My gypsy soul

"In times of joy, all of us wished we possessed a tail we could wag."
- W.H. Auden

Okay, the light at the end of the tunnel is nigh and I'm about to call an end to a hectic week. There's still much to do before departing the states, but the work portion is complete.

Now I turn my attention to making the ever-lengthening list of kids' activities, practices, homework, etc. to keep track of while I'm gone. And then it's time to pack.

I tend to check my horoscope before embarking on major events such as traveling, and found this one today:

Virgo
Physically you might be feeling a little under the weather today, dear Virgo, but mentally you're flying high. Ideas could keep popping into your mind at a thousand miles an hour, sending you off into flights of fancy that could excite your creative abilities. This is a great day to read, or watch documentaries on TV, or otherwise feed your intellect. Whatever you learn could be of great practical use to you later.

I'm afraid I've spent most the day in my car, but the ideas do keep coming. I hope to share more on those in the coming weeks. For now, the only flight of fancy I'll be taking is the flight to Seoul, departing Cleveland at 8:55 a.m. Sunday.

I haven't really let myself get too excited about the trip until today and I am flying high. Someone is going to have to pull me off the ceiling and back to earth. It would be a hard task because my gypsy soul is singing, my friends. I'll be traveling until Monday night, but hope to be posting regularly on Creative Ink beginning Tuesday about my experiences in Korea.

This is wholly unrelated to the above post, but I had to share nonetheless. I just picked up Carl Hiaasen's children's book, "Hoot," for my boys. Here's a great interview with him in Miami's New Times. Hiaasen, talking about the journalism profession, states:

"You have to have a strong masochistic streak," he counsels. "You have to be able to say, 'I'm never going to be rich, but I'm going to be happy. I'm doing good work and changing people's lives.' You have to tell yourself that every morning when you go into the office, because every day this business is becoming less and less fun."

Reporter: That's some pep talk: Welcome to a life of diminishing returns! Now polish your lede.

"Well, being a journalist is also a legal way to work out a lot of problems," Hiaasen quips, flashing just the hint of a smile. "I look at it as free therapy.... If you can make people laugh, if you can take them along on this great ride where they're enjoying themselves, and at the same time get a few riffs in, if it sticks, fine. If it doesn't, at least you've got it out of your system."

Why we love Yeats

While sorting through the many stacks of books that now clutter my office, I happened upon a slim collection of poems by Irish poet William Butler Yeats, a master romantic. Thumbing through the pages I found this quietly beautiful, moving verse.

WHEN YOU ARE OLD

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false and true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Truth to power

This time next week I'll be sitting on a panel with the founder of Ohmy News, a professor from Korea's Ewha Womans University and the executive director of the Journalism Association of Korea's Journalism Research Institute talking about trends in the new media industry.

We'll be amid delegates from all over East Asia gathered at the Korea Press Center for the second East Asia Journalists Forum. I'm not sure what to expect of this event. I was asked to prepare remarks in advance, which I did and sent to Korea in October. My subject: "How Blogging is Shaping News Coverage."

Found it curious that at last night's program, "Media Ethics and the 2004 Presidential Campaign" at John Carroll University (sponsored by SPJ and the JCU Center of Media Ethics and Program in Applied Ethics) that most of the panelists spoke about bloggers with venom dripping from the corners of their mouths, nearly choking on the word.

I chuckled a bit because it was providing ad lib fodder for my presentation next week in Korea. Clearly missing from the panel was a blogger who could address some of the invective directed at them en masse by the four representatives of the traditional media and the token academic.

Their characterization of bloggers working in the middle of the night on computers in their rooms with no windows spewing vexatious lies was off base and missing the larger point: That bloggers are serving a readership, sometimes with clear point of view, other times without. And that the public, in some measure, and the media, probably to a larger degree, are reading them.

Many, though clearly not all, bloggers “devour information, making them a smart, skeptical audience. Any journalist who would not welcome that is a fool. Given a choice between a world of nonreaders zoning out with MTV or a posse of tart-tongued digital watchdogs, I say: Up with blogs!” said Chris Satullo, editorial page editor of the Philadelphia Inquirer, in a Sept. 26 column.

Traditional media should fear not. It will always have a place. After all, it is traditional media that often provides grist for the daily blogging mill. The larger question is: Isn’t there a way for us all—journalists and bloggers—to get along?

I think there has to be. If journalists are to continue to serve the public, we have to find ways of delivering quality content in formats to which readers will respond. In the end, we’re all reporting on events. New media is simply another method for reporting.

The danger comes in the outbursts of both sides blasting one another. Journalists dismiss bloggers as non-journalist scum while the bloggers shout big media bias and monopoly at traditional media organizations. There’s an underlying friction and maybe a bit of it is healthy for the craft. As a blogger and freelance writer for traditional media, I would venture to say we need each other more than either side will admit.

There’s no question that there is power in blogging. They serve increasingly as newsmakers and news breakers, but also as the watchdog of the watchdog.

And if there’s any good to come of this, it’s that bloggers will continue to challenge journalists. In our hearts, journalists are fierce competitors and bloggers are pushing us to become better—at research, sourcing, interviewing, verifying and, yes, writing. Those journalists and news organizations with any foresight will figure out a way to create a symbiotic relationship between the two. The smart organizations are doing it already.

Journalism, regardless of the method of delivery, must survive “(Media conglomerates) enable the craft, but they also inhibit and cheapen it. What matters is that journalism survive, that the craft of speaking the truth to power with factual care not be snuffed out. Because power prefers lies. Without journalism, lies flourish and liars rule,” said Satullo.

Conversation with my soul

I can't remember a time when music didn't profoundly influence my life. It was always in my house. We had a piano, though sadly only my sister was serious about learning to play. She's now an elementary music teacher.

My mom played piano, my dad sang and whistled constantly. My older brother sang and played guitar and my younger brother played drums. As for me, I played flute for seven years and took voice lessons for a year. But there's more to music then what I learned at the B-W Conservatory of Music. It's helped define me at so many points in my life. I've come to believe that it opens a conversation with my soul.

One of my most favorite things to do as a child was to take my dad's stereo headphones and lie on the floor with my eyes closed listening intently to rhythms, melodies, harmonies and phrasing. My sister and I can still pick apart any melody and harmony. We could spend hours together harmonizing. At one point, music was so much a part of my life that I considered pursuing it in college. But I am much more an appreciator of music than a performer.

Though if you can keep a secret, I'll tell you that I've always harbored the fantasy of being a great jazz vocalist. While I have no problem belting it out alone in my car or in the company of my sister, I'm painfully shy about singing in front of anyone else.

Still, I've had some poignant musical moments in my life. The one that stands out most vividly was a trip my dad and I made to Educator's Music in Lakewood to get my flute repaired. I had a beginner's flute. It was all my parents' could afford. But I asked if I could try playing the gleaming open-hole flute in the display case. The salesman pulled it out of the case and I began playing a piece I knew by heart. My dad's eyes were rimmed with tears when I finished. "You play beautifully, Peanut," he told me. I wanted that flute so badly and I knew in that moment that if he could have, he would have bought it for me. And that was enough for me.

During my senior year in high school, I took voice lessons from a private teacher. By day, she was a teacher and mother of young children, but by night she was a jazz vocalist. I envied her dual life. Things she taught me still stick with me today. She would seemingly contort my body to get it to produce a beautiful sound, explaining where I should "feel" the sensation of singing. "The tip of your nose should buzz." And when I did it well, it did buzz. She would press in on my belly, forcing the power within to find a way out.

For reasons I didn't know then, I spent a lot of energy holding back. I was afraid of that power within and not simply the musical power. To a degree, I still am. But as I get older I realize that music has a spiritual verve that resonants in my subconscious and I find it's been a lifelong companion, at turns comforting and provocative, and yes—powerful.

So now I'm going to end my afternoon with a little Van Morrison, who always soothes me like "Tupelo Honey."

Values, day two

And on day two post-election the values impact continues. This New York Times op-ed by Garry Wills, an adjunct professor of history at Northwestern University, says Karl Rove’s approach shows “many more Americans believe in the Virgin Birth than in Darwin's theory of evolution.”

I don’t begrudge anyone their cultural, spiritual or political beliefs. But I am fearful of becoming a nation driven by one political agenda, one cultural view and one spiritual identity. As Wills points out:

“Where else do we find fundamentalist zeal, a rage at secularity, religious intolerance, fear of and hatred for modernity? Not in France or Britain or Germany or Italy or Spain. We find it in the Muslim world, in Al Qaeda, in Saddam Hussein's Sunni loyalists. Americans wonder that the rest of the world thinks us so dangerous, so single-minded, so impervious to international appeals. They fear jihad, no matter whose zeal is being expressed.

“It is often observed that enemies come to resemble each other. We torture the torturers, we call our God better than theirs - as one American general put it, in words that the president has not repudiated.”

Feeling ill

My heart is sick today in the aftermath of yesterday's election. It's no secret that I supported John Kerry for president. With a huge gulp, I suppose I have no choice but to accept the electorate's decision to give W four more years, though I have grave misgivings about the direction of our country.

But that's not what's making me most ill. It's that this election also saw complete control of the House and Senate in Republican hands, including the addition of some truly frightening right-wingers to the Senate. All I can say to Bush is that I sure hope he gets something done with this Republican sweep.

Districts have been redrawn in states like Texas, resulting in record numbers of Democrats losing their seats. The Democratic Party is quickly becoming irrelevant. The only bright spot is Barack Obama, who will be fighting an uphill battle every day as the only black member of the Senate. My heart is heavy and I wish I didn't care as much.

I was struck by exit polling suggesting the impact moral values played in the outcome. What does that mean in the context of a political election? Or cultural values? Does that mean we don't like anyone different from us and that makes us better people? And who ever said that George W. Bush has high moral values? Give me a break. If he's mister Bible-thumper then maybe he knows that line about "let he who is without sin cast the first stone." The messianic fervor with which he leads is downright frightening.

And with Chief Justice Rhenquist suffering from an aggressive form of cancer, I don't even want to think about what will happen to the court. We may soon find ourselves living back in the Dark Ages.

Then there's Ohio, which despite the objections of its Republican governor and senators, approved the most far-reaching marriage rights bill in the country. Peter Jennings of ABC News felt compelled to read the ballot language on air. For the record, I don't need the state government to protect my marriage. It's a despicable law that I predict will be archaic in a few years. In the meantime, Ohio is fast becoming a laughing stock of a state.

The bottom line is that our country functions best when there is a balance of power. The scariest part of the next four years is that we don't have a balance. My hope is that in the next two to four years the Democratic Party figures out how it and its message can be more moderate and relevant to all parts of the country, not just the Northeast and the West Coast.

Frustrated idealism

I’m a frustrated idealist. There’s a huge part of me that wants to change the world, improve the human spirit and condition in life. But there’s also a dark side of me that often wonders, “Why bother?”

Quite simply, the answer to why is: If I don’t care, how can expect others to care? It's not in my nature to give up and walk away. And so that's why I'm feeling just a little buoyant on this election day. Even my children are engaged in the discussion and talking about what's at stake. And so, as I’ve done in every election since they were born, I will take them with me to see democracy in action.

The only difference is that this year I’m not optimistic that this election will be over tomorrow morning. The words "too close to call" keep echoing in my head. It saddens me to think that the chasm between left and right, red and blue will only deepen in light of today's results.

But just as any good relationship—personal or professional—involves a mix of skills and ideas, and diversity of thought, I’ll remain ever hopeful that our country can come back together to address the very real problems facing our future.

And so on the heels of this divisive campaign season, I’m looking at the glass as half full. Early reports from family and friends describe long lines at polling places. Though I've also heard of one story where a voter was harrassed about wearing a campaign button in the polling place. Surely engaging ever-larger numbers of the electorate must be good for our country.

I’m not alone in my hope. This op-ed from NY Times’ Paul Krugman reminds us that there is reason to hope in America.

“I always get a little choked up when I go to the local school to cast my vote. The humbleness of the surroundings only emphasizes the majesty of the process: this is democracy, America's great gift to the world, in action.

“But over the last few days I've been seeing pictures from Florida that are even more majestic. They show long lines of voters, snaking through buildings and on down the sidewalk: citizens patiently waiting to do their civic duty. Those people still believe in American democracy; and because they do, so do I.”

And so do I, so don’t forget to vote.

My friend the rock star

Jesus, Friday was one of those incredibly nutty days. Went from spending the morning in my son's kindergarten classroom to lunch with a high school classmate of mine. But this wasn't any friend, she's also the drummer for Kid Rock. We hadn't seen in each other in almost 20 years.

I met Stefanie Eulinberg on my first day of seventh grade at Roehm Jr. High in Berea. It was late October and my family had just moved from Cincinnati. I felt like the world's biggest hick coming into this huge two-story junior high. If I could have melted into the walls I would have. It was all so intimidating and everyone seemed to fast, so advanced compared to my little girl heart.

But Stef latched on to me and saved me from disappearing completely. We were in Mr. Ferlin's English class and this black girl in red overalls leaned over to me and said, "You know Mr. Ferlin gives his pants to me to hem in home ec." I looked down and saw him sporting a wicked pair of floods. I started to giggle and then panicked about getting into trouble on my first day. Stef saw my uneasiness, but she has made me laugh and she loves nothing more than that. Besides, I learned that day that Stef never seemed to get in trouble. Her sense of humor always got her out of a jam.

Her sense of humor hasn't changed much. She left a message on my cell phone while I was in my son's class saying, "Hello Wendy? This is Jean from Jeans R Us. Your jeans are ready." She was calling to say she's running late. No surprise there. And then she gets off the phone singing something quite beautifully, albeit unintelligibly.

So I found myself eating hummus and waiting for her at Aladdin's in Lakewood. I didn't mind that she was late because it gave me time to jot down some of my Stef memories.

Although we've known each other for 25 years, our lives couldn't be more different. I'm married with three children, she's a lesbian caring for her partner's two young children. I work more or less in isolation and she regularly rocks tens of thousands in arenas and millions in television audiences. I find myself on the sidelines of my kids' football games and she's at rock and roll parties with the likes of Sheryl Crow, Mark McGrath and Uncle Kracker.

And yet we found ourselves sitting together laughing like we were in girl scouts again. "We you always that tall?" she asked me. "Yep, you were always a midget," I replied.

She's barely five feet, kinda stocky, with pierced tongue, eyebrow and tattooed arms and I don't want to know what else. Oh wait, she did moon me in the parking lot later that night. When opportunity was there, Stef could never resist mooning. She's still as pigeon-toed as ever, which reminded me of a story we shared later that night (after two bottles of wine!). When we were at girl scout camp she told some of the girls she could make herself cry if they held her feet and ankles turned all the way inward. Stef did cry and they laughed, but they wouldn't stop. I kept telling them to stop because they were really hurting her. She remembered I was upset by their actions and she said it meant a lot to her that I stood up for her.

On a band trip to Iowa just after our junior year we were roommates talking late into the night every night. At one point she introduced me and many others to chewing tobacco. I nearly puked on the spot. But she never mocked my inability to handle liquor, cigarettes or chewing tobacco at 17.

She filled me in on her crazy rock star life, but admitted she couldn't keep doing it forever. Her hands hurt in the mornings and it takes a while to get them working again. The constant partying was getting old and yet it's what you do on the road. She wants to have a baby, she wants to move back to Cleveland and set her mom up in a nice house and she wants to have a music career that allows her a little more normalcy.

She offers to go pick up the boys from school in her Cadillac Escalade. I tease her that she probably needs a booster seat to drive it and she announces a Chinese fire drill in the middle of Detroit Road in Lakewood. And so I drive the Escalade back to my mini-van.

As we're getting ready to say goodbye for the night, she tries to talk me into coming with her to Detroit to Kid Rock's Halloween bash. I pass for obvious reasons. But we hug and promise to stay in touch. As I pulled away I realized that Stef always accepted me, well, as just me. And I'm thankful for her friendship.

What are you reading?

I'm curious, what do you read regularly? Check this out from Time Out New York.

And this is good news from the Wall Street Journal. It seems Dow Jones is going to offer free access to WSJ.com Nov. 8-12 in an effort to drive new subscriptions. That's good news because now viewers can decide after viewing the online content for a week if they think it's worth paying $79 year for a subscription.

Ticket to the world

My passport arrived in the mail last week. I've been trying really hard not to be too giddy but the thing is, that little blue booklet is my ticket to the world and don't think I'm not completely JACKED (as my boys would say) at the possibilities.

Suddenly there are no barriers to just hopping on a plane and heading to London for Christmas or Paris in April. Well, okay, maybe there's that huge barrier known as money. But in the eyes of the state department, I can travel the world.

Much of last week was spent preparing for Korea. I wrote a presentation: "How Blogging is Shaping News Coverage," and I booked my flight. It's a long ways to Korea, 7,333 miles one way to be exact. I'll be leaving Cleveland at 9 the morning of Nov. 14, will switch planes in Minneapolis for a long flight to Tokyo (though I've just learned that two of my SPJ colleagues also will be on that flight, making the 12 hours seem not so bad) and then endure three more hours from Tokyo to Seoul, picking up a few more SPJ colleagues on that flight. We arrive in Seoul at 9 Monday night.

We've got Tuesdsay to get adjusted before the conference starts on Wednesday. My 82-year-old Grandma called me Friday night and told me that jet lag is all in your head. (Apparently she told my late Grandpa the same thing when they spent a month on their Grand Tour of Europe 20 years ago.) "Just get outside and keep to a schedule and you'll be fine," she said. Gram originally called me to say she wanted to join me on the trip. I think she's very nervous about me traveling that far, but she's also excited about the opportunities. I've promised to give her a a full report over lunch when I return.

Now on to the next big Korea challenge—what to pack...

Struggling with the church

For many reasons I've struggled with my faith over the past few years. I am a born-and-raised Roman Catholic and (aside from my fours years in college) I've been a practicing Catholic all my life. But it's hard work. The personal, private side of my faith still sustains, but the communal practice—the "church"—has left me feeling raw. And that's not good, because celebration is a big part of the Catholic faith.

I find little cause to celebrate right now. And its largely due to the politization of Catholicism. Driving down Lake Road in Bay Village the other day I nearly veered off the road at the sight of a smattering of campaign signs that read: Catholics Against Kerry. What??!! Is this what our faith proclaims? That we are not FOR something (or someone) but AGAINST a fellow church member? And, gee, let me guess the ONE reason why?

My blood was boiling. How can you sit there in church on Sunday, send your children to Catholic School and profess to ascribe to God's all loving model and then throw a sign like that in your yard? Simply proclaiming your support of Bush/Cheney would suffice. Though I don't profess to have any hotline to heaven, I'm pretty sure Jesus would NOT approve of such slamming of individuals in his name. And what message does that send our children? That we are short-sighted enough to base our entire political belief—and our very important vote—on one issue, which really has little to do with the state of our country?

When it comes to issues involving the future well-being of our country, they are numerous and they are critical and they are being largely ignored in this election process. Life is not black and white and it's an ignorant viewpoint to base your decision on one issue. The wise voters will read varying viewpoints and make their own determination, not based on one issue, but based on their informed perceptions about who will do a better job of leading our nation.

Connie Schultz had an excellent column in today's Plain Dealer. She writes about Catholic women who are feeling hurt, betrayed and angry by their church. I can relate.

Connie writes:
"For weeks, Catholic women have written and called me, often anonymously … they want me to know their faith is important to them, that they attend church regularly and want to remain active in their parishes. But they also want to talk about how painful it is to sit in church these days because their wombs, and what they do with them, have become fodder for sermon after sermon meant to influence how Catholics will vote in this election."

As one woman told her: "It's not just what the priest says, it's all the propaganda that comes with it." I'm not sure if I believe the diocesan director of Pro-Life that these efforts are not directed by the diocese. I'd like to think that's true, but this is a diocese that has made it mandatory for volunteers at schools and churches to be fingerprinted if they spend more than four hours in the building. Seems to me the problems related to the sexual abuse scandal were largely (though not exclusively) at the hands of the clergy, not the parents who volunteer.

I know there are some who would say, "Leave if you don't like it." It's not as simple as just leaving, though I'm sure many are feeling forced out. My heart is eased and comforted by the rituals of the Catholic church. It's what I know and, for the most part, what I need. One of the greatest comforts is that both my mother and grandmother have shared similar feelings throughout their lives, sharing with me their own struggles with the church, not necessarily their faith.

Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you that I believe in God as an all loving and merciful being (that's my New Testament leaning). And I believe that it's the church's role to pray for the wisdom, guidance and leadership of ALL our political leaders, period. Not any specific one.

Out of the rut

"Habit is necessary; it is the habit of having habits, of turning a trail into a rut that must be incessantly fought against if one is to remain alive." — Edith Wharton

This has been one of those weeks in which I've sought to break out of the rut. How easy it is to slip into habits—waking at the same hour, eating the same foods for breakfast, reading the same material and in the same order. It often takes a conscious effort to break those habits.

Rewards are plenty when you turn toward uncharted ground. This week I've engaged in different opportunities, including speaking to two groups. What a difference meeting with different people has on your outlook.

Last Saturday morning I spoke to the West Side Writer's Group on stretching your writing muscles. I was prepared to speak for about 20 minutes and then answer some questions. But this incredibly lively group of fiction writers and poets had many questions and the first time I looked at the clock, it was an hour-and-a-half later. We spent time getting to know each other, talking about what we read, what we write, what inspires us, what scares us.

Yesterday afternoon I joined two of my SPJ colleagues and a magazine editor in discussing freelance writing with students in a feature-writing class at Cleveland State. I loved hearing about the students ideas, their passions, their plans. And I was reminded that sometimes the best remedy for falling into a rut is to drag yourself out to the masses. It forces you to open your eyes to new possibilities. And it gave me ample inspiration to carry me through another few weeks.

Good morning, Mr. President

As professional experiences go, interviewing a former president has to rank pretty high. Yesterday I had 15 minutes on the phone with former President Jimmy Carter. Admittedly I was a little starstuck at first.

"Wendy, I have President Carter on the line," said the publicist.

"Good morning, Wendy. How are things in Cleveland?"

"Good morning, Mr. President. Things are fine, wet and crisp as you'd expect in October." Phew! I got through that first comment without fumbling over my words. I was supposed to talk to him about his new book, which I did. But I had a world leader on the phone and felt compelled to ask him questions related to his work on behalf of human rights and freedom and to ask him to respond to his criticism of the Bush Administration. Here's what I learned:

1) He's not so soft-spoken in an interview situation. He was "handling" the interview quite smoothly just like most politicians. The worst experience I ever had interviewing a public official was with George Voinovich when he was governor of Ohio. I had to interview him the morning after Christmas and he managed the entire 45 minutes driving his agenda of "working harder and smarter." When I finally managed to get a question in about his record on education (he called himself the education governor and most in the education community took exception to that moniker), his handler said, "Governor, we have two more minutes." I nearly tossed my pen in frustration.

2) At the age of 80, I get the impression Carter's not holding back in life. He's advocating peace and democracy worldwide through the Carter Center, writing and traveling constantly. Of late he's also speaking out (to the dismay of Republicans) and publicly disagreeing with the Bush Administration's handling of foreign policy. (Many have questioned whether it's acceptable for a former president to question the commander-in-chief. I, for one, believe this commander-in-chief needs to be questioned more, not less.)

More recently he's charged that the election process in Florida (and he even mentioned Ohio) has not yet been been fixed. He's concerned about our loss of integrity in the election process (a point he apparently shares with local voters after listening this morning to WCPN's discussion with the head of Cuyahoga County Board of Elections). The Carter Center, which is in the profession of holding honest elections around the world, will turn its attention and standards for uniformity and integrity and balance in the elections process on its own country this year.

3) When I mentioned that I was traveling to South Korea soon, he told me to keep an open mind. (I think I can manage that.) He claims that the Bush Administration has driven a wedge between North and South Korea over those pesky nukes. It seems that many of South Korea's younger set favor reunification at any cost and, well, that just doesn't sit well with us Americans, what with our aversion to nuclear weapons, terrorism, dictactorships, etc. He heard President Bush describe how he was in the most dangerous spot in the world at the DMZ and Carter says he looked at his wife, Rosalynn and said "that’s where we built eight houses last year." Think I detected a touch of smugness in that remark.

Beyond feeling at his age he's entitled to speak his mind, I can't help but wonder if he doesn't have his own agenda. Who knows…? If John Kerry is elected president there may yet be a position for Carter as special ambassador to North Korea. Or for the Carter Center to be peace broker of the decade, thus earning it a much-coveted Nobel Peace Prize. Hmmmm…

Daughters

My current favorite song is by John Mayer. I find the lyrics poignant to my life and filled with wisdom beyond this musician's years. Enjoy and have a great weekend.

"I know a girl
She puts in the color inside of my world.
She's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change.
And I've done all I can
To stand on the steps with my heart in my hand.
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me.

"Fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do.
Girls become lovers
Who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too.

"Oh, you see that skin
It's the same she's been standing in,
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left
Cleaning up the mess he made.

"So fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers
Who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too.

"Boys you can break
You find out how much they can take.
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth from a woman's good, good heart.

"On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the guide and the weight of her world...

"So fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do.
Girls become lovers
Who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too."

Going international

Life has certainly taken a quantum leap in the last month. I have been invited to be a member of the Society of Professional Journalists delegation to Seoul, South Korea for the second East Asia Journalists Forum Nov. 14-21.

While there, my colleagues and I will be participating in a three-day exchange with journalists from that part of the globe, led by our counterparts in the Journalism Association of Korea. We've been asked to provide speakers for panels and I'll be speaking on a panel covering trends in the new media industry.

One of today's tasks was to turn in my passport application (which I had to pay out the nose to have expedited). As I pulled out of the Westlake post office parking lot it hit me: I'm finally going to see another part of the world. I'm thrilled and scared and trying my hardest to keep cool but inside my stomach is doing a little jig.

It was a trip that almost wasn't. I received the e-mail notice and nearly dismissed it out of hand. I mentioned it casually to my neighbor who looked horrified when I said I hadn't really thought about going. "I know you're not thinking about NOT going," she said.

I set about getting more information about the trip and discovered that I nearly passed up an incredible professional opportunity. I talked to my family about going and met with some resistance. It's not exactly the most stable part of the world and it's right before Thanksgiving and my oldest son's birthday. But I'll be home in time for all the festivities and, in the end, it was just too good an opportunity.

Our trip will take us across the U.S. and the Pacific to Tokyo and then on to Seoul. It's about a 20-hour flight across the international date line. In Seoul, we'll have lunch with the mayor of Seoul, visit the DMZ, talk about war and the role of journalists, hear from Christopher Warren (president of the International Federation of Journalists), dine with government ministers, visit historic Gyeongju and the Bulguk Temple.

My head is spinning. I've been asking everyone if they've ever been. Turns out two of my brothers-in-law have, and I've been duly warned about kimchi, a common delicacy of beef and cabbage in which the beef is slow-cooked in a clay crock buried in the ground amid manure. Yuk! Think I'll pass.

I've also been warned by one of the women who attended last year that the members of the JAK love their rice-based liquor and apparently imbibe with gusto at karaoke bars.

Warnings aside, everyone I talked to said it's an amazing experience, one not to be missed. And so, as my son Ryan told me, "Screw the terrorists." I'm going to Korea.

Long-term payoff

A good friend of mine once counseled that I must think about how I can solve a particular editor's problem, as in their need for good stories/ideas, etc. Of course I should've known this because I've been an editor with those very problems. But somehow hearing his words and "steady there" always seemed to set me in the right frame of mind for evaluating a potential project. And so whenever a new one wafts my way, he is the person I consult first. The reason is that he's never given me bad advice.

In fact, in a way he's been the one to gently shove me when I've hesitated and the one to cause me to ease off the gas when I'm a bit too jazzed. How can you thank a friend like that? It's impossible, really, except that you have to do what he espouses daily and pay it forward to someone else.

And that's exactly what I hope to do. Because the words he shared with me back in March and April, when I was still wondering if I had made the right decision about my career, are literally paying off for me now in terms of steady assignments.

There's not a professional situation I launch into these days in which I don't hear his words in my head: "Steady there," "turn this over in your mind a bit," "think about what problem you can solve," "how can you make a connection here," "how can you turn this into a positive for Wendy Hoke."

Though I consider him a friend, I suppose he's really been a mentor. The reason I bring this up now is that I've been reading and writing a lot about mentoring. I'm convinced that behind every successful individual is a mentor or mentors who were early observers of potential, and coaches for life. In a story I just completed, I asked CEOs of 10 companies about their mentors. All along the way, they were quick to credit someone who saw in them qualities that would pay off in the long term.

Although I'm still a long ways from my dreams, I take comfort in knowing that my friend and mentor is a phone call or an e-mail away, always the calm to my frenzy and the cheerleader to my doubting Thomas. And the constant reminder that I must be happy in small ways. With a little luck and effort, I hope to return the favor.

Contemptible decision

I’m pretty sure the average citizen could really care less about a federal judge’s decision to cite New York Time reporter Judith Miller for contempt for refusing to answer questions before a grand jury investigating the leak of a covert CIA agent’s identity. But it shouldn't care less.

Just read this column from LA Times columnist Tim Rutten. He notes that “the Bush administration's war against the press entered a chilling new phase” with U.S. District Chief Judge Thomas F. Hogan’s decision.

Here’s an important excerpt:

“It's possible that only avarice makes corporate or governmental bureaucrats more ingenious than the inclination to secrecy. Faced with an embarrassing leak, why not demand that every employee who might have been the source formally waive any guarantee of journalistic confidentially? Anybody who declines might as well wear a sign that says, "Fire me. I'm the snitch."

“How long can it be before private corporations demand blanket versions of such waivers as a condition of employment?

“This country is now at war in part because our government acted on misinformation collected in secret and selectively disseminated. Miller and the New York Times were unwittingly complicit in that process.

“The fact remains, however that the road to Baghdad was paved with ignorance. Miller and her colleagues may understand this with a special clarity, but the 1st Amendment rights they defend are not theirs but the American people's. As they weigh the merits of Miller's case, Americans might ask themselves whether they'd like to know more or less about their government's conduct when they go to the polls next month. That's what this fight is about.”

And if you’re still not convinced of the urgency of this matter, I invite you to read Bill Moyer’s speech to the Society of Professional Journalists National Convention in September.

"A popular Government, without popular information, or the means of acquiring it, is but a Prologue to a Farce or a Tragedy; or, perhaps both. Knowledge will forever govern ignorance: And a people who mean to be their own Governors, must arm themselves with the power which knowledge gives." — James Madison, fourth President of the United States

Panic relapse

It happened again two weeks ago. I nearly set myself down the same destructive path of stress that I sought to avoid by becoming my own boss. All the symptoms came rushing back -- the giant knot in the middle of my back, the chronic headaches, the hives, inability to sleep and a constant upset stomach. I thought I had learned the lesson that life is far too short to allow myself to be physically ill over work.

But I relapsed just as my counselor years ago warned might happen.

There simply weren't enough hours in the day to accomplish my work, let alone be a wife and mother. Granted all was complicated by the loss of my computer. Regardless, I was rapidly coming unglued. And when the pain in my chest started rising in the middle of a interview I knew I had pushed myself too far. Only this time I knew what was happening. So I sat in my car, took many deep breaths, put on a little Van Morrison and closed my eyes to the sun. I had a steady diet of coffee and Altoids for a week straight. It was time to get on the treadmill, drink plenty of water, eat well and not set foot in the office after dinner or on the weekends.

This weekend I spent a lot of time outside, playing with my boys. And it was just what I needed. Something about fresh air seems to clear the brain of all the clutter. I've come to some difficult decisions about some of the work I'm doing. I love writing. But the constant drain of one project was leaving my creative vessel utterly empty. And that's a frightening place for a creative person to find herself.

I was warned that the big steady paycheck may not be nearly enough for the time involved. And that's indeed the case. I've learned the hard way that I'll either have to substantially increase my fees or simply pass on the project in 2005.

Digging out

My computer is back with a new-and-improved hard drive and I'm beginning to dig out of the wreckage of a hectic week. Hope to be posting again later this week.

In the meantime, here's a little wisdom courtesy of musician Jack Johnson.

"Don't let your dreams be dreams,
you know this living's not so hard as it seems."

Deadlines and difficulties

Feeling pretty badly about not posting, but this is the deadline week from hell. And my hard drive crashed on Monday so I'm relying on the kindness of friends who are letting me hang at their offices and use their equipment. Hope to be back and posting on Creative Ink by next Monday.

Thanks for reading...