Listen to Your Heart

As many of you know, I'm about to be inducted into the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame. It's a great honor, and my one regret is that my parents aren't alive to see it. But, while I am sure they'd be happy for me, they never did understand why I wanted a career in radio. And they absolutely did not understand why I was willing to leave Boston (and leave a career as a teacher) to go to Cleveland, a city where I'd never been before, and work as a rock & roll deejay. Teaching was secure. It was stable. And you got your summers off. But it wasn't what I wanted to do.

Don't get me wrong: I had some enjoyable times as a teacher. Agreed, some of the students were annoying, but others were eager to learn. It was the early 1970s, an era of turbulence and social change, and even in English classes, current issues were on everyone's mind. For some reason, the kids thought I was an interesting person-- I guess I wasn't like a lot of the other teachers. I was much younger, and I liked the same music they did. I could also understand a lot of what they were going through. I was strict if I had to be, but I was also someone who motivated and encouraged them. And so it was that I became sort of a combination counselor, mentor, and teacher. And when I finally got a part-time deejay job at a local AM station, they were able to hear me on the air. They thought that was exceedingly cool. This is a photo of me from the 1973 Hyde Park High School Yearbook. (Note the books on my desk: they were about rock music as poetry. To this day, I gravitate to songs that have meaningful lyrics.)

My students were disappointed when they found out I was leaving, but I don't think they were surprised. They knew that I loved radio, and when I had the chance to follow my dream, they knew it was what I needed to do. Some of them wrote to me in Cleveland; I still have some of those letters.  

When I left teaching to work at WMMS, ten hours and 600 miles away from Boston, I knew I was taking a risk. I was leaving the city where I'd lived all my life and going to a place where I knew no-one, just because I loved radio. I even took a cut in pay, as I recall, but it was never just about the money-- I mean, of course, I wanted to make enough to pay my bills. But while teaching high school English paid reasonably well, my heart was in radio, as it had been ever since I was a kid. I knew this was my big chance, the one I'd waited for; and I knew I had to take it.

Some of you know what happened for me in Cleveland--both the good and the bad. The good part included discovering a certain Canadian rock band and helping to launch their career in the US; having their first two albums dedicated to me was both surprising and humbling. I was also the chair of a committee on prison reform, and in addition to having fun as a music director and meeting a lot of rock stars, I did a number of speaking engagements and met some wonderful listeners. The bad part was never getting equal pay, and never really fitting in-- it was a time when there was a lot of drug use, and I've never done any of that. I probably was a huge disappointment to the folks at the station. 

To be honest, I wasn't sorry to leave Cleveland and move to New York, where I worked for Rush's label for a year, and then I got back into radio, working at a jazz station. My career took me to a soft-rock station in Washington DC for a while, and then, finally, back to Boston, where I eventually started my own consulting career. I did that for 28 years, traveling all over North America (I even had clients in Alaska. Hawaii, and Puerto Rico-- and Canada too). And when the radio industry changed in the 1990s, I had to reinvent myself and go back to school. Some of you know I got my PhD when I was 64, and these days, I'm an author, a media historian, and a professor.

And if there's a message in any of this, I suppose it's to think about which path will bring you happiness. You may need to take some chances, you may need to encounter disapproval, and you may disappoint some well-meaning folks who don't understand that what they think is right for you might not be what you think is right for you. (In the end, I hope my parents came to accept my career, even if it puzzled them sometimes.) And so, if you believe the path you're on will allow you to make a positive contribution, go for it. And while not every dream is meant to come true, there's definitely satisfaction in knowing that at least you gave it a shot. To this day, despite the frustrations and the obstacles, I have a lot of amazing memories. And looking back on it, I'm glad I took that chance, and listened to my heart.  

Just a Little Respect

The other day, I saw yet another post on social media calling Joe Biden "senile," and saying he had dementia. I see this kind of stuff way too often, and yes I know, people on both sides love to throw around insults about politicians they dislike. But there's something about the word "senile" when applied to an older politician that really irritates me. I mean, just because you don't like someone's policies, or you don't like how they communicate, does that mean the person is "senile"? Really?

So, I went on Twitter and tweeted the following: "As someone who's 76, works full-time, writes articles, & does public speaking, I wish folks who don't like Joe Biden would stop saying he's "senile." Many 80 year olds are as mentally sharp as younger folks. Aging doesn't automatically mean senility."

Evidently, my Tweet struck a chord. Much to my surprise, more than 14,200 people saw it; several hundred of them "liked" it, and it even got a bunch of re-tweets. I also got some comments from folks who have relatives or even colleagues in their 80s who are still working (whether for money, or as volunteers); until several years ago, one of my colleagues was in her early 80s and she was as dynamic and mentally sharp as someone 30 years younger. 

See, this isn't about Joe Biden. Frankly, I don't care how many folks can't stand him, or how many think he's amazing. What I do care about, and I've said this before, is getting rid of the stereotypes we still use about so-called "senior citizens." If a young person forgets to do something, or forgets the lyrics to a song, it's usually treated as no big deal; we all have days like that, don't we?  If an older person does it, well it's a "senior moment," or maybe it's proof that their memory is starting to fade.

But is it? Agreed, folks who are 80 are rarely able to do what they did at 20. But should that be the standard by which we measure older people? Isn't there some middle ground between "nimble and agile like a 20-year old" and "ready to go into assisted living"? Truth be told, not everyone ages the same way. Me, I hope to keep working for as long as my health permits-- I enjoy being useful and keeping my brain active-- and I'd like to believe my brain is still functioning just fine! But yes, some days, when I forget some little thing, I have to remind myself it's nothing to worry about... because our culture is constantly reinforcing the message that older people can't keep up, or they no longer have much to offer.

So, where did we get the belief that just because someone has reached a certain age, that means they can no longer contribute?  I know some 30 year olds who are still not living up to their potential, and I know some 80 year olds who are far exceeding society's expectations. So, whether it's Joe Biden, or Donald Trump, or Bernie Sanders, or anyone else in their late 70s/early 80s, don't arbitrarily assume the person is "senile" when they say or do something you disagree with. 

I understand that on social media, folks love to sling insults, but this one is especially hurtful, since many of us DO worry about whether we'll eventually have dementia. (Most of us won't, but it's still a fear a lot of us have.) That said, I'll keep on hoping for less name-calling and more respect for older people, because if you give us a chance, we might still have some wisdom we can share, or some knowledge we can offer.  

Why I'm Still On Twitter

It was sometime in January 2008, and I was teaching at Emerson College in Boston. A couple of my Journalism students asked if they could "follow" me on Facebook, but I had to admit to them I wasn't on social media yet. In fact, I had no plans to be on it at any time soon (I think the late, great Betty White once called it a "giant time-waster," and that's how it certainly seemed to me). 

But my students reminded me that as a radio consultant (which I still was at the time), I needed to be available to my clients, some of whom were certainly on social media by then. And so it was, in February 2008, that I finally joined Facebook.  A few months after that, in August 2008, I joined Twitter. As time passed, it turned out to be a good way to keep in touch with people-- not just clients, but friends, former and current colleagues, and... Rush fans. Lots of them reached out, and I was happy to hear from them. 

To my surprise, a growing number of folks (including my Emerson students) wanted to follow me on Facebook and Twitter-- I eventually added Instagram, but I don't use it very much. Anyway, for some reason, I've ended up with close to 5,000 followers on Facebook; and as I'm writing this, I've got more than 8,800 followers on Twitter. (I don't have, and never received, the famous Blue Check Mark-- Twitter verification turned me down twice, saying I wasn't well-known enough, there were no hashtags about me, etc. It was disappointing but somehow I survived).    

I was concerned when I heard Elon Musk was buying Twitter-- I had nothing against him, and even during my years in radio, I never met the guy. But he kept referring to himself as a "free speech absolutist," and I was worried that he might allow certain voices back on the platform (Neo-Nazis, for example) who had, in my view, been justifiably banned by the previous owner. I also had noticed that while he claimed to believe in free speech, he seemed quite willing to block anyone who was critical of him or disagreed with his views. (He seemed to have shifted from generally libertarian views to more hard-right perspectives.) I can respect whatever his views might be, but I was worried about whether he would impose them on the rest of us.

Today, many of the folks I used to follow, journalists especially, have been made to feel so unwelcome that they left the platform. I miss them-- Twitter used to be a wonderful way to reach out to reporters with story ideas, or share information. Elon declared war on sites like NPR, for reasons that make no sense to me. He also has posted some bizarre conspiracy theories. He removed the Blue Check Marks from folks who had earned theirs under the previous ownership (even the Pope lost his); and he tried to monetize what used to be a way to verify whether people were who they said they were, rather than imposters or bots. And yes, he did let some folks back onto Twitter who I wish were still not permitted.

But I haven't left, and I have no plan to leave at any time soon. Twitter is still a wonderful way to organize donations for teachers via Donors Choose. It's still a wonderful way to reach out to Rush fans. When I blog about Rush, which I sometimes do, or participate in a webcast about the band, I get the most response from folks on Twitter. Meanwhile, I play Wordle with my followers, I comment on current events, and sometimes I post about what's going on in my life. I've made some good friends on Twitter; those relationships matters to me. So, as crazy as things may get, and even though I don't like what Elon has done to Twitter, I intend to stick around and keep posting. To those who read my Tweets, thank you. I look forward to continuing to communicate with you, now and in the future!

An Attitude of Gratitude

Geddy Lee's new book is finally coming out in November, I am told. I've been asked by several Rush fans if I'll be in it, and I've replied that I honestly have no idea. Given that it's a memoir, whatever Geddy thinks is especially important about his life will be included. If I had to guess, he'll focus on family stories, his childhood friends, his upbringing, his mentors-- in other words, the factors that made him who he is today. And yes, of course, he will write about his career-- and what it was like to be a rock musician in a very popular band.  

If I do get included, that will be wonderful. But if I don't, I won't be disappointed at all. Here's why. Ever since I first met the members of Rush in mid-1974, they have always been courteous to me, and they have always been appreciative for my role in their career. Over the years, individually and as a group, they thanked me many times for championing them: for encouraging radio stations to play their music, and sticking up for them when critics would say bad things about their newest album (some of the reviews were brutal...and I couldn't understand that at all). I spent a long time trying to get the judges at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame to change their minds and induct the guys. Meanwhile, I led the effort to get Rush a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Geddy, Alex, and Neil knew about it all. And they expressed their appreciation every time they saw me.

At the Agora Ballroom in Cleveland, at a live concert in December of 1974, just before Geddy sang "Working Man," he gave me a shout-out. Sometimes, during a magazine or newspaper interview, one of the guys would mention how I had helped get them noticed in the USA and how I got their music on the radio; even ten, fifteen, twenty years later, they would take a moment and thank me. They didn't have to do that. But that is the kind of people they were. And still are.

That's rare in rock and roll; in fact, it's rare in lots of professions-- especially in business, and in politics. So much has become transactional. It boils down to: "I'll be nice to you because I need you to do me a favor. And once you do it, I'll forget you exist." I've seen that behavior more times than I can count. But I've known Rush for nearly five decades, and that is not how they have ever been. There are many folks who have known them for years and can attest to the fact that the guys in the band have never acted like the stereotype of a rock star. They were always three nice guys from Toronto, before they were famous, while they were on their way up, and after they achieved fame. Success never went to their head.    

When I was at the after-party at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2013, Geddy's mom (of blessed memory) was there. She had watched with pride as her son and his band-mates were (finally) inducted, and when she saw me, she called Geddy over and asked if he had thanked me for what I had done for the band. Geddy kind of rolled his eyes, but then he said something like, "Yes, Ma, I've thanked her many times." Geddy's mom raised him right-- she raised him to express his appreciation to people who were kind, and even years later, that's what he has always done.         

So, if I'm in Geddy's book, I will certainly be pleased that I was included. But if his memoir goes in an entirely different direction, I'll be pleased about that too. Since 1974, we've kept in touch. I saw him when he was promoting his book about the bass (here's a photo from when he came to Brookline, a few minutes from Boston, to a wonderful independent store called the Booksmith in 2019). And if there's a book tour for the new book, I'll look forward to seeing him then. But for now, I hope the book is everything he wants it to be, and says exactly what he wants it to say. And I'll be happy for him either way. Rush and I have shared a lot of history, and I have so many good memories. And knowing the guys for so many years is another thing I'm grateful for.  

The Importance of Telling the Stories

I never met Eunice Randall. I wish I had, because she was the first female radio announcer in Massachusetts, and one of first in the United States. She may have been on the air as far back as late 1919, but we can definitely place her on the radio throughout the early 1920s, doing everything from reading bedtime stories to the little kids, to reporting the news headlines, to playing the latest hit songs. She also repaired the equipment when it broke (which it often did), and if a guest didn't show up (all radio was live back then), she and one of her colleagues at the station would sing duets. 

Thanks to her niece, I have a few photos, some of her writings, even a rare recording of her, re-enacting the first show she ever did; she was barely 21 the first time she went on the air, and I wonder if she was nervous. I also wonder what it was like to be the first-- at a time when there were no other women doing what she did, a time with no female role models, when many men did not believe women belonged anywhere except in the home. (In fact, when Eunice first got on the air, women still didn't have the right to vote.)  

This photo is one of my favorites. It was taken at station 1XE in Medford Hillside, Massachusetts, in 1921. It was staged for the newspapers, but it wasn't too far from reality: early radio studios were far from glamorous, and you had no idea who was listening, since not everyone had a radio yet; plus, given the early technology, signals faded in and out. But anyone who did receive 1XE must have been amazed when they heard her voice. (By all accounts, including fan letters, she became very popular.) 

Eventually, Eunice left radio. She worked for one of the utility companies, making technical drawings. She kept up with ham radio, long a favorite hobby of hers. She married a fellow ham, a guy she had known for many years. After retiring, they moved up to Maine. She died in 1982. But when I was on the air, I never knew she existed; and back then, few if any media history books mentioned the pioneering women broadcasters from radio's early years. So, I never got a chance to thank her. I never got a chance to ask her what it was like being there at the beginning.

But I am glad I found out about her in the mid-1990s. Having been the first woman on the radio at my college station in 1968, I had searched for years to find out the names of the first women at other stations. Once I finally found Eunice, I searched for living relatives, and found her niece. And that's when I promised I would make sure Eunice was never forgotten again. I've kept that promise. And I championed her (posthumous) induction into the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame. Her niece was there to see it.

On June 8, 2023, it will be my turn to be inducted into the Massachusetts Broadcasters Hall of Fame. I am being given the Pioneer Broadcaster Award, and I'm the first woman to win it. It's partly for my long radio career; it's partly for what I did in discovering and championing the rock band Rush; but it's also partly for my many years as a media historian, researching and telling the stories of the once-famous but now often forgotten reporters, sportswriters, and broadcasters, the men and women who have contributed to our lives. 

I don't know if anyone considers me a role model. I don't know if I'll be remembered in the future. But I do know that it's humbling and gratifying to see my accomplishments validated by my peers. Many people along the way said I'd never succeed. And yet, here I am, about to join some of the folks I admire most in the Hall of Fame. And I promise to keep researching, and keep telling the stories, because there are so many more that deserve to be told. 

I'd Wager You've Heard About This

According to all the local newspapers, as well as local TV & radio, this past Friday was a BIG day. It was the day when online sports betting finally arrived in Massachusetts-- or as Associated Press reporter Steve LeBlanc referred to us, "sports-crazed Massachusetts." And evidently, the timing could not have been more perfect. "Massachusetts sports fans raced to their cellphones to begin placing bets, as the state allowed online sports wagering just days ahead of next week’s start of the NCAA basketball tournaments."

He wasn't exaggerating. According to Channel 4 in Boston, more than 400,000 fans in Massachusetts signed up for mobile sports betting accounts after the launch. And the Boston Globe reported that "over the first weekend of mobile wagering, Massachusetts bettors invested far more time placing bets than did those in similarly sized states." And the Worcester Telegram reported that "In-person betting began at the end of January, but mobile betting is expected to quickly become the dominant method of sports wagering here."

And then came the barrage of ads. Endless radio, TV, and online ads. Ads that showed excited, happy people (including many people of color), all betting on their favorite sport from the comfort of their couch. And not just betting on which team will win. Betting on outcomes within the game, like choosing a certain NFL football player and betting that he will score a touchdown, or betting that a certain NBA basketball player will score more three-pointers than he did previously. The possibilities are endless, and all the ads make it seem like so much fun. 

But the hard-sell is making me nervous. I understand the state of Massachusetts, along with the casinos, and the sports betting companies like FanDuel & DraftKings, will make lots of money from in person and online betting. And some of the fans may make a few bucks too. But let's be honest: most will not. And rather than being fun and exciting, gambling can quickly become addictive. I'm always amused when I see companies that advertise booze saying in their ad to "drink responsibly"-- okay fine, if you're a casual drinker, you probably will; but it's an addictive product, and some folks will be doing the opposite from drinking responsibly. And the more they use the product, the more the companies that provide it make a profit. Ditto for gambling-- I see the disclaimer about "if you think you have a problem, you can call this hotline for help." But few addicts will admit they have a problem. They'll just keep gambling, hoping to win back what they lost.      

I'm not trying to be a curmudgeon. But I admit I'm one of those folks who fails to see the benefit of gambling. Yes, I've bought a scratch ticket now and then, and I won $40 bucks in a slot machine in Vegas once-- but I've also seen folks who spend their entire paycheck buying scratch tickets, or who get to the slot machines and lose every cent they have. Yet, we're encouraging folks to bet online, and telling them it's safe and easy. And as much as various government officials insist that teens won't be allowed to bet, and that protections are in place to keep online betting from being abused, why do I think it won't take long before some folks (including teens) will find ways around the guardrails?

Like I said, the hard sell is making me nervous. It's also taking away from the joy and the beauty of sports. If everything is reduced to a transaction (bet on this play, bet on this outcome), how do you just relax and enjoy the game? I truly don't understand why folks can't spend some time cheering for their favorite team without turning it into a bunch of opportunities to place another bet. I'm sure there are folks who are reading this and think I'm totally wrong, so please explain to me what the benefit of online sports betting is. To me, the downside is more worrisome than any upside. But I'm willing to bet that some of you will disagree...

Why Governor DeSantis is Wrong About Women's Studies

Growing up in the 1950s and 1960s, I didn't learn much in my history classes about women. In fact, about the only women whose names were mentioned were either the wives of famous men (like Martha Washington, Abigail Adams, or Dolly Madison), or the occasional woman who did something noteworthy in a traditional role, like Betsy Ross, who sewed the first American flag (today, most scholars believe that's a myth, but again, it was one of the few times we learned about a woman who did anything). I didn't know that even in the 1800s, there were women journalists or women doctors or women in business or women who kept their name when they married. 

And because Black History Month was not a thing yet, I never learned about Rosa Parks or Linda Brown (one of the plaintiffs in Brown vs. the Board of Education), nor the many Black women who were instrumental in the burgeoning Civil Rights Movement. And I had no idea there were several important Black female journalists who covered politics-- nobody taught about Alice Dunnigan or Ethel Payne back then. Similarly, it wouldn't be till much later in the 1960s when second-wave feminists like Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan got mentioned, although usually not in a favorable way (the overwhelmingly male press corps was quite scornful of the Women's Movement). And I was warned by numerous folks that I'd never get a husband if I seemed to be one of those "women's libbers" (as feminists were called back then).

These days, there are many schools and colleges that provide a more expansive view of history, teaching about the many women who contributed to our country's progress. It is no longer unusual for students to learn about women scientists or astronauts or politicians or athletes-- and yes, women in media too. There's even Women's History Month, which made its debut in 1987. And just because we spend some time paying tribute to important women does not mean that important men are forgotten-- it's not an "either-or," and it shouldn't be.

Meanwhile, in Florida, as part of his ongoing assault on public education, Governor Ron DeSantis (a graduate of both Yale and Harvard) now wants to ban Women's Studies at all state colleges and universities. He says that studying gender (as well as studying race) is too "woke," too liberal, and too ideological. And he believes that students who major or minor in Women's Studies aren't getting a real degree, so he intends to remove this area of study entirely. Of course, considering that he claims to be taking this stand on behalf of "freedom," one might ask how banning courses and eliminating majors and insisting that certain topics must not be studied is "freedom." It certainly sounds tyrannical to me: it's using the power of the government to thwart any subjects you disagree with. But then, I guess he knows better. After all, he's very popular and the voters who chose him seem to like what he's doing.

But I think he's missing the point. I grew up at a time when education was very conservative, when so many issues were never discussed at all, and when the accomplishments of women and minorities were either marginalized or erased. I don't think my education was any better because of what I wasn't allowed to learn. And I'm not persuaded that going back to those days (and those attitudes) will make the next generation of students any better off. As a professor, and as a former adult learner, I can honestly say there's a genuine benefit to studying gender, or race, or ethnicity, or political philosophy. And there's nothing wrong with being exposed to a wide range of views, some of which you might agree with, and others you might not. Students need to learn to think for themselves-- they shouldn't have politicians thinking for them. 

As I write this, it's the start of Women's History Month. I see this month as an opportunity, just like Black History Month was: a chance to say thank you to some folks who have been written out of history, and to help write them back in. Today's students need to know about how we got here, and part of that process is knowing the women who stood against the dominant views of their era and made a difference. They are not all from one ideology or one race or one religion. They are many and they are varied, and we really should study what they did because some of them are quite inspiring. In other words, there's still a lot we can learn from Women's Studies. And while Gov. DeSantis may think it's a waste of time, I think it's quite the opposite. In fact, I invite you to join me as I do my little part, paying tribute every day on social media to a woman I believe is worth remembering.