What I Didn't Do

I was talking to an old friend of mine from the music industry the other day. We've kept in touch over the years, ever since the days when he was a record promoter and I was a music director. As we took a trip down memory lane, we kept coming back to how much radio and the record biz have changed, and we remarked upon all the people we knew back then who are no longer here. 

The conversation brought back a lot of memories. I remember that so many of the people we knew in the '70s and '80s were heavily into partying. In fact, I remember being offered just about every kind of illegal substance imaginable-- and being ostracized by certain people because I didn't do any of those things. I think I'm one of the only people I know who got fired from a radio station for not getting high. The folks at one of the stations where I worked said I was standoffish, and I just didn't fit in; and that was the end of my time working there. 

It was a recurring pattern-- I didn't always get fired, of course; but a lot of my colleagues really disliked me, because I was so different from everyone else. I probably seemed like I was being judgmental of them or thought I was better than they were. But the truth was I just felt awkward and out of place; I didn't come from a world where drug use was the norm. Plus, as one of the few women working in rock & roll radio, I wanted to make a positive impression and not do anything foolish. It was a great time to be in radio: I loved playing the hits, I loved breaking new bands, I loved going to concerts, I loved meeting the fans. But the rest of it-- the parties especially-- just felt uncomfortable, and I didn't know what to do. So I mostly kept to myself. 

Fortunately, many of the record promoters were kind to me; agreed, they were doing it for a reason-- they wanted to get their records played, and it was in their best interest to humor me. But a few seemed to like me for who I was, and those are the ones I still talk to, even 40 years later. Meanwhile, I was disappointed, but not surprised, when I found out that some of the folks I had worked with said (and wrote) some very unkind stuff about me. Perhaps if I had been more like everyone else, folks might have had a more favorable view of me. But I couldn't do it. And while I don't regret being myself, I understand what it cost me.  

What helped me get through those times was my friendship with Rush. They never mocked the fact that I didn't drink or smoke or do drugs; nor did anyone in their management or at their record company. The folks in the Rush universe always treated me with courtesy. Five decades later, they still do. The same was true for a few other musicians that I met along the way (Bruce Springsteen comes to mind). But when I think back on the places I worked, more often than not, I didn't make many friends.

Today, I still have a lot of great memories about my time in broadcasting, and I still miss being on the air. Attitudes have changed-- it's no longer considered weird to avoid drugs and alcohol, and many folks prefer a healthier lifestyle. In spite of not being especially popular with most of my colleagues, the listeners seemed to like me, and some of the happiest days of my life were spent as a deejay. But even now, when I think back on those days, I remember how lonely I often felt. And I wish I could have found a way to fit in, without having to compromise who I was...    

Who Will Stand With Us?

Not a lot of folks read my blog post from 2 weeks ago, but those who did know I was defending the value of a college education. Maybe that's not a popular topic. And this one may not be either: I'd like to defend the First Amendment. It shouldn't need me to defend it, but as it turns out, it does. It needs us all.

According to our Constitution, the First Amendment gives us rights that include freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of the press, and freedom of assembly. These are important rights, yet one by one, they seem to be under attack. For example, a Muslim graduate student studying in Massachusetts, Rümeysa Öztürk, wrote an opinion piece in the campus newspaper, about the war in Gaza. She didn't call for violence, nor was her piece antisemitic. I may not have agreed with everything she wrote, but there was nothing in it that I found surprising or objectionable. And yet, she is now sitting in detention, in danger of being deported. She was grabbed off the street by ICE, as if she were a criminal. She has been denied her asthma medicine, and the fact that she wears a hijab has been the subject of mockery from the guards. All she did was write an opinion piece, which should be protected speech; but the government says it will decide what is allowed and what is not.

Or how about the governor of Pennsylvania, Josh Shapiro, who was celebrating Passover with his family the other night. Shapiro has never felt the need to hide his faith, nor should he, but we are living in hateful times, and late at night, someone broke in and set the governor's mansion on fire. Had first responders not been quick to bang on his door and awaken him and his family, there could have been tragic results. People are supposed to respect the religious traditions of others-- but we're not living in that kind of world. We're living in a world where some folks think attacking those whose views they dislike is perfectly okay. (And our president, who claims to be a champion in fighting antisemitism, didn't even call Gov. Shapiro to see if he was okay, nor offer him any words of encouragement.)

And then, there's the Associated Press. It has been around, covering the news, since 1846. But recently, the president decided to evict AP reporters from his press events, and despite a court order, he still won't let them back in. Increasingly, reputable and reliable media outlets are being removed from a wide range of places where they used to be permitted; they are being replaced by partisan outlets that are willing to praise the president rather than cover the news. (He actually did insult a reporter from CNN and accuse her of "hating America" because she asked him a question he disliked. He also threatened the CBS news magazine "60 Minutes" for reporting a story he disagreed with.) More of the press corps is now being handpicked by the president, with the goal of preventing the press from holding him to account or even questioning his policies. 

I could go on. We allegedly have freedom of speech, yet books are being banned or removed because they talk about racial discrimination; teachers and professors are being told to never mention "diversity." My sister lost her job when the Office for Civil Rights became one of the many agencies to be closed-- civil rights are now a no-no too. Every day, it seems more of our First Amendment rights are being curtailed, and I for one find it terrifying to contemplate what comes next. I know some folks are fine about the chaos and the cruelty. They don't mind a Muslim grad student getting deported for no good reason (she's here legally, by the way), or a bunch of journalists getting barred from covering the news. A Blue state governor has his holiday ruined and his life put in jeopardy? He's not "one of us," so why show him any compassion? And seeing all those books about racism getting banned-- hey, that seems okay too. 

But it's not. None of it is okay. I don't know what we are turning into, but I really don't like it. And it has to stop, before it gets any worse. Several weeks ago, the Dropkick Murphys did a live concert in Boston and performed a new song called "Who'll Stand With Us." I've been thinking about it quite a bit, especially the lines about "We've been robbed of our freedom, we've been held down and beholden..." And the chorus, where we are asked to take a stand, to stand together for our rights. "Who will stand with us?" So, at the risk of seeming dramatic, I believe that now is the time for us to take a stand, whenever and wherever we can: to defend our libraries, defend our schools, defend the folks who cover the news, defend the rule of law, and above all, to defend the First Amendment... before it ceases to exist.