What Does the Bible Say About This?

I've been blogging a few times a month since early 2015, and I find that I get the most page views whenever I write about Rush. That's not surprising. Given my long-time friendship with the band, I understand that fans would be interested to read whatever I write about that topic (interestingly, the posts I've written about Neil are among my most-read). For some reason, I get the fewest when I write about politics or religion. So I'm prepared for a lot of folks to skip this one, since it contains elements of both.

 But I hope they won't skip it, because I'm trying to understand something, and I'd like to get a few opinions. What I'm trying to make sense of is something a friend of mine said to me about the president. She said President Trump was the best friend Christians ever had. She relies mainly on conservative Christian media, and much of that seems to be pro-Trump too; the message that the president is a friend and protector of Christians is constantly reinforced. Some sources speak of him in almost messianic terms.   

I've really tried to make sense of those attitudes, but I'm getting nowhere. I used to be a chaplain. I used to teach Sunday School. Okay fine, I'm Jewish and not Christian, but we both use the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament). I've also taught World Religions for years, and I'd like to think I know a few things about scripture.

So, consider this: The Bible clearly states that we are supposed to love our neighbor. It doesn't equivocate or make exceptions-- it doesn't say to only love our neighbor if they were born here, for example. The Bible also states repeatedly that we should "welcome the stranger." It does not qualify that commandment: it doesn't make exceptions for a stranger who is an immigrant or undocumented or non-white. It just says to love and welcome the stranger, and to treat the stranger with respect. The Bible also tells us not to worship money, and to make sure we take care of the poor. 

Does this president exemplify any of these values? Does he do what the Bible says? Rather than follow the scriptures, he ignores its basic tenets. He has monetized his presidency, making millions for himself and his cronies, while doing little to help the poor. He has made a mockery of the justice system, granting pardons to convicted criminals if they were willing to donate money to him. He champions policies that treat immigrants with cruelty; he even defends having ICE agents shoot at them, whether they did something wrong or not. He has turned nearly every part of the White House into a gilded monument to himself. He is crude, vulgar, mendacious, and lacking in compassion. And yet, my friend sincerely believed he is a role model and a champion for Christians.

So what am I missing? From my perspective, there is nothing Christian (nor ethical) about this president, yet a vast network of conservative media sources lifts him up as some sort of role model, and people like my friend insist he is a hero for Christians. So, this is where you come in, those of you who have read this far (and I thank you). I'd appreciate some sensible explanations, because I feel like I'm living in a different universe from my friend, and it would be helpful if I could at least see the person she is seeing-- because what I see looks entirely different. 

Maybe I'm Amazed (2026 edition)

On July 4, it will not only be America's birthday: it will be my husband's birthday too. America will be 250. My husband, Jon Jacobik, will be 80. Like me, my husband has aged gracefully-- I don't think either of us looks our chronological age. (I'm 79 and 1/2; he's a little older than me!) And while we've both had some health issues, as many older Americans do, we're both still able to work, and we're both still reasonably active. We've been married since 1987 (39 years), and we are still best friends. I never take that for granted. Jon repairs computers, but he is also an award-winning nature photographer; I'm a former deejay and a current professor, as well as an award-winning media historian. Our interests are often very different, but we care about each other's well-being and we want each other's happiness. 

When I was a kid, growing up in the 1950s, just about nobody that I knew lived into their 80s. I never met my maternal grandmother (who died when she was only 44). Quite a few of my female relatives died young-- often of cancer. (Years later, I too had cancer, but in my case, thanks to early detection, I'm still here -- 11 and 1/2 years later, and grateful every day.) But my point is, growing up, I thought someone who was 70 was "elderly." People didn't live as long as today; in fact, the common wisdom was everybody who reached age 70 would probably need a nursing home. Today, I know lots of folks in their 70s who don't fit that stereotype at all. They're still gainfully employed, still keeping busy, and still doing what they love -- including several guys from a certain Canadian rock band. 

The other day, the great comedian and movie director Mel Brooks turned 100. Mel is a perfect example of someone who is by most standards "old" yet he is still sharp, still active, still out there making a difference. I don't know too many folks who make it to 100 -- but I'm certainly grateful that Mel is still with us. He has made a lot of people laugh over the years. (Actress and comedian Betty White almost made it to 100 -- like Mel, she did things in her own unique way, and she had a love for life that was an inspiration. And getting to 99 is certainly an achievement.)

In a world where so much seems depressing and discouraging, I think it's important to remember that there are still some amazing things going on out there. For example, there are still people finding love when they never expected it: I was one of them. I got married when I was 40, which used to be considered "later in life." There are still people finding new opportunities and new careers: I currently teach online for Purdue University's Global campus, and most of my students are adult learners. They are in their 30s, 40s, and 50s, getting bachelor's degrees, and in some cases planning for master's degrees. I fit right in, given that I got my PhD when I was 64. In fact, many of us are redefining what it means to be "too old." (Ask Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson of Rush if they are "too old" to be touring...)

I find all of this amazing. And perhaps you do too. In fact, I invite you to share with me something that you find amazing in your own life, something you never expected, and yet it happened. I'm amazed I'm still blogging, to be honest. This little endeavor began as part of a course I was taking back in early 2015. The course ended but I just kept on blogging. I hope some of these posts are interesting. Meanwhile, for those who have continued to read what I write, may your life be filled with moments of joy, and may you never run out of things that amaze you -- after all, that sense of wonder and amazement is an important part of being alive.

The Spirit of Radio-- Still Alive and Worth Celebrating

Eddie Andelman died the other day at age 89. Unless you've lived in Boston, you probably never heard of him. But for nearly five decades, he was a major factor on sports-talk radio. He was opinionated, as a sports-talk host has to be, but he was also informative and entertaining. You wanted to argue with him, whether by calling in, or just by sitting there with your friends and weighing in on what he said. Eddie was also a larger than life personality, who made numerous appearances to raise money for charitable causes. He was live, he was local, and he was a walking ambassador for the importance of radio.

It has become a truism for people to say that radio no longer matters. They say it has nothing but political talk shows, or they say that only old people listen to it, or they say that nobody needs it anymore because you can get your music on Spotify or YouTube. There's an element of truth in some of this: a lot of older people DO listen to political talk on radio. And a lot of people DO get their music on Spotify or YouTube.

And yet, all over the US, radio is still a factor in many people's lives: it's a companion, a friend, a source of information, and yes, it's still a source for music. I recently did a freelance article for Radio World magazine, and I interviewed some program directors, music directors, and deejays at a variety of radio stations-- top 40, album rock, classic hits, alternative, adult contemporary... and they all said the same thing: if you create an interesting and fun radio station, if you maintain an active presence in your city (holding live events, making appearances, giving away merch), people will listen and they'll bond with that station. But don't take my word for it: let some of the folks I interviewed speak for themselves: Radio World "We Still Believe in Radio")

As many of you know, I spent four decades in broadcasting, including being a deejay and a music director in four major markets. At one of those stations, WMMS in Cleveland, I helped to launch the career of a then-unknown rock band named Rush. That happened in the spring and summer of 1974, and a lot has changed since then. Radio still used to be a dominant force in the 1970s and 1980s, and even into the 1990s; but these days, radio is just one of many ways to hear new music or get the weather or find out who won the big game. However, reports of radio's death have proved to be premature. 

Agreed, radio has much more competition, and maybe young teens don't choose radio like we did when I was growing up. But just like I wrote about, there are still many cities where people have a favorite station or a favorite deejay, and of course, my hope is that some of those stations are rediscovering a certain rock band that has reunited and is now back on tour. And I'm imagining a mom or a dad riding in the car with the kids, and a classic Rush song comes on the air and the kids hear it and ask "Who's that?" And their parents can say, "That's Rush. They just got back together. Maybe we can go see them." And perhaps a new generation of Rush fans will emerge, thanks to an old-school mass medium that is still around and worthy of some respect-- radio.      

What We Can Learn From Paul McCartney

I was just thinking about how in a few days, Rush will begin their new tour. That in itself is amazing: if you had told me a couple of years ago that there would be a new Rush tour, I wouldn't have believed it. And yet, it's about to happen. There are actually some mixed feelings among the fans. The vast majority are excited to see the new iteration of the band, and eager to watch them perform live. But there are also some who believe the band should not have hired a new drummer and committed to a new tour; they see it as disrespectful to Neil's memory. (It's worth noting that Neil's widow and his daughter do not subscribe to this view: Alex and Geddy spoke with them, and had they not been okay with it, I doubt things would have moved forward.)  

But if we're all being honest, many of us are a little nervous too: we've all seen bands that performed well past their prime. They could no longer hit the same notes, or play with the intensity they were able to summon thirty years ago. And while we trust Geddy and Alex's ability, we worry about if they'll be able to do what they did in previous decades. After all, they're in their 70s now, and about to embark on a grueling tour schedule. Will they be able to live up to their own high standards?     

A couple of days ago, my friend from the Washington Post, Geoff Edgers (you may recall him from the Rock Hall: he was there to interview the guys when they announced they were getting back together) wrote a wonderful article about Paul McCartney. Geoff is a very insightful observer of pop culture, and I never miss his articles. He began by acknowledging that he thought about writing an article criticizing Sir Paul's somewhat mediocre performance on Saturday Night Live; a lot of online trolls were trashing the performance, observing that his voice was thin, he had trouble hitting some of the higher notes, and he sounded every bit of his age-- nearly 84. 

But Geoff decided not to write a critical article after all. Instead, he focused on McCartney's newly released album: "roughly his 40th album if you count the Beatles, Wings and his solo career. And the record is a lesson in what it means to grow old and refuse to make concessions." The record had many good songs, reflecting who McCartney was now. The vocals were fine-- many were excellent, and even those where his range was less than it used to be still sounded good. (By the way, his version of "Hello Goodbye" that he performed on the final Stephen Colbert Show was wonderful.) 

And having listened to the new album, Geoff found himself hoping that McCartney would go out on tour and perform it live. "Because that’s what our heroes should be doing. Aging naturally and without fear." And as for his performance on Saturday Night Live, the online world may have been critical, but the live audience who saw it was far more enthusiastic. "Nobody watching in Studio 8H was counting how many notes he missed. They were standing to the side, jumping and clapping and feeling the joy of watching a true living master make music."

I have no doubt that Rush will put 150% into everything they do in their new tour. They always did before, and I'm certain they will continue to do that. And whether they are flawless (which they may well be) or not, it's a privilege to know they are still with us, still ready to entertain, still determined to put on a great show for the fans. Like Paul McCartney, the members of Rush are living masters too, and if going on tour in their 70s brings them joy, why shouldn't they do it? I'm certain there are many fans who can't wait to see them and are wishing them well. It will be a great adventure, and whether or not it's perfect isn't the point. Rush want to bring their music to a new generation. Count me among the many who are cheering them on. And I can't wait to see what they do.       

How Do We Make This Stop?

I was reading an opinion piece in the Boston Globe yesterday. It was written by Steven Peljovich, a guy who owns a restaurant. It's a very good restaurant, and popular with the locals. But Steven is Jewish, and his restaurant is a Jewish deli. That shouldn't be a problem. In fact, his customers love his deli; it serves a wide variety of wonderful food, and people from many ethnic backgrounds eat there. 

But over the past several years, his deli has become the target of haters. Relentlessly. In the dead of night, they keep putting antisemitic stickers on his restaurant's doors and windows. Other businesses in his area are not being targeted; just the Jewish-owned establishments, like a kosher grocery not far from him. Some of the stickers are anti-Israel, but others are specifically anti-Jewish. Law enforcement has thus far not caught the perpetrators, but the owner is mystified that this is happening at all. 

As a local small businessman, Steven's focus has always been on creating a non-political and welcoming space where people can just relax and enjoy a meal together. But suddenly, he finds himself serving as a proxy for folks who oppose the Israeli government-- even though he isn't Israeli and had nothing to do with the policies of that government. And he also finds himself serving as a convenient scapegoat for folks who are prejudiced against Jews. He has done nothing to deserve any of this. And yet, this is now his life.

Unfortunately, this sort of thing is becoming a far too common occurrence. As he observes in his essay, "Folks once had actual conversations about issues that were divisive. Now, we retreat into our corners, wrap ourselves in our bubbles, and use the anonymity of social media to express opinions and spew hate." And some people take it beyond hateful online words: they hide in the darkness and throw bricks through the windows of Jewish-owned shops, or they put threatening stickers on the doors. "It is easy and cowardly to slap a sticker on a door or window of an establishment and just walk away," Steven writes. "It also accomplishes nothing."  

But while it may accomplish nothing in the long run, it can be very unnerving for those who are going through it. And that makes me wonder how we got here. How did we turn into a culture where some folks think it's perfectly okay to vandalize local stores just because they don't like the owner's religion or culture? Like the author, I can point to social media or angry talk shows or viral videos that promote hatred of "the other." And I agree with him that many of us no longer have civil conversations about divisive issues. 

And yet, I'd still like to believe we can create a more tolerant environment somehow. But I'll be honest: these days, I don't know if enough people want that to happen. Meanwhile, as Steven says in his essay, "I am just a guy who is proud of his heritage and whose goal is to make great food for all of my guests to enjoy. It would be nice if I can just continue to show up to my store everyday and focus on that, rather than finding hate at my door." That would indeed be nice. But I don't know how to make it a reality. So, how do we let the haters know they don't speak for the rest of us? I'm open to suggestions, and I hope you have some, because all of this hateful behavior really needs to stop.

We're Number 64! We're Number 64!

The annual Reporters Without Borders (RSF) World Press Freedom Index just came out, and Norway was #1, just as it was last year. Explaining why that country had scored so well, RSF stated that "Norway’s legal framework safeguarding press freedom is robust. The media market is vibrant, featuring a strong public service broadcaster and a diversified private sector; and publishing companies maintain extensive editorial independence." But the organization, which monitors freedom of the press all over the world, expressed serious concern about what was happening in many other countries, the U.S. among them. 

In fact, RSF stated that press freedom world-wide is at a 25-year low, and it noted that in an increasing number of countries, journalism is being criminalized: at the worst end of the spectrum are countries where journalists are put in prison (often for spurious charges like criticizing the country's leader); in a few countries, reporting is so dangerous that journalists are being killed. But even in countries where no journalists are in jail, reporters are regularly being threatened and harassed; and new laws are being put into place to make it more difficult to report anything those in power do not want the public to know. 

As for the United States, the index noted that the presidency of Donald Trump is a factor in our declining press freedom numbers. As I have discussed previously, he regularly insults and bullies reporters (especially female journalists), but it's not just the name-calling that's the problem. Also problematic is his tendency to constantly accuse the media of lying or being "fake"-- this is a tactic we are seeing from autocratic regimes all over the world. The relentless criticism has taken a toll: telling people repeatedly that reporters can't be trusted has contributed to an atmosphere where a majority of people don't believe anything journalists say; they prefer the partisan opinion hosts who never question the president's point of view. Meanwhile, the president has made reporting more challenging by implemented policies to exclude certain reporters from briefings, while installing friendly commentators in their place. He has pressured media companies, many of which were trying to get approval for mergers, to give him more favorable coverage, and he installed allies of his in leadership positions at those companies. 

As RSF explained, "Since returning to the White House in 2025, President Trump has extended the war on the press he launched while running for his first presidential term. He has censored government data, attempted to dismantle US public broadcasters, weaponized independent government agencies to punish media that criticize his actions, halted aid funding for media freedom internationally, sued disfavored outlets, and applied pressure to install cronies to lead others. Press freedom in the United States continues to decline as a result of these actions."   

So, here we are, a country that used to be the envy of the world for its free press. Now, we are #64 on the Press Freedom Index. Other countries are seeing their press freedoms get weakened or diminished, but I never thought this would happen to us as quickly as it did. I know that some people will read this and think, "Well, it's the reporters that are to blame; they shouldn't have lied about the president." Others will read this and think, "There are still plenty of places to get information and besides, I don't really care what's going on in the news that much." But I hope that some will read this and agree with me that a free press is essential for a functioning democracy. Insulting and demonizing hardworking reporters is not a good thing. Allowing a handful of the president's cronies to buy up major media outlets is not a good thing either. 

Few presidents have ever liked the way the press covered them, but the answer isn't to stifle or censor the press. As Thomas Jefferson reminds us, "Our liberty depends on the freedom of the press, and that cannot be limited without being lost." Perhaps next year, we'll start climbing back up the Press Freedom Index. But I hope that sometime very soon, the public will realize that Jefferson was right: without freedom of the press, those in power will have nobody to hold them to account. Now is an excellent time to commit to supporting local journalism (many smaller public radio stations and non-profit publications are doing wonderful work, but they need your help). Now is also an excellent time to teach your kids (or even yourself) about media literacy: in a time of autocracy, facts matter more than ever-- because without access to the facts, and without freedom of the press, our liberty, and our democracy, could truly be lost.  

The Waiting is the Hardest Part: Some Thoughts About the Butterfly Effect

When I was growing up, people were a lot more patient than they are now. I know that's a generality, but based on what I've seen, this is a generation that doesn't like to wait. If you were a kid in the 50s and 60s, you had no choice. Waiting was just a part of life. For example, there was no expectation of instant communication: if you wanted to talk to someone in another city, you either called them long distance (which could be expensive) or wrote them a letter. If you wanted to find out some information you needed for school, you went to the library and looked it up. If you missed your favorite TV show, all you could do was wait for it to show up in summer re-runs. And if the deejay just played your favorite song, all you could do was keep listening, and chances are, he'd play it again.

This all might sound rather unpleasant, but it wasn't. In fact, it had its advantages. The good thing about waiting was it gave you something to look forward to. When that person is another city got your letter, you might get one back in return. The library was worth the trip, because it always had some amazing books. Sooner or later, summer re-runs came along (and so did summer vacation). Listening for your favorite song often brought results.  And because you had to wait, you didn't take it for granted; and you were really glad when it finally happened.

To be honest, I'm not convinced things are better today. Okay fine, it's much easier for folks to get what they want. They can hear their favorite song online or watch their favorite TV show on demand. They don't have to leave their house to get information for school because their computer does the searching, and ChatGPT can even do the writing (not ethical, but I know a lot of students who use it). Because communication moves at such lightning speed, when someone sends a text, they're frustrated if they don't get an immediate response. It's a world where it seems the expectation of instant gratification is everywhere. 

But is that a good thing? Expecting things to happen NOW certainly keeps folks from seeing the bigger picture. Sometimes, it may seem like nothing is happening, like nothing will ever change. And yet, slowly, almost imperceptibly, things are unfolding, although perhaps they take more time for us to see them than we might like. I was teaching about the Butterfly Effect earlier tonight: you may have heard it expressed as the fact that a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil could eventually set off an earthquake in Texas. The creator of the theory, a meteorologist named Edward Lorenz, was speaking metaphorically. It's doubtful that butterfly wings, no matter how hard they flap, can cause an earthquake. But the point is that even a small and seemingly insignificant event can eventually lead to unexpected and very noticeable changes.     

And that's a lesson worth remembering: none of us can predict when a small action could make a big difference later on. Perhaps it's a kind word, perhaps it's a gesture of encouragement, and maybe at the time it doesn't seem like it accomplished very much. But kind words and positive actions can help to build a foundation for other kind words and other positive actions. It's true that if you are waiting for something to change immediately, you may end up disappointed. But that doesn't mean things won't change in the future, as a result of that act of kindness you performed today. So, perhaps you should think of yourself as a butterfly. You might not cause an earthquake, but you might set into motion a chain of events that gradually makes the world a better place. And in a world where nobody likes to wait, knowing that things can and will get better seems like something worth waiting for.  

What a Time We Had: When Rush Played at the Juno Awards

If you had told me a year ago that I would be seeing Rush reunite, I doubt I would have believed it. Yes, Geddy and Alex had performed at a couple of tribute concerts, but for all intents and purposes, any talk of attending a Rush concert seemed quite unlikely. And that was okay. I understood that after Neil lost his battle with cancer, Alex and Geddy put the band aside and focused on other things. Time passed. Alex and Geddy often kept in touch, and they still enjoyed playing music. It was healing for them. It made them happy. But I honestly didn't think they would ever get back to being working musicians again.

But times change. And at a certain point, Alex and Geddy decided to create the next iteration of Rush. When they made the announcement in Cleveland at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, they asked me to be there. But I was as surprised as most people when they announced they had chosen a drummer and were getting ready to perform again. 

That drummer was Anika Nilles, and that in itself was notable. Having long been told that Rush was a band for guys, and few if any women liked them (not true then, not true now), it was quite a change to see a woman join the band. I can only imagine Neil with a big smile on his face, seeing that the next iteration of Rush has Anika behind the drum kit. And she happens to be a very good drummer. As I said on social media, if she were not a very good drummer, Alex and Geddy would not have chosen her. But more than that, if she were not a good person and someone the two felt comfortable with, I doubt she'd be part of the band. Friendship matters: Alex and Geddy often said that they thought of Neil as a close friend, and they all liked to spend time with each other; they liked to joke around and make each other laugh. I don't know what kind of friendship Alex and Geddy will have with Anika (or with Loren Gold, the new keyboard player), but I get the impression they will all have a good time making music and entertaining the fans.

The other night, the band made its surprise debut, playing at the Juno Awards. The song they played was surprising too-- "Finding My Way," which we did very well with at WMMS when I was there. After "Working Man" was getting played to death, listeners wanted to know what else was on that first album, and I chose "Finding My Way." I still love to hear it, and those opening chords bring back a lot of memories. I thought Rush's performance was inspiring. As I saw it, they were at the beginning of a great adventure, one that nobody thought would ever happen a year ago. I give Anika a lot of credit-- she is stepping into a difficult gig, because while many fans will love her for herself, some will want to compare her to Neil.

I hope they don't. What I saw was a new iteration of Rush doing what they loved best-- playing music, and playing it well. It put a smile on my face, because even Geddy had told me a few months ago that he had no idea how many concerts someone of his chronological age would be able to play. Based on what I heard, the band still sounds good. Geddy's range isn't what it was 25 years ago, but it doesn't need to be. He still can hit the notes he needs to. Alex can still play in a very impressive manner. And Anika is a welcome addition, someone who is bringing new energy and new perspectives to the band.

And watching them perform at the Juno Awards, I kept remembering a younger and more inexperienced version of the band, back when John Rutsey was still the drummer. They were three guys from Toronto with no idea what the future held for them, amazed to be in Cleveland in late June of 1974, amazed that people loved "Working Man," getting ready to perform at the Allen Theater and hoping to make a good impression. They did then. They still do now. Many years have passed, and now it's a new version of the band I've loved for so many years. It was wonderful to see Rush up on stage again, in March 2026, getting ready to go on tour, and bringing so much joy to so many people.        

        

Keeping the Audience Informed: Some Thoughts About the FCC

When I was on the radio in the 60s and 70s, the Federal Communications Commission was a major presence in our lives. Back then, FCC inspectors might come into the area unexpectedly, usually to make sure a station's tower lights were working properly, but for other reasons too. If memory serves, inspectors could also come in and examine a station's public file, and they could get in touch to investigate listener complaints. During my time in college radio, we often used euphemisms when referring to the FCC-- the two I recall were the Friendly Candy Company and Fat Cousin Charlie, but there may have been others. And we were supposed to display our licenses on a wall, in a visible place, because back then, even the deejays had to have at least a 3rd class FCC license. We jokingly called the studio location where all our licenses were displayed the Ben F. Waple Memorial Wall, named for the (very much alive) Secretary of the FCC, whose signature was on our licenses.   

As deejays, we worried about playing songs that had bad words in them-- in album rock, that was a growing concern. Record companies often provided us with the "clean" version of the hit single, but if it was an album track, it might contain one of the words that weren't supposed to be played on the air. We had to be cautious-- we knew the FCC was a conservative agency and it didn't especially like album rock music. We never wanted to play something that could put our license in jeopardy.

On the other hand, I don't recall the FCC ever getting involved with our newscasts. Of course, back then, we lived under the Fairness Doctrine, so the typical newscast tended to stick to the facts, usually read in a very serious manner. Opinions were only expressed in an editorial, and that was usually read by the station's general manager. Radio stations did have talk shows back then, and contrary to myth, there were both liberal and conservative hosts on the air. But everyone was aware of what the Fairness Doctrine required, and we all made an effort to avoid violating the rules.  

And yet, despite living in conservative times, those of us on FM were still able to broadcast news stories about anti-war demonstrations, or play lots of anti-war songs. (A few of those songs even became top-40 hits.) And while President Johnson (a Democrat) and President Nixon (a Republican) were undoubtedly annoyed by the anti-war movement and not happy that the mainstream media were covering it, the FCC did not tell us to stop. We continued to play the songs we wanted to play, and we broadcast the news stories that we thought our listeners ought to hear.  

Fast forward to today, in a time when the six giant conglomerates that control most of the media are about to be reduced to five. Several days ago, the chairman of the FCC issued a warning to the press that if they did not begin providing the kind of favorable coverage of the Iran war that the president demanded, licenses could be in jeopardy. First Amendment advocates were horrified: there is nothing in the constitution that says "the president defines freedom of the press and he can restrict it at any time." No, freedom of the press, and freedom of speech, are not decided by the government, which is the entire point the Founding Fathers were making when the Bill of Rights was written. And yet, reporters are being told on a regular basis what they should cover and how they should cover it. 

Fortunately, most reporters are resisting, no matter how many rude names they are called. And most news outlets are still covering the news the way it ought to be covered: fairly and accurately. A few outlets have bent the knee, or tried to avoid getting the president angry-- which has proved to be a difficult task. But for the most part, the news is still being covered, with a focus on the facts. And now, that has earned reporters a stern rebuke from the chairman of the FCC, a loyal ally of the president. I'm sure when I was on the air, the FCC chair was an ally of the president too. But back then, the FCC evidently did not see itself as an arm of the White House. Nor should it ever be. For our democracy to flourish, even in difficult times, reporters need to be free to do their jobs. The audience needs to be kept informed. And the FCC needs to go back to whatever it is that the FCC does in this era of deregulation-- which should never involve meddling with the First Amendment, no matter what the president says.  

Living in a YOYO World

[Note: part of this post was written before the president decided unilaterally to bomb Iran. But as you will see, in some ways, it makes my point.] 

As many of you know, I turned 79 on Valentine's Day. There are lots of stereotypes about women and aging, and for far too long, we were all told to lie about our age. I'm not going to do that. I'm 79, and it's okay. I'm happy to be alive. I'm still working, and I'm happy about that too. I continue to be a professor; and I love it because every day, I learn something new, or I learn that something I've long observed actually has a name. For example, this semester, I'm teaching a class in Organizational Communication, and the textbook talks about how we used to be in a WATT ("we're all in this together") culture; but these days, we're in a YOYO ("you're on your own") culture. The authors described the WATT culture as a time when employers provided not just a salary but medical and dental benefits to their employees; companies had local roots, and working in a place for a long time was the norm (my father worked for the same company for more than four decades, and he was not the only one). Back then, the government provided a social safety net, and those who needed assistance were able to get it. 

And then, led by Ronald Reagan and others, we moved into a culture where self-sufficiency was held up as the ideal. Employers reduced benefits or eliminated them entirely; many companies, which were now part of multinational conglomerates, preferred hiring workers as independent contractors. Even universities had a small group of full-time professors and everyone else was a lower-paid "adjunct" with no job security at all. More and more workers found themselves frequently changing jobs, or turning to gig work and side-hustles to make ends meet. And the government began slashing the social safety net-- and often demonizing the people who needed it. Cable news and social media made it easier and faster to rail against folks you didn't even know. And there was the constant messaging that anyone could succeed if they really wanted to. See those billionaires? They just worked harder and that's why they did so well. And if you were poor, it must be your own fault-- you were probably too lazy, or you had a bad attitude, or something. In a YOYO world, success or failure were all in your hands. 

A relentless 45-year campaign of elevating -- and making excuses for -- those who were rich while blaming society's problems on various disfavored groups (the poor, immigrants, women, minorities, people with disabilities, etc.) was quite successful. These days, we can see our government engaged in numerous acts of performative cruelty, and a percentage of the voting public thinks this is just fine, because it's directed at certain groups they've been taught to dislike or distrust. We can also see folks on social media lashing out at anyone who has a viewpoint they disagree with (several days ago, someone online called me a liar and a fraud... someone who has never met me but didn't like something I had posted during a chat about Rush's upcoming tour. It doesn't have to be about politics-- anything can quickly becoming a hot button issue and a reason for outrage). Being online as much as we are seems to have left some of us disconnected from how to talk to people in real life. 

When I was growing up, people didn't talk this way to each other. There was an expectation of courtesy. There were norms that encouraged people to talk to each other in a civil manner. Of course, it wasn't perfect. There were plenty of bigots and bullies. But as a culture, politeness was valued, and so was the ability to collaborate. There were many opportunities for people from different backgrounds to work together. In addition to work, we were members of volunteer organizations, civic groups, sisterhoods and brotherhoods at churches and temples. Like it or not, we had to get along with each other, and we learned from a young age that what each of us did, how each of us acted, would affect the other people in our lives. But in a YOYO system of things, you are only responsible for yourself, and there's no collective "we." Each of us is an island. Each of us is trying to overcome the obstacles. But none of us need to feel responsible for anyone else-- they're on their own too.  

So, the president decided to bomb Iran. I will leave it to you to decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But he did it in typical YOYO fashion. Unlike in past generations, he wasn't at the White House-- he was at his private club in Mar-a-Lago. He didn't try to build consensus, not even with the voters to whom he had pledged he wouldn't get involved in foreign wars. He didn't discuss it with congress (according to the constitution, only congress can declare war). He didn't discuss it with NATO (he doesn't like NATO, nor does he like consulting with our allies). He may have talked to his close-knit circle of supporters, who tend to agree with him whatever he says, but he announced it to the public only after it had happened. And then... he went to a fundraiser. If he thought about how his actions might affect us, or how it might affect our allies, he never said a word. 

I have to admit there are times when I miss the WATT culture-- when we all felt a sense of responsibility to each other-- the times when we shared the same experiences, and fought together for the causes we believed in. And one thing that most of us believed in was our democracy. We believed it was worth defending and preserving, and that as a society, we really were all in this together. I hope we can get back to that sense of shared purpose, because we shouldn't all feel that we are on our own. There are times we really do need each other... and now may indeed be one of those times.   

The Courage to Make a Mistake

First, my thanks to everyone who reached out on my birthday: some emailed, some messaged me on social media, and a few even sent old-school birthday cards. I always appreciate the number of folks who take the time to let me know they're thinking of me. It was also very cool spending some time on WBZ Radio with my friend Morgan White Jr. I miss the years I spent on the air, and whenever Morgan asks me to be a guest on his show, I really enjoy it. We did a Valentine's Day theme, talking with the callers about romantic couples on TV and in movies, favorite love songs, etc. We got a lot of nice calls, and that always makes me feel good too.  

I've spent a lot of time over the past several weeks thinking about the upsides and the downsides of being in the public eye. For example, when I was a deejay, back in the days when we played vinyl records, sometimes one of them would skip; or the cart machine (which played the commercials) suddenly jammed; or there was some unexpected loud noise that could be heard in the studio. I had to keep the show going, no matter what, in spite of the problems. I might be upset, but I couldn't let it affect me. My job was to be a good communicator and entertain the audience. All of us were live on the air, and we knew that any mistakes we made were heard by anyone who was listening. But somehow, we had to laugh it off and keep going; we couldn't let it ruin our show (that was easier said than done sometimes).  

Several weeks ago, our local pro football team, the New England Patriots, competed in the Super Bowl. I'd be lying if I said they looked good. In fact, they looked surprising bad for a team that had such a great season and won so many games. The quarterback, Drake Maye, was especially ineffective, but he wasn't alone: there were many other players who didn't play well, nor did Mike Vrabel, their award-winning coach, come up with a plan to turn things around. Many mistakes were made during that game, and football fans from all over the world saw (and commented on) every single one. And yet, as poorly as the Patriots played, they had to face the media not long after the game ended; the coach and many of the players had to answer questions they probably would rather have avoided. But there they were, despite their personal disappointment, trying to act like professionals.

The same could be said for the athletes who have been competing in the Winter Olympics: many have delivered impressive performances. But a few made disastrous mistakes-- star figure skater Ilia Malinin, often called the "Quad God," showed he was not a deity after all-- he turned out to be quite human. Ilia was supposed to dominate his event, but he had two shocking falls (which were played over and over on TV and on social media). Falling unexpectedly during an event that is supposed to be your best must be painful enough; having to analyze and explain it in real time could not have been easy. And yet, it is expected of the athletes that they will speak about how they did, and Ilia was no exception to that rule.

In a way, I'm glad I was only moderately well-known during my radio years. Not that many people knew, or cared, if I had a bad show. But imagine if I were famous and committed some major faux pas on TV: I would hate to think about having to explain it to reporters and viewers. For example, I've seen politicians struggle when the teleprompter failed (which is actually an old problem-- even Dwight Eisenhower, as far back as 1952, ran into this), and they were subsequently expected to answer endless questions about the problems they had (these days, they are also mocked relentlessly on social media by folks who never did a radio or TV show in their lives, and have no idea how they would handle a day when everything went wrong).

Perhaps we should critique our cultural tendency to want famous people to subject themselves to our scrutiny and explain their mistakes to us in painstaking detail. But I take away a different lesson from these moments of public humiliation. I think it's quite courageous to pick yourself up and face the questions (even when you'd rather just hide). With few exceptions (our current president comes to mind), the folks who had the bad day don't make excuses for it; they own what happened, and they try to respond honestly when questioned about it. That's commendable. It's also important. In life, whether we are famous or not, things can go wrong. We may not be able to change a terrible day, but how we react to it, and what we do going forward, is what matters.

I fully expect the Patriots who played poorly to work even harder and do much better next year. I fully expect the Olympic athletes whose performances were far below expectations to get back up and commit to doing a better job in the future. And the vast majority of politicians and celebrities understand that having a bad day or making a gaffe or doing something embarrassing doesn't necessarily mean they will never recover from it. And there's a lesson for us too: we should not allow ourselves to be defined by our worst day. We should not label ourselves as "failures," nor allow others to do that. Rather, we should learn what we can from what went wrong, and then get back on our feet and move on. In the immortal words of those great philosophers Led Zeppelin, "Yes there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on." Words to live by, wouldn't you agree?      

Keep on Singing

I can't imagine where I'd be without music. That may seem like an obvious thing to say, given that I used to be a deejay, but even during times when I wasn't on the air, it was often music that helped keep me going. Perhaps you can relate: I am thinking of some difficult times in my life, when it just seemed that everything was awful and nothing was getting better. And then, almost like magic, I'd hear a certain song, and the lyrics expressed exactly how I felt, and the mood I was in gradually lifted, as I sang along. I guess I derived some comfort in knowing that someone else (in this case, the songwriter) had been exactly where I was. And in that moment, I felt a little less alone. 

That's one reason why I wanted to be a deejay. This may sound silly, but I saw it as a mitzvah. When I was a kid, my favorite deejays felt like friends to me. And I wanted to pay it forward; I wanted to be a friend to some other lonely kid. I loved being on the air: if I could play a song that cheered you up or made you smile or made you feel a little less lonely, that was something worth doing. As a college radio deejay, I had more latitude than my colleagues on AM top-40 did. FM album rock radio (often called underground or progressive) was still new, and our playlists were much wider. I always sought out album tracks that I knew would resonate with my audience in those turbulent days of the late 1960s. 

There was so much excellent anti-war music from folk-rock singer-songwriters like Bob Dylan, Tom Paxton, and Phil Ochs; and there were rock bands like Country Joe & the Fish, Jefferson Airplane and Creedence Clearwater singing out against the war too. The now-classic Buffalo Springfield song "For What It's Worth" did not begin its life as an anti-war song, but the movement soon embraced it, and the lyrics fit perfectly. It was an inventive and creative and often-courageous time in music, when rock bands were taking chances. AM Top-40 ignored much of this (or tried to-- but some of the songs we played became crossover pop hits, like Creedence's "Fortunate Son"). Meanwhile, on FM, I was able to use my show to articulate the feelings of my listeners, whether about the war or about other issues so many of us were facing.

What brought all this to mind was what has been happening in Minneapolis, as thousands and thousands of people from all walks of life, tired of the cruelty and brutality that the Trump administration inflicted on their city, took to the streets to protest. The bitter cold did not deter them. Threats of violence (and the deaths of two protesters) did not deter them either. The common wisdom was that nothing would change, and yet, the people kept marching, kept chanting, kept protesting. And Bruce Springsteen wrote a new song about it, and he came to Minneapolis to perform it. In New England, the Dropkick Murphys had a protest song for us too. In fact, all over the country, people are marching and protesting (and singing) and refusing to be deterred. 

And no, having lived through the Vietnam era, I don't expect things to improve immediately. The fact that more people are standing up and speaking out is encouraging; and the fact that over the past few months, a growing number of musicians too have been making their voices heard is a plus. But this is an ongoing process. It will take time. Back in the 60s, I recall how powerful the music could be. When we heard certain songs, whether on the radio or at a concert, we would sing along. The music helped to rejuvenate us. And then, it helped to motivate us, reminding us of what we needed to do. And we got back out there to do it. 

I see signs of that now, wherever I look: in Minneapolis, they're standing up for our democracy every day, joined by folks from red states and blue states who are tired of the brutality and the cruelty, and who want to see sanity restored. And all I can say is, wherever you are, make your voices heard too. If the way things are going in Minneapolis seems wrong to you, now is a good time to speak out. There are people determined to silence you, determined to persuade you that there's nothing you can do. Don't believe them. Keep making your feelings known. And above all, keep on singing.   

The People We Remember, the People We Forget: Some Thoughts About Dr. King's Birthday

She was tired, and it had been a frustrating day, and she just wanted to go home. So, she took a seat on the bus. But before she could relax, the bus driver angrily told her to get up and give her seat to someone else. It was 1955, in Montgomery, Alabama, and the bus lines, like much of America, were segregated. She was Black, and sitting in a seat that a White person wanted. But she was tired and upset and something inside her told her not to comply. So, she didn't. She knew the consequences, but she refused anyway. And she was forcibly removed from the bus and arrested. And her name was... Claudette Austin, later Claudette Colvin. She was only fifteen, and a high school student. Her name is on the 1956 lawsuit that ultimately ended segregation on the bus lines. But it was the name of Rosa Parks that would be remembered. Claudette's name was not. When Claudette died the other day at age 86, few people had ever heard of her.

That's unfortunate, because the Civil Rights Movement did not begin with the amazing act of one person, nor was it some accident that came out of nowhere (contrary to the way Rosa Parks is often described as an "older woman" and a "seamstress," she had a long history with the NAACP and with the fight for civil rights in the south). And writing Claudette out of the story was a choice: the leaders of the movement worried that she'd be perceived as a "mouthy teenager" and not taken seriously; she was also pregnant, and in a time when being pregnant outside of marriage was frowned upon, the decision was made to select someone who would be less threatening and a more sympathetic figure. And yet, it was Claudette's courageous act of resistance that was an important part of ending segregation on Montgomery's busses.   

What brought this to mind is the upcoming celebration of Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday. We are living in a time when some politicians, including our president, would prefer that Dr. King's life not be celebrated. Worse yet, there are schools in numerous red states where even a mention of race (or racism) is now forbidden. And for those who say I am exaggerating, there are colleges that are now eliminating entire courses, rather than violate new policies, which are often driven by politics, rather than by an interest in learning. As a professor, I find this problematic. I fail to see the harm in exposing students to a wide range of perspectives, and I fail to see why teaching kids about the fight for civil rights is controversial.    

In fact, I'd like to see not just Dr. King's life remembered but the lives of others who laid the groundwork, or helped to make the civil rights movement a success-- for example, the historian Carter G. Woodson, who proposed what we today know as Black History Month. Back in 1926, he set aside a week each February when the accomplishments of Black people could be studied and remembered. He said this was important because, "If a race has no history, if it has no worthwhile tradition, it becomes a negligible factor in the thought of the world, and it stands in danger of being exterminated." And by preventing students from learning about Dr. King, or about Dr. Woodson, or about numerous others who helped to end segregation in America, we not only do them a disservice-- but we contribute to their being erased.

And maybe that's the point? It certainly seems that some folks today prefer the way things used to be. They want us to return to a time when people who look like them had absolute power and nobody could challenge their authority without facing severe consequences. They want to banish anyone from the "wrong" color or the "wrong" religion or the "wrong" political beliefs. They want to silence anyone who dares to complain. They want a country where everyone knows their place. And they want us to forget the people who said "no, I don't want America to be like that." That's why it's a good idea to celebrate Dr. King's life: to remember him, and all the others who worked so hard to made the country a better place. And it's a good reminder, especially in times like these, that even small acts of courage can eventually lead to big results. Rest in peace, Claudette Colvin. And thank you.