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.    

It's Hard to Believe (some thoughts about 2025)

I've always felt differently about New Year's Eve than many other people do. In some ways, I see it as just another day of the year-- probably the result of my deejay days, when my colleagues, who knew I didn't drink, asked me to work the late night shift so that they could go out and party. So, I sat in the studio and entertained the audience; I took requests and dedications, and I talked to listeners who were feeling alone. I've felt alone on New Year's Eve many times over the years, but gradually, I came to realize that being alone wasn't the worst thing in the world. These days, I hang out at home with my husband, drinking hot chocolate and watching old movies. (There used to be a local station that had a Three Stooges marathon, but that's long gone. So, old movies and classic TV shows are fine.) 

For me, New Year's Eve is a time for introspection, a time to reflect on what was good about the past year and what was not. And let's be honest: for many of us, 2025 had more bad stuff than good stuff. Living in a Blue state, we had to endure endless verbal attacks (some unbelievably crude and vulgar) from the president. We also had to endure some arbitrary and vindictive actions, like his decision to cancel grants for medical research (as a cancer survivor, this really hit home-- my life was saved by the results of medical research; this used to be a non-partisan issue, but in 2025, everything was partisan, and states that didn't vote for him felt the brunt of it). 

As a historian, it was difficult to watch this president suddenly bulldoze the East Wing of the White House without any permission, destroying history just because he wanted to build an elaborate ballroom (for decades, that was where First Ladies had their offices, and many dignitaries held meetings there... and now, it's all gone). 

My sister lost her job thanks to this administration's alliance with Elon and DOGE. My sister was among the many hardworking government workers who worked for both Democrats and Republicans. But she was fired for no reason and with little warning. Lots of government workers were fired for no reason and with little warning. Today, you can barely get a hold of anyone at Social Security, or the Veterans Administration, or numerous other key agencies. I'm not sure what the purpose of firing all those people was, but it hurt a lot of innocent folks-- both those who were fired and those who rely upon those government agencies.

Don't get me started about the pardons, the lack of respect for the rule of law, the cruelty towards immigrants, the hostile takeover of much of the mainstream media, the failure to help Ukraine, the gutting of foreign aid (leaving desperate people in third world countries to fend for themselves, and in some cases, to go without much needed medicine). And while I'm glad that millions of Americans marched and protested peacefully at "No Kings" Rallies, I'd be even gladder if such protests weren't necessary.

But like most years, there were moments of joy-- many Rush fans were both surprised and delighted to hear that the band was reuniting, and it was a privilege for me to be there when the announcement was made. I celebrated my 11th year cancer free; and while I haven't been able to find a full-time job since being laid off, I did find some part-time work that I've enjoyed. I've had some fun playing Wordle with people all over the world. I've seen some of my former students go on to graduate school or find good jobs. The folks I love and care about the most are still in my life, and I value their friendship. My husband and I have been married for 38 years. The guy with autism that we've been helping to take care of is alive and well, and he has been in our lives for 41 years.   

The title of this blog post comes from a classic Pat Benatar song from 1981. "Hard to Believe" is about losing the one she loved, when she never expected that he would just leave her. It has two possible meanings: There's the literal one, that it's hard for her to believe he would leave her; and then, there's the other, that when something traumatic happens, it often become hard to believe-- hard to maintain our faith. I've still got mine, but at times this past year, it was certainly tested, along with my sense of humor. Still, hope springs eternal, and the new year is upon us, and maybe things will be better for us all. I certainly hope so. I'm certainly ready for it. And so, however your 2025 was, may your 2026 be even better. May it be a happy and healthy year, and a year when there's more good news than bad. Thanks for reading my blog in 2025, and I wish you the best of all possible new years! 💕    

Shining a Light in the Darkness

To say the least, this has been a difficult few days. At Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island, a lone gunman burst in, killing 2 students and wounding nine before escaping; as I write this, he is still at large. Jewish worshipers who gathered on Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah were attacked by two men with guns, who killed 15 and wounded 24. And beloved actor and director Rob Reiner and his wife were brutally murdered in their home, allegedly by their own son. (And to make matters worse, Pres. Trump issued a long social media post that mocked and insulted Reiner, and basically blamed his death on the fact that he was a liberal Democrat and not a Trump supporter. By the way, it's not lost on me that when Charlie Kirk was murdered, my Republican friends insisted that nobody say a bad thing about him. Yet few are condemning the vile and insensitive comment by the president about Reiner, one of the most popular guys in the entertainment biz.) My point is, it was a week of violence and rage, when innocent people died needlessly.    

But it's Hanukkah, the festival of lights, and that's usually a reason for celebration. Of course, as I've said in previous years, I still find it somewhat problematic (although understandable, given the culture we're living in) to see Hanukkah, which used to be a minor festival that was mainly for the kids, suddenly getting elevated into something like Christmas-- with parties, lots of gifts, and elaborate decorations. Don't get me wrong-- I like Hanukkah. I've always found the lights of the menorah very beautiful, I'm always happy to eat potato latkes (and those big jelly donuts are good too!), and the holiday's story of how the Jews stood up for their freedom of worship is inspiring. Hanukkah reminds us that light (representing wisdom and tolerance) can overcome darkness (representing bigotry and hatred). I just hate to see it turned into yet another opportunity for endless consumerism. Anyway, as we do every year, my husband and I lit our menorah (placed by the window so that the candles can be seen from the street) and said our prayers. But once again, we had to keep in mind that in so many places, antisemitism is on the rise; and while we were safe and able to observe our holiday, in some places, people are not as fortunate.

And there's something else on my mind: As I write this, tomorrow I will be 11 years cancer-free. Each year, I marvel at the fact that I'm one of the survivors. I shouldn't be, given all the women on my mother's side of the family (including my mother and grandmother) who did not survive. Yet, somehow, I did. And when I think about that, I am profoundly grateful for the doctors who saved my life, and for the advances in medical science that made my survival possible. And even on my worst day (and I've had a few), I'm grateful to be alive. I only wish we lived in a time when kindness was the dominant emotion. Sad to say, as events around the world keep showing, hatred and cruelty are all around us. But if I'm being honest, I have to admit that there are still some compassionate and caring people. There are still some people who choose love over hate.

I try to be one of them, but it's not always easy. There are times when current events are so depressing that I find myself wondering if things will ever get better. But then, I remind myself that I must be alive for a reason: if I want to do my part to bring about some positive change, getting discouraged isn't useful. As a Jew, I'm motivated by the commandment about doing a mitzvah, about repairing the world. And so, here I am, still alive and still eager to make a difference. And my invitation to you in this holiday season, whatever you believe, is to shine your light wherever you can. Reject the negativity and reject the cruelty that is far too common. Make a promise to be kind, to reach out to those in need, and above all, to refuse to give in to despair. That may not seem like much, in the face of all the problems we have, but it's a start. And it's important. After all, we can always use more kindness in this world, and we can always use more joy. I wish you a happy and joyful holiday! 💕

In Praise of Science (and Common Sense)

As many of you know, I grew up in the 1950s. Some people today like to remember it as the 'good old days,' but that oversimplifies how life actually was. Yes, in many ways, it was a much more innocent time. But it was also a scary time. It was the era of the Cold War, when we feared that we could be attacked by the Soviets at any time. (Remember "Duck and Cover" drills?) And it was also when polio was terrorizing the country. Back then, polio was often called "infantile paralysis," since most of its victims were children. In 1952, there was such a severe outbreak that more than 57,000 contracted the disease, and more than 3,000 died.     

But then, a scientist named Jonas Salk changed everything. Salk was the son of immigrants, a brilliant student who entered college when he was just fifteen. He was fascinated by medical research, and after graduating from medical school and getting his MD in 1939, he focused on developing a vaccine for polio. It took many years and many experiments, but finally, he succeeded. And in 1955, there was a vaccine for polio, and millions of lives were saved as a result.

Soon, other vaccines were developed, and they addressed a wide range of diseases: for example, the measles vaccine came along in the mid-1960s, and it was greeted enthusiastically, because prior to this vaccine, hundreds of kids died from measles every year. In fact, thanks to the availability of this and other vaccines, measles was declared to be eliminated in the US in the year 2000. Back then, getting vaccinated was not considered controversial: it was widely accepted that parents would want their kids to have access, because vaccines saved lives. 

Most Americans had great respect for science, and with good reason. After all, it was an era that saw numerous medical advances. In addition to vaccines, there were new medicines to treat illnesses that had killed people in previous generations. There were better and more effective treatments for burns. There were advances in detection of certain kinds of cancers-- this was crucial because early detection often saved lives. (I am the personal beneficiary of early detection: in 2014, my doctors were able to detect a tumor that turned out to be cancerous. They were able to operate on it before the cancer had spread, something that would have been impossible only a few decades earlier.)   

I don't know what happened. I don't know how we became a society where in many parts of the country, parents are intentionally letting their kids get measles, or questioning childhood vaccines. I don't know why our Department of Health and Human Services is now led by people who portray medical science as something that can't be trusted. Even the Center for Disease Control now promotes long-debunked myths. We used to be so hopeful and optimistic about what medical science could do; now, we are led by people who tell us that medical science is dangerous. 

All I know is if it weren't for advances in medical science, I wouldn't be here. Neither would millions of Americans who know from firsthand experience that vaccines save lives, or who know that advances in the detection and treatment of various diseases should be praised-- not feared. I don't want to live in a world where measles or polio make a comeback. I don't want to live in a world where lifesaving treatments are no longer available. And yet, that's the direction we seem to be heading. And I don't understand why so many people seem okay with it. I'm not okay with it. I hope you're not either. And I hope enough people will speak up before the gains we've made are reversed-- to the detriment of us all. 

Thinking About the Children

I was reading my local newspaper the other day and came upon an article that really bothered me. It was about the president of the College Republicans at Boston University: he was bragging that he had called ICE to report some workers at a nearby car wash for being "criminals" who have "no right to be here." He seemed almost gleeful about the fact that ICE did in fact raid the car wash, and the workers had been arrested. He expressed his hope that this would happen to more of them, since they were taking away American jobs, he said, concluding with an exhortation to ICE to "Pump up the numbers."  

Of course, there were several problems with the young man's version of events, the most notable one being that there was no evidence the men were "criminals." In fact, there was no evidence they were here illegally. He just saw them, noted their ethnicity, and made the assumption they didn't belong here. (As it turned out, the car wash manager and the attorneys for several of the men noted they were here legally, but it didn't matter. They were still arrested and detained.) And proving that irony isn't dead, the young man who was gloating about their plight was himself an immigrant, from England. Was he taking away the opportunity for an American student to attend Boston University? Who can say?   

As you know, I've been a professor for more than three decades, and whenever I encounter college students behaving badly, my first thought is  "What kind of parents does this kid have?" I understand that when kids go away to school, they can pick up some new beliefs. But often, these kids are still reflecting the attitudes they learned at home. Perhaps his parents are saints and they always taught him kindness. But then again, perhaps not. I do think it's worth asking where this kid got the idea that one should rejoice in another's misfortune. And where did he get the idea that every person with darker skin than his must surely be a "criminal"? This seems like a useful conversation to have.

I've lamented in other posts what I see as a lack of courtesy in the culture at large: kids (of all ages) who don't say please or thank you, kids who seem to feel that they are entitled to a good grade, kids who think it's okay to mock and bully anyone who is different. Maybe they see this sort of behavior from their elders and think it must be okay. Lord knows there is plenty of rudeness and nastiness online; and in real life, I'm sure we've all run into folks who take out their bad mood on anyone around them. (I was at a coffee shop recently and I saw someone yell at the clerk because there wasn't any Sweet and Low. As a cancer survivor, I thought to myself that if the worst thing in this person's life is a lack of Sweet and Low, their life ain't so bad...)

Meanwhile, I really hope that parents in general are taking the time to teach their kids courtesy. And I also hope they are teaching their kids it's never okay to be scornful or judgmental about anyone who is different. We seem to be living in a world when some folks think cruelty towards "the other" should be praised; but it's not too late to let kids know that compassion is a good quality, and making assumptions about people you don't know is no way to live your life. I've never met the kid who was bragging that he got some immigrants arrested, but as I said, gloating over another's problems is not a good look for anyone. And while I've never met his parents either, all I can say is, "Teach your children well," because parents are often the first role models kids have, and kids will emulate what the grown-ups around them say and do. 

 

World In Changes

As I'm writing this, it's Halloween, and only 4 kids showed up at our house for Trick-or-Treat. The entire neighborhood has been strangely quiet, in fact, which I find very puzzling. We live in a typical middle-class neighborhood, about twenty minutes south of Boston, and every year, we usually get a good-sized crowd of kids coming by for Halloween candy. But not this year. 

I wonder if people are feeling stressed out. A lot of my friends have told me that's how they feel, and with good reason. I mean, things are certainly much more expensive these days-- and that includes Halloween candy. Grocery prices haven't come down either. (Sometime, we can debate the great results tariffs were supposed to bring: I'm just not seeing any.) Meanwhile, a lot of people are getting laid off, or only able to find part-time work: maybe they can't get time off to take their kids out, or maybe there's no money to buy costumes, or maybe there's some other reason that Trick-or-Treating was postponed this year. 

Okay, here's another possibility: 18-20% of the city where I live in comprised of immigrants-- from China, Vietnam, India, and Middle Eastern countries like Morocco and Pakistan. Maybe people are afraid to let their kids go out Trick-or-Treating. Maybe they've gotten the message that they are no longer welcome here: they've seen images on TV of immigrants getting accosted for no apparent reason, and they fear it could happen to them. I have to admit I still can't get used to seeing law enforcement officials wearing masks. But then, I still can't get used to law enforcement officials zip-tying little kids, or arrested 13 year olds, or knocking women to the ground, or any of the other things they've been doing, seemingly with impunity. 

I have some friends who don't even like Halloween: they think it goes against Biblical principles and they don't want their kids to participate in it. But for everyone else, Halloween used to be just another fun time when kids (and even some adults) could dress up, go out in their costumes, and visit the neighbors, getting free candy wherever they went. I'm sure there are still many places where that is happening. For example, I live near Salem, the so-called "Witch City," where tourists come from all over the US to dress up in costume-- the more creative the better. In Salem, all is fine. But in many other cities, this year's holiday seems a far cry from what went on in years past. 

I'm a big believer in keeping children innocent. There's a lot of unkindness and bigotry and hatred in society, and it would be nice if children didn't have to hear their ethnic group referred to in racial slurs. It would be nice if children didn't have to worry about classmates (or their parents) being suddenly taken away by ICE. It would be nice if children didn't have to watch masked agents grabbing people up, often without any explanation. It would be nice if children could just have fun, and go to school, and look forward to celebrating whatever holidays there are. And whatever the reason why the streets in many cities were silent and empty this year, it's a sad commentary on where we are as a country, and a sad commentary on what we are teaching our children. 

  

The Room Where It Happened: Some Thoughts About Rush's Rock Hall Announcement

 

Note: People who first saw this on several social media sites asked if I'd put it into my blog. Here it is.

 

It all started on Thursday night, right after Yom Kippur ended. I am not online during the Day of Atonement, and so, I missed the message from Geddy's management. When I read it late that night, the message was cryptic: basically, could I keep a secret and could I be in Cleveland on Sunday night? I responded that yes, I could do both things. And the next thing I knew, I had my itinerary and I was headed for Cleveland. Why? I was not told. Just that there was a private event at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and Geddy & Alex wanted me to introduce them when they did their Q&A with Geoff Edgers, a journalist friend of mine from the Washington Post.

 

Turns out I was not the only one who didn't know what the event was about. Most of the select few who were invited didn't know either. It was a special event, by invitation only, and some of us thought it was about Geddy & Alex making a donation to the Rock Hall. Another journalist I knew (Annie Z, who was with me in Boston for R40 back in 2015) suggested she had heard a rumor that the guys were going to announce some live concerts; but again, nothing had been confirmed. So, I showed up, prepared to introduce them and happy to attend-- whatever the news was. I quickly got the impression it was something big when all the attendees were told to hand in their phones and sign NDAs. So, probably not an event about a donation.

 

I was brought backstage, where Geddy greeted me warmly. We hugged, and we talked some baseball-- we're both fans, and he was delighted that the Blue Jays had defeated the Yankees (he was watching the last few minutes of the game). Alex came over too, and we joked around a little. But we didn't discuss the reason for event-- just what they wanted me to do (give a 5 minute speech and then toss things over to Geoff, Alex and Geddy). Before I left Boston, I had dug out my 1974 WMMS t-shirt (it still fit me)-- it seemed appropriate to wear it to the Rock Hall, given the seminal role WMMS played in Rush's history (and mine); it got some positive attention from some of the folks backstage. 

 

So, after watching the footage from Rush's 2013 induction, I went up to the stage. I got a very nice response from the audience, which I appreciated. And I gave my heartfelt tribute to the band and to all the loyal fans who had supported them (I was disappointed later that the Rock Hall video chopped my speech, leaving just one minute, but hey, it was not about me; it was about Rush, and I was honored they wanted me there). And then, like just about everyone else, I watched as they announced that they had decided to return to making music and they had chosen a drummer, and they were going to do a few concerts to honor Neil's memory and play the songs the fans loved. I got the impression that the love and loyalty of the fans played a big role in the decision. I also got the impression that Geddy had really missed performing, and that the Taylor Hawkins benefit really awakened something in both Geddy and Alex, regarding the possibility of performing together again and honoring Neil. But in typical courteous fashion, the two contacted Neil's widow, Carrie, to see if she was on board with their intentions. She was.

 

Few of us knew that the guys had been working with a drummer already (a very talented and highly-recommended drummer named Anika Nilles). The chemistry had to be right, and evidently they all feel comfortable working together. I admit I wasn't entirely surprised to hear the guys say they were going to tour: so often, people say they will "never" do [whatever] again; but years pass, and suddenly, it seems okay. I think of the Eagles, who broke up in a very acrimonious way. One member famously said they'd reunite "when Hell freezes over." They ended up calling their reunion tour the "When Hell Freezes Over Tour." But Rush never parted acrimoniously. Alex and Geddy remained friends. They kept in touch. They jammed together. But it took a while to put enough time between losing Neil and thinking of the future.

 

After the event, Geddy and Alex and I chatted backstage. Geddy said he hadn't even told all of his family members yet-- the decision was that recent. And they both agreed a limited tour was sensible for now: while they've taken care of themselves, they are in their early 70s, and as Geddy acknowledged, he needed to know how touring would affect their bodies and their health. As for me, I'm happy for them, whatever they decide to do. They are wonderful people and if making music brings them joy, why shouldn't they do it? I'm certain the fans are ecstatic about the prospect of seeing them play live. And I'm looking forward to it too. And to everyone in the extended Rush community, know that the guys care deeply about the fans. As I've said, I am convinced that this new tour is a by-product of the fact that so many fans still love Rush; and giving them some new shows is one way to show that love is reciprocated.