No apologies from journalists. This is what we do.

Here in central Maine a 20-month-old girl is missing. Her dad put her to bed on a Friday night and she was gone when he went to check on her the next morning, he told police.
That was two weeks ago.
Several days ago, I was discussing the story with a non-journalist acquaintance and she remarked -- with disapproval -- that I didn't seem too feel very bad about it.
I gave some quick and generic answer.
But I've been thinking about it, and I'm going to try again here.
There are thousands of people out there daily saying how bad they feel about Ayla Reynolds' disappearance. You can see them in the grocery store and at vigils and on national TV.
I don't need to add my voice to that chorus.
But I can say, as a journalist, there aren't nearly as many people who can do what we do. Very few, as a matter of fact. And that's tell the story with accuracy, professionalism and credibility.
It's something that's gotten lost in the past decade with all the noise out there coming from the Internet and cable TV and the gotta-keep-talking 24-hour news cycle. A lot of noise going on, but not necessarily a lot of telling the story the way it ought to be told.
Good journalists are keenly aware of their commitment to their audience. Our job is to tell you what's going on. If knowledge is power, it's our job to bring the best knowledge to the people -- whether it's stories about what your government is doing, what's going on in the streets of your town, the halls of your school or the aisles of your grocery store.
It doesn't have so much to do with "selling papers" -- that old accusation we hear any time we jump on a big story. Of course we want to sell papers. It's a business. But few reporters or editors are thinking about that when they're working on telling the story.

And when an important story has to be told, every journalist worth his or her salt wants to be the one to tell it.
It's like playing for the Red Sox and wanting to have the bat in your hand when Game 7 is on the line.
And when that story is happening in your town, you HAVE to be the one to tell it. No one is going to tell it better. And nothing compares to the excitement of being part of a team of talented professional journalists who can't wait to get out there and tell it the best way they can.
We know a lot of people don't understand it. You don't have to understand it. Just be glad we do.
Two weeks ago today, a 20-month-old child vanished from her bed.
How do I feel about it?
It goes without saying.
Two weeks ago today, a child vanished from her bed. In my town. And I'm a journalist.
How do I feel about it?
Put me in, coach.

Journalism: A Day in the LIfe

This is a true story. Every quote is accurate. It carries no moral, no conclusion. Enjoy.
Scene: Augusta, Maine, supermarket. The newspaper editor (me) puts several newspapers on conveyor belt, along with various groceries. Cashier and bagger both in their 20s or 30s.
Cashier to bagger (looking at newspaper headline World Looks Warily at North Korea): "Oh, that's right. Kim Lee Duck or whatever died."
Bagger shakes her head and shrugs.
Cashier (trying again): "Dong Duck Lee? Whatever?"
Bagger (putting one pound can of peeled tomotoes on top of loaf of bread) shrugs again.
Me: "Kim Jong Il."
Cashiner: "Right!"
Bagger: "I don't know who that is."
Me: "The leader of North Korea."
Bagger: "Oh." (pause) "That's sad."
Me: "Not really. He didn't like us. Dangerous guy. Maybe could have blown us up."
Bagger (brightening): "Then that's good!"
Me: "Not really. No one knows what's going to happen next."
Bagger: "I'm confused."
Cashier: "It's confusing."
Me: "You can read all about it in the newspaper."
Cashier laughs, like I made a joke: "Whatever!"
Bagger wrinkles her nose in disgust (yes she did!): "I don't think so."
Cashier: "Whatever. Have a nice day!"
I take my groceries and leave.

In America, all religions are equal. Some are just more equal than others.

The religious fervor of constantly genuflecting Denver Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow is getting a lot of press and airtime these days.
The devoutly evangelical Christian explains his on-field praying, "If you believe, unbelievable things can happen," with an aw shucks this ain't about me humility.
What's not to love? The media has certainly eaten it up with coverage in the mainstream press, web and television almost universally laudatory aside from the ineffective nod to balanced coverage. Even the Boston Globe, in a story that aimed to be neutral, but didn't hit the mark, can't help but beam at the all-American boy.
In the article Tuesday headlined "Hail Mary passer: Broncos' Tebow is all the rage, whether it's his playing style or spiritual belief," the newspaper gives lip service to opposing views, while most of the lengthy feature is given over to a variety of people explaining why Tebow does what he does and why it's ok.
And New England Cable News led into its glowing piece this morning with the intro that Tebow is "winning hearts and minds" with his behavior.
Both reports had the obligatory religion professor asking "what if he were a Muslim?"
But the coverage from both reports, like most others, then slid fully into pure Tebow love. NECN spent the last minutes of the report having a young female Tebow-obsessed fan showing the reporter how to genuflect Tebow-style.
Sure the Muslim question gets asked. But the issue with it is that in every single media report it's rhetorical.
It's asked, then the story moves on.
No one asks that question of all the people who righteously, defiantly -- and correctly -- point out that Tebow has the right to practice his Christianity on the field. No one says to them, "OK, he as a Christian has the right, but how would YOU FEEL ABOUT IT if he were Muslim?"
And so the moment passes.
But what if he were?
Farther back in the newspapers -- for instance, on the business page of that day's Globe -- buried on the websites and not evident almost anywhere on television, is the increasingly succesful effort of a group called the Florida Family Association to get sponsors to pull out of the TLC reality show "All-American Muslim."
The most notable sponsors to leave the show are Lowe's, whose reason is that the show is a "lightning rod" for controversy. Kayak.com, a travel website, also pulled out, explaining this week that it's not because the show's about Muslims, but it's because it "sucks."
As far as reality shows go, "All American Muslim" IS a little bland. No sex, no bling. Just regular Americans getting through the day and life in Dearborn, Mich. Recent episodes dealt with the high school football team's big loss to Central Catholic in the season-opening game, hampered by the fact many of the players were fasting because of Ramadan; a character's post-partum depression; another's desire to open a nightclub despite the disapproval of her conservative mother; and a soon-to-be married couple's conflict over whether the man's aging dog can live with them in their new house.
The show also includes the characters sitting in a group, discussing their beliefs and explaining why, for instance, women live at home until they're married or why Muslims generally don't like having a dog in the house.
In other words, it's a show about regular people who are anywhere from devoutly religious to not very religious at all living their lives.
One thing that's ironic, given that the Florida Family Association is fighting to get the show off the air, is that the obvious theme running through every episode is family love and devotion.
Kayak sponsors a lot of shows. Some are much better than "All American Muslim" and some certainly are worse. Is whether a show "sucks" really that company's standard for sponsorship?
The show that features the football game against Central Catholic has a Central Catholic player saying after the game that his team respects the team they just beat and religious beliefs have nothing to do with the game or how his team feels. "Everyone's a football player on this field."
Lightning rod, indeed.

Lowes and Kayak are businesses. They exist to make money. And they've determined that in America, more customers will be behind religious intolerance than equality and religious enlightenment.
So, what if Tim Tebow were a Muslim?

Getting it would be a good start

A story in the Boston Globe's sports section Monday on the continuing saga of the Jerry Sandusky child sex abuse allegations was particularly disturbing.
The story talked to men who played for or coached with Sandusky during his one year at Boston University in 1968. No, it didn't bring forward any new charges or graphically describe the old ones.
No, the disturbing part was quotes like these:
"The Jerry Sandusky we knew was an outstanding human being and coach," John Williams, a defensive lineman in 1968, told the Globe.
"It blew my mind when this stuff came out because it was so uncharacteristic of the Jerry Sandusky I knew," said Bob Peck, BU's athletic director at the time.
"If the allegations are true, then this is a classic case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I didn't know him as Mr. Hyde, but when he was Dr. Jekyll, he was the greatest guy in the world." That from Jim Norris, who coached with Sandusky.
Why disturbing?
Because here we are in 2011, after all the publicity, particularly in Boston, of the church sex abuse crisis, and the abuse of Sen. Scott Brown at the children's camp he attended as a child, the ongoing news of abuse of other children at the camp, and all the information available on child sex abuse that we have available now and these guys haven't gotten past the number one myth of child sex abuse. The myth that the guy doing it isn't a "nice guy," isn't a normal person, isn't someone, well, like they are.
According to the Leadership Council, the number one myth about child sex abuse is that normal-appearing, well-educated, middle class people don't abuse children.
The council says: "One of the public's most dangerous assumptions is the belief that a person who both appears and acts normal could not be a child molester. Sex offenders are well aware of our propensity for making assumptions about private behavior from one's public presentation. In fact, as recent reports of abuse by priests have shown, child molesters rely on our misassumptions to deliberately and carefully set and gain access to child victims."
The council quotes Dr. Anna Salter, an expert on sex offenders, who says, "A double life is prevalent among all types of sex offenders . . . . The front that offenders typically offer to the outside world is usually a 'good person,' someone who the community believes has a good character and would never do such a thing." 
This doesn't mean that the guys at BU back in 1968, when child sex abuse was pretty much ignored, should have seen what Sandusky was like, known anything about his alleged proclivities or been able to change the future.
But it also shows that you don't have to see a guy raping a child in a shower to know he's not the guy you thought he was. Hell, look at Penn State. In 2002, after SEEING the guy raping the kid in the shower, he was still given a pass.
There's probably no way Peck, Norris, Williams, and all the other guys on the Terriers football squad could have known a child sex abuser may be in their midst. But in the light of what we know 43 years later, they should be aware that any normal-seeming guy could be that guy, and that the guy you knew could easily be the sex offender you don't know.
And many child sex offenders never show the evil, monster-like Mr. Hyde face. They are kindly Dr. Jekyll all the time, even when they're abusing the kids.
Because the "greatest guy in the world" can also be abusing children.
In other words, it's not a double life. It's his life and being that "great guy" is all part of it.
 The men in the article also had some very manly reactions to the Sandusky accusations.
"If the allegations are true, then I'll bet 80 percent of my teammates would support a public execution," Williams told the Globe.
"I would have dropped him on the spot," said Pete Dexter, who played on the team.
Manly indeed. But how about we put down the keg of testosterone and find a way to stop this stuff from happening in the first place?
A good start would be for everyone to educate themselves about the signs of child sex abuse and know that even a stand-up guy like Jerry could be a sex abuser. That would be a much more effective response to the problem than popping the guy in the nose.
The Boston Globe would have been well served to add the voice of a child sex abuse expert to its story, but even a lot of the media hasn't grasped what the story is really about.
Because we need to get past our shock that the greatest guy in the world can do this and realize he can. Because then people would be a lot less hesitant to go right to the cops with what they saw the greatest guy in the world doing, or even the more subtle signs, like "horsing around" too much with kids, putting themselves in a position to be around young kids all the time, and all the other signs that have been well-publicized, but seem to be ignored when the guy is the greatest guy in the world.
Let's hear some more from the fellas.
"It's hard to believe someone could lead a second life like that. If Jerry did this, he deceived a lot of people, including me," said Darryl Hill, an offensive lineman on the team, who, according to the Globe, "best remembers Sandusky's kindness."
And one final, jarring quote:
"He was the kind of guy you liked being around, which is probably why those Penn State guys didn't do enough to report him," said Barry Pryor, who played for the Terriers and later for the Dolphins.
"They probably loved him."





 

The Sad Tale of Not-So-Happy Valley

The irony, I'm sure, was lost on the out-of-breath sportscaster who during the close-to-hysteria coverage of Joe Paterno's ouster by Penn State explained -- or maybe even excused -- the reaction of the close-to-rioting student body by saying that at the school, football is a religion.
I guess that makes JoePa Cardinal Law.
Because take away the locker room, the helmets, and the TV contracts and you have an eerily similar story. A brotherhood of grown boys protecting their billion-dollar industry once again at the expense of raped children.
The story is this: a young football assistant said he walked into the Penn State locker room late one night in 2002 to find Jerry Sandusky, a Penn State legend both on the field and on the sidelines and now director of a program for disadvantaged boys, raping a 10 year old boy against the shower wall. Sorry for the graphic description. Most of the news stories say he said he found him "with" the boy in the shower. Which kind of conjures pictures of them both lathering up and playing with rubber duckies. But a few accounts have told it like it is, and there's no mistaking what was going on.
The young assistant, after mulling it over for a night, told his boss, legendary football coach Joe Paterno. Who told his boss, the school's athletic director. Then apparently washed his hands of the whole thing.
I wonder how many people anywhere else in the world would walk in on a scene like that and not take some kind of immediate action?
And I wonder how many people in Paterno's position -- who by the way has said he believed the young assistant's account -- would consider the matter closed after telling his boss?
But in the glorified billion-dollar industry that is college football, the rules are different. Kind of like they were (and still are in many ways) in that other rich boys' club.
Jerry Sandusky may not have done it. And the other eight charges against him over the past 15 years that the grand jury came back with recently may not hold up. (Although having served on a grand jury, I can testify that with pedophiles, the cases that are absolutely solid are the ones you indict on and the other dozens where the witness is shakey, the dates confused, etc., get tossed aside). And all those kids and moms are just making things up. Because...not sure why.
But the bottom line is that a fella told Joe what he saw. And Joe believed him. Then did next to nothing.
And the big story, if the coverage over the past several days and tonight as Joe gets canned, is not that a powerful football man (Sandusky) can once again show that the most disgusting of crimes can be ignored if you have the right friends and wear the right uniform.
 No, the BIG story if my TV and the wire services are to be believed is that a college football coach has lost his job.
And the bizarre thing is, people are pissed off about it. The guy losing his job, not the choice of story lead.
I know people who went to Penn State. They're not stupid people, for the most part. But there is definitely some kind of disconnect between reality and the glorified fake world of college football.
Because as legendary as Paterno is and as Greek tragic as it is that he is going out in such an unhappy way, football is a money-making industry designed to line the pockets of the few while entertaining the many. Even college football. And that's all it is.
And yet somehow, while most people would express horror at the rape of children, they don't seem to understand what it has to do with this football coach. And now the damn kids and their moms are wrecking the legend of Happy Valley.
Sure, it's a story that Paterno is losing his job. The great thing about a Greek tragedy is that somehow karma will bite the "hero" on butt and that always makes for a good read.
But the bigger story is that where money, glory, fame and power are concerned, abused children are shuffled aside as an inconvenience and abusers are protected as they abuse again and again.
And maybe those Penn State students should have been rioting about that.

I hate to say I told you so...no wait, I don't.

Wow. Reality TV "star" Kim Kardashian and NBA player Kris Humphries are calling it quits after their 72-day marriage. After their more-money-than-you-or-I-will-see-in-a-lifetime wedding. Color me stunned.
Oh wait, don't.
Here's what I wrote in May after reading a story about their six-figure engagement party:

I was thumbing through People magazine and came across the incredibly substance-less, trite and downright bizarre when you think about it story of the "fairytale" engagement of Kim Kardashian, famous for simply being famous, and NBA star Kris Humphries.
The whole thing was "a dream come true"!
The 20-plus-carat ring brings this line from People: Kardashian had "long dreamed of the perfect man -- and the perfect ring"!
They had an engagement party that rivaled a state dinner to celebrate Kim's "Cinderella moment" (People's words, not mine). This was chronicled over several pages in the magazine, complete with photos of the proposal being spelled out in rose petals on the living room rug and the "princess themed" cake that cost thousands of dollars.
Now, I know it's People magazine and not The New Yorker. But I'd say People mirrors our attitudes as a society a whole lot more than probably any other popular publication.
And so, there we have it: a very rich young lady who is a "reality show" star with a B-list famous late dad (OJ Simpson lawyer Robert Kardashian) and B-list famous stepdad (Olympian Bruce Jenner) and an NBA star.
They've known each other since November so they "took the right amount of time and made sure it was right," according to Kardashian.
He asked her step-father's permission to marry her.
She has "always dreamed of a big wedding" so will "do something really over-the-top."
Now a lot of people may be saying, "Yeah, so? Sounds really romantic to me."
And that's the issue -- we are programmed to think all this is just great. Particularly women.
"Every little girl dreams of being a princess and marrying a handsome prince."...
And Kardashian. Cinderella? Guess again. More like one of the stepsisters -- rich, privileged, and entitled.
He asks her dad for her hand. Why? She's a grown woman.
Oh, but it's so romantic.
And she's dreamed of such a perfect engagement.
How about teaching little girls, and bigger ones for that matter, and maybe even the fellas, that instead of dreaming of weddings, spelling out proposals in rose petals, pretending to be princesses, we dream of a perfect marriage with equal partners who discuss their values, expectations and yes, dreams, before taking the plunge. 
The guy asks the dad for her hand instead of the two adults sitting down and discussing -- seriously -- what kind of life they expect to have with each other.
Every girl dreams of being a princess.
And that's the problem. No one dreams of a perfect marriage. Just the engagement. Just the wedding.
So the Kardashian story is another example of  the fluff and superficiality that we like to base our beliefs on.
Cliches carry so much more weight than looking at something realistically, logically, and pragmatically.
...
Here's what we accept as true, good and romantic: A little girl dreams of the perfect wedding ring. The bigger the better.
What does that say about what we expect as a society, both of little girls and of ourselves? 

That was back in May. The two got married in August. And divorced in November. People magazine had a big story -- did Kim get married just to further her reality show? As easy as that would be to believe, it gets a big NO from me. Reference the above May passage.

Kim wanted the "fairy tale." Hell, it's right there in People. It was there in the May issue and again in the August issue that gave equal coverage to her over-the-top wedding.

And here it is in the Nov. 14 issue. Several people commenting sadly that she wanted the fairy tale. Yes, they actually say fairy tale. The F word appears dozens of times spread across the three stories -- as an adjective. As a noun. Hell, I bet they would have made it a verb if they could have figured out how to.

"She wanted the fairy tale."

So sad, like somehow the fairy tale let her down.

Kim Kardashian isn't really that different from a lot of American women -- just richer and with more access to pop media.

Girls are taught almost from birth to value things that are pretty and sparkly. And men are taught no woman has more value than the one who is pretty and sparkly.

Getting flowers -- preferably sent to work so all the coworkers can see what a great partner and loving relationship we have (put those in air quotes) -- is more highly valued that turning off the TV, sitting down at the kitchen table for dinner and having a grown-up conversation about our day.

A proposal -- extra points if it's a surprise! -- is somehow considered preferable to two adults discussing their lives together, their values and mutually agreeing that it's something they can take on.

Women all over the country wake up from the "dream" a day, a week, a month, whatever, after the wedding and realize after their big princess-for-a-day moment, now they have to figure out how to live with the guy for the next 50 or so years.

And nobody ever told them about THAT.

The ultimate obituary

Young reporters and editors don't work for a newspaper very long before they learn the importance of obituaries. Nothing in the newspaper connects so closely with readers. Many old-timers who were in the business before email and fax machines can recall having to interrupt work on all their oh-so-important front page story to take dictation from a funeral director calling in an obit.
And while some obituary editors deal with as many as dozens of obits a newspaper edition, the good ones keep in mind that it may be the only obituary the family of the person in that obituary ever deals with, so they're handled with care.
And there's a beauty to every obituary -- every person's life is truly a story, even if it's laid out in a seven-inch newspaper column or life facts. It's easy to see the life behind those facts. Some newspapers go the extra mile -- the Boston Globe is really good at this -- and take an obituary of a "regular person" and interview loved ones and make a story out of it.
But despite all this, most obituaries follow a familiar trajectory using familiar language and phrases. Born, schooling, jobs, organizations, avid bingo player, hunter or Red Sox fan. Family members. Funeral information.
Some newspapers, now that it's the norm to charge for obituaries, give the families more leeway in how it's worded or what's said.
Occasionally one will make the reader smile. For instance, Marianne Perry's obituary in a recent issue of the Morning Sentinel, Waterville, Maine's newspaper, said she passed away surrounded by her loving family "and her devoted cat, Wiggles." Readers later learned she liked to rescue stray cats, including the devoted Wiggles.
But even with more flexible standards, rarely does an obituary stay with someone who didn't know the person.
Recently, however, one appeared in the Morning Sentinel that was stunning in its simplicity. While it had few of the elements that a standard obituary has, it told its story so well it bears repeating here:

Stephen Carl Coleman, 59, loving husband of Sarah, and very proud father of Thomas, Tennie and Rachel, passed away Sept. 20, 2011, on Wood Pond in Attean Township. Steve was nearly in sight of his float plane, Coleman's Knoll and the hill he made his home, enjoying a calm day. He left home early in the morning, got some work done, saw some friends, purchased a coffee and then passed quickly. Steve accomplished more than most in his life, but most importantly he loved his wife, children, family and friends and did it well. In return he was loved and deeply respected by all, even when they didn't agree. Those who knew him will never forget him, and many will aspire to match him in many, many fields of endeavor.

A casual memorial service will be held at 11 a.m. on Tuesday, Sept. 27, in his hangar, at his home, 859 Main St. in Dennistown. All are welcome to attend to reminisce and celebrate Steve's life.

In lieu of flowers, donations will be accepted towards a scholarship to benefit local students, aspiring pilots and the Jackman region in general. Please send donations to: Steve Coleman Memorial Scholarship Fund, c/o SAD 12/RSU 82, 606 Main St., Jackman, ME 04945.

(Morning Sentinel, Waterville, Maine, Sept. 24)

Steve Coleman had died in a drowning accident. He was running for county commission and was well-known in the area. A news story when he died left no doubt he was an accomplished person who had done much for his community, had been involved in many organizations.

There were few details about his life -- those pedigree details by which we often define ourselves -- instead simply a remarkably dignified and beautiful message about who this man was. 
And what better purpose for an obituary?

This is NOT ABOUT Casey Anthony...

In eight horrific days in our remote section of the world, six people died as the result of domestic violence.

On June 6, in Winslow, Maine, Nathaniel Gordon chased his wife, Sarah, down the street before shooting her in front of the neighbors and the couple’s two kids, aged eight and nine.

On June 14, in Dexter, Maine, Steven Lake killed his wife, Amy, and their two kids, Coty, 13, and Monica, 12.

Both men shot themselves when confronted by police.

Meanwhile, America was obsessed coast to coast with the circus that was the media “coverage” of the Casey Anthony trial.

I don’t have to tell you who Casey Anthony is — you know. She’s the young woman from Florida with the less-than-charming personality and a penchant for lying, who may or may not have killed her child.

I bet, though, you didn’t know who Nathaniel Gordon and Steven Lake were.

In 2008, the last year that statistics are available from the U.S. Census bureau, 1,502 children under the age of 18 were killed in America. That’s four or more a day.

In 2007, some 530,564 women were the victim of a violent crime by their partner. In that year 1,185 women were murdered by their partners in the U.S. (For those of you who believe the finger of shame is too often pointed at men in domestic violence, the same document shows about 82,000 men were the victim of violent acts by their partners and 382 men victims of homicide.)

Shortly after the crimes in Winslow and Dexter took place some stand-up men in Waterville, Maine, held a rally and press conference begging men to be involved in the solution to domestic violence, which is too often – in fact, almost always – considered a “women’s issue.”

Waterville Police Chief Joseph Massey said stopping domestic violence is everyone’s problem and men have to get involved in solving it.

“I call on the men individually, collectively. You need to step up to the plate,” he said.

But the best quotes from the rally came from a woman, Karen Heck, a co-creator of the group Hardy Girls, Healthy Women.

Forget best quote of the rally. She had one of the best quotes of the year. Maybe the decade.

“I'm sick and tired of waking up in the morning to news that more women and children have been killed by men who were supposed to have loved them.”

She added that “we must commit to changing the discussion from ‘why doesn't she leave?’ to ‘why does he abuse?’”

And finished with, “Let me be clear: men who love the members of their families do not kill them. No matter how clearly I say that though, our culture chooses not to listen to the voices of women.”

It was powerful stuff, covered heavily in the two newspapers, the Morning Sentinel of Waterville and the Kennebec Journal of Augusta. (Full disclosure: I work for both).

About 75 people attended, which most agreed was a good number.

The next morning, there was a memorial service for the three victims of Steven Lake.

About 1,000 people attended. It was covered on statewide TV, and several other out-of-state TV stations.

Lots of tears, lots of outrage.

Who knew Amy, Coty and Monica had so many friends?

And meanwhile, millions of Americans across the country were glued to their TVs, railing against Casey Anthony.

I don’t have to remind you who she is — the annoying young lady from Florida who lies, likes to party and may or may not have killed her young daughter.

Casey Anthony was found not guilty of killing her child July 5.

Last week, nearly a month after the verdict, news made national headlines that Casey Anthony, according to a poll, is the most hated woman in America.

The Lake and Gordon cases faded away pretty quickly, even here in Central Maine.

Two men who gunned down the mothers of their children in cold blood, and in one case, the children themselves, will not go down in history, even in our little corner of the world, as “most hated.”

Sure, people who knew and loved their victims will be scarred for life by it. And no one will blame them if they carry that burden of hate.

But for everyone else, It’s pretty much too bad, so sad.

It was a lot of fun going to the memorial service. Vigils are great. We can all cry and talk about the children and feel that self-righteous indignation. So next time something like this happens, and there will be a next time, we’ll get out the vigil candles and the sad faces and look for the TV cameras.

Rallies about the problems that lead to these happening? Not so much fun. Borrrrring. A bunch of stiff people spouting statistics. Yawn.

Karen Heck’s quotes, which were more insightful, to the point and powerful that probably 99 percent of the idiotic verbiage that clogged up the airwaves and Internet before, during and after the Casey Anthony trial, made the front pages of a few tiny newspapers and then were done.

It’s just not that interesting, right?

I know, I know. The last thing people want is one of those pompous “care about this, not that” screeds. Don’t read People, read The New Yorker. Don’t buy a Snickers bar when children are starving. Blah blah blah.

We’ll feel strongly about what we want to. The fun things.

We’ll reserve our strongest emotions for the next time Nancy Grace or some other TV talking head that’s part of the huge multi-billion dollar entertainment conglomerate designed to keep Americans from thinking for themselves tells us it’s time to hate someone again.

But just take the time for a minute to consider this:

Hate for another human being is never a very useful emotion. It saps a person’s energy without ever making a situation better.

When it’s for a human being you don’t even know, who has nothing to do with your life — for instance, Casey Anthony — it’s not only useless, it’s ridiculous and self-indulgent.

Imagine what could happen if all that energy that this country spent hating Casey Anthony — in fact, is still spending despite the fact that there was no evidence against her and the prosecution couldn’t prove its case and she was found not guilty — could be channeled into actually addressing the issues that lead people to kill their children.

And the mothers of their children.

A lesson in journalism

Mark Henderson died Sunday.
I shouldn't be surprised, I knew it was coming. Not like Amy Winehouse I-knew-it-was-coming, but he had terminal cancer and had been told his days were numbered.
But I had something to give Mark, and I hadn't gotten around to it.

In April, a publisher asked me to write a book called The Afterlife Survey. It's a sampling of a bunch of different peoples' views on the afterlife, loosely hinged on a Pew Forum survey that said 74 percent of Americans believed in an afterlife.
They wanted a sample chapter from me immediately. This was a great opportunity, but had come at the wrong time -- I'd just been offered, and accepted, a perfect job back in my home state. I was getting ready to move, getting my house ready to sell, mentally preparing myself for a new job with new duties. But I knew it was too good an opportunity to pass up.
And I knew if anyone could bail me out, it was Mark. We were acquaintances. Facebook friends. Introduced by my sister a few years before when he was chaplain of the hospital she worked at. We had similar political views and both liked to talk -- she thought we'd hit it off.
We never really got to know each other well. We had one of those twenty-first century electronic acquaintanceships.
But I knew Mark had beat serious cancer a few years ago only to recently have it come back. I knew he was a minister, with a master's in divinity from Boston University, who had some intriguing views on religion. I knew that if anyone had some serious beliefs about an afterlife and would be willing to share them in a completely out of the blue request by someone he didn't know that well, it would be Mark.
And I was right. Not only did he say yes, but he embraced the idea.
I knew he was once again dealing with cancer, and he told me that is was terminal.
And he said, "So the idea of addressing questions about the nature of the 'apres vie' is not only something that I'd love to do as an intellectual exercise, drawing on my years of reflection/reading on the subject combined with my fairly vast experience dealing with death and dying, but something that is immediate and personal. I really see this wonderful coincidence as an opportunity to leave something of a legacy behind."

Some friends were stunned that I'd asked him. Wasn't it a little inappropriate? A little insensitive?
But that's what we do as journalists. We ask questions other people don't, or won't, and hopefully get some answers.
Not only did I know Mark would be okay with me asking, but I also thought, what kind of afterlife book would it be if I didn't survey someone staring down death's barrel?
And to top it off, it turns out that he was no longer a minister. He was now an atheist and didn't believe there was an afterlife.
He definitely had to be in the book.
So I sent my surveys out. Forty or 50 or so. I put an early deadline on them, hoping to get enough back to start writing the book.
The day before the deadline, in early May, I got an email from Mark. He wasn't doing so great and while he was still committed to taking part, didn't think he could make the deadline.
No problem, I emailed back. Take your time. If you're too weak to answer the questions, write out an essay based on them or something. Anything. Whatever you want.
I didn't hear back.
The days passed, my June 15 deadline for finishing the book neared, and still nothing from Mark.
I'd received a lot of great survey responses. Poignant, thoughtful. Some laugh-out-loud-funny. From people who practiced religion and people who didn't. From fundamentalist Christians and from atheists. A priest, a rabbi, a funeral director.
But I really, really wanted that survey from the guy who was dying, and knew there was nothing beyond that.
So in early June, after a lot of back and forth in my head about whether I really should, and checking Facebook to make sure he'd had recent posts so was still, presumably, healthy, I emailed him again. I apologized profusely if it was a bad time for him, but said I knew how much he wanted to take part. I wanted to be sure he knew I still wanted to have him.
But I didn't get an answer. I resigned myself to not having him, to the fact he was too sick, and this project just wasn't a priority.
But three days before the deadline, he answered. He'd been in the hospital -- his wife had been told he wouldn't make their anniversary (which was, in a jolting coincidence, the day I'd emailed him).
He didn't think he could answer the survey in writing -- he was having too much trouble focusing because of his meds. But he was willing to do it over the phone.
So the morning before the book was due, I got up early, brewed a pot of coffee, and gave him a call.
I'd assured him it would take half an hour, tops. We were on the phone for two hours.
And he was funny and articulate. He made sense. He was reasoned and passionate.
And he talked about measuring the days. How he'd rented a TV series, thinking he'd seen the whole thing, only to be find out part six was coming out Aug. 6. .
"And I wonder, 'will I be around to see it?' It gives me something to shoot for." And he said that with a laugh. And it struck me -- this is a guy who honestly doesn't know if he will be alive Aug. 6.
And while everyone trots out that tired old cliche about living each day like it is your last, the reality of it never really struck me until that moment.
And yet Mark could laugh about it.


I realized at the time it was the best interview I'd ever had in my 30 years in journalism -- someone who was being completely honest, opening his heart and his guts, making sure that I understood his point.
As a reporter, I've always favored the conversational interview technique, rather than the firing questions technique. So Mark and I had a long conversation. And he blew me away.
He was excited about the book. He felt it was his legacy. He felt he'd been given a big opportunity to say something. That it was a wonderful coincidence that my opportunity and his opportunity collided.
I dedicated the book to him and made plans to send him an early bound galley. I didn't tell him about the dedication, I wanted it to be a surprise.
I couldn't wait for him to see it. Couldn't wait to unveil the big surprise.
And then my sister sent me a simple text today: "Mark H. died yesterday."
I won't insult him further by saying he's "up there" somewhere, seeing all this play out and appreciating the role he played.
But if I've learned anything, it's this: Journalism is a funny thing.
A bunch of barely qualified talking heads on TV can inflame a nation about a woman (one of thousands every year) who may or may not have killed her child. Where people running for president of the United States can't get their simple facts right, but no one seems to think it matters and no one holds their feet to the fire on it.
Where if something can't be said in 146 characters, it's not really worth listening to.
It's not a world where many people will pay attention to the thoughts, given over a two-hour interview, of a dying man musing on the nature of god, an afterlife, and humanity in general.
Mark scoffed when I said what he was doing was noble. He said noble had nothing to do with it. There was nothing courageous about it. But this was all he had. There was nothing left. And he wanted to go out of this world being understood.
He didn't know me that well. We'd had one long, beer-fueled night talking a few years ago. Some back and forths on Facebook since.
But he knew I'm a journalist, so he trusted me to get it said.
I hope I did him justice.
And if any of us need a reminder about what journalism is -- I know I do these days -- that is it.

Vapidly ever after...

People love a fairytale. I don't have to elaborate on why -- we all know it's got to do with our fantasies being a lot more fun and pleasant than reality in a lot of cases.
But the problem is, the fairytale is the template for reality.
Take, for instance, the recent royal wedding. The amount of excitement this generated was way beyond anything that the tale of two young people -- much richer and, at least in the girl's case, better looking than anyone deserves to be -- getting married should generate.
The gushing cliches that accompanied it, not only from magazines that you'd expect that kind of thing from, but from TV news, newspapers, and other mainstream news sources, were nausea-inducing.
This all came to mind again this week when I was thumbing through People magazine and came across the incredibly substance-less, trite and downright bizarre when you think about it story of the "fairytale" engagement of Kim Kardashian, famous for simply being famous, and NBA star Kris Humphries.
The whole thing was "a dream come true"!
The 20-plus-carat ring brings this line from People: Kardashian had "long dreamed of the perfect man -- and the perfect ring"!
They had an engagement party that rivaled a state dinner to celebrate Kim's "Cinderella moment" (People's words, not mine). This was chronicled over several pages in the magazine, complete with photos of the proposal being spelled out in rose petals on the living room rug and the "princess themed" cake that cost thousands of dollars.
Now, I know it's People magazine and not The New Yorker. But I'd say People mirrors our attitudes as a society a whole lot more than probably any other popular publication.
And so, there we have it: a very rich young lady who is a "reality show" star with a B-list famous late dad (OJ Simpson lawyer Robert Kardashian) and B-list famous step dad (Olympian Bruce Jenner) and an NBA star.
They've known each other since November so they "took the right amount of time and made sure it was right," according to Kardashian.
He asked her step-father's permission to marry her.
She has "always dreamed of a big wedding" so will "do something really over-the-top."
Now a lot of people may be saying, "Yeah, so? Sounds really romantic to me."
And that's the issue -- we are programmed to think all this is just great. Particularly women.
"Every little girl dreams of being a princess and marrying a handsome prince."
I heard that phrase so many times before, during, and after the royal wedding I was ready to go looking for a prince and princess and stick of TNT.

And Kardashian. Cinderella? Guess again. More like one of the stepsisters -- rich, privileged, and entitled.
He asks her dad for her hand. Why? She's a grown woman.
Oh, but it's so romantic.
And she's dreamed of such a perfect engagement.
How about teaching little girls, and bigger ones for that matter, and maybe even the fellas, that instead of dreaming of weddings, spelling out proposals in rose petals, pretending to be princesses, we dream of a perfect marriage with equal partners who discuss their values, expectations and yes, dreams, before taking the plunge. 
The guy asks the dad for her hand instead of the two adults sitting down and discussing -- seriously -- what kind of life they expect to have with each other.
Every girl dreams of being a princess.
And that's the problem. No one dreams of a perfect marriage. Just the engagement. Just the wedding.
All that hype the royal wedding got never talked about the royal marriage, except maybe to speculate on where they would live. How about girls dreaming of being strong, independent people who know what they want out of life and achieving it on their own merits?
So the Kardashian story is another example of  the fluff and superficiality that we like to base our beliefs on.
Cliches carry so much more weight than looking at something realistically, logically, and pragmatically.
And it carries over to the way we view the world around us.
People running for office mouth cliches that mean nothing, and everyone jumps on board because it is what every little taxpayer dreams of. But no one can really tell you what the substance is behind it. Or how we're REALLY going to run our government or country.
A horrible tragedy happens and everyone grabs a candle and goes to a vigil and says things like "no one deserves this" and vilifies the bad guy without maybe wondering what caused the whole thing to happen in the first place.
We care about the blond-haired, blue-eyed child who died because it's a big fairy tale to grab the candle, be on TV, cry for a child you don't know and be part of the fairytale that we live in a society that is divided into good and bad, princesses and evil stepsisters.
But what about all the other thousands of children in this country who are in equally precarious situations, and what about the circumstances that put them there? What about the things we support as a society that can cause so much damage to thousands of people, children, we don't even know?
Where's their candle? Their vigil?

Here's what we accept as true, good and romantic: A little girl dreams of the perfect wedding ring. The bigger the better.

What does that say about what we expect as a society, both of little girls and of ourselves?

This is how we cover it? Part two.

Well, the world didn't come to an end Saturday, as we all knew it wouldn't.
And while a flabbergasted Harold Camping presumably gets out his calculator and tries to figure out where the missing decimal point is, the media gets a few more days of non-news.
Because, come on, we all knew the world wasn't going to end. Truly "Dog Bites Man" in its silliest form.
The glee at which the media is reporting this non-story -- and yes, sometimes I see the media as one giant, gangling barely focused 13-year-old -- once again shows what's wrong with our all news, all the time 24 hour news cycle.
There are a lot of nuts out there. Thousand of them. Millions, maybe. Even nuttier and with wilderbeliefs than Harold Camping. And they never make the news.
Now some in the media, or maybe most, would say he brought all this on himself with his worldwide publicity effort to let us all know the world would end May 21.
But did we have to listen?
Another group of religious zealots, the Westboro Baptist Church of Kansas, is another perfect example of this. They are a group of about a dozen nuts who take inordinate pleasure in ridiculing and taunting people at the most painful time in their lives.
And the media love them.
Several months ago, this group sent the newspaper I was working for at the time a press release saying they were coming to town to picket a high school production of "The Laramie Project," a play that promotes tolerance. The newspaper did a story and sent a reporter to cover the picket.
But Elizabeth Edwards died, and so the picketers didn't show up. Remember, there's only about a dozen of them. They had to go to North Carolina to picket her funeral.
So the newspaper did a story on that.
That night, a story moved on the AP wire out of Fresno, Calif. -- about three thousand miles from the newspaper I was working for -- that they were going to picket there but didn't because of Elizabeth Edwards' death. That would have been the same night as the New Hampshire picket.
So where were they going to be?
The Westboro folks may be sick, intolerant people, but they've figured out one thing -- in this era of instant gratification media, you don't even need to show up. Their repugnant message got media play coast to coast and all they did was fax a couple of (very poorly done) press releases.

Kind of like the way the world didn't end, but Harold Camping probably got a lot of hits on his website anyway.
This is not to say that people like the Westboro Baptist Church, or even Harold Camping, shouldn't be covered at all -- shining a light on them reveals a part of our society people should know about.
But very little journalism goes into any of this coverage. 
You'd think with all the avenues available for information these days -- and those of us who work for newspapers are painfully aware of it -- that journalists would be energized into covering the news in a substantial way.
But it's much easier to cover the dog biting the man.
And, let's face it, the public is no more inclined to fire up its brain. We live in a society where more people can name the contestants on American Idol than the members of the Supreme Court. Or president's cabinet. Or their own U.S. Senators.

Stay tuned for Harold Camping's next press release.

End of the world? And this is how we cover it?

Well, here we are, our last day on Earth. Kind of feels so...ordinary.
You'd think at least God could have given us some sunshine to usher us all out with. But since we're sinners and he's going to annihilate us all, I guess that's not a realistic hope.
Seriously though, if you're to believe Harold Camping, an 89-year-old nutjob with his own radio network (a bad, but not uncommon, combination), the world is coming to an end at 6 p.m. tonight. At least for those of use who haven't been "redeemed," which, if you believe Camping's narrow definition, is most of us.
But, of course, except for some lost souls who could probably use a hug from their mom and a big dose of reality, no one believes Camping.
And yet, somehow, his prediction, based on a "mathematical" reading of the Bible, is all over the news and has been for days.
So that prompts me to ask: When does something go from being a funny, odd story meant for the back page with all the Lohan stalkings, American Idol updates and three-headed calves, to the news pages -- or the TV and web equivelant of such?
I watched Nightline last night when a serious-as-hell reporter asked Camping, "But if it doesn't happen..."
And Camping, insulted, his giant ears actually wiggling with indignation, shot back: "I don't even entertain that question, because it will."
The reporter didn't press him on it.
Harold Camping says the rapture he's sure is coming tonight was "predicted" maybe even hurried along by, of all things, the gay rights movement and our society's growing tolerance of people who don't fit his straight as a straight-jacket mold (my words, not his).
The reporter didn't press him on that, either.

We all know, the world will end someday. Not in a giant earthquake on a Saturday night in May, but hopefully centuries from now when we're all part of the compost system.
It'll end from natural causes, maybe hurried along by our disrespect for nature and our ecosystem.

Humanity, too, may end someday. Hopefully, again, centuries from now and maybe hurried along by our disrespect and intolerance of our fellow human beings and neglect of those that Jesus himself would have been the first to help.
Harold Camping may disagree with that view.
But then again, who the hell is Harold Camping?
The biggest piece of idiocy in this nutty story is not that some religious zealot is once again using the Bible to support some completely unsupported theory, but that the media has jumped on it as though it's a real story.
And tomorrow, or at 6:01 tonight, we all get to have a chuckle at Harold Camping's expense.
And Harold will probably go back to his calculator and refigure the numbers.
And then in a decade or so, we can do the dance all over again.
And no one is ever going to notice the little erosions in the world around us that are the coming of the real end of our world.
Because, let's face it, they just don't make for good TV.