“It doesn’t matter what I think”
Quote of the day, I think. Wait, I should be more like Jeremy Scahill, best-selling author and investigative journalist. It doesn’t matter what I think.
Scahill said that yesterday to Terry Gross of NPR’s “Fresh Air.” Gross was talking with Scahill about the war in Afghanistan and his best-selling book titled Blackwater, The Rise of the World’s Most Powerful Mercenary Army. And while I was a bit distracted during this radio program (I’ll pay more attention when I listen to the podcast), I did hear one thing Scahill said loud and clear.
Gross asked the author and journalist what he thought about the relationship between Dick Cheney and General McChrystal. Without hesitation, Scahill replied with my title to this post. And with a line that every journalist should be made to repeat before delivering a story – be it print, broadcast, web or school newspaper.
It doesn’t matter what I think.
The “news” today is filled with “I think”-ers. Watch CNN, and they line up in front of Anderson Cooper with their laptops open, most likely tweeting as they think out loud and on camera. Watch Fox or MSNBC and you’ll get interviewers who answer their own questions before the guest can chime in. Granted, not all of these TV personalities claim to be “journalists.” But perception is the reality, and the weight of their words is heavier than that of many true newspeople.
Of course, it matters that journalists and reporters CAN think, and that they use that ability to research, investigate, report and deliver their information. After that, those in the news business move on to the next story.
Scahill’s words echo through my head right now, and they will for some time as I consume the news over the next weeks and months.
I want a reporter who reports. I can do my own thinking.
Now if we could just get politicians to listen to their constituents and also echo Scahill’s words …
I can’t wait until Tuesday night
Blessed are the peacemakers.
No matter what President Obama says about his long-range plans for Afghanistan, he’s likely going to escalate our military presence there.
He will not be blessed. He is not a peacemaker. He joins a long list of leaders who have escalated wars. And by doing so, he will continue for dozens of years, perhaps hundreds, the future of war.
I’ve been discussing this with friends lately, and I believe war can be stopped. Yes, it will likely take hundreds of years. But we’ll never begin the process until we begin the process.
Would the President encourage the Israelis to escalate fighting with Palestinians in a move to bring peace? When you escalate a war in order to stop a war, the effect is temporary – at best.
God bless us all.
I Think Therefore I Thank
I had a lot of time over the last seven months to do a lot of thinking, and I’m thankful for that. It was one of the most difficult years of my life, and I’m amazingly thankful for it all.
Thanks. I Think
I shouldn’t have stayed in the job I was in, but it seemed better than unemployment. I was wrong. The time off forced me to investigate, to create, to think and exercise my mind like I had not done for years. Thanks.
I thought about a lot more than my career path during this time, of course. My wife and I faced life-shaking decisions. The thinking was scary, emotional and amazing. Thanks.
Amazingly thought-provoking for me, and for which I’m very thankful, are the dozens of people I’ve met. What started as networking of necessity soon became introductions of importance. It’s had me thinking about all relationships.
My father’s health challenges were dramatically thought provoking. The science and psychology, the mortality and eternity. And the evolving relations with family and friends that came from this time filled my head (and heart) with thoughts that tested me. And I give thanks.
Thinking gets you places, that’s true. And it gets you things. But when the thinking becomes the places and the things, that’s significant. No, you don’t just sit around and think all the time, trying to get somewhere.
Think about it. When your thinking becomes the thing, you gain a significance of thought that leads to surprising things.
Here’s to #11, and #12 …
A lot of people like lists, especially Top Ten lists. And especially those that lead to that elusive Number 1 ranking. You gotta be the best. There can be only one No. 1. Who is gonna come out on top?
Personally, I’m not a fan. In fact, I’m more than likely to go off that Top Ten list. I’m going to choose #11, maybe #12, or even further down the list. Yes, part of it is just me being difficult. But mostly it’s me trying to find what I really like, trying to get the complete story, not just going with the crowd.
When crowds of people line up to see a movie just because a crowd of people is lined up, I don’t understand that. One of my favorite movies is “The Station Agent.” I don’t think anyone waited in line to see it. But I’d take it over “Titanic.”
I don’t want to talk about movies. But I do want to talk about lists. I like lists, but they have to go beyond Top Ten, and you need to begin your reading at Number 11, and then keep going further.
I’m sitting here watching CNN and my pal Anderson Cooper (he’s not really my personal pal, but I do respect the guy’s work). He and CNN are running their 2nd annual CNN Heroes special. They’ve recently announced the Top Ten; you can read about these select list makers, and vote on your choice for Number 1. Don’t do it. I beg you, don’t do it.
I normally don’t pay attention to these “special” shows, these lists and seeming popularity contests. But I caught parts of this special in 2008, and it was moving. But not because of the list of Top Ten Heroes, and certainly not because of the No. 1 CNN Hero of 2008. Wait, this Winner of Heroes and the top nine others did amazing things. Their work is to be commended, and I thank CNN for producing the show. But most powerful was the EveryHero story. The story of Numbers 11, 12, and more.
Go to CNN.com now for the complete story of Heroes. You’ll read inspiring stories that may move you to act in your own neighborhood.
And start with #11. There is a lot more to it than just the “Titanic.” If you’re really lucky, you’ll find “The Station Agent” in here, too.
I’m Curious.
That’s a complete sentence and complete thought there. Yes. I’m curious. Like George.
I’m curious about a lot of things, but mostly just curious. You? Really, I want to know.
And there is no better time to be curious, and so much to be curious about. I just started working again, I mean really working. You know, the kind that pays money!
And this work brings me into new industries, new topics of conversation, new questions to answer. And I love it all. I haven’t talked about motorcycles for several days – and that’s okay (I spent many years in the motorcycle industry.)
First, before I write all about my curiosity, I want to know about yours. Leave a comment, please, and tell me what you’re curious about.
Like …
Driving results at work? Profits?
Or just learning and the curiosity process?
Or is it personal relationships that make you pause?
Perhaps it’s spirituality?
Or is the current State of our States your curiosity focus?
Maybe you wonder why “curious” has two “u”s but curiosity has only one?
Please tell me.
Don’t Wall Me In
I own a small chunk of the Berlin Wall. My parents visited there not long after the wall came down, and they brought chunks of it home. I’ve always thought it was kinda cool, but it certainly never had the meaning for me that it brings to those who’ve lived behind it. Lots of talk about it now, of course, with the anniversary and all. But even with all the discussions and photos and TV specials, few Americans can fully understand the meaning of that wall.
The Wall-less Midwest
I grew up in Minnesota, land of 10,000 lakes separated by expansive green lawns and no fences. Oh sure, you have the occasional chain-link variety installed to contain the neighbor’s German Shepherd. But with their transparency and easy scalability, the chain linker really fences no one in, or out. And it’s certainly not a wall – not even to that German Shepherd who can jump it or dig under at will.
When I moved to Southern California, I began to understand a little more about walls. Every tiny lot in these suburban stretches is walled in with concrete block. Sure, they’re only four or five feet high, but their stony presence is intimidating. Add the decorative wrought-iron top with its rust-covered spikes, and you create quite the neighborly feel. I don’t understand all these walls, nor do I appreciate them. Perhaps us Midwestern transplants could start a movement to rid SoCal of its walls.
My Own Walls
Better yet, let’s start with personal walls. I’m working on breaking some down right now. A few months ago, I was a victim of “reduction in force.” That’s corporate America’s new way of saying “Clean out your desk.” And even in the office-less office when I worked for six+ years, I had built some walls around myself – figuratively, of course. I had built walls to protect my territory, guarding my importance in hopes of not only keeping my job but progressing in the company. I had built walls around my reputation in the industry. I had built personal walls, too, letting some co-workers peek through if it served me well.
I am tearing down all those walls. Networking down my new career path has forced me to get out the sledgehammer and knock down walls. And I think I’ve even broken through a few walls put up by others as well.
What kind of walls fence you in?
What kind of walls can you break down today, for yourself or for others?
Call me Simple, but I Just Don’t Understand
War is Hell. Sound Bites aren’t so good, either.
That phrase should be enough to make anyone think twice, three times, 33 times about entering such Hell. Instead, political hawks use “War is Hell” (attributed to Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman) with the righteous air of martyrs who’ve already decided on battle.
Upon first glance, this post may seem removed from Writing, Branding, Journalism and Marketing Communications. But amassing so much recognition – good and bad – around Sherman’s famous three words helped usher in the “sound-bite” news culture that has done so much damage to communication today.
Sherman’s longer quote goes like this: “You cannot qualify war in harsher terms than I will. War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it; and those who brought war into our country deserve all the curses and maledictions a people can pour out. I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I will make more sacrifices to-day than any of you to secure peace.”
Blessed are the Peacemakers …
Why doesn’t that sound bite (from book of Matthew, chapter 5, verse 9) reverberate through more than just church sanctuaries? I don’t understand how people can talk about “the right war” or “the just war” and then also call themselves Christians.
Yes, peace in the world may very well be impossible. But shouldn’t you strive for it? Even if you don’t want to listen to what Jesus had to say about it. Shouldn’t you listen to more of Sherman’s description of war?
This is not a tribute to Gen. Sherman – who did and said some terrible things, that’s true. I’m looking for understanding about war. He lived it and has a better decription of it than his 3 word ditty.
I will assume that the great majority of people want to see an end to all war. Can you end war by starting war? Remember “the war to end all wars”? Ever heard anyone say “this will be my last cigarette”?
Look at it this way – President Obama and other leaders: You want to improve Health Care in the U.S. and the world? Start by choosing NOT to escalate the fighting in Afghanistan.
The Social Side of Medicine
With the passion of a poet and the knowledge of a studied scientist, the surgeon explained the process of transplanting a kidney from our new donor friend into my father. I had heard surgeries described before, and not just from “ER.” But this one was different. Maybe because my father’s life seemed on the line. Maybe because of the emotions carried in through the donation process. I don’t know. But it seemed this surgeon was about to enter the World Championships of organ transplants. Like every surgery she performed in her career had lead her to this one – and she was bound to win the gold medal.
Health Care As Commodity
My father had been on kidney dialysis for more than two years. I tried to stay as involved and aware as I could from 1500 miles away, though I know I could have done much more. I learned a great deal through the process, between talking with Mom and Dad, reading what I could online about nephrology, and occasional visits to the dialysis center.
I learned mostly that health care is a commodity. It’s a service, yes, but most often it’s delivered – or denied – like a highly valued commodity. I had my own experiences along the way in this health care market. And I began to accept that fact, both as a realist and as a long-term investor with a personal stake.
It is Social, Whether We Socialize It or Not
It’s frustrating when you’re sick, or when someone you love is stricken, and your care options are presented with the appeal of a Morningstar audit. No, it’s not fair to burden health care workers with the need to make meaningful connections with dozens of patients. But the reality is that health care – from a patient’s perspective – is a social, emotional and physical investment. That it’s delivered as a monetized commodity is a fact created by health care insurance providers who need to quantify care to realize profits.
But I saw the non-commodity side – and I am willing to bet that it’s still profitable. I was fortunate to spend some time around hospitals and health care professionals (and only a fraction of the time my parents spent) this summer. Fortunate because I saw the Social side of Medicine as much as the commodity kind.
The organ-transplant surgeon won her gold medal – I will never forget her for that. I will also remember and celebrate her passion for her social work. It gave her an unmatched ability to communicate far more than the science of her endeavor. She understood our need for more than just information and analysis. Through her powerful delivery, she made an emotional and loving connection – and the care commodity came with it.
Not every medical professional gets to create a miracle like that of a successful organ transplant. But living this process (and writing about it) recalls memories of countless visits to pediatricians when my kids were tots. From ear infections to more ear infections, my children introduced my wife and I to many pediatrics pros. And I recall with favor those who understood the social while delivering the commodity.
You can’t pressure every one in health care to recognize and work for your emotional well-being with the same passionate pursuit. But you can search for those who do, ask to see them again, and thank them for their incredible efforts.
What have been your recent and past experiences with Social Medicine?
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