Kristina Borjesson

In between correcting student essays, I watched tv today. There were two programs that particularly impressed me, both of them on Cspan. Right now I can't remember if they were on "regular" Cspan, or Cspan 2, Book tv. I'm not good at keeping track of that sort of stuff.

The first was a program on the media with Kristina Borjesson. She's a journalist who's fed up with the bs mainstream media is feeding us and the lack of responsibility to journalism present in the "news" today. She was once a producer at CBS, but either left under pressure or was shown the door (give me a break, those essays can be distracting) for being, um, honest. Now she works independently.

She said so much that I agreed with and was so engaging; you really had to be there. For all her knowledge and experience, she seemed so approachable. She laughed, right out loud, about Robin, the dolled-up beauty that does the boring, tow-the-line morning show on CNN. I can't tell you how many times I've thought about how the package for a newsperson in mainstream media, the women in particular, seems to be a lot more about presenting a sexy chick with slick sound bites than real news. I loved her for laughing at CNN's Robin and her frivolous presentation of the news. But then I'm evil.

There was something Borjesson mentioned, a minor thing really, but it was so important to me. She was talking about activism and the small things everyone can do to voice their opposition to this mess. I was astonished to hear that the first time she had ever called her congressperson was just two years ago! She talked about feeling nervous and a little silly making the call. Her. A big shot journalist with tons of knowledge and lots of experience expressing her ideas and challenging the man. Then it hit me. She is me, and you, and all of us. Because (and I hate to admit this) the first time I ever called my congressperson was only a few years ago. And I was nervous, really nervous. I'm not big on the self-confidence thing, and I was sure I would sound inarticulate, ignorant, or be challenged in some way that I wouldn't be able to handle. But it didn't happen. The call went rather well, and the experience made it easier for me to call the next time, and more and more often in the ensuing years. It did the same for her. She said so. I loved her more for admitting all of that.

Point is, we are not so different from one another. Even big shot journalists have their moments of fear and trepidation when speaking truth to power. But the point really is we can all do this. We all have a telephone, the numbers are easy to locate, just check the website of whoever you wish to contact, and make that call. It's the least we can do. It's OUR government, these people are working for US and it's our responsiblity to voice our support or dissent. And there's nothing to it; it's easy. It really is.

Kristina Borjesson is a courageous journalist doing important work. Her book of collected essays is called Into the Buzzsaw. Check it out at www.paraview.com/borjesson/



The second program was an inspiring discussion between Walter Mosely and Harry Belefonte. But long blog entries are boring, so they say. I'll stop now and blog about that later.

The Arabs are Coming, The Arabs are Coming!

The ports will be managed by a company in the UAE, and everyone's got their pants in a knot. First, W said he would veto any legislation attempting to block this transaction. Now, he says he didn't know. These days, they don't even bother to spin a rationale, they just spew and let the chips fall. It's all in a day's hard work for Dubyah and his pals. After five years of fearmongering, no one can tell me they're at all surprised by the reaction, but it no longer matters.

How's that for arrogance and absolute power?

All is Vanity

Yesterday, we had a farewell gathering at school for a member of our staff who is being sent to Afghanistan. He would have had reached his 20 year mark in the national guard in May, retiring with full benefits, and they snatched him up for an 18 month deployment.

I team-taught with this guy my first year, and we were as different as night and day. He taught civics, and I often cringed when he'd speak about his ideas of democracy. His subtle promotion of the military didn't sit well with me either. But at this gathering, he cried when he introduced his wife and three children, and I saw fear in all of their faces. I cried too, at the futility of it all. I thought of the countless little gatherings like ours, happening all over the country, and of the innocents everywhere who would never have the opportunity to say their last farewells.

I cried again, when I walked out of school. There was a van from a television station outside. I thought that was odd until someone in the parking lot told me a young man from our little town, 23-yr-old Andrew Kemple, had been killed in Iraq. The media was looking for a story.

I'm so sick of all of this. I hope George Bush, Donald Rumsfeld, and all of their neocon cowboy buddies spend eternity facing the anguish they have caused with their senseless warmongering. So stick that in your surveillance files, boys. An angry American? You bet I am.

Love

It's all we need. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

Freyed

That James Frey lied in his book, A Million Little Pieces, is old news. People are tired of debating whether Oprah is the b**** we always knew she was, or a hero for admitting she was wrong in her initial defense of this guy. After all, admitting fault is something we rarely see these days, even if it did come in the form of a sanctimonious dressing down of that poor, cornered sap. I wonder if he thought Oprah invited him on her show for a second appearance to further defend him, and instead he found himself in the Court of Queen Oprah. I have to admit, part of me was secretly tickled pink to think this guy had to answer to the diva of all divas for his silly lies.

I didn't watch Oprah relieve herself on national tv, but I was watching Larry King when she called to defend Frey originally. Am I naive to believe it was spontaneous? Was I sucked in, imagining some screener pooping his pants, arms waving a frantic signal to a producer, mouthing, "It's HER!!!", while the reg'lar folks whose calls to the show were cued rotted in telephonic purgatory? Oprah waits in line for no one, and if you don't understand that, Bub, you aren't alive in America. And surely if the call was planned, she would have come off just a teensy bit more thoughtful as she pronounced Mr. Frey innocent on the grounds of adding value to the lives of readers in her book club. If I hear Oprah offer up "redemption" by way of her book selections one more time, I think I'm gonna hurl.

My daughter and I were discussing Frey's situation, and I was merciless regarding a writer's obligation to refrain from making things up when selling a work as nonfiction. We agreed, but Kara was generous in her evaluation of him as a human being (our little Court of Queens had now been called to order). We agreed that sometimes real life just isn't good enough, and we all have our means of making it better, or at least different; some go to obviously damaging lengths in their efforts to do so. Duh. She joked that Frey may have recovered from his need to enhance life chemically, but hadn't completely recovered from his need to make life more than it is, or was, that exaggerating the reality of his struggle in a sphere so public as a bestselling book was a sure sign that he still had some "work to do."

Don't we all have "work to do"? And yes, we should be generous to all of humankind, if for no other reason than we may, some day, find ourselves in the Court of Queens. Still, I'll be damned if I'll spend 5 minutes searching for truth in James Frey's work of nonfiction that's fiction. That's too "real life" for me.