Are We Ready Yet?

I was thinking about Lillian D. Rock today. In fact, over the past few weeks, I've thought about her a lot. You probably don't know her, so let me introduce her to you, and you'll understand why I've been thinking about her, even though I never met her.

This is one of the few surviving images of her; online, it gives a date of 1935, but that's unlikely. It's probably a photo from when she graduated from law school in 1924. Few law firms would hire a "woman lawyer" back then, so she worked with her brother, who was also a lawyer. And she joined the National Association of Women Lawyers (NAWL), where she eventually became a member of its executive board.

Then, in 1934, Lillian got into the news for her advocacy on behalf of women in politics. American women had only gotten the right to vote in 1920, but Lillian believed there were already numerous qualified women who could take on important political roles-- such as becoming federal judges, as Genevieve Cline and Florence Allen had done. Speaking at conference, Lillian asserted that within her lifetime, she fully expected a woman to ascend all the way to the presidency.

Hoping to make it happen sooner rather than later, she founded the League for a Woman President and Vice President in 1935. Of course, not everyone was as enthusiastic about the idea as Lillian and her colleagues were. Some men were dismissive of it, while others opposed it-- they said only men should lead a country. But the most surprising opponent of Lillian's idea was the First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt.

Eleanor had a radio show, and on it, she usually talked about non-controversial and non-political topics. But she addressed Lillian's committee directly, saying that while women had made important gains, they hadn’t been in politics long enough to have earned the public’s trust; she believed it would take a while until that happened, but she could not support what Lillian was proposing. Despite her disagreement with the First Lady, Lillian continued to advocate for women in politics; but she died in 1974, without ever seeing a woman attain the nomination for vice president or president of either of the two major parties.   

The other day, I was reading an interview with a male voter who stated that women weren't tough enough to be president. I also note that whenever there has been a female candidate in the past few years, her male opponent has mocked how she laughed, made fun of how she looked, hinted that she wasn't moral, or claimed that she wasn't intelligent; and of course, she was accused of not being able to handle the difficult work of running a country. 

Listening to the rhetoric in the current presidential race, I often feel like I've just taken a trip back to 1935, when all of those things were being said about women politicians (of both parties) on a regular basis. And I wonder what Lillian would make of the fact that in 2024, women are still enduring the same slurs and insults and accusations as they did nearly 90 years ago. Agreed, the language has gotten more coarse and vulgar, but the basic belief of a lot of people that women who run for president are inferior really irritates me. I hope when people vote, they will look at each candidate's qualifications and consider the vision they have for the country. And I hope that millions of women will finally get to see a woman become president. I'd like to believe that if Lillian were still here, she would be delighted by that. I know I certainly will be.        

 

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Last night, I was looking through some of my Rush-related memorabilia, and I found a few items from October 2012. That may not seem like such a long time ago, but that month turned out to be a very momentous time for Rush and for their many fans; and it was nice to reminisce about it all. 

One reason October 2012 was worth remembering was the Clockwork Angels tour was heading for Boston at the end of the month, and I could hardly wait.

And another reason I was looking forward to it, in addition to seeing the band, of course, was that my friend Pegi was going to be there. If you ever met her, you know what a dynamo she was-- an essential member of Rush's management, I had known her almost as long as I'd known the band. She had been battling cancer, but she told me the treatments had been successful, and she would be able to come to Boston for the concert. That was wonderful news; we had shared a lot since the mid-1970s, and I was eager to give her a big hug. She told me there would be two tickets waiting for me, and that also meant I'd be able to take a dear friend of mine along-- Meg, who was a local journalist and a devoted Rush fan. 

Before the show, I joined a get-together of Rush fans at a nearby Dunkin' Donuts-- they included some folks I'd known for a long while; for the past several years, some of us had been gathering for an annual event we jokingly called Ratcon (we were the "Rush Rats"). But now, they were here in Boston, and it was sort of like a mini-reunion, complete with Steampunk attire.

Before the show, my friend Meg and I went to the meet-and-greet, where we saw Geddy and Alex; Neil seldom if ever showed up for these things, nor did we expect him to. There were some fans who had won backstage passes in a radio contest, as well as some friends of the band who were there to say hello just like Meg and I were. But even though it was brief, it was still wonderful to spend a few moments with Geddy and Alex and catch up on how they were doing.

And then, we went to our seats (I generally watch the show from the mixing booth, where the view is better, and I can enjoy not just the music but the amazing lights-and-special effects from Howard Ungerleider). I won't bore you with the set-list (easy to find it online), but suffice it to say that "The Garden" has always been one of my favorites, and it got an excellent response, as did "Spirit of Radio," "Subdivisions," "Bravado," and so many others. This tour also featured a string ensemble (I had the opportunity to chat with one of the members, a talented violinist named Gerry Hilera; later, we kept in touch for a while). It was an incredible night of great music, and the fans seemed especially enthusiastic. 

Meanwhile, what many of the fans didn't know was that in early October, I had gotten the word that FINALLY, after years of calling, and writing, and petitioning, and doing everything else I could think of, it looked like Rush would be nominated for induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. That, however, is a story for another day. The story for this one was about seeing my friends, seeing Pegi, seeing Alex and Geddy and other members of the crew, and feeling grateful to be part of the extended family of Rush fans, able to share another outstanding concert tour. Of course, none of us had any idea that several years ahead, many things would change-- for me, for Pegi, for Rush, and for the fans. But on this night, it was a celebration, and I looked forward to the next one.

There's Still Time to Change the Road You're On

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, comes late this year: it usually comes in September, but this year, it's in October-- it begins at sundown on October 2. Unlike the secular New Year with its emphasis on parties and ringing in the year, Jewish New Year is a lot more reflective, and it's the beginning of the Ten Days of Repentance, which ends with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. 

I've mentioned the Ten Days of Repentance before-- they're an opportunity to apologize to those you've wronged, a chance to re-establish communication with those you may have stopped talking to. It's also a time to look at yourself and evaluate where you fell short, and to atone for what you did wrong. In other words, it's a time to take responsibility for your faults, rather than blaming others or making excuses.

That sounds lovely in theory. But in practice, many of us (and that includes me, to be honest) have a difficult time with the part about admitting we were wrong and being willing to do things differently. It's so much easier to say the breakdown in communication or the argument or the disagreement was all the other person's fault. It's so much easier to avoid thinking about the times we were judgmental or the times we spoke harshly, rather than sincerely trying to do better. We're supposed to admit our mistakes, atone for them, and strive to correct them; but I don't know too many people who enjoy doing that.

And yet, here we are. At this time of year, we are encouraged to do charitable work, and we're encouraged to pray; but above all, we're encouraged to repent. That means to sincerely apologize for what we did wrong and promise to do better. And yes, there's a religious component: we humble ourselves, we fast on Yom Kippur, and we ask God to forgive us. But first, during the Ten Days of Repentance, we are told to make peace between ourselves and those we have wronged, wherever possible. 

I can think of several folks I need to apologize to. And whether they accept my apology or not (and I hope they will), I'm still supposed to make the effort. Meanwhile, I've been thinking a lot about how I can be a more patient person in the New Year-- being impatient is my biggest fault, and I know it. I'd like to believe it's still possible for me to change; I really want to be a more kind and understanding person than I have been.

And if you are one of the people that I have somehow wronged this past year, I do hope you will be able to forgive me. And if you are observing the New Year too, I wish you a year that is both happy and healthy. If it's not your holiday, I appreciate your reading my thoughts about it. One of the nice things about the blogosphere is you can learn about other people's beliefs, directly from them. So, I hope you've found my thoughts about the Jewish New Year informative. Even though it's about self-reflection and repentance, it's one of my favorite holidays, because it teaches us that we can choose to do better, and it all starts by being willing to atone.

Strangers in a Strange Land

I don't talk much about either of my grandfathers; they both died many years ago. But they were part of a very familiar story. My maternal grandfather's name was Samuel; he was a tailor, and he came here from Lithuania in 1910. My paternal grandfather's name was Jacob; he was a carpenter, and he came here from Russia in 1907. They were part of a massive surge of Eastern European immigrants that arrived here in the period from the 1890s through the 1910s. Most of these immigrants were poor, few spoke any English, and they all came in search of a life that was better and safer than what they had in the "old country." 

Not everyone was thrilled to see them. It didn't take long before the newspapers and magazines were filled with complaints from the good, upstanding citizens about how these newcomers were dirty, spread diseases, and had strange customs that the average American couldn't understand. There was pressure on politicians to stop allowing all these people into the country, and by the 1920s, immigration laws did become much more restrictive. But when my grandfathers arrived, there were still large numbers who continued to make the journey to what they hoped would be a "golden land." 

Based on what I've been told by my relatives, neither of my grandfathers found America to be easy; learning English was a struggle, as was supporting their families during periods of crisis like the Great Depression. They each met some people who were kind to them, but they also met unscrupulous landlords who charged outrageous rents for substandard apartments; and bosses who cheated their immigrant workers out of overtime pay. And along the way, they met plenty of people who didn't like immigrants, including some who didn't like Jews. Still, my grandfathers persevered. They believed they were better off in America, and they were determined to make a life in their newly adopted country. Although they were both hardworking guys, they never got rich; however, I get the impression that wasn't their priority. Mostly, they wanted their kids to have more opportunities than they would have had growing up in a ghetto in Eastern Europe. 

On a few occasions, my commute has taken me through the neighborhoods where each of my grandfathers once lived. Today, these neighborhoods have different immigrant populations, but it's newcomers to America who still make up much of the population-- immigrants from Vietnam, Haiti, Brazil, Guatemala, all seeking a better life just like Grandpa Samuel and Grandpa Jacob did so many years ago. And just like back then, some people treat the new immigrants with kindness and try to help them, while others exploit them or discriminate against them or mock them.

And every time I hear a craven politician stirring up the public by claiming it's the immigrants who are the main cause of crime, it just makes me sad: that wasn't true 100 years ago, and it's not true today. Unfortunately, scaring people and turning them against "the other," while a cynical strategy, has often proved to be a great way to get votes. And yet, you'd think we would have learned something since those massive waves of immigrants arrived over a century ago from Russia, and Poland, and Lithuania, and Italy, and Germany, and Hungary. Today's immigrants may be of different races from the ones who came here in 1910, and they may speak different languages. But their dreams and their hopes are very similar to what brought my grandfathers to America. It's a shame that more people can't see that the vast majority of immigrants just want to live a peaceful life and make a positive contribution. And wouldn't it be nice if more of us would welcome the stranger, the way both the Hebrew Bible and New Testament command us to do...    

Two Steps Forward, Two Steps Back

Twenty-five years ago, I was researching a book about the changing roles of women in society, and trying to find out if society's attitudes had also changed. In some cases, it seemed they had: there were more women doctors, for example, and going to medical school no longer seemed as unusual in 2000 as it had when I was growing up in the 1950s. (I still remember being told that women were best suited to working as teachers, nurses, or secretaries. Those are certainly fine occupations, but my point is I don't recall anyone back then telling us girls that we could be college presidents, or doctors, or business executives.)  

As for women politicians, in the 1950s, there still weren't a lot of them at the national level, even though women had gained the right to vote in 1920. In the US Congress in 1955, for example, there was only 1 woman senator, and just 16 women representatives (out of 435). And from the 1920s through the 1970s, many of the women who got to congress were widows, selected to complete the term of their late husband. However, things have certainly changed. If we use the congress as a measure of progress, we see that there are currently 25 women in the Senate, and 125 in the House. And the majority of these women are not widows. In fact, the idea that a woman might choose to run for office is no longer as shocking as it once was: there are currently 12 women governors, and more than 400 cities and towns have women mayors.

And yet... even in 2024, women candidates often face obstacles that men do not. I can give you a long list of women who ran for office (from both parties) over the past three decades who were subjected to rude, and even vulgar, commentary about their looks, how they dress, and even their family (or lack thereof). And the rise of social media has only made it easier to disseminate those kinds of comments.  

Of course, none of this is new: there are certain stereotypes that have historically been associated with women, and we can hear some folks dredging them up every election cycle. Women candidates are often called "dumb" or "stupid," for example. If they are married, there are questions raised about whether their husband is okay with them running for office, and what about the kids-- who is taking care of them? (And as we have seen in the current election cycle, if the candidate doesn't have kids, or is a stepmother, there are questions raised about that too.)

But what bothers me the most is the persistence of the myth that women in politics must have slept with someone in power to get ahead. There are aspersions cast on the woman's morals, with the implication that she must be somewhat promiscuous. (Of course, male candidates are rarely held to the same standard: they may be divorced multiple times, or cheat on their wife, or have a reputation for being a playboy, but that doesn't seem to disqualify them. Nor do most voters call out the hypocrisy of the guys who make these accusations against their female opponents. Evidently, if it's someone on "our team," he is free to say whatever he wants.) 

And that is why it really irritated me when I saw the online trolling of Kamala Harris by Donald Trump, with one of the most vulgar verbal attacks I've encountered in a long time. I waited for members of the Republican party to tell him he had gone too far, but of course, they said nothing. I waited for the media to make a story out of Mr Trump implying that the sitting vice president is basically a common prostitute, but other than a couple of mentions, most reporters seemed to treat it as another example of "Trump being Trump."

Let me be very clear that this is NOT partisan: I didn't like it when some folks made sleazy remarks about Sarah Palin, or Hillary Clinton. And as for First Ladies, I didn't like it when Melania Trump was spoken of in a demeaning way, nor did I like it when Michelle Obama was spoken of in ways that were both racist and sexist. I just don't understand why in 2024, we are still seeing those same tired myths that assume a woman in public life couldn't possibly have any political skills or intelligence, and she must have slept her way to the top.  

I understand that there is plenty to criticize about any candidate, male or female. I understand that not everyone likes (pick one) Kamala or Hillary or Melania or Michelle. I'm fine with policy disagreements. I'm fine with disagreements about what a female candidate, or a male candidate's wife, said at an event. But I am not fine with casting aspersions on the woman's morals, or sending around vulgar and degrading memes. It's time for this to stop. It's time for male politicians to stop doing it, and for folks on social media to stop re-posting these kinds of attacks. Female politicians and First Ladies deserve basic respect. So, yes, women in public life have come a long way; but some of the attitudes and stereotypes about them still have not. It makes me wonder what it will take for this to change. And I honestly don't know...

I Heard It On the Radio

It's National Radio Day, a day to celebrate a mass medium that is still important to many of us. I understand that in our internet and TV-oriented world, it's easy to forget about radio, but not all of us do. In fact, I know many people who still listen to it often. I'm one of them. 

I can honestly say that radio changed my life. Growing up, I loved rock and roll (much to the dismay of my parents, who thought rock music was "noise"). And I bonded with the deejays I heard on my favorite top-40 stations. They played my favorite songs, and the deejays sounded so friendly-- even though I never met most of them, I felt as if I knew them; and when I was having a bad day, listening to my favorite station made me feel better somehow. And I decided I wanted to be a deejay when I got older, so that I could play the hits and cheer people up too.

Of course, as many of you who have read my blog are aware, radio in the 1950s and 1960s did not welcome female deejays. It took me until my senior year of college before Northeastern University's WNEU finally let me on the air, in late October 1968; and as I like to say, somehow the republic did not fall. In fact, I got fan mail (I've saved some of it). I also became the station's music director, and I began making friends with record promoters, including some who introduced me to imports from England and from Canada. (This now internet-famous 1968 photo was taken in the WNEU studios, when I first went on the air.)                                               

No radio stations would hire me when I graduated: as I said, women announcers were still not being greeted with open arms. So, I used my degree in education and taught in the Boston Public Schools while continuing to try to find a radio station that would give me a chance. Along the way, I did some free-lance writing for several magazines and for the ABC Radio Network, before I was finally hired by WCAS in Cambridge, Massachusetts; it was a small station, only 250 watts, and a day-timer, but it had a devoted following. We played some folk, some rock, a few pop hits-- and it was like a dream come true to finally be on the air on a regular basis. From there, it was on to WMMS in Cleveland, where my friendships with Canadian record promoters enabled me to be the first to play a certain rock band some of you know-- Rush-- in the spring of 1974. (And we are still in touch to this day.)

My radio journey took me to New York, to Washington DC, and back to my hometown of Boston. I later started a radio and management consulting business, and I traveled all over North America, training air personalities and creating stations that met the needs of the audience. During the four decades I spent in radio, I worked in many interesting places, and I met lots of up-and-coming performers-- and some big stars too. And I hope that anyone who heard me on the air thought of me as someone worth listening to. And then, the industry changed and many of us found ourselves out of work. But even though I was able to reinvent myself by getting a PhD and becoming a professor, I never stopped loving radio, and I miss being on the air even now.

Of course, as we all know, today's radio is very different from when I was a deejay. In many cities, there are no live and local stations at all. There are fewer friendly deejays, and a lot more angry talk show hosts. I couldn't wait to hear my favorite station when I was growing up, but young people seldom listen to radio any more. Giant corporations, which bought up so many local stations, ended up either automating or voice-tracking them, or in some cases, shutting them down. Listeners got tired of all the commercials, and all the sameness, and they went elsewhere. And thanks to YouTube and services like Spotify, people could create their own playlists and not have to wait for their favorite station to play a song they liked. 

And yet, even now, in cities across the US, there are still some live and local stations, still some entertaining deejays, still some places to hear your favorite songs (along with traffic and weather and news). Even now, there are people listening to radio in their car, whether it's on satellite, or on NPR, or on a college station-- and yes they still exist. And even now, there are listeners who think of radio as a companion, just like I did, just like I still do. So, happy National Radio Day. It's a different industry, in a different world, but while radio is no longer considered a "magical medium," it is still capable of being there when we need it. And I hope it will continue to be, now and in the future.    

The Power of Doing a Mitzvah

A couple of weeks ago, a former student of mine got in touch. I hadn't heard from him in about 20 years, but evidently something caused him to think of me, and he decided to reach out. Basically, he wanted to thank me for what he learned in my media classes, and he told me that even now, he often uses what I taught him. To be honest, I never knew that my courses had left such a lasting impression. If you've ever been an educator, you know that every day, you try to be a source of credible information for your students. You try to motivate them, to encourage them, and to inspire them. But you don't always know how much they retained, or how things turned out for them after they graduated. So, it was gratifying to hear that I had made a difference for this student.

I know that for some people, teaching is just another job. But for some of us, it's more than that: it's  almost like a calling. You'll never get rich doing it, but there are so many opportunities to be a positive influence. I also think of teaching as another way I can do a mitzvah. Perhaps you are familiar with the word. A mitzvah is often (badly) translated as a "good deed." But it means a lot more than that. It's really about a positive action that makes the world better in some way. You don't do a mitzvah for the result-- you do it because it's the right thing to do. For example, on many occasions, I've tutored students who were struggling; some appreciated it and told me so, and some didn't even say thank you. But it was still a mitzvah to help them, and I'm glad I made the effort.

Anyone can do a mitzvah-- you don't have to be Jewish. You don't even have to be religious, since it's about doing, rather than believing. Of course, for some of us, doing a mitzvah does have a religious component: there are some things I am supposed to do because they are part of my religion. But others are things that anyone can do: for example, anyone can take the time to show compassion to someone going through a difficult time, or visit someone who is ill, or help someone who is in need. The possibilities are endless, and each time someone does one of these things, it puts a little more kindness into the world. And wouldn't you agree that this world could use a little more kindness? 

When people ask me for advice, as they sometimes do, I often tell them that each day, they should find their mitzvah. Find the good thing they can do that day to help to make the world a better place. That's why I do volunteer work. That's why I mentor students. That's why I try to be courteous on social media. It's all about doing a mitzvah whenever I can. I don't know what your mitzvah is, but I invite you to find it and do it. You may not get immediate praise--you may not get any praise at all. But it's not about the praise; it's about doing the right thing, and trying to make a difference... one mitzvah at a time.