Re: News

“No news is good news” is a popular phrase attributed to the English King James around 1616. In the present day context the phrase might be distorted as: “All news is fake news.”, “Good news is suspect.“, “Bad news is everywhere.” As a person who needs to know, a day without news of some kind presents a dilemma of sorts.

Newspapers, of the actual made with paper kind, have been an important part of my life. Growing up in Toronto, I was used to the Telegram which was my father’s choice for print news. I loved the comic section on weekends and they had great coupons for use at the Toronto Exhibition (The Ex) every summer. I delivered the Toronto Star as a teen, snagging the occasional copy for free and enjoyed debating the different editorial points of view with my dad. When I went to train as a teacher, the Globe and Mail became essential to me for the job postings. Previously, Dad would have referred to the Globe as “that rag!” because of its editorial tone against workers and its support of business before people. In truth, I did snag my first job interview thanks to the Globe.

I encouraged all my sons to have a paper route. It may seem old fashioned but I still maintain that this early job helped them build personal qualities of orderliness, perseverance, responsibility and tolerance. They osmotically became curious about what they were carrying each day, and how the task exposed them to their community, their village members, and a wider world.

Digital media now takes centre stage for news delivery. Some content remains faithful to the journalistic standard of daily print newspapers around the globe. For example, I enjoy The Guardian being dropped off in my virtual mail box every morning, like the ‘Hear Ye, Hear Ye’ of old England, bringing me a non-North American perspective on stories of the day.

I recently had a brief Twitter exchange with a member of The National, CBC’s nightly news platform. I have some issues with television as a news source: the commercials, the sensationalism, the growing folksiness, the ‘team’ approach. I dislike turning a news broadcast into entertainment. I want nightly news to be delivered with a serious tone by someone who takes the day’s events as seriously as I do. Later, I can enjoy Stephen Colbert helping me look at the absurdity of some news items, he’s amusing and provocative, but he’s no Walter Cronkite, Ed Murrow or Diana Swain.

I would much rather know than not know. Gathering news from a variety of sources brings me peace, even if the news is bad. From the information I have gathered I can make a plan, formulate an idea, or resolve a conundrum. No news is definitely NOT good news for me. I wouldn’t call myself a ‘news junkie’. This is a harsh interpretation of the need for facts and indicates a compulsion. I resist feeling compelled by anything, but I do get a bit twitchy when my morning paper doesn’t arrive on time.

Re: Write

I am a writer. It took me a while to say that, to myself, before I could proclaim it to the world. I grew up with the notion you had to BE, before you could claim to be. There was something in my mother’s teaching that made me reluctant to attest to something about myself unless someone else, officially, had acknowledged it first. Even when I became an adult and wrote for my daily newspaper, my mother continued to think; ‘a Writer is someone who writes Books.’

I have mixed feelings about the drive to be a writer as my father spent almost every spare moment during my pre-teen years clacking on his Underwood. Having gone through my own mid-life crisis I can recognize now, what was going on with my dad. He was at a crossroads and he thought sending off manuscripts, with rejection slips inevitable, just might bring him the fame he was after. My mom kicked him out of the apartment for his ‘writing obsession’ and only let him back after he promised to write no more. These were very stressful days for me. The house was suddenly very quiet after he took his typewriter and left. To this day I will feel heartache whenever I see one of these antique word processing machines. The departure scene became forever connected to WRITING. To venture into the land of career writing became filled with the prospect of following in my father’s failed footsteps. Nothing pleasing to picture with that scenario; move along please.

What a negative space I occupied; Being unable to write because it didn’t feel right. Thankfully I recognized that this attitude was largely self-imposed. As my teaching career wound down I approached our local daily newspaper with an idea for a weekly column. It felt like a rite of passage when I got hired. The Daily Press even used me as a roving reporter covering the arts scene on the weekends. I tapped away on the keyboard of a new Bondi Blue iMac (much quieter than my dad’s machine). I discovered that the more I wrote the more I wanted to write. I had tapped into an artistic side of me that had been hungering for release. I wrote editorials. I wanted to be a righter of wrongs. I kept poetry diaries and trip journals. During my last few years of teaching everyone in my classroom wrote lots of stuff. We shared the results together with delight. We played with homonyms, synonyms and antonyms. We made up nonsense words and made them into cartoon characters. Sometimes it only takes one person to read your work to make you feel accomplished.

One year, to honour the passing into the new millennium, I wrote a full page of thoughts for each day of 2000 thinking it would be a curiosity for my grandkids someday. My wife was diagnosed with stage four cancer in January 2001. For the next 288 nights she asked for a bedtime story; either Winnie the Pooh or a page from my Millennial Journal.

Re: Television

I think many people my age can say their childhood was influenced by what they saw and heard on television. For several hours before and after school the characters I watched on that old TV set provided childcare and I did feel nurtured by them all: Captain Kangaroo, Mr. Green Jeans, The Friendly Giant, Romper Room’s Miss Molly, Buffalo Bob. They were as real to me as if they lived down the dirt road I walked to get to school. Combined, they were like a third parent; offering advice, a quiet moment together. They gave me ideas to explore when I was out on my own.

As I got older I would plan my after school time with the scheduling calendar in the mini magazine, TV Guide. The white lettering on a square TV screen of their logo became as familiar to me as the CocaCola brand. I studied the pages each week using a pen to circle my favourite shows. I read insider info about the actors and learned about things like ‘Prime Time’ and ‘Soap Operas’. I remember one September when the networks were announcing their Fall lineup I pounced on that Preview edition, cutting and pasting the show titles onto a Bristol board display for a grade five art assignment. I was just approaching adolescence when NBC announced that they were programming a new space series. I’ll fully admit to the state of my pubescent hormones at that moment by declaring orgasmically that Star Trek was the seminal TV program of my life.

Who would think that a telecommunication device would offer so much enjoyment to the viewer; young and old alike. The four years leading up to my mom’s death in a nursing home included regular doses of programming through the Turner Classic Movie channel. In conversations about the films she viewed, it was clear the plot had become melded with her own life memories. Some at the extended care facility even suggested that TV watching was becoming too intense for my mother and therefore ill advised.

Such comments reminded me of the early days of television when it was forecast that viewing could not take place too close to the set, or too much viewing would dull the mind or distort your perceptions of the real world. Parents often questioned me about the advisability of television quality and quantity for their children during parent/teacher nights. Many were shocked that I allowed my own children to watch The Simpsons. My view has always been less about censorship and more about using whatever is televised as an opportunity for discussion. I would teach my children the difference between watching Television and watching a Program. If I felt suspicious of the content of an episode or series I would ask that I be allowed to join them in the viewing.

It is safe to say that television has contributed to my development just as novels have done to previous generations. The characters and incidents I have witnessed on the smaller screen have made a lasting impression and continue to inform my being.