreams and imaginations of storytellers, many of them immigrants who landed on the west coast more than a hundred years ago. As a storyteller myself, that may be why I love it so. The pioneers were people with chutzpah and grit who went west with big ambitions to launch what is now the entertainment industry built on film, TV, and music studios.

It’s that legacy of those with grit, big dreams, and vibrant imaginations that gives me strands of hope now. I know LA will come back from all this - somehow, someday. For now, I’ll look for ways to be helpful from here. Ways to contribute that will help.

That's a Wrap...

Onward we move to 2025 - and what a relief that will be!

This household is looking forward to putting 2024 in the rear view mirror. And yet…

And yet - there were also some remarkable highlights this year.

Yes, this will go down as the year of Orthopedic Challenges that brought with it a wild range of new accessories now living in their own corner of the garage. There’s a walker, some crutches, canes, more TubiGrip/Ace bandage rolls than any one human should need - not to mention an embarrassing supply of pain pills that I’ll really need to dispose of before too long. 

I’ve learned new skills - navigating flights of stairs with boots, canes, and said crutches - and recently, I learned to administer my own IV antibiotics. 

In the midst of all that, we also celebrated a spectacular wedding - adding an equally spectacular set of in-law family (our machatunim, in Yiddish) to our future lives. A big note of gratitude to our son for falling in love with a woman that we all love - who has a family we adore as well. 

Sure, I attended the wedding in a boot with crutches, forgoing a highly choreographed mother son dance that would have been historic,…or perhaps hysteric-al. 

There was a 50th high school reunion in Ohio. That was fun seeing old friends in real life 3D rather than the 2D updates visible via Facebook over the past few decades. It was incredibly nourishing to the soul - reconnecting memories with faces and faces with vague “did-that-really-happen” memories. 

Yes - our country is in for a wild ride, working its way through the variety of realities we all seem to be experiencing. It is the best of times? Is it the worst of times? Where’s Dickens when we need him?

We’re looking forward to 2025 as a year to nurture good health, the happiness of family, and meaningful memories with friends. To all of you - thank you for being there when we needed you, and for adding special joy to our lives. 

Happy New Year! 

One more time...

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio

I began a very different piece a week or so ago. It was about the joy of wrapping up this Year of Orthopedic Challenges in a very different place. It was focused on the truly remarkable ability of a body’s ability to heal itself. Of spending a remarkably memorable Thanksgiving holiday with our new in-law family in Chico, California. And of the joy of anticipating the arrival of our first grandchild. 

All of those things are still true - yet the universe is intent on proving it has a sense of humor - and that I’m a slow learner.

It turns out that I’m “that friend” of yours this year. You know the one. Every time you hear from me, it involves another episode of an unexpected medical condition. 

This time? It turns out I was too relaxed about the wound that wouldn’t completely heal from the Achilles surgery. The doctor told me it would take time. What does that mean? A month? Turns out it’s not supposed to be more than eight months. 

That wound allowed a nasty little strep infection to get into my blood leading to some very concerned doctors, a six-day stay in the hospital with a range of diagnostic tests and way too many blood draws, plus an infectious disease doc on call. Of course, one of the big risks involved the new improved hip. Last thing one wants is an infection in a new joint! 

Of course, the universe again intervened to ensure that the orthopedics MD on call while I was in the hospital was the same surgeon who installed said hip. He has a vested interest in nothing challenging his results, so I’m in good hands with his interest and the ID docs advising the kind hospitalist directing my care.

I had other plans this past week. Parties to attend and to throw. My Mahj friends had a game on the schedule. I even baked cookies again this year after a few year hiatus. But a sudden onset of rigors in the middle of the night followed by a weird rashy leg led my compassionate primary care provider to send me off to the ER. 

She knew how “done” I am with the health care system. I’ve had a full share of exposure to hospitals, clinics, PT, labs - all the things. But she is also smart and the look in her eyes told me not to brush this one off. 

Side note: This is not the time of year to get sick. It may be trendy, but stay away from hospitals! There’s truly no room at the inn and those working are either overwhelmed or have deep stores of resilience and good humor. I seem to have lucked out with a team of the latter. 

The good news is that they figured out which pathogen caused this infection, and have targeted it effectively with the right antibiotic. So I’m home with the new skill of self-administered IV antibiotics. 

I’m grateful for my insurance coverage with Blue Cross/Blue Shield  of Minnesota  in a state with solid patient-focused oversight of plans. And for my ever supportive family - and so many notes of concern from friends (it will be OK), I end this year of 2024..definitely one for the books. 

High hopes for a healthy 2025!

Gratitude Regardless

Norman Rockwell’s Thanksgiving Picture was called The Freedom From Want - taken from Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s 1941 State of the Union address where he discussed the four freedoms offered by our democratic system of government.

“The third is freedom from want—which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants—everywhere in the world.”

It was a tough month for me and our family. So many questions - so very many questions - raised by the outcome of the elections in this country.

So I turned to a range of those pastimes that provide comfort to me and others. Yes, making chicken soup, followed by a wide range of roasted, sauced succulent vegetables. There were gatherings that ranged from a small lunch around our cluttered table with old colleagues to dinners out with fun loving, much traveled friends. All were nurturing and necessary

Now - as we prepare to spend Thanksgiving weekend with our in-law family - I’m settled and ready to move forward. 

I understand that 49 percent of those who showed up to vote see the world very differently than I do and see a range of reasons to fear what I see as progressive politics. 

I also understand that I spend most of my  time with those who see the world as I do - full of promise and potential for a better tomorrow. Of course, to achieve that better future means we need to work together, across our differences, to solve the problems of society - to find common ground and move from there. 

After a year of learning that my physical self can heal from nearly anything, I’m now working on the healing I’ll need to do to find that common ground. It will start with the values I know are shared by those I care for beyond partisan politics.

My childhood, college, and adult friends all believe that being honest with oneself and others is a good place to start…digging deep to find the truth behind our beliefs. I also know that we share a strong belief in good character - choosing to spend time with those who treat others with kindness and respect as a reflection of the respect and kindness we seek. 

We’re all human though - so we slip up from time to time. I know I have to work at avoiding gossip, or lashon hara, (Hebrew for unkind words) and work to avoid being judgmental of others. It can be difficult to remember that our shared humanity all the way to our DNA is much more alike than different. And that requires always offering benefit of the doubt to any who may appear or speak or present as different to what I’m accustomed to experiencing. 

As we enter this reflective period of gratitude, beginning with our national Thanksgiving holiday, I’ll hold tight to the values I strongly believe will lead us beyond the angry acrimony of the past few months and allow us to seek fairness and justice as imagined by those who founded this 200 + year experiment in democracy. 

Chicken Soup

I made chicken soup this morning. It seemed like the only rational response to yesterday’s event.

I’ve learned, during my 42+ years as a wife, and then mother that chicken soup really does cure all.

There are important steps to the best soups. First, you need a cut up kosher chicken. Something about the process involved in kashering chicken makes it perfect for making soup. And you need the skin and bones to ensure the broth has flavor and healing powers. Boneless skinless chicken breasts are great for grilling, but useless when making soup.

Start with the chicken covered in water, letting it boil slowly  for an hour before adding salt - a tablespoon per chicken. Then another half hour of simmering before adding the vegetables. These are critical to flavor as well. Yellow or sweet onions quartered. Good carrots, cut up. Celery stalks - those with the leaves are best. And cut up parsnips. Add another tablespoon of salt - and pepper corns - and again, leave it alone to simmer for a couple more hours.

Gives one time to think about process and the steps involved in making something that will nourish body and soul as it heals. 

When the smells permeate the house, it’s time to derive the golden broth from the spent vegetables and chicken. Drain off the veggies, reserving the carrots to return chopped to the broth. Pull the chicken from the bones for use in pot pies, or chicken salads…and you’re left with pure healing power awaiting noodles or matzo balls for that final comforting touch.

My advice to my dear friends and family? Find your chicken soup. 
Figure out how to nourish your stores of energy and drive because one thing is very clear this morning. We have a lot of work to do to protect our children and grandchildren from Project 2025 ever being fully implemented.