I Will Choose Freewill

As many of you know, Valentine's Day was my birthday. I turned 78, and to my surprise, more than 1,100 folks reached out to me on social media to send happy birthday wishes. Some were Rush fans, some were baseball fans, some were former colleagues, some were former students, some were folks I play Wordle with online, and of course, some were friends of mine. But I sincerely didn't expect such a large number, and I tried my best to get back to as many of them as I could to express my gratitude.

Over the past few days, I was thinking about what it means to be 78. By some standards, it's considered "old": in the 1950s, when I was a kid, I remember that people in their 70s were called "elderly," rather than the more euphemistic "senior citizens." If they weren't living with their adult children, many elderly usually lived in "old age homes," and it was highly unusual for someone of that advanced age to still be working. In fact, even reaching the age of 78 was seen as quite an achievement back then. 

I was raised in that time before the internet, but I also grew up in the era when cable TV was new. There was no expectation of instant information, and news anchors were generally admired (as were policemen, firemen, and doctors). Inflammatory talk shows were unheard of; if you were angry about something that happened in your community, you wrote a letter to the editor of your local newspaper. I guess I grew up in a more courteous era, when politicians and celebrities would never say anything vulgar in public. It was also a time when people felt a duty to their communities, and believed in trying to make society better; lots of folks either belonged to civic organizations or they did volunteer work. And there were few public discussions of politics or any potentially divisive topics. 

But let's be honest: it wasn't a paradise, even if some folks today want to remember it that way. It was a time when conformity was valued and people perceived as non-conformists were made to feel unwelcome. I lived through an era of anti-war protests, civil rights marches, and frequent disagreements between the generations: in fact, when we young people questioned authority, the older people said we were wrong to do that. And while many things gradually changed, not everything did: well into the 1970s and 1980s, traditional gender roles were still being enforced-- even the idea that a woman should be paid the same as a man for doing the same job was controversial.   

But this isn't just a trip down memory lane. I've always been able to adapt to whatever the trends, and I still keep up with what's going on (I'm still an avid reader). As the technology changed, I learned to use a VCR, then I learned to go online, and then I joined social media. Today, folks can find me on a variety of platforms, where I love to talk music, or baseball, or politics, or broadcasting, and of course, I enjoy talking about a certain Canadian rock band with whom I have a 50-year history. 

And that leads me to the lyrics of the song "Freewill," which has been on my mind recently. It's often misinterpreted as a song that opposes organized religion. That is certainly one possible interpretation, but to me, it's a song about the importance of making choices, rather than just going along with whatever others are doing. I've never heard any of the guys in Rush tell people what to believe. They simply asked you to make a choice based on reason: in other words, if you believe in a Deity, do so because it makes your life better, rather than out of a fear of hell. Similarly, if you are (like me) in your late 70s, and people say you are "too old" to do something, think about your options and then make your own decision.

I've always found it interesting that Neil's lyrics ask us to "choose" freewill (or free will, if you prefer). If we already have it, as most religions and philosophies say we do, why do we need to choose it? Because there have always been societal forces that want us to conform, to give up our choice, to do as we are told. But if we get discouraged, if we feel overwhelmed, if we give up our ability to choose, then we make it easier for those who want to hold us back, those who don't want us to succeed. So, even though sometimes, things don't look very hopeful, even though I may not always be able to accomplish everything I want, I shouldn't use that as an excuse not to try... or worse yet, as an excuse to let others make the decisions while I sit on the sidelines. And so, that's why, for as long as I'm able, I will continue to think for myself, I will continue to stand for ethics, and as much as possible, I will continue to try to make this world a better place. I may be 78, but that doesn't mean I'm done yet. And so, today and every day, I will choose freewill. What about you?         

Please Do Not Erase

February is Black History Month. We've been observing a celebration of Black History for nearly 100 years: ever since early February 1926. Back then, educator and author Carter G. Woodson called it "Negro History Week," and by the late 1960s, inspired by the Civil Rights Movement, it evolved into Black History Month. But the goal back in 1926 was the same as it is today: to shine a light on some voices that have often been marginalized, ignored, or even written out of the history they were a part of. 

Woodson's goal was not tokenism, nor was he trying to "promote diversity." He was simply trying to tell the truth. That's what historians and educators are supposed to do, and Woodson took that obligation very seriously. He was a Harvard-trained historian who had received his PhD in 1912, and he was also the editor of an educational journal. He believed that Americans of all races and backgrounds needed to know a more complete and more accurate version of history, one that did not arbitrarily exclude minorities and arbitrarily elevate those in the majority. He had seen firsthand the many positive contributions that Black Americans had made, and yet, these contributions weren't studied in school, nor widely known outside the Black community. And he believed it was important for these accomplishments to be known-- especially in a society that was still segregated, where negative stereotypes of Black people were pervasive in the press and in the popular culture.

Over the years, I became fascinated by Black history, as well as with "restorative narratives"-- writing those whose achievements had been unfairly overlooked back into history, telling their stories so that future generations would know what they did. For example, much of my work for SABR (the Society for American Baseball Research) involves researching the Negro Leagues-- the players, the teams, and the sportswriters who covered them. In fact, I just found out that one of my SABR essays was just nominated for an award. As a media historian, I believe it's important for people to know about the talented athletes whose color prevented them from being more famous; and it's equally important to tell the stories of courageous sportswriters who played an important role in bringing about civil rights. Black History Month provided a good reason for me to share their stories with my students, and I have no regrets about doing so.     

But evidently, Black History Month may not be observed for much longer, according to new executive orders from the Trump Administration that forbid anything that (allegedly) promotes DEI-- diversity, equity, and inclusion-- or focuses on "special observances." Some government agencies have already paused their observance of Black History Month, as well as pausing other observances, including Holocaust Remembrance Day and Juneteenth. Supposedly, such observances are divisive, because they "put one group ahead of another."

But is that what's really happening? Does teaching students to remember the Holocaust or to observe Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday really divide us? Does it really teach kids that some groups are special and others are not? Frankly, having been an educator for 4 decades, I see nothing wrong with students learning about the many groups that make up American society. I think it's useful information, plus it's factual. And if setting aside a Day or a Month to encourage that information to be taught is what's needed, then why not keep on doing it?

I'm sorry this president thinks diversity is a bad thing, and I'm sorry he feels the need to make studying Black History (and women's history, and Jewish history, and various other kinds of history) something to be avoided. I am not interested in avoiding facts, however. And I don't want to just remain silent while ways of showing respect for "the other" are erased. I understand that history is often written by the winners. But if we promote a lie, then there are no winners. So, I hope you will join me in preserving the facts about our history and not erasing whatever certain folks find inconvenient. In other words, this is about more than banning Black History Month. It's about allowing bigotry to become the norm once again. And if Carter G. Woodson were still alive, he would beg us to defend the facts. And that is what all of us ought to do.  

Just the Facts, Ma'am

As a professor, I can't count the number of times that students of mine found a quote online and inserted it into their papers. Often, it was a very good quote and it perfectly illustrated the point the student was trying to make. But just as often, the quote was fake-- yes, it was widely accepted and widely posted on sites like Brainy Quotes, but the person never said it. For example, Mahatma Gandhi's famous quote, "Be the change you want to see in the world"-- it's an inspiring quote, but there's no evidence Gandhi said it. Researchers, including my friends at Quote Investigator, have looked for it many times; but the closest they came is this quote from a 1913 essay: "If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him." The shorter, more concise quote seems to have been written by someone else entirely, many years later, and then retroactively attributed to Gandhi.

There are numerous other examples-- and being fooled can happen to anyone: in early January, as the new congress was sworn in, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson offered a prayer that he attributed to Thomas Jefferson. It was a lovely prayer, but there's no evidence the words belonged to Jefferson; in fact, the Thomas Jefferson Foundation, which has access to his writings, notes that the prayer doesn't resemble anything Jefferson ever wrote, nor does it even reflect his beliefs-- he regarded religion as a private matter and it is doubtful he would have composed a public prayer. And yet, many people still attribute the words to Jefferson, including the Speaker. 

What brought this to mind is the decision of social media mogul Mark Zuckerberg to stop doing fact-checking on his platforms because, allegedly, fact-checking is biased. That seems to be an article of faith on the right, and I've heard numerous conservatives accuse the major fact-checking sites of being "liberal," usually after one of Donald Trump's assertions was shown to be untrue. But that doesn't mean fact-checkers are to blame. Politicians from all parties have been known to stretch the truth, exaggerate, lie, and make stuff up. Pointing this out is not proof of bias. And the major fact-checking sites have been quite fair in shining a light on political lies-- whether the person doing the lying is a Republican, a Democrat, or a member of some other political group. 

That's why the Zuckerberg assertion, intended to curry favor with the incoming Trump administration, is so bizarre. Most of the fact-checkers that Meta used were quite non-partisan: some came from the left, some from the center, some from the right, but they all took their work very seriously, and they tried not to impose their views on their fact-checks. Fact-checking is never an easy task, because you are pointing out that someone's favorite politician was dishonest in what he or she said, or someone's favorite motivational quote isn't real. That gets people upset--because folks don't want to accept they've been misinformed about something.

Fact-checking is nothing more than the pursuit of accuracy. It's not always about politics-- many fake quotes are not in any way political. Consider the well-known "Beam Me Up, Scotty," allegedly from the original Star Trek. But while William Shatner's character said something close to it on a couple of occasions, that particular phrase was never said by any character in the series. And that's my point. Facts matter. Why use a quote if the person never actually said it? Why defend "your guy" if what he just said was demonstrably false? And why would anyone think it's okay to spread something that just isn't true?

In his final speech to the nation last night, President Biden closed by saying, "I still believe in the idea for which this nation stands, a nation where the strengths of our institutions and the character of our people matter and must endure. Now it's your turn to stand guard. May you all be the keeper of the flame. May you keep the faith..." I'd like to amend it just slightly: May you all be the keeper of the truth. May you all be faithful to the facts. Because if we don't have faith in what we are being told, if we don't know what is actually and verifiably true, if facts are turned into partisan weapons, how can our democracy endure? So, in this new year, when someone sends you some inflammatory post-- even if it aligns with your personal beliefs-- please don't just "forward this to everyone you know" without first checking to see if what you are sending around is factual. Gandhi may not have said we should be the change, but it's a good idea. Focus on the facts. Just the facts. And no, Sgt. Joe Friday in the original Dragnet television show never said "Just the facts, ma'am." But even back then, he had the right idea. 

Still Hanging On

In the early 1920s, when radio was new, a local bandleader named Jimmy Gallagher gained a large following. At the end of each radio show, after he and his orchestra had performed, he would invite everyone to listen in next time, and then, close with "This is Jimmy Gallagher, still hanging on." His closing became sort of a catch-phrase in Boston, and even decades after he had retired, people still remembered him-- and repeated it whenever his name came up in conversation.

As we come to the end of 2024, I feel a little bit like that. In fact, I think a lot of us do. For many people I know, it was a year of highs and lows, with the lows outnumbering the highs. For example, in my case, 2024 was the year I officially became unemployed. After fifteen years as a professor of media studies at Lesley University, I was unceremoniously fired, along with 25 of my colleagues. Most of us were award-winners, widely published, and popular with students, but none of that seemed to matter. Suddenly, our presence was no longer needed. And at year's end, many of us still have not found another job. 

In 2024, we lost some important people from radio, TV, and the music business. But I was especially saddened earlier today, when I found out that former CNN news anchor Aaron Brown had passed, at age 76. Aaron was one of the most thorough and objective journalists I knew, and his anchoring and reporting during 9/11/2001 was a master-class in keeping the nation informed during a crisis. Aaron was a role model for many young journalists (when I taught journalism courses at Emerson College in Boston, I often had my students watch him. I've met many celebrities over the years, thanks to my radio career, but when Aaron came to Emerson as a guest speaker, I felt privileged to meet him, and I told him so). I was furious with CNN when, several years later, they forced him out; but like me, he reinvented himself as a professor, and he became a mentor to numerous young students, some of whom are on TV even now.

Having blogged previously about the recent presidential election, I won't belabor the point, but suffice it to say I was in the half of the country that was very disappointed with the results. I was also disappointed that in Afghanistan, the Taliban continued to take away more and more rights from women, to the point now where they not only cannot be educated past grade 6 but they are not even allowed to speak in public-- and yet, world-wide, relatively few people seemed concerned about the situation; it didn't inspire protests or demonstrations from human rights activists, nor much of anything beyond a few posts on social media.

But amid the disappointments and frustrations that 2024 brought, there were also some good moments. I saw people putting aside political differences to help their neighbors after fires or floods or hurricanes. In fact, I saw people reaching out to help someone in need on numerous occasions. Maybe it didn't make the news, and yet, it happened. I'm glad it still does. On a personal note, in mid-December, I reached an important milestone: 10 years cancer-free. Thanks in part to my friend Bob Cesca, who has me on his podcast every few months, I was invited to be a guest on the Stephanie Miller Show-- I've been a fan of her radio program since it debuted nationally in 2004, and I had always wanted to be on her show. Locally, I was also a guest on the Morgan White Jr. radio show on WBZ several times; as someone who still loves radio, I always welcome an opportunity to be on the air.   

I don't tend to make New Year's Resolutions. I just try my best to be an ethical and compassionate person, a day at a time. Sometimes, I succeed, and sometimes I fall short; but I keep trying to do better. In the New Year, my wish for you is good health-- without it, nothing else matters. And even though our current political environment is contentious, I wish that in the new year, we will all learn to see each other as friends, even when we disagree. Overall, I won't be sorry to see 2024 go, and I hope 2025 will be an improvement. A lot of things look uncertain as I write this. But all I can do is follow the example of the late, great Jimmy Gallagher, as I sign off from my last blog post of 2024. So... I wish you only good things in the new year. This is Donna Halper, still hanging on.      

Strange Days Indeed

In many ways, this past week has been gratifying. I was a guest on my friend Bob Cesca's podcast, and we had a good time talking politics (among other things). And then, to my great delight, that led to my being a guest on Stephanie Miller's radio show-- I've been a fan of hers since her show debuted in 2004, but I'd never been asked to be a guest. It was very cool to talk current events with her, and I hope I sounded reasonably knowledgeable. I heard from some of her listeners, and they were very complimentary. I appreciated that a lot! And then, there was the other good news: I am now 10 years cancer free. And a lot of folks on social media (more than 2,000 at last count) reached out to send congratulations, which definitely put a smile on my face.

But on the other hand, I'm still out of work, as are many of the colleagues who got laid off at the same time I did. I've been working since I was in high school, and I'm really not accustomed to being unemployed. Okay fine, I'm keeping busy with volunteering, I'm giving some historical talks at libraries, and I'm writing some free-lance articles-- but it's not the same as having a full-time job. (Plus, we had really good health insurance, but that's a story for another day.) Anyway, I hope I'll find something in the new year. As I've said many times, I can't imagine retiring. There are too many things I still want to accomplish, and I hope I'll get the chance.  

Meanwhile, the Trump administration hasn't officially begun yet, but already there's chaos. For those who were expecting a reality TV show, they haven't been disappointed. I'm still trying to figure out how Elon Musk, who is supposedly in an advisory capacity and was never elected to anything, is already so influential that he can kill a bipartisan budget bill. In fact, it's surreal to go over to Twitter/X and read some of Elon's endless series of tweets, as he berates members of congress and cheers for a government shutdown. I'm seeing lots of "likes" from Elon's followers, but I wonder if they've thought it through. Many of them rely on government services, and if suddenly those services were unavailable for a month (as Elon suggested), I doubt that any of them would be pleased. And by the way, my sister works for the government. She is one of many hardworking and honorable government employees, and it irritates me to hear folks insult what these civil servants do. 

I understand that "the government" and "the media" are frequently used as enemies by Donald Trump and other conservative politicians. But I spent 40 years in "the media," and I can tell you from experience that a strong media helps to keep a democracy alive. Whenever I hear politicians complaining about the media, I know for a fact that if they suddenly received no coverage at all, they'd be furious. And whenever I hear Mr Trump threatening to punish or sue reporters he dislikes (or go after their company's license), it makes me nervous, since that's how an autocrat talks, and I hope we're not sliding into autocracy.

As I told Bob Cesca, I've been making a list of all the moguls and major corporate executives who have made the pilgrimage to see Mr Trump and bend the knee. He hasn't even taken office yet, and he hasn't officially made any demands on them, but they all want to make sure they are on his good side, just in case. I find all of this obeying in advance very puzzling, and yet nearly every day, someone else I wouldn't have expected makes the trip and speaks glowingly of him. The things we do for tax breaks, I suppose...

This year is one of those rare times when Christmas and Hanukkah come at the same time. The Christmas decorations are pretty, yet I see few stores with Hanukkah decorations. Several days ago, I asked the manager in one of the stores why they didn't have any Hanukkah decorations; he got upset with me. Interestingly, that's a common reaction, and not just this year. I've never understood it. I mean, I'm not trying to take anything away from anyone, and I do recognize that Christmas is a much bigger holiday than Hanukkah. I'm just saying that here's an opportunity to include your Jewish customers and make them feel welcome. But evidently, it's too much bother or too controversial or something. 

So, yes, it has been an interesting week, filled with highs and lows, with things that made perfect sense and things that did not. The next time I write, it will almost be 2025. My only resolution is to try not to feel discouraged by some of what I'm seeing in the political realm, and to focus on what matters most: my health, and the people I care about. It still amazes me that so many folks wanted to congratulate me on being cancer-free. Even when times are difficult, it's good to know that kindness and compassion still exist, and the trolls on social media don't represent the vast majority of the folks out there. So, whatever you celebrate, and however you celebrate it, have a wonderful holiday; may you be surrounded by people who love you and wish you well.      

       

What Joe Biden Couldn't Do...and Why It Mattered

I was in my car yesterday, and I turned on the news. President Biden was giving a speech about Syria, and I paused to listen to a little of it. It was a perfectly normal speech, the kind one would expect from a president with many years of foreign policy experience. When it was over, I went back to listening to music and I didn't think much about the speech. But when I got home, I turned on my TV and watched an excerpt of it. And I had an entirely different impression. No, there was nothing wrong with the speech; as I said, it was the kind that presidents often give after some big event in the world has taken place. But my attention was no longer focused on listening to the speech: it was focused on how the speaker looked. And the speech that sounded fine on radio seemed a bit more halting when I saw it on TV. I know President Biden has a stutter and I know how hard he works to pronounce words that are difficult. As I watched him, it seemed to me that he was putting a lot of effort into speaking understandably. And whether I was supposed to or not, I felt bad for him.  

It reminded me of what the famous communication theorist Marshall McLuhan had said about "the medium is the message." In other words, each mass medium impacts, or even alters, the way we receive the message. Consider the Kennedy-Nixon debate in 1960. John F. Kennedy was youthful, conversational, and confident on TV; his opponent, Richard Nixon, looked ill-at-ease, sweaty, and very very uncomfortable. All of us who saw the debate were convinced Kennedy had won easily. But people who listened to the debate on radio, or read the transcript in their favorite newspaper, came away with an entirely different impression-- they believed Nixon sounded more in command on the facts and they believed he surely was the winner. It was perhaps the first tangible example of how the medium of television created an entirely different perception of the candidates from how they were perceived through radio or print.

Joe Biden is not a television president. He has always been an awkward speaker, prone to gaffes, with a tendency to say the wrong thing even when he knows the topic and knows what he is trying to say. He has a very friendly smile, and can be really personable, but he does not seem like he enjoys being on camera as much as he enjoys one-on-one communication with voters or speaking in a place where he knows everyone. Unlike Donald Trump, who has a background in the entertainment industry and a larger-than-life persona that he has utilized for years, Mr. Biden is neither an entertainer nor a performer. He's an old-school politician trying to fit into an era where policy positions don't seem to matter, and constructing an exciting image is everything. It's a world where many people get their information from online sources (which are often partisan and seldom fact-checked), and where our politics often resembles professional wrestling.

That's why I was one of many folks who believed Mr. Biden should never have run for re-election. I know he had some very important accomplishments, and I know he wanted to run on them, but his opponent was a master of our media environment. Donald Trump knew how to capture the news cycle, dominate the conversation, outrage his detractors and inspire his supporters. Joe Biden, nice guy though he was, didn't seem able to do any of those things. Plus, fairly or not, in a visual media universe, he just... looked... old. It wasn't about his chronological age-- I know many people in their early 80s, including some in congress, who are vibrant and articulate. Often, Mr. Biden seemed neither. And since perception is reality, what people perceived was that he wasn't up to the task. 

I wish I had a time machine, that could transport Joe Biden back to the 1970s or 1980s, before people's attention spans got even shorter, before expectations were changed by the internet and social media, back when policies and accomplishments were what voters cared about, and a candidate who cursed or made vulgar remarks at a rally would never have been allowed to continue in politics, let alone get elected president. But while I sincerely believe Joe Biden got a lot done and deserves our thanks, what we needed him to do was something that wasn't within his skill-set. His advisors should have told him the truth. (Or maybe they did, but he refused to believe it.) I can't put all the blame on Mr. Biden, nor on Kamala Harris-- after all, it was the voters who chose Donald Trump, the guy who was more exciting and more outrageous, whether he was qualified for the job or not. So, here we are, awaiting the next episode of the Trump Show, not knowing what might come next. But his supporters aren't worried: they're sure that whatever happens, it's guaranteed to be entertaining. 

In Search of a Little Kindness

I posted a Thanksgiving message on social media a couple of days ago. I thought it was a fairly straightforward and peaceful message, about making the time for gratitude, and the importance of counting our blessings. But evidently, some folks saw it as an opportunity to lash out at me, and I'm not even sure what I did to them.  

Agreed, the majority of the folks who responded were courteous. Many shared some things they were grateful for-- good health, friends and family to share the holiday with, and special moments in their life (like being able to have seen their favorite band in concert or visiting a place that was memorable for them). And a few thanked me for having discovered Rush, or for teaching them something important when they were students of mine, or for mentoring them at a tough time in their life. 

But then, there were a couple of folks who thought my Thanksgiving wish was a perfect time to remind me, gleefully, that Trump had won and now "the libs" were going to be sorry. Needless to say, I was puzzled by this sort of response. For one thing, what does it have to do with Thanksgiving? For another, I don't represent, nor do I speak for, "the libs." It's true that I am more center-left these days than center-right; but why should that matter? Frankly, I believe I'm like most people-- my views about certain issues have changed over the years. That's not even unusual. To cite an example that's well-known to Rush fans, Neil Peart used to be quite conservative and a devotee of Ayn Rand, but he moved away from her philosophy and moderated many of his views as time passed. I try my best to respect other people, no matter which side of the political divide they occupy. But what really irritates me is when some folks arbitrarily decide that if my views aren't exactly the same as theirs, that proves I'm a terrible person, and it's okay for them to be rude to me online. Nope. It's not. Not now. Not ever. 

There was one other kind of response to my Thanksgiving wish that seemed over-the-top. A few folks decided the time was right to witness to me about why I need Jesus; and a few other folks wanted to let me know there is no God and the fact that I talked about "blessings" offended them. Again-- whatever you believe (or don't believe) is fine with me. All I was saying is that it's never a bad time to have the proverbial "attitude of gratitude." Whatever your religion, I'm okay with it. But please don't tell me there's something wrong with mine. There isn't. I'm Jewish, and it works for me. I hope your path works for you. My point is, I wasn't expecting an argument or a debate. I've had my share of problems this past year (getting laid off from my job after 15 years didn't make me very happy), but I sincerely believe I have a lot to be thankful for, and I never lose sight of that. But I guess for some folks, I've got the wrong attitude, or the wrong beliefs. And evidently, there's not much I can do to change their mind.

Like many people I know, I am spending more time on Bluesky lately; I'm still on Twitter/X, but it does seem to have gotten angrier and more confrontational. Bluesky seems a lot more welcoming, and not just towards "the libs"-- I'm pleasantly surprised by the diversity of thought on the platform, and I hope that trend continues. I'm also pleasantly surprised that although I've been on Bluesky for the past few months, recently a whole bunch of folks seem to have found me: I've gone from about 100 followers to more than 2,100 in only the past two weeks. And whether folks agree with what I post or not, I'm hoping we can exchange ideas and perspectives in a spirit of respect and courtesy. Call me old-fashioned, but I still think there's something to be said for kindness. And even in difficult times, I still think there's something to be said for gratitude.