The Tao of Wordle

I don't know how many of you recall a book from 1982 by Benjamin Hoff called The Tao of Pooh. It was a best-seller, and in it, the author used the fictional characters from A.A. Milne's beloved "Winnie-the-Pooh" universe to teach about Taoism. Hoff's basic theme was about learning to accept the natural order of things-- in other words, accepting life as it is, rather than fighting against it; being willing to live in the present, rather than feeling obligated to change everything around you. Taoist philosophy speaks about "wu wei," which is often translated as "non-doing," but conveys the idea of going with the flow. Pooh and his friends Piglet, Rabbit, Eeyore, and Tigger each have a different lesson to teach us. But one lesson that I remember is Pooh's ability to find joy in simple things. The book commends Pooh for that, and advises us to slow down, and to be mindful of what is around us.

And that leads me to Wordle. I have no plans to write a book about this popular word game, but it has often occurred to me that there are lessons we can learn from playing it. So, with apologies to Benjamin Hoff, and to Pooh, may I suggest the Tao of Wordle? Here are some lessons I've learned.

1. You can only play Wordle once a day, and that's okay. Unlike other online games that you can play repeatedly, you have one game of Wordle each day. No more, no less. So, why not enjoy it? 

2. Some days, you will do very well; other days, you won't. There's no way to predict. And however it turns out, that's how it was supposed to turn out that day.

3. Sometimes, you will have a very easy time winning the game. Other times, you will have a very difficult time. There's no predicting that either. I jokingly say that sometimes, the Wordle gods smile on us, and sometimes they seem to be toying with us. (And now and then, you may solve the game on the first try-- it rarely happens, but when it does, it's guaranteed to make you smile.)

4. Sometimes, you will use logic to solve the Wordle. Sometimes, you will use luck. Sometimes, you will wonder why the Wordle gods chose that word, and you will feel like the game wasn't fair. Other times, you will pull out a win on try #6 and feel gratified that you won. But however you feel, that's the score you got and tomorrow is another day. 

5. You may have a long winning streak and suddenly lose it. Or you may only win a couple of games in a row before you lose. In either case, you can always start a new streak next time. My longest streak was 322 wins in a row. And then I lost. I was briefly disappointed, but the next night, I started my new streak. That's what a Wordle player does.

 6. Thanks to social media, you may find that others want to play Wordle with you every night. There are people from all over the world who play and then post their scores. If they do well, they are applauded. If they do poorly, they are encouraged. You're never alone when you're playing Wordle.

 Perhaps you have some lessons you have learned from playing Wordle, but I guess for me, the biggest one is that like the Tao of Pooh, we can find joy in playing this simple game. And even in the midst of difficult times, we know that there are folks who care how we are, and who are waiting for us to post our score. And so, I'll sign off now-- because it's midnight as I am writing this, and the new game of Wordle awaits. Wishing you a good score, and good people to share it with.

Taking a Stand in Dangerous Times

On Saturday morning, Rep. Melissa Hortman, an influential Democratic state legislator from Minneapolis, was shot dead in her home, along with her husband. The killer also attempted to murder another Democratic legislator, state senator John Hoffman, and his wife, in their home-- the two were seriously wounded, but they survived. Threats of violence have become far too common in our politics, and here again, innocent people were paying a terrible price.  

But the president, always on brand, told the press he would not call Minnesota's governor Tim Walz to express his condolences because he thinks Gov. Walz is a terrible governor. And some of Mr Trump's supporters quickly began social media mockery of what had happened to Hortman, one of the most respected Democrats in state government-- a tactic reminiscent of how they reacted when Nancy Pelosi's husband Paul was assaulted in 2022. Meanwhile, Elon Musk and others tried to claim (falsely) that it was someone from the "far-left" who murdered Hortman. That was not true. By all accounts, the killer was someone from the hard-right, and according to some who knew him well, a loyal Trump supporter. 

Meanwhile, in the midst of the fear caused by this shocking political assassination, the president simply doubled down in his criticism of Democrats. He announced a new plan to ease up on enforcement of deportations in red states, and ramp them up in blue states. The goal, he said, is to focus on big cities, because they are "Democratic Power Centers." He went on to accuse Democrats of hating our country, being sick, violent, deviant, and of course, of intentionally bringing in "illegals" and allowing them to vote (you may be familiar with this claim-- it is better known as the "Great Replacement Theory"). 

Normally, I would ignore the usual heated rhetoric from Mr Trump, having heard much of it before. But this time, it seemed especially cruel, given how a Democratic leader was gunned down so recently, and another nearly killed, by someone who seems to have been immersed in exactly that kind of rhetoric. And sad to say, those who spend prolonged periods of time in the right-wing media echo chamber hear this sort of thing over and over. 

I know what some of you are thinking: "But Donna, I can name a Democrat who said X or Y or Z, and that was awful too!" Agreed, there's angry rhetoric on both sides. And of course, not everyone who listens to violent rhetoric will decide to become violent. But some will, and in the case of Mr Trump, the endless hateful rhetoric has certainly created a permission structure. And while we can all point to some dumb thing politicians on both sides have said, these days there is only one side-- the party led by Mr Trump-- that consistently praises political violence.  

There is ample evidence of this. Mr Trump and his supporters believe that the folks who attacked police officers on January 6, 2021 were "patriots" and deserved a presidential pardon. Mr Trump and his party remained silent recently when a Democratic senator was manhandled by officers and taken to the ground, just for trying to ask a question during a press conference. And it is Mr Trump and his supporters who repeatedly refer to Democrats, along with journalists, certain judges, and all undocumented immigrants, as "the enemy."

Again, I am in no way claiming that words alone lead to violence. We all know the old saying from our childhood that claims, "sticks and stones/may break my bones/but names will never hurt me." But in a culture that glorifies being tough, where so many people have easy access to weapons, and where an entire social media ecosystem is devoted to generating anger and outrage at "the other," often by distorting and misrepresenting what is actually happening, that childhood saying may be out of date. If you are immersed in hateful words, hateful images, and hateful media messages, the end result is hatred and distrust, and that could absolutely end up hurting some innocent person, as we have already seen.  

On Saturday afternoon, millions of Americans, in red states and blue states, came out to express their love for the constitution and their support for our democracy. Nearly all of the "No Kings" protests were peaceful, as demonstrators sought to remind Mr Trump that he is not a monarch. It was an impressive example of the importance of the First Amendment, and it gave me a reason for optimism. But now, as the president once again returns to his familiar tactics of intimidation and demonization, it is worth remembering the powerful message so many of us sent: we will continue to defend our democracy. We will stand up against the hate and speak out against the madness. We are not "the enemy." Rather, we are people from all walks of life who want to see America be America again-- a country not ruled by corruption and tyranny, but by compassion and ethics. And we will not be silent. And we are not going away.

Words and Expectations

As many of you know, I'm the advocate and medical guardian for an adult with autism. I've been helping to take care of him, and standing up for his rights, since he came into my life in the summer of 1984. His name is Jeff, and he also has significant developmental delays; back in the 1950s and 1960s, kids like him were labeled "mentally retarded," a phrase I've always hated. (Another phrase from that era was "feeble-minded," and it too created a set of low expectations.) As a professor of communication, I have often discussed with my students the danger of these kinds of labels-- the words society uses when talking about "the other" often reflect how those folks are treated. And let me tell you, there is ample evidence that kids who had the "retarded" label were seldom treated well. 

Back when Jeff was growing up, the common wisdom was that "those kids" couldn't learn. Some did manage to get put into Special Ed. classes, and thanks to dedicated teachers, they were able to thrive in spite of society's inaccurate judgments of their abilities. But all too many were put into institutions. Parents were encouraged to do this, in fact, and they were told it was for the best. After all, these were supposed to be schools, places where their kids could get the help and attention they needed. But while most of these places had benign-sounding names, what they really were was institutions, many with draconian conditions. 

Today, thanks to dogged investigative reporting, and class action law suits, we finally know what went on in some of those "schools"-- and I promise you, it wasn't learning. It was often punishment. And in some cases, it was abuse-- both verbal and physical. (If you think I am exaggerating or being dramatic, I recommend an award-winning 2004 book, also the subject of a segment on 60 Minutes, called The State Boys Rebellion, by Michael D'Antonio. Jeff isn't in the book, but he certainly was at the institution where the book took place. And to this day, he still recites for me some of what was said, and done, to him there.)

When I met Jeff (a long story, better told some other day), he barely spoke. He communicated by various vocalizations that sounded like animal noises. He often screamed, or hit himself. He seemed traumatized, but he couldn't tell me, because he lacked the vocabulary. I don't know why he was put into my life, but I've always believed it was supposed to happen. I was told by all the "experts" that I was wasting my time working with him. I was told about his diagnosis. I was told that someone like me, a rock and roll deejay, lacked the skills to help. But I knew I was supposed to be there. And I promised him I would be there for him, no matter what. It's a promise I've kept, along with my husband, for more than four decades.

And one day, he made eye contact with me and said, "I love you, Donna." And one day, gradually, his verbal skills began to improve. To make a long story short, he has far exceeded what everyone told me he'd be able to do. Today, he has more than 350 words in his vocabulary. He can read and write (although his understanding is probably that of a 5 or 6 year old, at least he is able to do it). If he knows you, he will greet you by name. But despite all the progress he has made, and the caring team that has helped to get him there, there is so much he cannot tell us. He lives in a world where he's still a little kid, and still living at home. Much of what he says is echolalic-- he repeats what others have said to him. But he never forgets what happened at the institution. If I'm even driving in that area, his body will stiffen up and he will say, "You don't live there anymore?" And I have to reassure him that he is never going back there.

Jeff's biological mom passed away the other day. It has been years since he saw her, and I probably won't tell him. Jeff doesn't understand abstract concepts like death. He lives in the "now," and he lives in his childhood memories. I think it's kinder to let him stay there, where his mom and dad are still around, and he loves to eat dinner with the family, and he loves visiting grandma, and he loves listening to music, and at night, there's someone to sing him a lullaby. And yes, he knows he used to scream sometimes and act out, but back then, nobody understood autism or developmental delays. Today, I think his story might have turned out very differently. But at least he's still alive and well, still able to learn, a loving human being who proves every day that the labels applied to him underestimated who he is... and who he has always been. 

The Things We're Not Supposed to Say

I was disappointed, but not surprised, to hear that Sarah Inama has decided to resign from her job as a sixth grade teacher in the West Ada School District, near Boise, Idaho. By all accounts, she was a good teacher and her students liked her; but the school board and her principal did not, because of the poster she had put up in her classroom. She was told the poster was "controversial" and "an opinion," and would be offensive to those who disagreed with it. And she was ordered to take it down. (The poster showed various colored hands, with hearts in the center of each one. It read: "Everyone Is Welcome Here.") 

At first, she complied, although she couldn't understand what was controversial about a message that she loved her students, no matter their race or their ethnic background. But many school boards, especially in conservative states, have passed rules against "divisive concepts." These rules prohibit certain subjects from being discussed in school, certain books from being read, and evidently, certain posters from being put up in a classroom.  

The more she thought about it, Sarah believed there was nothing "divisive" or "controversial" about the poster, so she took a stand, and put it back up. It didn't take long before she was given an ultimatum about removing it. So, she told a local reporter about her dilemma, and he did a story about it. Soon, many people (both locally and in other states) were rallying behind her. They too were mystified by what was wrong with teaching tolerance; and they let the school board know how they felt. But in the end, despite the many parents and students who applauded and defended her, the policy stood, as did the ultimatum. And so, she decided to leave, unwilling to remain in a school district where it was "controversial" to tell students they were welcome.

But this seems to be where we are now. Teachers are being demonized (and sometimes penalized) if they even mention topics that have been defined as "divisive." By the way, it isn't clear to me how these decisions were made-- divisive by whose standards? Most of the laws and rules these days seem to be  promoted by conservative politicians who have a specific agenda-- ban anything they perceive to be "woke" (whatever that means). The end result has been policies that stifle freedom of speech in the classroom, even at the college level. And decisions from the President and members of his cabinet have even led to books being removed from libraries, and librarians being fired. And for what? 

As an educator, I fail to see the harm in students reading books that have a wide range of viewpoints. I fail to see the harm in teaching history in an accurate and factual manner, discussing both the good and the bad about our country. It's my belief that the best educators are the ones who encourage critical thinking, helping students to understand controversial issues, not pretending such issues don't exist. I hope Sarah Inama find a new job in a district that isn't afraid of diversity. And I hope the many teachers and professors who have felt demeaned by our current political climate will soon get a reprieve. It's a sad state of affairs when a teacher can't even decorate a classroom to let students know they are welcome. Or is the real message our leaders are promoting that only some people are welcome... while others are not?

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.

Why I'm Still Glad I Went to College

I started college at Northeastern University in Boston in 1964. I was the first girl in my family to ever attend, and I wanted to do well. Unfortunately for me (I was always a bit of a non-conformist), the early 1960s were still a very conservative time. Yes, society was gradually changing, but girls were still expected to wear dresses to class, and many of the boys wore jackets and ties. (I much preferred wearing jeans, but that wouldn't be acceptable till later in the decade.) As I recall, most of my professors were older, and very serious. They did not expect to be questioned or challenged. We all sat in class and took notes, we memorized what the professor said, and we tried our best to get good grades. I was a commuter student, as were most of the working-class kids who attended; living at home cost much less than living on campus.

When we had some free time, many of us participated in extra-curricular activities. I immediately gravitated towards the college newspaper: I wanted to be a sportswriter, but that didn't seem to be something girls were allowed to do. I tried the radio station too, because I wanted to be a deejay, but I was told girls couldn't do that either. It was an era when I not only encountered sexism, but some folks would also make antisemitic remarks. (I applied for a loan to pay for school and was told I didn't need one because I was Jewish... Evidently, people still believed the myth that all the Jews were rich. I explained that most of us were not, but the folks in the financial aid office didn't seem persuaded...)

On the other hand, going to college opened up my world. I met students from many other countries, and I encountered ideas and beliefs I hadn't learned about before. In addition, the university often brought in guest speakers, some of whom were in the news. Not all of my classes were interesting, but a few really stood out: I especially loved my World Religions class, where I had a young professor who was different from most of the others-- he encouraged debate, he wanted us to think, and he didn't even mind if students called him by his first name.

I finally did get on the radio in 1968, as many of you know; in fact, I was the first female deejay in the campus station's history. By that time, protests against the Vietnam war were breaking out on campuses all across the country. I recall playing a lot of anti-war songs. It was personal for many of us: we all knew former students who had been drafted and sent to Vietnam, and who never made it home alive. To be honest, we didn't understand why our country was fighting in Vietnam, and we wanted the war to end. We made our feelings known through the music we played, as well as through peaceful protest. (And yes, I know: on some campuses, the protests were not so peaceful. But on ours, as I recall, they were.)  

Fast forward to today. The current president has a well-known vendetta against "elite" colleges, and against courses he deems "woke." (I still don't know what that word means, and it seems to mainly be applied to anything he doesn't agree with.) He has cancelled funds for life-saving medical and scientific research, and canceled various grants for working-class students. Meanwhile, governors who are his acolytes have demanded that entire majors and courses be eliminated. And as we all know, this president wants the Department of Education to be dismantled (which is not good news for students with disabilities, but that's a story for another day). 

These days, I'm told that college campuses are just hotbeds of "woke ideology" and "indoctrination." I've also been told that college campuses are hotbeds of antisemitism. And I'm told that professors are biased and they're teaching their students the wrong things. As someone who has been a professor for nearly 40 years, the conservative discourses about college make me sad (and frustrated) because I know they are demonstrably false-- yet I also know they're widely believed. I've taught in many cities, and yes, I've certainly met professors who were liberal ideologues, just like I've met professors who were conservative ideologues. I've met some who were biased, and some who were opinionated. But contrary to the stereotypes, the vast majority of educators are not extremists, and they're not biased. Most educators that I know care deeply about teaching, and they're trying to share their expertise with the next generation. 

I understand that college isn't for everyone. And I'm well aware that some campuses have been in the news for angry protests about Gaza, the way some were in the news for angry protests about Vietnam. I'm not trying to minimize what these students feel, or ignore the way some have acted. But let's also not minimize the fact that all over the country, millions of students (of all ages) are taking college courses, in hopes of bettering themselves. The president seems to find it politically useful to demonize college: perhaps he believes that some ideas are dangerous, and only he should decide what's fit to be studied. I disagree. As a society, we need more opportunities to learn something new, even if a course or a professor don't align with our own views. It breaks my heart to hear politicians saying college isn't necessary, or claiming certain colleges ought to be shut down. Even years later, I still believe the best thing I did was go to college. And I hope that today's young people will still have that opportunity. It could turn out to be life-changing, just like it was for me. 

Ten Years After-- Or Some Thoughts About Blogging

I guess you could call me a "life-long learner": even though I have two master's degrees and a PhD, I always enjoy learning new things. So, in early 2015, I was taking an online course about political communication via New York University, and the professor wanted us to start a blog about politics. I had read a few blogs, about various topics, but I'd never had one myself. And although I like to write, I had never thought of becoming a blogger. Still, I wanted to get credit for the course, and so it was that I began blogging. But I never planned to continue it once the course was over. 

And yet, ten years later, I'm still blogging. Once the course ended, I was able to expand into topics other than politics-- in fact, in the decade that I've been writing my blog posts, the topics have been very wide-ranging. I've written about the history of broadcasting, my favorite TV shows, baseball, classic rock, interesting aspects of my career, current events (some controversial, some not), some politics, and of course, at times, I write about a certain Canadian rock band named Rush. 

I have never expected to be widely read. In fact, a typical post of mine tends to get somewhere between 100-150 views. That's fine with me; I mainly write as a form of catharsis, and if something I wrote ever resonates with someone, that makes me happy. Now and then, people will reach out to me on social media and praise one of my posts. Sometimes, I'll get a few comments. But usually, I'm content to write something new every couple of weeks, and leave it at that. 

Blogging regularly for ten years has given me new admiration for the columnists who do it for a living. It takes self-discipline (and good research) to write on a regular basis. Sometimes, there's just nothing much I feel like saying, and at other times, there's so much to say that I don't know where to begin. Sometimes, I wonder if I should keep on doing it-- maybe I've become boring, maybe ten years is more than enough. But then, something I wrote strikes a chord and I find that I'm being quoted by Bob Cesca or Stephanie Miller; or someone messages me to thank me for what I wrote that week.

And on more than a few occasions, I've been very glad to have this blog-- especially when I could write about special occasions, like being in Cleveland for Geddy Lee's book tour, or seeing Rush's R40 concert in Boston. (My Rush-related posts, as I would expect, have been the most popular. My tribute to Neil after his passing received more than 17,600 views, for example.) And thanks to my blog, I could commemorate what I learned from my parents, or pay tribute to some unsung heroes and heroines from history who deserve to be remembered, or talk about what has (and has not) changed in politics since I was growing up. Speaking of politics, these days, I often find it best to avoid certain topics: I hate to generalize, but as a society, people seem angrier and less willing to accept perspectives that differ from their own. It didn't used to be that way. 

But for the most part, the folks who have read my blog have been courteous, and I appreciate that. I don't know how long I'll keep on blogging. I don't know if my blog is making a difference, or if anyone really cares what I think (except, perhaps, about Rush). But for now, it's my ten year anniversary as a blogger, and I may as well keep going, for as long as I still have opinions I want to express. Thanks for reading!

 

In A World of Alternative Facts

I was thinking about Twitter earlier tonight. I know, we're all supposed to call it X, but it will always be Twitter to me (I usually write it Twitter/X these days). I joined it in 2008, at the behest of some of my students. Everybody said it was really influential: a lot of well-known reporters, politicians, broadcasters, and celebrities posted there. And while I didn't spend a lot of time on social media, I agreed that I should probably have a presence there, even just to read the Tweets of people whose work I cared about.

Back then, Twitter was a fascinating place. Yes, it had its share of trolls, but it also had a wide range of folks who just wanted to keep up with what was going on. I met a lot of wonderful people on Twitter: many were Rush fans, many knew me from radio, some had read my books or articles, and some were colleagues (past and present). Now and then, I had to block someone who wanted to argue over politics and decided that calling me names was the way to do it; but 95% of my interactions, even with folks whose political views differed from mine, tended to be friendly and courteous. 

I miss those days. Since the ownership changed in 2022 and Elon changed the name to X, the number of trolls has increased, and the courteous conversations have decreased. I still maintain a presence there, for the same reason that I joined in 2008. Yes, most of the journalists and many other folks I respected, have left, frustrated by how the platform became more open to angry and hateful messaging; but there are still some nice folks there, and I stay to maintain my communication with them. I also think it's important to hear viewpoints that aren't just the ones I agree with.

But staying there isn't always easy, especially when I find myself verbally attacked for having the "wrong" political views. Twitter/X has become the home for folks who are pro-Trump. I am the same center-leftie I always was, and that never used to be a problem; I had some conservative followers and we chatted about the news all the time. We saw things differently sometimes, but we never felt the need to insult each other. These days, however, if I say anything even mildly critical about the president, there are folks who are quick to tell me what a horrible person I am. 

Of course, I'm not the only person to notice that when it comes to social media, we've self-selected into two parallel universes, especially about politics. There are the pro-Trump spaces (like Twitter/X), and the anti-Trump spaces (like Bluesky). And that means two very different realities. For example, in the pro-Trump space, President Trump gave Zelenskyy what was coming to him, since the Ukrainian leader is just an ungrateful moocher and Vladimir Putin is the one who should be admired. But in the anti-Trump space, Mr Trump put on an embarrassing display of rudeness and pettiness, insulted a heroic ally, and made us look bad on the world stage. 

I admit I don't understand why folks on Twitter/X seem convinced that Putin is wonderful, and I'm sure some folks there can't understand why I'm no fan of Donald Trump. But at least the prior version of Twitter/X wasn't so hostile to debate, and fact-checkers weighed in if something was demonstrably false. These days, "alternative facts" are drowning out what's actually true, and this president's relentless (and often undeserved) attacks on journalists have diminished the public trust in actual reporting. And what keeps worrying me is that some folks are fine with that. They no longer seem to care about respecting "the other side"; they don't value dialogue, and they see basic courtesy as weakness. Some folks are fine if we have an autocratic leader who loves to insult his perceived enemies, and who constantly spreads alternative facts. And for those who like that sort of thing, Twitter/X is the sort of thing they like.

I Will Choose Freewill

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please Do Not Erase

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just the Facts, Ma'am

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

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

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

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

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

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