The Courage to Change

I was thinking about Neil Peart the other day. I had the privilege of being a panelist on a recent Rush Deep Dive about the album 2112 (you can find it on YouTube), and we were talking about what the lyrics meant, why Neil wrote them, and how he was influenced by Ayn Rand at that time, back in 1976. He was in his early 20s, and the world looked very different to him then.

Fast forward to 2010, when he and I chatted backstage before a Rush concert. He had long since moved on from his Ayn Rand days, much to the chagrin of some fans who were upset that he had changed some of his views. But as he acknowledged, the change was gradual. And for him, it was necessary. He did not believe in standing still. He loved to learn, and until the day he died, he never stopped taking in new information. Arbitrarily believing everything he believed in 1976 and never re-evaluating any of it would not have been who he was. His ethics did not change-- and Neil was an ethical person. But how he reacted to life's ups and downs, or how he interpreted current issues, differed when he was in his 40s from how things looked when he was in his 20s.  

He told a reporter in 2006 that some of the lyrics he wrote in his early 20s now made him cringe-- yes, the beliefs he held in his early 20s were sincere, but he understood that the world looked very black and white back then. There were good guys and bad guys, folks who stood up for their beliefs and folks who sold out. There were no exceptions, and there was no nuance. The hero never compromised, because he (and it was usually a he) knew he was right. And if someone was struggling, it was due to their own failings; they just needed to be strong and try harder. Expecting others to help was a weakness. 

Interestingly, even back in his Ayn Rand days, Neil never fully subscribed to all of her beliefs. He collaborated with his band-mates, he loved his family and cared about their well-being, and he was always courteous to me, whether we agreed about a topic or not. And yes, many times, he did help others. But in a now widely-quoted Rolling Stone interview in June 2012, he described himself as a "bleeding heart libertarian." He acknowledged he was still idealistic, but he understood the world was not perfect, and the playing field was not level, and-- as he told me when we talked-- he understood that some people were struggling through no fault of their own.

I wish I could talk to him about the Supreme Court's decisions on Affirmative Action and Pres. Biden's student loan forgiveness program. I'd love to hear his opinion about whether he felt the court decided correctly on these cases. (No, we never discussed either issue, and Mr. Biden wasn't president, so we never discussed him either.) Besides, Neil was Canadian, and undoubtedly had opinions about what his own government was doing. My point is, in his earlier years, he would probably have been opposed to the government helping people with X, or Y, or Z. I wonder if he would still feel that way today. I don't want to put words in his mouth, so I won't try to guess; but the sense I got from our later conversation was he had come to believe that sometimes, compassion was a plus rather than a minus.

One of the many things I respected about Neil (and about Geddy and Alex too) was that Rush didn't just go along with everyone else, and they didn't insult the folks with whom they disagreed. I doubt than any of the guys would be on social media calling someone names or mocking them. That wasn't their style at all. They valued being logical and seeking out the facts. Meanwhile, I'm glad Neil had the courage to modify and change some of his views as time went on. But I must say that many of his lyrics are as thought-provoking today as when he wrote them years ago. And I don't think I'm alone in saying I miss him.

Reasons to Like Garth Brooks

While I'm usually identified as a former rock and roll deejay, the truth is that during some of my radio career, I played other kinds of music. It depended on where I was working, and what the format of that station was. Some stations where I worked, the format was jazz, or top-40, or easy listening, or country. But wherever I worked, even if the format wasn't one of my favorites, I was usually able to find a few songs I liked. (And I always understood that it wasn't about what I liked: it was about making the audience happy and playing the songs they liked.)  

When I worked briefly in country radio, I have to admit I couldn't relate to most of the songs-- I don't have a favorite bar (I've never even tasted alcohol), I've never been divorced, and I don't drive a pick-up truck. (I know, that's a stereotypical view of country songs, but a lot of them certainly seemed like they were about those themes!) That said, there was always one country artist whose music I liked a lot-- Garth Brooks. 

Perhaps I liked him because he was comfortable in both the rock world and the country world-- while he was best known for his many country hits, he also loved rock and roll. In fact, while growing up, he thought about being a rock musician. He liked Bob Seger (so do I), he liked the Allman Brothers (me too), he liked a lot of the bands that I enjoyed (I only met him once, and I never got the chance to ask if he liked Rush, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did). 

I found that I enjoyed a lot of his music-- "The Dance," "The Thunder Rolls," "Shameless" (also done by Billy Joel), and of course the long version of "Friends in Low Places"-- a great song to sing along with. He also did some very creative music videos, one of which was surprisingly controversial back in 1992. "We Shall Be Free" was a song about creating a more compassionate and tolerant world-- about not judging people based on how they worshiped, or what their race was, or which candidates they supported, or who they loved. The controversy arose over one verse. It went:

"When we're free to love anyone we choose,
When this world's big enough for all different views,
When we all can worship from our own kind of pew,
Then we shall be free..."

That line about being free to love anyone we choose was the part that caused him so much grief-- in the music video, there was about a two-second image of two men hugging. Evidently, this was an outrage to some folks, because many country stations refused to play the song, and some places banned the video. It was one of his few songs not to make the top-10.  I never understood what the problem was, frankly. In a world where there is so much hatred and where so many folks are judgmental, what's wrong with respecting others--even those who don't do things the way you or I might do them?

Fast forward to 2023, a time when the culture wars rage on, and many politicians are proposing laws that seem to target the gay community. Some folks are even boycotting certain products that are perceived to be supportive of gay or transgender rights: Bud Light is being boycotted because one of its commercials features someone who is trans. Brooks, who is opening a new bar in Nashville, was asked if he would carry Bud Light. He said he would, explaining that in his establishment, he wanted everyone to feel at home. “I think diversity is the answer to the problems that are here and the answer to the problems that are coming. So I love diversity. All inclusive; so, all are welcome."

It was the perfect answer for the times we live in: in a world where the loudest and angriest voices seem to dominate, be courageous and stand up for respect, courtesy, and kindness. Be willing to make others feel welcome. Some haters objected to his answer (at which point, he suggested that, if that's their attitude, perhaps they might want to spend their money at some other establishment); but a lot of other folks--myself included-- had to smile. I may not like every country song or every country singer, but I do like Garth Brooks. Whether back in the early 1990s or in June 2023, he hasn't changed. He remains someone who loves performing and making his fans happy, but he isn't afraid to be ethical. He is someone who believes that the most important value is tolerance. I couldn't agree more.

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.