Sunday, October 28, 2007

Close Call

There are some things I'll write about for the paper, and some things I won't. The good thing about this blog is that I can say WHATEVER I WANT, and I don't have to worry about accusations of slander or libel, or journalistic integrity. I can even curse if I want to.

This week, I submitted an article to the paper that I have already posted on this blog. Since that would mean "no new blog for at least another week and a half" according to my publish-then-post plan, I wanted to write about something that has come up in conversation over the past week, that I don't plan on publishing in the paper.

A few years ago, while we were living in Timberlea, we had an "incident" take place. I hesitate to call it an attempted abduction, but you can decide for yourselves.

Nick has always been pretty street smart - maybe a little paranoid even. He's suspicious of every adult he sees, and even goes as far as to tell me from time to time that "there was this creepy guy who was looking at me in the car while you were in the store, so I locked the doors." We've spoken to him countless times about "stranger danger", especially considering we lived in the city for awhile.

Nick was 8, and he was only allowed to play on our street. This usually suited him just fine, since most of his friends lived a few houses away and they, too, were not allowed to leave the street. This way, your kid was always somewhere that was visible to either Mom & Dad, or one of their adult neighbors. We usually didn't worry too much, even when he wasn't right in front of our house.

We lived in a very quiet subdivision, on probably the quietest street in that subdivision. Our street wasn't a main thoroughfare. In a nutshell, unless you were driving onto Wedgewood Avenue to visit someone who lived there, there wasn't much traffic, since it wasn't a main road.

One day we were on our way into Bayer's Lake, myself, Joey & Rory. Nick was already playing up the street, so we were getting our things together and planned to flag him down once we got outside.
We got down to the car, and one of our neighbors approached us, with her hand on Nick's shoulder. He looked upset, and my first thought was that he had gotten in trouble for something. She launched into a story that made the hair on my neck stand up.
This neighbor (we'll call her Judy) had been weeding her garden behind a hedge right across the street from our house. Her position in the garden kept her hidden from traffic on the road, even though she was mere feet from it. She told us she had seen Nick walking toward home from up the street, when a vehicle approached him and stopped right in front of him. Being a mother to a young boy herself, she wanted to make sure this was someone Nick knew, so she listened in.
She said she knew right away that something was wrong. The car, a burgundy Rav-4 type vehicle, was occupied by two women. The driver was in her mid-40s, and the passenger was a few years younger, by Judy's estimation. They started asking Nick all sorts of questions, such as where he lived, if his parents were home, and if they expected him home soon. Seeing women in the car must not have triggered any alarm for Nick, as I imagine he thought of "strangers" as men, and he began talking back to them.
Judy said the questions were giving her cause for suspicion, and when she heard, "Do you need a ride....", she stood up, making herself clearly visible to the women in the car, and asking Nick if everything was OK. Judy said the woman tramped on the gas, quealing the tires as they took off. Luckily, she had the presence of mind to memorize the license plate number.

Needless to say, her recounting of this story made us panic, and we immediately called the police. We gave them a vehicle discription, including color and assumed make & model, a description of the women, including ages and appearance, and we told them what Judy had witnessed and heard. They told us they would look into it and call us back.
After a few hours, we received a call back from the RCMP. They told us they had run the plate number, which was registered to a burgundy Rav-4. It belonged to a woman who lived in another Timberlea subdivision not far from ours. They had gone to her house, and they told us the woman matched the description we had given them. So far, so good. "She said she wasn't on your street at all today, she had no idea what we were talking about," the cop told us. We thought that was pretty funny. Caught in the act, and denying everything. Are the police ever going to lay it on her, we thought. But then it all went downhill. "So I the matter won't go any further, she said she wasn't even there." Those were the next words out of the cop's mouth. What? What do you mean? She said she wasn't there, but we all know she was! We had her license plate number! We were incredulous.

Let me break it down for you, as I did VERY CRANKILY to the unlucky RCMP officer who was handed this matter.
A woman approaches a strange young boy on the street in her car, something I would never do for fear of scaring the kid or alarming the neighbors. She starts asking him inappropriate questions. She comes within one syllable of offering him a ride, when he had just told her his house was right up the street. A reliable adult witnessed the entire exchange. At the first sight of this adult, the woman speeds off in her car. If her intentions were pure, assuming she needed directions or something, she would have acknowledged the adult with a positive reaction. When this woman is found by police, even though her, her vehicle, and her license plate match the descriptions given by an adult witness, she denies even being in the area.
And the cops just take her word for it and move on? I DON'T THINK SO.

I almost feel sorry for that officer who had to deal with me over the coming days and weeks. I did so much yelling and screaming and arguing and fussing and reasoning and explaning, that I thought I would lose my mind. I didn't get any kind of rational response. I even called the staff sergeant to complain and to have someone different put on the case. I was told that it wasn't even a case; it was a complaint that had been dealt with and resolved.

Oh really? Well, what was the resolution? This was the explanation I was given.
Because the police hadn't witnessed this occur, it was our word against hers.
Because our neighbor hadn't written down the license plate number, there was room for error. The chance existed that another woman meeting her description was in our neighborhood, driving an identical burgundy Rav-4, bearing a license plate just one number or letter off from the one Judy remembered. (WTF is this, "My Cousin Vinny"???) After all, she said it wasn't her. And they have no reason to believe she's lying. (Really? None???)
Because she hadn't committed a crime, there wasn't anything the police could or would do about the situation anyway, even if she WAS lying and she DID attempt to take our son. There's no crime in an adult approaching a child in their vehicle and asking the child if they want a ride to their house (which was about 300 feet away).

Now, would you be satisfied with that explanation?

I WAS NOT.

So I gave the police this analogy.

What if a guy walked into a bank wearing a ski mask. He walked up to the teller and started asking her how much money was in the safe, how many security guards were on duty, and then said "put your hands..." - only then to be interrupted by a security guard asking what was going on. The man runs away, and hops into his car, but not before the security guard makes mental note of his license plate. The cops are called and given a description of man, the vehicle, the plate number, and the details of his suspicious visit. But when the cops visit the suspect's house, he denies being anywhere near the bank, even though the plate number matched, as did the description of the car, the description of him, and his house was a block from the bank. Do you think that cops would just say, "Oh, ok....must have been a mistake." NO, THEY WOULDN'T. THEY'D ARREST HIM UNDER SUSPICION OF ATTEMPTED ROBBERY.

But how is my situation any different? Sure, she may not have snatched my child from off the street, but what would have happened if Judy hadn't been there? Why did she stop to talk to Nick in the first place? Why did she panic and bolt when she saw an adult? And if her intentions weren't evil, WHY DID SHE DENY THE WHOLE THING? If I had caused a scare like this to some poor child and his family, I would fess up immediately and apologize. ONLY IF I WERE TRYING TO HIDE SOMETHING WOULD I HAVE THE GALL TO LIE TO THE POLICE, KNOWING THE WHOLE THING HAD BEEN WITNESSED.

I was so mad, SOOOOOOO MAD, that I didn't know what to do with myself. Then, as luck would have it, one cop I spoke to accidently let it slip what subdivision this woman lived in. BINGO! Perfect, I thought. I drove around that subdivision until I found the car. If the cops won't do anything about it, I will, I had decided. I'll go to her house, pound the shit out of her, threaten to kill her if I ever see her on my street again, and then leave. When the cops come asking me about it, I'll just say it wasn't me, tit for tat.
As luck would have it, I have people around me who can be more sensible than myself in the face of chaos and anger. After much discussion, Joey convinced me that beating this women to within an inch of her life probably wasn't such a good idea, and it certainly wouldn't help matters any.
(G: Yes it would Joey, she wouldn't be physically able to drive, AND I'd scare her so bad she'd be too paranoid to pull a stunt like this again.
J: Gina.
G: But Joey she deserves something, she can't just get away with it!
J: Gina.
G: You can't stop me, I'm going to do it whether you want me to or not!
J: Gina!
G: But it would make me feel so much better!
J: Gina, come on......
You get the point.)

All Joey's convincing still didn't stop me from driving by her house 600 times, waiting for her to walk out so I could "accidentally" speed up and run her ass over.

Anyway, you get the point. I was pissed and scared, but mostly pissed, at her and at the cops. We moved from Timberlea shortly after that.

What do you think? Does this sound a little fishy to you? I often wonder if it's just the ovverreation of a paranoid mother. But usually I just consider it an injustice.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

In Other Exciting News...

Big news for me! Starting next week (Wed., Oct.25), I'll have a weekly column in The Reporter, the local newspaper here in the Strait area. It's going to have the same content as my blog, so for those of you who come here on a regular basis, you can now see the column in print. From now on, since the paper comes out on Wednesday, I'm going to be posting here on Thursdays. I'm taking this week off since I have to write an introductory article for my first column, but I'll be back in business next week.
Kiss my rosy red rump, Kings College of Journalism.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

The Devil Wears Puma

I've never been a big fan of "The View". A bunch of female know-it-alls, celebrity big-mouths, nosy windbags, all talking over each other in a mass frenzy, making a TV show that sounds like Friday night bingo at the St. Peter's Lion's Hall. Too much noise for Tuesday at noon, thank you very much. Still, when I occasionally get a break from Treehouse, I sometimes tune in (for lack of any alternative).

"The View" has played a merciless game of musical chairs with it's hosts, and has changed the lineup of "regular members" more often than Destiny's Child. The original cast was tolerable-ish, with their various Master's degrees, at least demonstrating maturity, professionalism, and restraint most of the time. Unfortunately, that changed seasons ago, when ABC started thinning the herd of intelligent people and replacing them with morons.

Case in point: Barbara Walters, in her infinite genius, hired Elisabeth Hasselbeck.

Maybe she seemed harmless in an intellectually-useless kind of way. After all, when she started her stint on "The View", she openly admitted to being uninformed about politics, and just generally naive and inexperienced in life. She probably served as a great ratings-magnet; a pretty young girl from a popular TV show, yahoo! Whatever the reasoning, there she sits, and therein lies the problem.

I can't say with certainty, but in my opinion, there is good reason to believe that Elisabeth Hasselbeck is the stupidest, most ignorant person alive.

I haven't decided if her harping and ranting is the most annoying and mindless noise pollution ever recorded, or if it is perhaps the finest comedy on daytime television. A bad case of foot-in-mouth disease at best. Rosie was obnoxious, but at least she made valid points that she could back up with facts. Elisabeth, whose impeccable credentials include a season on the most contrived reality show in history (where she came 4th), a degree in Fine Arts (majoring in "large paintings"...WTF?? That's a major???), and designing sneakers for Puma, has suddenly become the voice of a nation? An expert in governmental affairs, ethics, and foreign policy? LMAO...I don't think so, dear. A few months in the wilderness without shaving your legs and judging the Miss Teen USA pageant only makes you an expert in irrelevance.

Here's just one example of her rationale, my personal favorite little nugget of wisdom from the incomparable Mrs. Einstein herself: On the topic of lowering the legal drinking age from 21 to 18, Elisabeth disagrees with the idea, but thinks the law should allow 18-year-old soldiers returning from Iraq to drink at their leisure. Also, while they're at it, the government should design a program to wean high school students into drinking, so that they can properly gauge their alcohol tolerance when they go to college. (LMAO....I'd love to see that law pass on the floor of the House. The Hasselbeck/Yale/Lohan Mandatory Underage Alcohol Consumption Bill For The Success and Betterment Of University Binge Drinking.)

As a far-right-leaning, very conservative Republican, she opposes gun control, ending the war, the morning after pill, and most other Democratic ideals. Her position on those topics should be respected and heard, but not shoved down the throats of other hosts, guests, and viewers alike. Her maniacal defense of George W. Bush comes off like a student defending her father the Principal. (Could she be the love child of GWB and...let's see...possibly Farrah Fawcett?!?! That would explain so much....) It almost seems as if she's been so brainwashed by Republican propaganda, that she's about to start her own church or something. The Church of Bush. (Hey, that would make a pretty good skit for Saturday Night Live, EH starting a church dedicated to the teachings of GWB, not unlike Tom Cruise and his Scientology bull&%$#......sorry, I digress....)Anyway, the bottom line is, it's fine to have strong opinions, but it's unprofessional to be rude and catty to people who disagree with you, as is so often the case on "The View" when Elisabeth opens her pie hole.

And I'm not alone in my judgement of this chick. The website www.fireelisabethhasselbeck.com has a mission statement, a petition, and a purpose.

As a disclaimer in my own defense, for people who might say this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black, I am very aware of my lack of knowledge on many (most?lol) topics, and I can admit that. I don't pretend to know it all, and I don't subject millions of people to my self-righteous bickering on national TV five days a week. (Only online in this blog occasionally....)

I'm not sure how to end this rant. I'd love to put something witty and catchy and humorous, but those characteristics aren't in keeping with the Elisabeth Hasselbeck theme. So I guess I'll just say, I think she may be the devil, which means apparently the devil doesn't wear Prada after all. She wears Puma.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

"Thank You Dan Rather"

As you may or may not know, Dan Rather is suing CBS. I agree that it's about time that the media be held accountable for the "stories" they are passing off as "news", and Dan Rather's lawsuit is a representation of that ideal. I planned on writing something about the sad state of international media today, but this journalist, Leslie Griffith, has done a much better job than I would have. You'll thank yourself, and Dan Rather, after you read this.



THANK YOU DAN RATHER


Thank you Dan Rather. It's balls to the wall time, and as a fellow Texan, you sure came through.

As an investigative journalist who worked as both a reporter and anchor for the San Francisco Bay Area's highest rated newscast for 22 years, I can only say what happened to you nationally was also happening locally. You were told to conform to a Republican agenda or shut up. When you refused to march in step, you got Bush-whacked.

I read your brief and I know the drill. The erosion was slow and many of us barely noticed the small chiseling away of who and what we once were. Anchors and reporters depend on high ratings. If ratings fall in television, people get fired. In the months following 9/11, the President's approval rating was 86 percent, and that's when many in commercial journalism lost their way. To disagree or even ask a disagreeable question regarding the President and his decisions was interpreted as disloyal by many media corporations.

But now we have learned. Get the trashcan ready to catch the chips, because the chisel is swinging back the other way and we as journalists are about to regain our voices and America's trust. Dan - the Man - as we call him in Texas is reminding the media conglomerates how it is supposed to work. News and those who report it are not supposed to be for sale. Dan remembers, and he's about to explain it to us on a national scale, but first some explanations from my field of vision as to how we got here.

On January 2003, President Bush delivered his State of the Union address. Osama bin Laden turned into Saddam Hussein, and Afghanistan turned into Iraq. The press knew this was a bait and switch, but fearing reporters and anchors might appear unpatriotic, the corporate media made it clear that even if George W. Bush played twister in the nude while a few sheets to the wind instead of going to constitutional law classes at Yale, we were not allowed to talk about it.

Viacom and CBS, according to Dan, wanted to curry favor with the White House. There are very few media conglomerates that didn't. Cox Broadcasting banned the Dixie Chicks from radio stations because their lead singer made a remark under her breath criticizing the president! Not wanting to appear unpatriotic, the town criers did not cry out. Many corporate media reporters became stenographers, not reporters on that State of the Union day. Those in television journalism, particularly those working for a Fox affiliate, were not allowed to ask questions that could be perceived as unpatriotic, and every question was seen as unpatriotic. Monarchs and dictators don't allow questions. They also destroy those who speak ill of them. "Scooter - Valerie." "Rove - Anyone." Blackwater was running around in the name of the United States shooting first and asking questions later like third world rebels, and back at home, Fox became the fastest growing network with fearless leaders who believed in not only reporting the news but spinning it as well.

Just seven years ago, I looked up from my desk and saw my image on the MacNeil-Lehrer NewsHour as our staff of independent journalists was described as the best local news in the country. But war broke out and the Internet took off and all over the country local news ratings dropped as viewers turned to the national networks for news from the war fronts. Contrary to all logical thinking, local reporters looked at their retirement plans and their kids in college and promptly puckered their lips on the behinds of corporate media and smooched. If my kids were still in college I would not have the courage to write this now. In response to fewer viewers, local television panicked into a downward spiral and many a trusting viewer decided to go elsewhere. Corporate media was demanding reporters adapt to the point of our own extinction.

Morphed into propaganda machines - cheerleaders with pompoms - it was heartbreaking to watch the demise and media corporations always bass-akwards responses. With two wars on two fronts they decided to go "Local." Only local news. The war and the profound implications of it were relegated to 30 second stories buried deep into the newscast. (they don't need to know about that.--but there's a grass fire up the road!) If that's not manipulation, I don't know what is.

Here are some other sad results of this corporate bullying toward some of the best journalist in the country:

Anchors and reporters stopped asking why. The corporate media demanded nationalism without skepticism, believing ratings would fall further if reporters did their jobs.

Anchors and reporters starting taking their stories from satellite feeds coming directly to their desks and then standing in front of a chroma key delivering a story they did not collect and sometimes did not write. If viewers think every newscast looks the same that's why. It is.

Anchors and reporters allowed chroma key pictures of conflict areas to appear behind them giving viewers the false impression they were on the scene of the conflict instead of demanding to be sent there. Some could not even point out on the map behind them where the conflict was.

Anchors and reporters allowed management to hire entertainment reporters and producers. It's cheaper to entertain than to inform because an informed public makes wakes from slumber and makes noise.

Anchors and reporters began allowing precious hours meant for journalism to be filled with helicopter shots of the latest grassfire, traffic jam, or car chase, ala O.J.

Anchors and reporters allowed news directors and sales people to dictate their "look." Good journalism does not have a "look."

Anchors and reporters did not fight back when their investigative pieces were dropped. Managers feared losing advertising dollars and reporters acquiesced.

Anchors and reporters and producers agreed to story counts. Tell the story no matter how complicated in thirty seconds - throwing random and massive amounts of information at viewers without context.

Anchors and reporters started wearing American flags on their lapels. Some of whom never voted in any election.

Anchors and reporters began using genetically altered language: "War on Terrorism," without explaining that many people in the world think Americans are the terrorists.

Anchors and reporters started referring to the United States government as "We."

Anchors and reporters were handed press releases regarding corporate "mishaps" and began reading them verbatim. Like so: "Blank Oil Company had an explosion today; shelter in place, close the doors and windows, and don't go outside. However, the 'You've Got To Be Kidding Me Oil Company' says everything is fine."

Anchors and reporters agreed to report news that was already reported in newspapers and radio. Doing their own stories or advancing others creates controversy and potential lawsuits, betraying the sacred oath of corporate cronyism.

Anchors and reporters agreed to be physically altered in photographs, and airbrushed with make-up like playboy bunnies, as the media corporations ignored the news and invested in High Definition - hoping a grassfire on HD might look like news.

Anchors and reporters started advertising. "If you liked that story there will be more at six." "If you want to get more information go to www. you're_an_idiot.com. Makes you just want to scream: I'm here now; tell me now!

Anchors and reporters allowed producers to lead with Annie Nicole Smith instead of the "Scooter" Libby trial - making it clear that all sense of proportion and good judgment had been lost.

Corporations in this country are always a reflection of those in the White House. This White House is the Wild West, and corporations, even those who are charged with helping the public gain knowledge, are mining for gold. But today, when we had almost given up, Dan put his holster on.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

28 is the new 40

I went out Saturday night and had way too much to drink. It had been so long since I had done something like that, that I had temporarily forgotten how much my alcohol consumption tolerance has decreased since my younger days. It's now Thursday, and this is the first day since my night out that I feel back to normal. Pretty bad - a five day hangover, courtesy of six short hours of excess.

As I lay with a throbbing headache and nausea early this week, I began to think of how unmistakably old I feel. Back in the day, I could have drunk twice as much, stayed out half the night, and been fine the very next morning. What happened?? I'm still in my 20s!! (Not for much longer, granted, but still technically.)
So I started to take note of things that show my age and my place in life, and how having kids, being married, and growing up can make a 28-year old feel much, much older.

-- see above (5 day hangover)

-- I remember being 18 and taking two hours to get all gussied up, preparing to go to the liquor store, and hoping against all hope that the clerk would not ask me for ID. Now, though trips to the NSLC happen very seldom, they usually involve swinging by on my way home from the grocery store, dish-pan hands and all, frazzled hair and "mom jeans". And if the clerk asks me for ID, I strongly consider leaping over the counter and kissing him/her passionately on the lips.

-- My adult bedtime is much earlier than my teenage curfew.

-- Nice looking, young waiters call me "ma'am".

-- Going shopping used to be about enjoyable browsing and exciting sales, but with two squirming kids in tow, it has become an exercise in efficiency, patience, and survival.

-- Speaking of shopping, time, age, and experience have taught me a very important lesson: it's a courageous mother who braves Wal-Mart on Family Allowance day.

-- The make-up compacts, movie ticket stubs, and money previously found in my purse, have been replaced with an adequate supply of napkins, an emergency granola bar, and 16 dinkies.

-- Martha Stewart is my idol. And not for the purposes of bringing humor to this blog, I mean it. She's a genius and I love her. I'm serious.

-- My dream vacation, instead of including wine and dancing and romance, now involves hiring a babysitter, renting a hotel room, and sleeping for an uninterrupted three days.

-- Song stuck in my head in 1997: the new Backstreet Boys song. Song stuck in my head in 2007: the theme song from "The Backyardigans".

-- I can successfully feed a dog, wrestle a 2-year-old, tune out a 9-year-old, chop a green pepper, fold towels, make a phone call, and ponder the topic of my next blog - SIMULTANEOUSLY.

-- At times when I get mad at the kids, I give myself pause when I hear myself using the same threats my parents used on me...in the exact same menacing tone.

-- I am more aware than ever that toilet paper, soap, and milk do not just fall out of the sky. Until you're on your own, you don't realize that these items have to be purchased.

-- The end of summer and the beginning of the school year are suddenly cause for great celebration.

-- Richard Gere has gone from "old guy my friend's mom likes", to "oddly sexy".

-- There are only three sure things in life: death, taxes, and massive, unrelenting piles of laundry.

-- A lot of responsibility comes with being Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.

-- I am fairly well-versed on the topics of "High School Musical", B-Daman, and Grand Theft Auto.

-- Who would have thought I could derive so much unabashed joy from throw pillows, kitchen appliances, and a nice console table?

-- If you watch enough Treehouse, you'll find yourself thinking about the strangest things...like why Frank & Frank aren't in Special Ed, why Toopy hasn't addressed his obvious gender dysmorphia issues, and where the hell Max & Ruby's parents are.

-- No good comes of any conversation starting with the words "Visa", "Nova Scotia Power", or "Revenue Canada".



If you can't relate to at least one of the points above, I have to assume you're a single, childless, independently wealthy socialite with no responsibilities. Your obliviousness would almost be refreshing.

But for those of you who can relate, know that you're not alone. Lots can happen in 10 years, and, though we may not be capable of the same rowdy raucousness we once revelled in, we wear our stains and hangovers and stretch marks and frazzled hair like badges.

I've had my fill of freshman nonesense, and I'm glad that 28 is the new 40.
(I don't have the energy to have it any other way.)