In journalism school we talk a lot about the First Amendment. We ponder what it means, who it protects, how it affects our business. We think about what we would do if we were, say, prevented by the police in the middle of a protest at the U.N., and imagine what it will be like when we are real live paid journos. Frankly, the theoretical chatter feels like blowing a lot of hot air and a frustrating waste of time. I just want to get out there and report and see if journos really do make a difference.
Then I listened to Ron Suskind the other night for 2 precious hours, one of the most inspiring speakers I have heard. He is my new favorite person, mainly because his sense of humanity--extended, with humor, even to the bad guys. He reminded us why journalists are important.
Foremost, he said, journalists seek the truth.
Some of my favorite quotes:
"We have a special endeavor that was recognized by the founding fathers," he said. "They understood that journalists are necessary for democracy. We carry a banner. If it means going to jail, go.
"When anything works, in life, in any relationship, it's because of truth. Trust truth. It's what works."
'"Beauty is truth, truth beauty. That is all/Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.'
"The arch of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice. The arch doesn't bend on it's own. People of courage and shared purpose grab it and pull it with all their might."
Since my last woefully distant entry at the beginning of the summer, I have accomplished a lot... I packed up my Laurel Heights home of three years, sold all my furniture, bade farewell to my dear San Francisco friends and moved to New York City.
As my friend Ari astutely summed up: my new life is a flashback, party of one.
After ten years in the professional world making an income and climbing various ladders (although my ladders always seemed to progress latterally?!) I am back in the classroom. I started graduate school at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism last week and I have spent the last two weeks learning how to build a kick-arse website from my tech savvy professors Duy and Russell (who wrote the book on Flash--literally, his books are the first to pop up on Amazon), dining out, going to a Yankee's game, cruising off of Oyster Bay, playing pool with my new classmates, buying a combination lock for my school locker and slowly sharpening my mind after a summer of blissful sloth. I am loving almost every moment of being immersed in a world where journalism is our shared religion.
For example, last night, Brian Ross spoke to our class about how the ABC online site, Blotter, broke the Mark Foley page scandal story. It took 48 hours for Foley to resign after Ross phoned the chief of staff and asked about incriminating IM's. Editors chose not to include the more lascivious (and interesting!) IM's in their stories, but Ross brought in a sheaf of printed emails that were the real deal... Foley trying to hit on 16 year old high school lacrosse players and trying to sound hip and youthful ("are you horny?cool."), the result of which was, naturally, to betray how pathetic and creepy he is. My point is that I got to read the actual evidence that drove a story that captured the horrified attention of the country, launched ABC's online presence and ended a political career.
While I luuurve San Fran, I've been happier and more stimulated in the last three weeks in New York than my last three months at home and being a student is a fantastic gig.
Ever seen the movie "Babe" starring the adorable, bubble gum pink sheep-herding pig? That might give you an idea about my here-to-fore unpublicized, undisclosed and somewhat embarrassing passion. This summer Addie and I are committing ourselves to our favorite past time: herding geese. Every Friday, we cruise through rose and vegetable farms to Half Moon Bay, then swing south along the coast on gorgeous California Route 1 to a farm in Pescadero.
There we join several batty, barrel-chested, country women who herd sheep, ducks
and geese. We wave Little Bo Peep-esque crooks at our canines (who are
undoubtedly smarter and quicker than we at this activity) and shout commands
like: away to me! go by! get out! walk up... walk up... WALK UP!! It is a foreign
language, but you should see how accurately and quietly Addie follows every
command, even when she knows I know I'm screwing up. She understands better than I how to push a flock
of geese off a fence, circle them in the center of the pen and flush them
through a few gates. It's kind of embarrassing to admit on, say, a first date
that herding sheep is a favorite past time, but man is it a rush to see Addie
exercising her ability to work a pen! The herding instinct has been bred into the Australian
Sheppard over hundreds of years and it’s so cool to see her manage a gaggle of
farm animals and it's fun to learn how to improve *my* skills. After all, the only ancestral instincts I have are how to consume G&T's, Mint Milanos and Triscuits.
As an "urbane" city-dweller and San Francisco-is-the-most-cosmopolitan-place-in-the-world
snob, I was quick to up-turn my nose at the unfashionable ladies and their
inferior, but cute (I'm not a hater), doggies. I was also very verbal (to myself) in
drawing large distinctions between The Ladies and me--and my dog. I mean, I am NOT
one of them, and neither is Addie. To wit: we try to eliminate facial hair, we use correct
grammar, we did not stockpile canned food and flashlights in the basement in preparation for the Millenium Bug... in short, we have LIVES, people! Full disclosure: I was v. annoyed at how impressed these mother hens were with my little brother, just because he happens to be a vet and memorably
treated a bleeding lamb that fell victim to Falcon, the German Sheppard. But
I digress... then I noticed I was on the edge of my seat listening to The Ladies describe vet clinic scandals, busting up puppy mills and, most recently, the
miraculous recovery of stolen Betty Sue, the miniature Sheltie. I love this stuff!!! Turns out we are all equally "pazza" about dogs. Given that I
actually have more in common with The Ladies than I originally allowed, I now
recognize their deep wisdom... obviously. I like to solicit their advice on how to get the damned geese out of a corner or what Addie's chances are of going to Nationals.
The Ladies may not look as chic as I do sporting my sweet-girl outfit (Carharts, aviators) but being older, they are certainly wiser. And their dogs are pretty good at what they do, too.
