Lisa Romero's Open Salon Blog

Blog Review: When the ends don't meet, hope & humor prevails

Thu, 3 Nov 2011 07:11:06 -0400

REAL BLOGS DON'T JUST share your observations 100% of the time. Instead, they can also be awfully good platforms for sharing the writing of people whose work you admire - people who deserve a larger audience.

I read this blog first thing today (see link below), and I thought some of you would like to see it, too - especially those of us struggling with making ends meet, with being good people, good parents.... With the trials and tribulations of modern life in an economically troubled and troubling world.

It's hard to read at times - because there's a lot of conflict and emotion packed into a condensed space. But there's hope and humor and a resolute determination to keep on keeping on, too. I admire that most of all.

If you check it out, you may come to love Trish's work as much as I do. (And that's a lot.) She's not on OS... yet. But we can work to fix that. ;-)

Happy Almost Friday, friends. Oh, and BTW: "It is the stupid economy."

'Poor, poor me' - According to Trish, Nov. 2, 2011

What the Media Aren't Telling You About American Protests

Mon, 26 Sep 2011 17:09:32 -0400

I AM LATELY REMINDED OF AN ASSIGNMENT when my metro editor sent me to cover a “gentle protest” over the Gulf War of the 1990s in Jackson, Mich. (Don’t remember that war – or what it was about? That’s OK – because it was probably “security” and “oil,” and George W. ultimately righted his dad’s failure to see that war action through to its completion: killing Saddam Hussein, or at least dismantling his government. But I digress.)

It was an after-hours event, likely on a weekend (as that was my beat). And when I arrived at the designated time, well after sundown, I found one lone woman walking the length of a wall at an armory or similar government-type outpost with, not a flashlight, but a real, flickering candle. Back and forth, in the dark, trudging in the snow.

No one else had shown up – except me, that is. The place was deserted and, as I recall, not on a busy road. I actually had to drive by twice before I even saw her candle and a small chair she set up for herself when she got tired. It occurred to me that, if I walked away, it would have been the same as if she’d never been there at all. Yet, incontrovertibly, there she was: protesting a war that, at the time, no one was particularly riled up about. It wasn’t a story, really.

But I decided to speak with her anyway. I walked with her for about an hour and asked questions. Apart from understanding that my editors expected my story for the next day’s edition, I also sensed that there could be a story to tell – and that, if I didn’t, no one might ever consider an opposing view that, while solitary, might be worth listening to.

I’d have to dig through years of clips to find that story now. (I’m sure it resides in the Jackson Citizen Patriot morgue). But it’s not the story that’s important to me now.

It’s that I covered it at all – and that my editors were grateful I did. And that readers seemed to value the fact we were there to capture a moment in their community they would otherwise not have known about.

MORE THAN A WEEK AGO, a small band of peaceful protesters descended on Zuccotti Park (formerly Liberty Park) in New York City, not far from Wall Street. They dubbed their little movement “Occupy Wall Street.” And, on the first weekend, starting Sept. 17, they had quite a number of people join them in marches and speeches that essentially claimed the 99% of Americans who aren’t the 1% of uber-rich are disenfranchised – and have critical needs related to unemployment, cost of living, and a range of other social issues that are either being ignored outright or largely swept under the rug by our finance-focused government.

These young people, accompanied by like-minded Xers and a few Boomers, didn’t get much coverage to start. (I doubt any authentic movement, at the outset, ever does.) The media that did arrive briefly aired the same complaint: “They are a loosely organized group of disaffected youth who are more like hippies and have no real goal,” they yawned. “Nothing to see here, but we’ve done our job by ‘covering’ it in our blogs,” they seemed to say to New Yorkers and anyone outside the Big Apple paying attention. “This too shall pass.”

The only problem is, it hasn’t. And I suspect after this weekend, it isn’t going to.

Now in its 10th day, protestors are very much entrenched at Zuccotti Park (with people across the United States and around the world watching their activities via live-streaming video, as well as sending them supplies and money, even pizza via local vendors). This past Saturday afternoon, there was a large march to Union Park, through Washington Square (and, at times, through moving traffic – which was pretty incredible to watch in real time) – and all seemed to be going well with chants and songs as the trek was covered by Occupy Wall Street’s new media team, such as the young woman Net followers dubbed “50/50 Anchor Lady,” with hair that was half blonde, half brownish-black.

As I say, all was well – that is, until a phalanx of NYC police moved in and started making mass arrests. Twitter was the only way most of us knew it actually happened; the media team, scarily, was picked off shortly after the march gained momentum near Washington Park.

It’s not like no one was aware the police were coming. I myself could hear what was going down on the police scanner, which I alternately monitored while toggling back and forth between live-streaming and searching for news updates on Google.

The tension was building - you could feel it while watching from hundreds of miles away as the protestors kept dodging orange fencing and an increasingly ominous presence of officers. The marchers were peaceful - but resolute in their efforts to keep marching.

Then, right in the thick of things, the live-streaming ended just before the mass arrests and some disturbing instances of outright police brutality (documented and later distributed via cellphone photos). But, I should note, not before the world had already witnessed some of those protestor/cop encounters. It was shocking, actually, to watch people pushed with real force or slammed to the ground when, to my eye, they hadn't provoked anything remotely requiring that kind of police-state response.

I had been one of the hundreds, then thousands, to witness the march from nearly beginning to end – and that was not how I’d expected things to turn out. But, almost on cue (as if to underscore the government's fear this would spread), things escalated quickly and publicly in the glaring view of the Twitterverse, very likely to the chagrin of the NYPD, Michael Bloomberg and anyone on Wall Street who didn’t want this little movement to earn attention or gain credibility.

Within a matter of minutes, thousands of people were logging into the live-streaming site or retweeting the police presence. Yet, the media still weren’t covering the event, except as an aside, almost. I recall the Village Voice reported on several key tweets from Occupy Wall Street – laudable in providing “real time” updates, but I never could tell if they sent an actual reporter to the site at the time. (Back in the day, my own editors would have pushed me out the door. And sent back-up reporters.)

Not to be flip, but if 60-80 people were arrested for dog-fighting, or for wrangling outside a tony nightclub, or protesting at the United Nations, that might have gotten coverage. I’m pretty sure that would have received some attention. But this: In my humble opinion, it got very little. Some, finally - but people had to be hurt, and the police department's reputation tarnished, when neither was necessary if the media were operating as it should.

Since then, media coverage has been defensive. (Said one reporter, and I’m paraphrasing here: “It’s not fair to say Occupy Wall Street hasn’t been covered.” And then a short list of stories was included to prove the point.) And the coverage has been light: I was impressed Keith Olbermann, Rachel Maddow and even Stephen Colbert have noted this is more than dismissive hippy-ism; but no major news organization has (to the best of my knowledge) paid more than the barest attention thus far.

Why?

Perhaps it’s because no one wants a popular movement or peaceful rebellion to spread at a time when many Americans are fed up with their dysfunctional government leaders. We have enough problems, the leaders and media friends might be thinking: Why stir the pot?

Perhaps it’s because they sense, as does Bloomberg, that once a train like this gets going, it can be hijacked by the wrong people and cause real damage. (That, alone, is worthy of another story altogether.) But is that a reason to quell coverage, really?

In the end, though, a large-scale failure to acknowledge and cover this “small” group of protestors – now growing in numbers, thanks to outrage at the rough-housing NYPD, and quickly propagating similar groups in other cities such as Los Angeles, Chicago, Washington, D.C., etc. – is akin to a media blindness.

The media’s job is not to turn a blind eye. The media’s job is to report. Period. Which is yet another reason why Americans are not trusting the modern media. And I have to say, given what I’ve witnessed in recent days in and around Zuccotti Park, that I clearly understand why my profession is much maligned these days.

If people are there, and they have something worthwhile to say – regardless of whether it is popular or potentially alarming or against the political status quo – it is news. Good reporters should be covering it, regardless of their personal political preferences – and let Americans come to their own conclusions.

Is it a media blackout?

Sure seems that way to me. If I can cover one voice about a Gulf War, and contribute to society’s understanding of our greater human experience, then the media can certainly begin paying attention to thousands of marchers - and what appears to be the beginnings of an American movement.

I would call upon our news organizations to acknowledge their collective mistake in ignoring this story, remember that their calling is higher than the profit motive, and begin covering news that engages our thinking skills.

America needs the media now more than ever. To find it absent, while the entire world is watching this unfolding and increasingly important story (and they are) is a travesty and a statement about how far we have fallen as a nation built on freedom of speech and thought.

These are voices worth hearing at this time of trouble and strife. Hundreds of those voices are gathering in New York and other cities right now, representing diverse people and backgrounds and views - and trying to send a message that change, Real Change, must happen.

I want to hear what they have to say. As an American, I need to hear. As a media consumer, I demand to hear. Don't you?

I don't want to hear about 9/11

Thu, 8 Sep 2011 13:09:21 -0400

Memorandum

RE: In Memoriam

I don’t want to hear

Where you were

Or what you remember about 9/11.

How the planes crashed, and the towers fell

And our world “changed forever.”

No.

(Nor how our fears rose,

And the big banks crashed

Or morality and culture sunk

Like a stone.)

I know all these things,

And more, because

You told me before.

Remember?

You were:

Working online or at school

That Tuesday morning

And listening to the radio,

To NPR or Howard Stern

Sweating in the shop or

Watching the Today show,

Folding laundry like any other day when

There was an impact

And then another, immediately followed

By conflagrations and death tolls,

By disbelief and misinformation.

The towers WOULD HOLD –

We were promised they would,

As the shock descended

And reports started leaking that

People in ties and skirts and

Kitchen whites and janitor’s uniforms began

Jumping (they were jumping!)

From shattered windows so high

They couldn’t possibly survive.

And it wasn’t possibly real.

(But media delayed showing us

The truth for hours upon hours.

Unlike today, ratings mattered less.)

Was it one plane? Was it two?

Who did this?

Who hates us?

Who hates America so much?

We’re the good guys… aren’t we?

What’s happened? And

HOW AM I AFFECTED?

That mattered most.

Because I will not be irrelevant

And omnipotent and impotent

At an historic time like this.

No.

Everyone in your office or classroom

Stopped working, almost stopped talking

Like it was Pearl Harbor & Zombies.

It was the end of the New World.

Long live the Old World.

But no one said that, not then.

At the time, you just knew that

You couldn’t think, you

Couldn’t breathe, you

Couldn’t live the same way again.

A manager quietly installed

A rogue TV in the lunchroom

Where everyone was usually discouraged

From gathering (it wasn’t “productive”)

But where everyone, bar none, gathered now,

Silently, almost by intuition,

Because they had nowhere else to go.

The disparate family you became then,

Never to forget those moments,

Bind you together to this day.

You still know them all, don’t you?

Your close friends, wan and ill-looking,

Hardly watching what unfolded on the small screen.

Those you didn’t know well

But could never forget from that day on.

The office reprobates, like the guy –

You know, that guy in the other department

Rumored for cheating on his wife –

Or the manager accused of stealing

But never proven guilty.

All of you beyond stupefied when

Dan Rather told us, in tones befitting his robot self,

That the top of the first tower fell

Because we couldn’t see it –

Did it happen? No, he’s wrong! –

Through the papers and dust clouds

And devil’s faced plumes

And the Horror.

To us, those majestic columns still

Looked just as high

Because of all the smoke. Then

Poof! Like a magician’s trick,

The first, then its twin, were gone.

David Copperfield couldn’t have done better.

We sat, dumbfounded and dumb,

No longer hearing the news

For long stretches of time before

Leaving our work with or without

Permission (irrelevant), and then

Walking home for miles across the bridge to

Our modest flat in Queens or

Driving home stupefied

Like a drunk after a funeral reception.

We couldn’t even call loved ones

Or even liked ones in New York

Or Philadelphia

Or Washington, D.C.

Or anywhere

Because our cell phones crashed for hours.

No getting through.

Who died? Who knew?

Initially, as we processed it,

We didn’t believe our eyes.

No.

After all, it was on TV

Like Matlock or Cops – not real.

Not real at all.

It would take a least a day for

The rubble and the Pennsylvania

Plane wreckage and the

Pentagon explosions

To shout the proof so loudly that

We couldn’t deny it.

It deafened us for years.

Someone shut down the skies

For three full days afterward

And the bluest September heavens you ever saw

Or ever would see

Were totally unmarred

By nary a jet wash or rocket launch.

It was the only beautiful thing

That buoyed our souls.

No.

I don’t want to hear

How America is No. 1.

We’re so conflicted,

And fallen by disunity, that

We haven’t even rebuilt what

“Terror” took down.

Not in all this time,

Even though the initial towers

Only took four years to construct

And less than four hours to destroy.

Measured by our response,

You could say terror won

In that we’re not the same America

We once were.

We’re fearful and frightening,

Schizoid and accusatory,

Failing and flailing

Our people and the world.

If you think otherwise,

Perhaps you weren’t really there that day.

Or you are still in denial.

I Was There.

A Sentinel for the Ages.

I Remember.

And I don’t want to hear

How you wish things were different

Today, 10 years after the fact

After America’s pride rose, then fell

Xenophobic and egotistical

Greedy and grasping

In its McCarthy-like postscript

Of hysterical Guantanamo madness.

Of wars half fought and heroes fallen.

(If you must grieve, grieve for them!)

Of complications and consternations

I’ve long since tired of following.

You thought you were scared

By 9/11 fully 10 years ago

And counting?

I’m more scared of 9/11 now.

But I don’t want to think about it.

Make no movies about it

(Nicholas Cage, this means you).

I still won’t go. It’s not entertainment and

It’s not the Hindenburg, after all;

36 people didn’t die in Lakehurst.

Oh, the humanity.

It was thousands – every one of those lives

Touching thousands

Upon thousands of thousands more

Impacted and burned up in their souls

And in their bodies, by grief, by illness,

By hopelessness.

Let it be over, already,

This need to remember the day.

It’s this nightmare rogue wave

With ripples a thousand times wider

And a thousand times deeper

And a thousand times higher

Than we can ever fathom.

As it rises against my will,

I ride it the best I can, and

I’d take you with me

For support and company

But it’s all I can do to

Stay afloat myself and

Keep my head up and

Strive with all my might

And my aching heart to remember

Each and every day

To love and to live

To breathe and to hope

To forge on and

Forget and Forget

And Forget

Forget

What can never be forgotten.

OPEN LETTER TO JERRY LEWIS, PHILANTHROPIST & HERO TO ME

Sun, 4 Sep 2011 02:09:04 -0400

Who is silent this Labor Day, and therefore I cannot be

Dear Jerry,

You know what today isn’t? Today isn’t Labor Day. But you already know that. Maybe that’s as much a comfort to you as me.

Because Labor Day will never be the same again – so, in a way, it doesn’t really matter whether or not some telethon takes place today of which you are not a part. It isn’t Labor Day. Big deal.

But I need you to know, from one artist's heart to another – and from the deepest part of my most grateful soul– it does matter the world to me that for the past 45 Labor Days (for those paying attention, that’s nearly 1,000 hours – nearly a half year of full-time work), you have worked hardest of all of us every Labor Day – for children, and for muscular dystrophy, a disease we still haven’t bested.

Someday – thanks to the $2.45 billion you helped raise (should I write that out for effect? I think so: NEARLY TWO AND A HALF BILLION DOLLARS) in your 45 years of service as Chairman of the Muscular Dystrophy Association – I feel confident beyond measure that we will find a cure. And that will be your truest, most loving legacy. Comedian, yes. Actor, director, etc., yes. But humanitarian extraordinaire – a role model for us all above all. YES.

YOU did that. I saw it. I was there. I watched every year as I grew up. I loved and admired you for all you’ve done, and still do. Let the detractors kvetch and say: “Oh, he did it for the attention.” I am reminded of that most excellent of authors in our time, Stephen King, and his novel, “Dolores Claiborne.” You did it for your own benefit? Really? For 45 grueling years – only to get nothing in return, to be unceremoniously ousted by a bunch of people who somehow (UNFATHOMABLY, in all caps) don’t remember a time when you were the glue that drew together the biggest names and stars across the globe? Shall I name them all? I don’t have time. It would possibly take another 45 years to recount the past 45 years – they were that good.

--------

Tonight, on this non-Labor Day, some people – for several empty and somewhat sad hours – will be filling in for you during a mock telethon that resembles nothing of years past. Years that you, and I, and millions of others, spent watching with baited breath as the next incredibly breathtaking check was delivered into your hands, trembling as they were from emotion and lack of sleep. Years that you, and I, and millions of others, watched the crème de la crème of Las Vegas, and Hollywood, and Broadway, step forward and say: “I care. I join you in your quest for a cure.”

I feel truly bad for these people. I really like some of the artists. I wonder if they signed on before they knew you were booted off.

No matter.

Mr. Lewis (for that is how I should have addressed this from the start – with all due respect): It is YOU for whom I, as a child, would beg my parents to stay awake and watch, starstruck, as the panoply of talented artists would step forward and perform, or sing, or laugh, or tug at our heartstrings. Every year, I called the Philadelphia TV station hoping against hope that, somehow, the overflow calls would be so great that maybe, just maybe, I would get to talk to you. Silly, I know. But it was YOUR telethon. Anything was possible.

Who knows how much I gave over the years. Not enough, of that, I’m sure. And not nearly what you did.

I should end this. At least I have that ability, unlike you. But let’s not go there…. I think your restraint in not lambasting whatever ignorant fools treated you so cavalierly represents the utmost of gentlemanly behavior, the last of its kind, now that so many of your peers are gone. Had they been here (do I really have to name them? … People, if you can’t name them yourselves, you just were NOT there), THIS WOULD NEVER have happened to you. TV wouldn’t have DARED.

I stand here as a sentinel. I know this. I remember what you've contributed because I was there.

And please take comfort in knowing: I AM NOT ALONE. I BELIEVE IN JERRY LEWIS.

Lest certain powers forget, this was once called the JERRY LEWIS MDA TELETHON for a damned good reason: No self-respecting performer would have shown up if NOT for you.

As far as I am concerned, sir, it still is the JERRY LEWIS MDA TELETHON, and always will be. And, without you, the cause is just as important – and the children are just as important. You’d have it no other way (hence your silence, I must assume - good man that you are).

So, I cannot believe I am saying this: But I will give what I can. Even during these terrible economic times, when I have lost nearly everything and can't possibly afford it – and I am not exaggerating that. And I know that's true for the millions of Americans who watched you, too.

You know what I have not lost?

I have not lost my hope in the Possible.

Jerry Lewis: You taught me, even more than anyone else in my life, the Art of the Possible.

I will make this year’s donation via the Laugh Factory (love you, Jamie Masada) on Monday, as usual – and I will tell the person who answers the phone (or mark in the comments section of the online donation site, whichever works best): “This is for Jerry.”

"Thank you" is too pedestrian and overwrought a phrase for what I feel. So is "devastated" for the way I feel you have been treated (though you are so much stronger than I would ever be to not even acknowledge your disappointment to the public before this weekend).

Will you accept my pedestrianism anyway?

Please promise me you will not watch the telethon. I won’t, either.

However, let’s spend Sunday night remembering the excitement of the truest Labor Days, when you reminded every American – and indeed, every human on earth – what it meant to be a philanthropist's philanthropist.

If no one else (other than your most loyal comedian friends) will say it, I will:

THANK YOU, MR. LEWIS. Dear God, thank you to you for all you have done. Thank you for your love of the children. Thank you, thank you, thank you. If I could write it 2.45 billion times without perishing beforehand, I would write: THANK YOU.

I would shout it from Central Park. I would shout it from the top of the (former) Sears Tower. I would shout it in the Bellagio underneath the canopy of corkscrewy Chihuly glass until it shattered and everyone paused, for one slim moment, to remember a time when Las Vegas was built by your contemporaries, and you.

YOU MAY HAVE BEEN EXCLUDED, for reasons none of us can fathom, from this year's sorry replacement for a telethon.

But I want you to know that, of all people - and especially on this Labor Day, YOU'LL never walk alone.

Fondly, and with all the respect I’ve ever known and can ever give,

Lisa Cellini Romero

Salfordville, Pa.

Just Say No to LiLo: My click-through media embargo list

Wed, 29 Sep 2010 23:09:29 -0400

OH, PILLORY ME IF YOU MUST, but so gosh-darn many people are famous for not having contributed anything valuable to society these days, or for being infamous, that I have taken it upon myself to create a click-through media embargo list. Call it the last bastion of my tattered sanity in this info-mad, somewhat media-psychotic world.

I am disciplined. I work very hard not to click any link anywhere - Facebook, MSN, Google, Drudge, HuffPost, I mean ANYWHERE - that could boost the alleged news value of non-newsmakers or news abusers.

My reasoning is simple: If I want substantial news items or people to be covered, I can't contribute to the dumbing down of America - no matter how entertaining, no matter how much schadenfreude I might feel by clicking through. There's only a limited amount of information I can process a day. These people - and their peccadillos or major gaffes - don't rate because, well, they actually shouldn't, IMHO.

Call it 'a work in progress'....

The following list is my own. I don't purport that everyone should subscribe to it. (And, for heaven's sake, if you've written about this here, on OS - THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU. I haven't posted in about forever.... Go check if you don't believe me.)

Look, my Sarah Palin could be your Monica Lewinsky. My Angelina Jolie could be your Angela Lansbury (or, you know, maybe not). Note, too, that this list is a work in progress. For example, I am sure there are many other names I avoid subconsciously. I just give them so little thought, because their impact on my life is so vastly inconsequential, and I could care less than less, that I can't recall them at this moment.

For whomever you believe shouldn't be earning the media spotlight (because it's stealing space from REAL NEWS), I encourage you to AVOID CLICKING THROUGH. Otherwise, you'll have proven they are, in fact, news.

Do the right thing: Do nada to promote those people who make today's news seem like SNOOZE.

Lisa's Current Click-through Media Embargo List as of Sept. 29, 2010, at 10:57 p.m. includes:

Sarah Palin
Bristol Palin
Levi Johnston-Palin
Any Palin children or the Palin husband
People who become famous by talking about or knowing Sarah Palin
Shows featuring Palins (sorry DWTS fans)
Lindsay Lohan
(See above, repeat, such as:)
Lindsay Lohan's dad and mom
Britney Spears
(See above, repeat, including:)
Kevin Federline
Anna Nicole Smith
Michael Jackson
Michael Jackson's family
Michael Jackson's doctor
Heidi & What's His Name (oh, SPENCER - it just came to me - I have no idea why they are famous)
Brangelina - together or separate
Cheaters like: Tiger Woods, Ashton Kutcher, Jesse James (all these guys need real first names, especially the last, whose parents must have been kidding)
Any of their mistresses or girlfriends - of which there are far too many who obviously don't care if they are infamous
Any of the mistresses'/girlfriends' lawyers (I mean YOU, Gloria Allred), who obviously forget these women made a conscious choice to become infamous
Politicians like: John Edwards, Larry Craig, Eliot Spitzer
Any of their mistresses or partners or working girls
Monica Lewinsky wanna-bes - female or male
Michael Vick
ARod
T.O.
Bobby Brown
ANT
The Situation
Snookie
Ann Coulter
Real Wives of Anywhere
Jersey Shore of any... um... shore
Octomom
Jon & Kate
Just Kate (with or without 8)
Mel Gibson
Rihanna + That Jerk Singer (inconsequentially forgotten)
Taylor Swift + That Other Jerk Singer (ditto)
Anyone who's suing for attention (always a subjective decision)
Anyone who ought to win a Darwin Award (why encourage them?)
People who perform acts of villainy (cat-in-trash-bin lady)
Balloon-boy families

There. That's a pretty good start. I'm ready for my rack-up, Mr. DeMille.

NOTE: No links were clicked through in the making of this blog entry. All people listed above - famous, infamous, ridiculous, odiferous, or otherwise - have so saturated the author's mind as a result of unreasonable media overexposure, she couldn't help but recall, with considerable cringing, their questionable impact on modern society, thereby listing them here, fairly or not. All rights reserved. Do not pass GO; do not collect $200.

Addendum (non-date specific, but as I go along - and as I think of people):

Tea Partier Christine O'Donnell
Paris Hilton
Heidi Klum
Kim Kardashian
Mel Gibson's wife