Friday...

In memory of those who died in the name of Freedom of Expression:

The Power of the Pen

Mine is a blog of random thoughts and musings...my mind is in constant motion trying to make sense of the world around me.

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What does it mean to have freedom of speech or freedom of expression?

To the staff of the a French weekly newspaper, it meant death.

I believe in kindness. I believe in love. I believe that we should treat each other with respect. I believe in truth. But does that mean I'll always agree with everyone around me? Does that mean I won't ever offend someone? Does that I shouldn't ever offend anyone?

No.

People are born with a voice. Many of us are taught to use that voice responsibly. Some don't choose to use it. Others choose to use it in a way that may ignite others to think, to laugh, to feel. In doing this, it may offend some people.

The attack and slaughtering of the staff of the Charlie Hebdo was senseless. It was horrific. It was barbaric.

I don't agree with the content published in Charlie Hebdo. Politically-speaking, it is probably as far from my viewpoint as ever something could be. But that's my opinion. And it's my choice not to buy or read that publication.

That's because I know that you don't have to agree with someone for them to have the right to exist. You can think they're vulgar and offensive, and they can still exist. You can be mad at them for it, and they can still exist. But...

You DON'T have to kill them for it.

It's the equivalent of the playground bully coming and killing another kid just because the other kid said he was ugly.

My heart hurts.

And my head spins...because they may feel they silenced the "infidels"...but instead they awoke the giant.

In the name of freedom of expression and speech and as a fellow journalist: Je suis Charlie.

Monday Musings in a New Month

Happy Monday! Happy July!

Wow! We've just past the halfway point in the year. Amazing, huh?

A "mere" 176 shopping days left until Christmas. Plenty of time....plennnnnty of time.....

Besides if you're anything like me you'll end up buying some fun stuff now, squirreling it away somewhere "safe," and then forgetting where you put it and having to scramble for something else with only ONE shopping day left... *wink-grin*

So we surprised the kids (and ourselves) with a night away at the local Hampton Inn last night. A spur of the moment thing that cost us nothing (thanks to Stuart and all of his travelling and Hilton Honors points) but dinner from the local grocery store and a tiny bit of gas to drive home to check on the animals. Can't beat that, right?

The kids loved the pool and the huge TVs and the comfy beds. We didn't do anything particularly special, except hang out together. V. relaxing. Something I recommend to EVERYONE, especially if you have kids. The time goes by so quickly. Snatch those fun moments while you can.

I'm working on an article for the newspaper about a couple who have been married for 63 years. It's a wonderful story to write. Very heartwarming and encouraging, especially as an example to the younger generation. I got to meet the couple and take a few photos today. One of my very favorite parts of working for the newspaper.

Enjoy Independence Day this week! Stay safe and have fun!!

Mean Girls...

A friend of Stuart's sent this to him. It's a chilling reminder that bullying really does happen. And it should never be described as "a part of growing up."

As parents, we need to be sure our girls (and boys) aren't victims...or the bullies.

Over the years, I've observed how two-faced girls can be: one person with Mom and Dad...quite another with a pack of their own kind.

It's something I've sternly warned Emily against. Fight the urge to hurt others...strive to be a nice girl...instead of a mean one.

Peace on earth doesn't start across the world in other countries... It starts in our own homes.

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The Untouchable Mean Girls
By Kevin Cullen
Globe Columnist / January 24, 2010

Like a lot of kids her age, Phoebe Prince was a swan, always beautiful and sometimes awkward.

Last fall, she moved from Ireland into western Massachusetts, a new town, a new high school, a new country, a new culture. She was 15, when all that matters is being liked and wearing the right clothes and just fitting in.

She was a freshman and she had a brief fling with a senior, a football player, and for this she became the target of the Mean Girls, who decided then and there that Phoebe didn’t know her place and that Phoebe would pay.

Kids can be mean, but the Mean Girls took it to another level, according to students and parents. They followed Phoebe around, calling her a slut. When they wanted to be more specific, they called her an Irish slut.

The name-calling, the stalking, the intimidation was relentless.

Ten days ago, Phoebe was walking home from school when one of the Mean Girls drove by in a car. An insult and an energy drink can came flying out the car window in Phoebe’s direction.

Phoebe kept walking, past the abuse, past the can, past the white picket fence, into her house. Then she walked into a closet and hanged herself. Her 12-year-old sister found her.

You would think this would give the bullies who hounded Phoebe some pause. Instead, they went on Facebook and mocked her in death.

They told State Police detectives they did nothing wrong, had nothing to do with Phoebe killing herself.

And then they went right back to school and started badmouthing Phoebe.

They had a dance, a cotillion, at the Log Cabin in Holyoke two days after Phoebe’s sister found her in the closet, and some who were there say one of the Mean Girls bragged about how she played dumb with the detectives who questioned her.

Last week, one of the Springfield TV stations sent a crew to South Hadley High to talk to the kids.

One girl was interviewed on camera, and she said what was common knowledge: that bullies were stalking the corridors of South Hadley High.

As soon as the TV crew was out of sight, one of the Mean Girls came up and slammed the girl who had been interviewed against a locker and punched her in the head.
The Mean Girls are pretty, and popular, and play sports.

So far, they appear to be untouchable, too.

South Hadley is a nice, comfortable middle-class suburb that hugs the Connecticut River nearby and a certain attitude.

“Things like this aren’t supposed to happen in South Hadley,’’ said Darby O’Brien, a high school parent, wondering why the bullies who tormented Phoebe are still in school. “And so instead of confronting the evil among us, the reality that there are bullies roaming the corridors at South Hadley High, people are blaming the victim, looking for excuses why a 15-year-old girl would do this. People are in denial.’’

School officials say there are three investigations going on. They say these things take time.

That doesn’t explain why the Mean Girls who tortured Phoebe remain in school, defiant, unscathed.

“What kind of message does this send to the good kids?’’ O’Brien asked. “How many kids haven’t come forward to tell what they know because they see the bullies walking around untouched?’’

They were supposed to hold a big meeting on Tuesday to talk about all this, but now that’s off for a couple of weeks.

O’Brien is thinking about going to that meeting and suggesting that they have the kids who bullied Phoebe look at the autopsy photos.

“Let them see what a kid who hung herself looks like,’’ he said.

Last week, Phoebe was supposed to visit Ireland, where she grew up, and she was excited because she was going to see her father for the first time in months.

She did end up going back to Ireland after all, and when her father saw her she was in a casket.

Phoebe’s family decided to bury her in County Clare. They wanted an ocean between her and the people who hounded her to the grave.

Kevin Cullen is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at cullen@globe.com.

Friday Funnies

Thoughts and Thursdays....

Years ago when I worked for the newspaper as a business reporter, I had the opportunity to write business "closeups" for the Monday edition.

The idea was to highlight an area business and get the story behind it. The "hows" and "whys" and other fun stuff that made a business what it was.

One reason I really enjoyed this part of my job was that I got to meet a ton of interesting people and see an insider's view of how hard/easy/painstaking it is to start and run a company.

It gave me some food for thought, let me tell you.

Another reason I enjoyed it was that most of the businesses had the "personality" of the owner/president stamped on them. They "were" the people who ran them because the people running them really believed in them. I felt a personal bond with each of the companies because of this.

My favorite-most question I was asked was if I was planning to print any "dirt" on this one particular business. I was surprised (and a little pleased that he thought I had that much "power" in my pen) by this since I always began the interviews by explaining that these business closeups were "feel-good" stories...merely the story of the business.

I nearly burst out laughing but managed to stay professional by biting my tongue. This certainly wasn't Hollywood...and his business wouldn't have headlined in any of the tabloids.

"No," I said, seriously. "I can only print what you tell me. And even then not everything you tell me will fit into the story."

The business owner nodded, solemnly. "But what if it does?"

"Then just don't tell me, and it won't be a problem," I answered with a reassuring smile.

I couldn't print what I wasn't told, right? I know sometimes journalists use creative licensing in their reporting to grab or even shock readers/viewers. I didn't subscribe to that method. I took what I was told and wrote the story from there. There usually wasn't any reason to "tweak" what was said since there was always an interesting anecdote or two involved.

Which brings me to blogging.

Back when I started to blog, I found myself again chuckling at people who asked how I could write about myself for all the Internet "world" to read. Isn't that embarrassing? Isn't that allowing my privacy to be invaded?

Hmm....

People can only read what I write...and only then if they want to. I get to choose what I write...so it can be as personal (and/or embarrassing) as I want.

No one can invade privacy that hasn't been exposed, right?

Just a thought...

Friday Funnies

Stuart sent me this funny article he found on Yahoo News yesterday. I thought it befitting for a Friday Funny. Enjoy! (You'd think the city officials would know what their own city looks like, huh? *wink*)

British recycling leaflets show wrong Birmingham
by David Stringer, AP writer

LONDON - Britain's second-largest city, Birmingham, has a new skyline — only it belongs to its Alabama namesake. Birmingham City Council distributed 720,000 leaflets that praised residents for exceeding recycling targets, carrying a message that read: "Thank You Birmingham." The message appeared stamped across a photograph of the city's skyline. But the photo was not of Birmingham, England, but of Birmingham, Alabama.

It's the second time British officials have mistakenly used images of Birmingham, Alabama. Three lawmakers who represent Birmingham at the European Parliament accidentally used a picture of the U.S. city on their Internet site in January.

"I would have thought the council would take more care," said Birmingham resident Jon Cooper. "I can't believe no one at the town hall noticed."

Britain's Birmingham is famed for its modernist Bullring shopping mall, with its distinctive metallic curved exterior and an extensive network of canals, churches and historical buildings.
The Alabama city's skyline includes the Wachovia Tower, University of Alabama buildings and skyscrapers.

Officials said the wrong image was selected from an Internet photo archive.

"It's human error," said Birmingham City Council spokesman Kris Kowalewski. "We accept that the wrong photo was used, but the text and detail contained in the leaflet is wholly correct."

While the cities have wildly different skylines, there are many similarities between the two — not least a proud industrial heritage.

Birmingham, Alabama — known as the Magic City because of its rapid 20th century growth — was founded on its steel industry. It took its name from the British manufacturing city known for making Jaguar cars and Cadburys chocolate. Both now have growing financial services sectors.

Both cities also share a history of racial tension. In Alabama, Birmingham was a center of 1960s civil rights protests by black Americans.

In Britain, Birmingham has struggled with divisions between black and South Asian communities, which led to violent riots in the 1980s and in 2005.

The British city — whose sister city is Chicago — has a population of 1 million. The Alabama city's population is roughly 230,000.

In Alabama, the Birmingham Regional Chamber of Commerce didn't immediately respond to calls for comment Thursday.

In the News...

Getting into the news...literally.

Warms the heart of an "old" reporter like me.

My kids are relatively new comic readers.

They started by reading over their dad's shoulder on Sunday afternoons when he caught up on "all the news that's fit to print" -- or the "important" pages, as my husband calls them.

Now, they pull out the Sunday funnies and sit to enjoy them together.

I recently told Edward that there are comic pages in the newspaper everyday. He was surprised, but pleased.

This is how I found him in his newspaper "tent," enjoying a giggle or two.

Of course, I'd be glad to see them reading some of the articles, as well. But then again...

Maybe the comic pages are the important part of the newspaper. At least they bring a smile or laugh, which is more than can be said for most of the actual news out there.

Snow Business

There are days when I think I just shouldn't get out of bed...

Thankfully, today is not one of them. *grin* Though my kids might feel differently...

* * *

A new quiz has been added to my sidebar. A very appropriate one I thought.

* * *

From my online page-a-day calendar:

5 THINGS TO BE HAPPY ABOUT

• a great university library

• a light dusting of snow

• finger food

• a cashmere bathrobe

• waterproof boots

* * *

We had another dusting of snow. Enough to whet the snow appetite of every kid under 16 and cause heart palpitations to the rest of us.

Snow.

It used to be a glorious word.

It meant the possibility of no school...or at least an abbreviated school day. (Remember sitting by the radio from about 6 a.m. onwards?) Sledding for hours until we very literally couldn't feel our fingers or toes and had to defrost them afterwards in a warm bath. Making snowballs and snowangels and snowmen. A whole yard full of homemade snowcones. Hot cocoa and cookies.

Now, it just means cold, wet stuff that you have to shovel in order to get in the car to go somewhere. Dirty, wet shoes that have to be shed by the backdoor so as not to ruin the rest of the floors in the house. Being cold and wet, wet, wet. I much prefer to stay indoors and admire it from the warmth of the couch.

What changed, I wonder?

It was far worse when we lived in the city and had to carve out our parking space and hope that if we left it it wouldn't be snatched immediately by the neighbor who worked third shift and had arrived home, dismayed to find no parking.....only there was that one spot, so nicely dug out....

I think most of the time snow brought out the worst in people.

Except...

I lived in the city during the Blizzard of '96. It was a blizzard that literally buried the Northeast. We had upwards of 40 inches by the time the three storms passed through. Not much for some parts of the world but too much for this part with no where to actually put the snow and no hope of it melting anytime too soon.

I took photos of my car and you can only just see about six inches of my radio antenna. The rest is just a mound of snow.

Since I lived just uptown from the newspaper where I worked, I walked to my job. There were no cars on Fifth Street, normally a fairly busy thoroughfare in Reading. There were kids on sleds and a "hush." Everything seemed muted by the snow. It was actually quite peaceful.

I was the only one from my department to make it in that day. I actually did the section's whole two-page spread by myself....not that anyone noticed. Funny, though.

It was a few days before that peace lifted from the city. I felt sort of sad when it did. The carved-out parking spots were like ice garages, and the city looked snowy white -- clean -- for a little while.

Quite a snowy memory.