Peace at last

This weekend was about as perfect as any weekend could be.

Saturday
I drove down to the Gutowskis' house (my aunt, uncle and cousins) and went to see my cousin Gail play in the pit orchestra of her high school's production of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat." The pit sounded great, and the cast looked like it was having fun. Before the show, we went to Mass at Our Lady Star of the Sea. The church is located right on the opening of the Patuxent River, so when you come out the doors after Mass is over you're looking at this green field, sparkling water and a huge bridge (which I call the bridge of death).

Sunday
Had a big breakfast at Gutowski central and then drove to Fredericksburg. Let me tell you about the drive to Fredericksburg. Wow. I had the windows down and the sunroof open the whole way, and drove on these great country back roads all the way (about an hour and a half). Mapquest was going to send me back up to DC, across the Potomac, and then down I-95, but I said "Bah!" to that. I spend too much time on interstates - need to see something different.

Well, different it was. The road between Lusby, Md., and Fredericksburg, Va., is a beautiful, meandering ribbon of highway that bends and flows over these huge rolling hills and underneath a canopy of massive trees that are just beginning to bud, so that you can still see all the branches clearly, with only little traces of green on the ends. There was a winery on the way, too, so I stopped and tasted some. Most of it, I thought, was kind of ... well, awful ... but there was a good dessert wine, so I bought a bottle of that. It's in my fridge now, and when I do decide to drink it, it will probably be from a plastic cup, or even classier, a coffee mug. I think one might call that "intern chic."

After you drive through the Northern Neck of Virginia (which is a weird title for a landform that in no way resembles a neck), the road stabilizes and you hit Fredericksburg. Some time ago a little boy used to play here, hanging out at his aunt's house and skipping stones across the nearby Rappahannock River. His name was George. George Washington. I never ceased to be amazed at how matter of fact the people around here are. "Oh, yeah, this is where George Washington was born..." Ho, hum. I ended up spending the afternoon reading in a small courtyard behind the visitor's center, which is covered by a big tree and is accessible by traveling down a narrow alleyway. I kept feeling like I should have had a lantern and tri-cornered hat, even though it was the middle of the daytime.

Oh, by the way, the difference between Maryland and Virginia seems like night and day. When you cross into Virginia you realize immediately that you are, without a doubt, in the south. US-1 is called the "Jefferson Davis Highway," Confederate flags are a common sight and there's even a cemetery for Confederate soldiers nearby.

That evening, I met Nick and Angela Candela for dinner. Nick and I have known each other practically since birth, and he and Angela now teach high school in Stafford County. We had a great time catching up and walking around the city, looking at sights that included a church with civil war cannonballs still lodged in the facade, and a terraced cemetery that looks like a giant green staircase.

They're both GREAT people, and had funny stories to tell about the school they teach in, especially in realizing how much younger their students are.

Angela one day told her class to please "raise your hands in the air."

When she realized what she had said, she followed up with, "Now wave 'em like you just don't care."

They all started waving, many of them oblivious to the music reference.

Ticked off.

MSU's men's basketball team lost its final four game against North Carolina last night. Crowds gathered in the streets of East Lansing, chanting "Go Green, Go White" across the road to each other.

So, naturally, the police tear gassed them.

I wasn't there. I didn't witness it. But I've read The State News account and I trust that newspaper and its staff to deliver the truth. And the truth, in their story, is that the tear gassing was not provoked, except by the presence of a huge crowd.

I was unaware that standing outdoors was illegal in that fine city.

Here's why I'm angry: When we "riot" in East Lansing, the university's reputation and the city's reputation suffer. In past years, I've felt comfortable placing the blame squarely where it belongs -- on the shoulders of the students who lit stuff on fire and did other stupid stuff.

Now, I'm not so sure. Among those tear-gassed last night was a guy named Lee June. Who is Lee June, you non-Spartans ask? He's the university's vice president for student affairs. Even he told the S'News that he didn't see provocation on the part of the students. He declined (probably wisely) to comment on police actions.

I understand the cops in that area are jumpy. I would be too after MSU's history of riots. I also understand that you have to contain a crowd, but all accounts indicate that the tear gas is what incited the violence. People scattered for cover, police blocked their way, and the kids turned violent. Violence is always inexcusable, but I can't help but wonder if it would have happened had that first canister not been released.

(Slightly homesick.)

When I lived in Wyandotte, I used to sleep with my windows open, and on summer nights I would hear the maple leaves rustling outside the window, or the sound of solitary footsteps from the lady down the street who walks to Biddle and back all day long without explanation. Sometimes an ambulance would go down Third Street, only at night the traffic is light enough that they only use flashers, not sirens, so you wouldn't know it was coming until suddenly the whole neighborhood sparkled with red and white for a few brief seconds. Rarely, but enough to make it memorable, people would walk down the street talking to each other, not realizing how far voices carry at night. Some were arguing, others were talking out a problem as a friend or sibling or spouse or parent listened. Most were just making small talk.

Morning was the best part of sleeping with the windows open. The first thing I felt every summer morning was a cool breeze on my face and fresh air in my lungs. Doesn't get any better than that. The sounds were nice, too: a lawnmower at the end of the block, or the bells at St. John's down on Fourth Street, shepherding that Sunday's crowd in to worship. On my better mornings, I'd get up, shower, take a cup of coffee and the Free Press out onto the front porch and enjoy the day as I caught up on the overnight goings on. On my worse mornings, I'd get up, shower, watch TV. Either way, not a bad deal.

I heard somewhere -- and I can't remember where for the life of me -- but I heard somewhere that home is more of an idea than it is a place. There comes a point when "your house" becomes "your parents' house," and even though you grew up there, and even though you can still find your way around in the pitch blackness, and even though you know the hot plates are in the far drawer under the TV and the backporch won't lock unless you bump the door with your hip, it's not home anymore. You're a visitor. You're a guest. I don't know if I feel that way about home yet. I still walk in without knocking, and I still don't ask before I eat the food, or invite friends over to sit on the back porch. But it feels different now.

So, yeah, I miss home.

IMAX

Silly.

Media diet

A lot of people have been complaining about the media's incessant coverage of Congressional intervention into both steroids in baseball and the Terry Schiavo case in Florida.

They argue that Congress is sticking its nose where it doesn't belong and the media is contributing energy and attention to something that isn't really impactful to other Americans.

But isn't it incumbent on the media to point out that our national leaders are doing these things? Would you feel good if you felt Congress was wasting its time or overstepping its bounds, but no one knew about it? The fact there's media paying attention to it is the only reason these people can have an opinion about whether it's right or wrong at all.

When was the last time you attended a hearing of the House Committee on Government Oversight? Have you met the President of the United States? Ever been to Iraq? No? Well, me either. But you and I know that Mark McGwire testified to the House committee. We know that George W. Bush is the president, and we know what he thinks about a lot of things. We know that there's a war going on in Iraq and what it looks like. And we know that because there's a throng of cameras and notebooks everywhere.

Maybe some priorities are messed up. Maybe some of the portions in our media diet are a little off kilter. But never, never criticize something for being on the plate, especially not coverage of some of the nation's most powerful leaders (who, by the way, we all hired and we all pay).

Some people...

... need to read this.

What do you all think?

The Gridiron, the great one, and the graduate.

Time now for a disorganized mess of an update, due in part to the fact I haven't had time to write and a lot of good things have happened.

My job goes well. I am discovering new things every day, new ways to source stories, new people to talk to, and last but not least, the inner workings of Washington media and politics. Today I went to the dress rehearsal for the Gridiron Club dinner. The Gridiron Club is a group of D.C. journalists and it exists almost solely for the purpose of putting on this big song-and-dance dinner show every year, which is an absolute riot. They do a Democrats skit and a Republicans skit, and usually have large-scale politicians (frequently the President) on hand to watch. This year's show features some amazing work, including a solo from Helen Thomas.

Helen Thomas, by the way, is an amazing woman. For those of you who don't know (because I've gotten a couple comments of "Who?" from some friends) Helen Thomas has been the White House correspondent since JFK's presidency, was the first female member of the White House correspondent's association, and is essentially a journalistic legend. Beyond that, she's a Detroiter, has a great sense of humor and is absolutely the kindest woman I've ever seen (unless you're the target of her journalistic ire -- then she's tough).

Old friends and acquaintances are coming out of the woodwork. Thanks to The Facebook, I've been talking to a kid I went to KINDERGARTEN with. His name is Phil, although when we were little he went by "Phillip." We used to hang out together at Montessori all the time. He's going to be a teacher and, through the miracle of The Facebook, found me and struck up a dialogue. It's been fun to see how many people I can find (or in this case, how many find me).

Also, a blast from the journalistic past: Robin Sloan, who I interviewed for a story in The State News back in 2002, popped up in a LiveJournal community I monitor. He produced a flash movie about the future of media. In it, he poses the theory that mainstream media will be significantly reduced or gone by 2014 because of advances in Internet technology that customize news for consumers. I don't believe him, as a gatherer of news. The process is too long and complicated for computers to handle it. Computers cannot observe, they cannot ask questions (necessarily) and they cannot necessarily form links between events. Some people would add the word "yet" in there, but I remain hopeful that no computer will ever outsmart a human newsperson. He's a good person, and the movie he did is well-produced, but for my own sake, the sake of Democracy, and the sake of the American people, I hope he's wrong.