When the News Was Young

brock — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 23:29:00 -0500

Back when the online journalism was simply trying to put the print edition online.

Dig the way the "early adopter" here uses a ROTARY PHONE to connect to the paper's modem; then he presses the handset into the acoustic coupler. "Takes about two and a half hours to receive the whole paper" the anchor says. Ah, yeah, that would be at 300-bps speed! And IT ONLY COSTS $5 A MINUTE!

American Chronicle: La Plata, MO

brock — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 04:06:00 -0500

The images comprising this short audio/photo slideshow are of my father and his two brothers as they traveled back to their boyhood home, La Plata, Missouri. The year was 2005.

Sign of the Apocalypse

brock — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 11:11:00 -0500

As if the constant drumbeat of financial wrack and ruin isn't enough, now comes word that an American cullinary institution is on the ropes. If the financial meltdown hasn't hit home for you yet, this should give you pause:

TAMPA - The days may be numbered for "scattered, covered and smothered" hash browns at Waffle House. The iconic roadside grill's biggest franchisee has filed for bankruptcy protection.

The action escaped attention locally, but a company called Northlake Foods Inc. of Brandon, which operates 146 Waffle Houses in Florida, Georgia and Virginia, filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection in mid-September. Chapter 11 allows a company to reorganize its finances while protected from its creditors.

According to its bankruptcy filing, 90 of Northlake Foods' Waffle House locations are in Florida, but it wasn't immediately clear how many local restaurants it controls, if any.

The company filed for bankruptcy because Waffle House Inc. of Norcross, Ga., was threatening to terminate the franchise agreement that gives it the right to operate the restaurants, the bankruptcy filing says.

I have very fond memories of Waffle House. My MSNBC colleagues and I virtually lived at Waffle House during our weekly rotations into and out of Bay St. Louis and Waveland, Mississippi, two back-to-back towns that were 90 percent wiped out by Hurricane Katrina.

Liberty, Technology and the Next U.S. President

brock — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 09:51:00 -0400

One of the biggest mistakes a new administration might make in its first 100 days would be to ignore the impact technology has had on the privacy of our communications and the striking need to update the law accordingly. If the President fails to act early in his first term he will miss a window of opportunity that won't soon reopen, and it will be to the detriment of the Internet economy and to privacy rights. Much of our personal information is shared--and stored--online; yet the laws protecting that information are outdated and haven't kept up with technological advances. Our information, often in the hands of third parties, looses much of the Fourth Amendment protection it enjoys when stored digitally at home or on paper.

In other words, current law discriminates against web-based applications in terms of the privacy they afford. This discrimination could put Internet technologies at a competitive disadvantage as consumers grow concerned about how private their information really is. The next administration should take immediate steps to address this issue, but it shouldn't stop there. For a closer look at the issues of security and technology the next president will confront, take a look at what the Center for Democracy & Technology has done in an effort to draft a kind of action outline for this issue and several others.

A Doubter Doubts No More

brock — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 00:55:00 -0400

I've told friends and family repeatedly over the course of this election season that I didn't believe America was ready for a black man to be President. I based the majority of that opinion on the conversations and attitudes I experienced first hand during my 18,000 mile trip across this country in 2006. However, after seeing Barak Obama's acceptance speech tonight I am a doubter no more.

Republican or democrat or independent, if you weren't moved at times by Obama's speech tonight you have no heart. You may not agree with the politics; you may not agree with the programs and policies he articulated in this speech, but you had to agree with his call for personal responsibility and change from the old way of doing things. "Change doesn't come from Washington, change comes to Washington," Obama said.

And so it does; so it will. I'm sure McCain's speech will be stirring; I'm also sure it will be straining to hit the same crescendo of Obama's speech tonight.

And now for a small bit of fact checking. I'm getting sick of hearing the McCain camp parroting this bullshit about Obama voting to rasise taxes on people making $42,000... (and earlier in the campaign, McCain claimed that figure was 32,000... but they reached that figure by estimating tax deductions and figuring that the 32,000 was the AFTER TAX figure of someone making 42,000. But McCain's campaign pulled those ads after they were busted by several non-partisan watchdog groups who pointed this fact out them).

So, here's the truth--refute this if you can, but don't blow a gasket trying, because there is no "there, there."

First, Obama's vote was for a non-binding resolution of a Democrat budget plan; that's a ceremonial vote that basically says, "Well, this sounds like a good idea." And the plan was never enacted into law.

The truth:

It's true that a single taxpayer making $42,000 this year would have seen an income tax increase. "So what's your beef, Brock? You just confirmed the McCain claim!" Well, if we're in a court of law and you can only answer "yes" or "no" the the question: would Obama's vote have "raised taxes" the answer would have to be "yes." No way around that. But, but, but, but... that's not half the story and it's ignoring and distorting the full story that pisses me off.

A SINGLE person (and McCain's ad tries to portray the tax increase on FAMILIES making $42,000) would have seen a tax increase in the mind-numbing amount of $15. Yes, 15 measly dollars. And remember, it wasn't an official piece of legislation and it never passed. And it assumes that the taxpayer did not qualify for more than the standard deduction.

A single mom with two children could make as much as $62, 150 in total income in 2008 without being affected by this measure that Obama once favored. It gets better. A family of four, husband, wife and two kids, could make up to $90,000 without seeing any tax increase.

Obama's current proposed tax plan (and it would remain to be seen if it could pass, should he be elected), promises cuts for middle-income taxpayers and would increase rates only for persons with family incomes above $250,000 or with individual incomes above $200,000.

And speaking as someone who nearly hit that salary benchmark (one year at least), if you're in that salary range and can't afford to kick in some extra taxes to support this country you're one greedy son-of-a-bitch. When I was making that much money I had MORE than enough to live a hugely comfortable life-style; I joyfully gave money away to people and causes in need and it gave me great pleasure to be able to do that. I had the purchasing power to buy anything I wanted (ok, c'mon, within reason) AFTER putting 10 percent of my income each month into a retirement plan.

The nation is ready for change; I hope we have the courage to embrace that readiness.

Sins of the Father: How Not to Protect Children

brock — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 21:35:00 -0400

BEFORE GOD, country and network TV, the council trotted out a 14-year-old to confess his “sin” of having glimpsed naked ladies on the Internet while at school. But not before the kid’s parents — with two smaller siblings standing by — verbally skewered a school system that allows kids unfiltered Internet access.

Though this family willingly gave their full names, including that of their son, as they stood before a room full of reporters and cameras, I’m going to leave them anonymous.

"My wife and I have prayed that if our children did something they were not supposed to do, they would get caught,” said the father. “Well, the Lord answers prayers and our son was caught,” the father intoned.

The offense: viewing porn on the Net. The self-righteous parents said this was their son’s “first exposure” to pornography and that they were “shocked and appalled” that it occurred at school via the Internet.

While the cameras focused on the parents, the kid stood motionless, each revelation driving another emotional spike into his psyche. As he stared at the ground, I tried to imagine what was going through this kid’s head. I didn’t have to imagine for long.

The father called his son to the podium to make his own statement! And there, like a criminal being made to stand before a judge handing out a sentence, the kid mumbled how wrong he had been and that “I agree with all my Dad said.”

I half expected the kid to just go for it and spill his guts: “All right, I admit it! I also accessed the Democratic National Committee site. My mind filled with liberalism and I gave all my lunch money to a homeless man.” No such luck. The kid just slunk away and took his place in the family lineup.

After this fiasco, I spoke to Vic Sussman, a friend of mine and top-notch cyberspace reporter in his own right. He was just as stunned. We tried to decide how many years it would be before this kid ended up climbing a clock tower with a hunting rifle and picking off unsuspecting citizens while the local TV interviewed horrified neighbors and friends all saying, “But he was always such a quiet and polite boy.”

Oh, I hear some of you yelling at me. “Wait, you trotted out your own son in this very column talking about how he accessed porn on America Online!”

Very true, but very different. You don’t know my son’s name, I didn’t hang him out to dry for the 6 o’clock news and I certainly didn’t berate him or imply that his natural God-given inclination was somehow wrong. I talked to him, honestly and openly.

SECOND OPINION
At first I thought perhaps I was being too harsh on this family for publicizing the boy’s actions, so I sought expert advice. “If this father believes this is a way to correct his son’s behavior, he has a very distorted view of caring and loving parenting,” says Nancy Faulkner, who has a Ph.D in counseling psychology and knows a few things about parenting and caring. Faulkner is an advocate for victims of sexual abuse and her efforts to keep sexual predators off the Net are tireless. She has 15 years of clinical experience, having worked as the director of a mental health outreach facility and program administrator for an adolescent psychiatric in-patient program.

So, what’s the damage here? “This public humiliation is very likely to either induce tremendous rage,” Faulkner said, “and/or dramatically impact his self-esteem and self-concept in a negative direction. Something he will undoubtedly remember for life.”

To get a second opinion I asked another expert: my 14-year-old son. “I’d kill you if you tried that on me,” he said, “or you’d have to kill me to get me in front of that camera.” And then he added, “They probably paid him a ton of money.” Ah, my little skeptic, wonder where he gets that?

So here’s the bottom line. Often under the banner of “protect the children” the kids are the very ones who get ignored or pushed aside, all in the name of grabbing headlines or furthering an agenda.

Perhaps the father in this story should spend more time talking to his son rather than praying he’ll be caught doing something wrong. Or one day he may find his son has a sudden affinity for hunting rifles and high places.

First published by MSNBC News, December 1997

Shoot Your Browser

brock — Thu, 03 May 2007 11:52:00 -0400

Imagine Bill Gates launching into a full-on voodoo rhythm rant about how much time is wasted fiddling with his company's software, doing needless but mentally-masturbating tasks... ok, maybe that's too close to reality. Try this: Imagine one of the developers of a popular news aggregation site putting his own creation in the cross-hairs of his cursor and blasting away.

That's exactly what Aaron Swartz does in a Raw Thought "rage against the machine" missive that takes us all to task for wasting time for all the right reasons.

While we were developing Reddit, we always used to run into people who'd recognize us and come up to say hi. "Oh, wow," they'd say to us. "I can't tell you how much your site has killed my productivity. I check it a hundred times every day." At first, we just laughed these comments off. But after a while, I begun to find them increasingly disturbing. We'd set out to make something people want -- but what if they didn't want to want it?

For too long, simple popularity has been the only metric of a startup's success. Another startup, known as Twitter, has recently broken into the mainstream. And I constantly hear people saying things like "Yeah, well, I know it seems like a pointless waste of time. But it's so popular!" As if anything so popular had to be worthwhile.

Swartz makes the claim that while we are really capable, and maybe even desirous of reading War & Peace, what we end up doing is reading blogs and hitting the browser bookmark for Twitter because it's just so damn easy.

The same goes for reading stories on Reddit or your friends' pointless twits about their life. Looking at photos of sunsets or reading one-liners takes no cognitive effort. It's the mental equivalent of snack food. You start eating one and before you know it you've gone through two cans of Pringles and become a world expert on Evan Williams' travel habits.

Swartz, well into a full-on lather now, goes right for the virtual jugular: We need to stop pretending that this is automatically a good thing. Perhaps Procter & Gamble doesn't care if they're making us into a nation of fat slobs, but there's no reason why programmers and the rest of the startup world need to be so amoral. And no doubt, as pictures of cats with poor spelling on them become all the rage, people are beginning to wonder about where all this idiocy is leaving us. Which is where apologists like Doctorow and Steven Johnson step in, assuring us that Everything Bad is Good For You.

It isn't. YouTube isn't going to save us from an Idiocracy-style future in which everyone sits at home and watches shows like "Ow! My Balls!" (in which a man is repeatedly hit in the balls) -- YouTube's damn-near creating that future. As I write this, YouTube's #1 featured video is titled "Farting in Public".

Is all this beginning to make you squirm just a bit? Good. Back in the "good old days" of the Internet, circa the mid-1990's, I hung with a crowd that began to question all the time "everyone" was spending online (forgetting the fact that we were all on dial-up lines at a scorching 9,600-bps... and if that is greek to you, well, wiki it) and wondering if it were an "addiction."

We got over that... the Blackberry was invented and our "crackberry" addiction just became a running joke because when everyone paints their nose green only those with purple hair are outcasts... or something like that.

Point is, Swartz is sounding a goddamn clarion call here and it deserves some attention... just as soon you IM your BFF and send her a link to this article. TTYL.

Violent Crime on Campus Rare Occurance

brock — Wed, 18 Apr 2007 10:04:00 -0400

With the nation, natch, the world, still listing from the worst mass murder in U.S. history, emotions have risen to the surface and lay exposed, like a raw nerve. People are sad, depressed, confused and underlying all of it, they are pissed off. And they have no place to channel that anger, some will drink it away, others will lash out at loved ones and friends, most will just swallow it where it will lay buried, like some roadside improved explosive device, waiting to explode at the most inopportune time.

This is a dangerous time, there is little oxygen in such an emotional climate and yet crucial, life changing decisions and laws have life breathed into them. We saw the same type of over reaction in the aftermath of 9/11.

Step back and just breathe.

Meanwhile, consider the following report from Newsday reporter Tom McGinty who side-stepped the pack journalism that typically surrounds such events and did some worthy reporting that really puts Monday's tragedy in perspective.

Violent crime is relatively rare on college campuses compared to society as a whole, according to federal campus crime statistics.

The 32 homicides yesterday at Virginia Tech's Blacksburg campus easily surpassed the average annual total of 16 murders and manslaughters reported on all American campuses over the past six years, according to U.S. Department of Education statistics. The deadliest year over that span was 2002 when 23 people were killed on campuses nationwide.

The administrators of 8,771 college campuses across America reported a total of 7,600 violent on-campus crimes in 2005, from murder and manslaughter to forcible sex, robbery and aggravated assault. Those nationwide statistics have remained fairly constant over the six years they've been centrally collected.

The campus rate in 2005 works out to about 42 violent crimes per 100,000 students enrolled at all those institutions, a much lower rate than the general population of those 12 and older that year, which the U.S. Department of Justice estimated to be about 2,000 violent crimes per 100,000 residents.

Source: newsday.com

The Dogs of War

brock — Wed, 18 Apr 2007 01:50:00 -0400

Think you've heard it all when it comes to the writing and story-telling about war? Think again....

There Be Dragons

brock — Tue, 17 Apr 2007 13:16:00 -0400

Death at a distance is doable. At least that's what I always told myself as a foreign correspondent, even as bullets tore through bodies left and right of me as I traveled with the Afghan rebels in early 1989. You keep your head clued in--and down--watch your back and, when rockets start to rain down from the sky, well, you just hold your breath and pray. But death isn't doable, it's merely tolerated or kept at bay, it is never denied.

Death came calling today, literally, at 7:08 a.m., when the phone rang and I learned that the sister of my youngest son's close friend had died Monday in the Virginia Tech massacre. The news was raw and brutal. And I always thought there had to be six degrees of separation for these types of things. Hell, there's less than six blocks of separation. My son can walk to his friend's house in less time it takes me to shave. This kid was on my son's Little League team; he's been in my house too many times to count; he's tracked mud on my floor, and apologized, and now the dragon has come.

Fifteen minutes later, with the sleep barely wiped from his eyes, I have to sit down and tell my son the news. He is unblinking, then his eyes start to rim with tears and I'm trying to be brave but feel a dam about to burst down my cheeks as well. "Stephen's going to really need a friend now," I say; my mind is screaming, admonishing me: "Is that the best you can fucking do?!"

I'm wondering that myself because I am no stranger to death; in Afghanistan a man died on my back as I tried to carry him to safety. Three times death has circled my door, as three times a son of mine has tried to ride the dragon straight into hell. Three times he has failed, but each time his journey took him further and the effort to pull him back proved more tenuous. No parent should have to bury their child. And maybe that's what has me numb this morning.

No Parent Should Have to Bury a Child
I fear few things, but the thought of having to bury one of my children settles in my bones; it horrifies and torments me (in October one of my four sons, a Navy corpsman, is heading to Iraq with the Marines).

And I am immediately sad for Peter, Stephen's dad. We haven't spoken yet but just imaging the emotional ordeal he endured on Monday breaks my heart, as I piece together some details from other friends and neighbors. After a thousand and one attempts to reach his daughter, Mary, a freshman at Va Tech, Peter decides a little after 6 p.m. to make the four-hour drive to Blacksburg, VA, where the university is located. Pedal to the metal, it's a race against time that he fears he may have already lost... about the time he arrives on campus an official from the university is pulling into his driveway back at home, knocking on his door, and telling his wife that their daughter is dead.

By luck, or chance or some inspired move in the great cosmic chess game, Stephen's grandparents are visiting this week. Stephen's mother left this morning for Blacksburg; meanwhile, Stephen and his other siblings are staying home from school, they still haven't been told the news. But Stephen is a bright 11-year old kid--he and my son both attend a "gifted" program at school--he's got to be thinking the worst.

When I was a little kid, just about my son's age, a friend of mine who lived three houses down, Jim, lost his brother; he drowned on his honeymoon. I never did hear the full story, hell I was only 10 or 11 and I just didn't care about details. But I do remember trying to ask Jim about it and remember him exploding; he started yelling at me, spittle flying everywhere and collecting in the corners of his mouth, all the while denying his brother was dead. And then he just collapsed on his bed, shuddering as he wept. I'd never seen anything like it, and I felt embarrassed, even ashamed. We never, ever, spoke about that day. For the rest of the time I knew Jim, through our high school graduation, he was never quite right. He withdrew and then just slipped into the anonymous margin of our hometown.

So now I wonder how this will all effect my son and his friend. I wonder if I'll have anything worthy of passing on to my son that might help him, help his friend and allow them to muddle through the experience and find that death, at some level, is doable.

Photo credit: AP Photo/The Roanoke Times, Stephanie Klein-Davis

Money in the Kitty

brock — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 18:15:00 -0500

Royalty-free stock photography is becoming a huge market these days. And king amoung such royalty-free stock houses are the so-called "micro-stock" photography houses, such as iStockphoto and Fotolia, among a host of others.

At these stock photography sites you can find fair to pretty damn good to real damn good photography for a buck; yes, that's right, for less than a cup o'Joe down at McD's you can snag yourself a few photos to dress up your web site, your next presentation or create a custom card for your significant other (trust me, this last one scores huge bonus points and will get you laid. Ah, double bonus!)

These microstock houses are creating quite a stir among professional photographers who believe people that contribute to microstock are too eager to sell their photos for "next to nothing" and that it hurts the industry when people sell so cheap.

I suppose there's a good point there; however, I know of many people, who are not "pros" but very talented amateurs, that are making enough coin each month to pay for a new car or two, or pay for that new deck or hot tub. I mean, would you kick a grand or a grand and half a month to curb? Neither would I. Meanwhile, there are some (very few, granted) microstock shooters that are making $10,000 or more per month. And like any venture, the best rise to the top; the mediocre, well, they stay mediocre.

I'm just starting to dip my toe into the microstock explosion. And, truth is, you can help me out if, when you're looking for a cool photo and don't know here to turn, click on that Fotolia banner in the right there. It'll take you to their web site and if you happen to buy an image or two or three, well then, I'll get a cut. I don't get anything for you just clicking that banner and yes, it's totally cool if I pimp my own Fotolia banner. I have a few photos on that site myself as well as on iStock, but like I said, I'm just getting and I have been making sales, despite my abysmal lack of photos I've uploaded for sale.

And this brings to mind another kind of "micro" phenom that's hitting the art world: the nascent Daily Painters movement. This is a group of dedicated painters that crank out small (for the most part), original paintings and sell them pretty darn cheap, either on their web sites or via eBay. I have no idea how many "daily painters" there are; I know the quality of their artwork varies greatly--some of these paintings I wouldn't hang in my bathroom--however, some of the painters are extremely talented and you can pick up an excellent work of art at bargain basement prices.

My best friend, Dave Darrow, is one of these "daily painters" and he's also helped start the "Daily Painters Guild." You can find a link to their web site in the left hand column of this blog. If you click that link you'll see a bunch of paintings from the Guild members and you might even be tempted to score yourself a nice piece of artwork... and no, I get nothing out of sending you their way, except the satisfaction that perhaps I'll have pointed you in the direction of Darn Good Art. And that never hurt anyone... even if you decide to hang it in your bathroom.

Snowboard Empire King

brock — Wed, 28 Feb 2007 00:27:00 -0500

Meet Jake Burton, one of the most influential sports figures you've never heard about.

Born in 1954, he went on to ski competitively at the U. of Colorado until injuries cut short his career. With big dreams and a small inheritance, he headed to Vermont to fulfill a dream: manufacturing his own snowboards. The dream lived but Jake blew through his cash and in just 12 months, he was $100,000 in debt. But Jake never gave up and now he's a global figure in snowboarding, sitting atop an a business empire and his snowboards are famous worldwide.

Below is a very nicely done video about Burton that is really an advertisement for the Wall St. Journal. But don't let that put you off. If you're into video making at all, this piece has some great techniques; if you just like a good ol' fashioned "follow your dreams" story, this will do it for you to. And if your just a digital photography ho, yeah, this vid has something for you to just watch and goof on: the extensive coverage of a Burton photo shoot where they are actually using (gulp) flim. They even show the art director checking out the Polaroid test shots.

Happy Flipping Birthday

brock — Sun, 04 Feb 2007 02:30:00 -0500

Today is my 51st birthday. I can't say this with any amount of celebration in my voice, or in my writing. Writing out "51" is hard enough; I nearly choke when saying it out loud.

This past year has been a tough one, and in ways I didn't foresee. I walked away from a ~~good~~ great paying job and have little or nothing to show for nearly a year's "time off." There is a "good excuse," I'm just not ready to let the world in on it... yet.

I had a nagging feeling last year when I hit the half-century mark that "everything would change," and it has. Oh, it hasn't all been dire; it hasn't all been black clouds and pending doom. For example:

My second grandchild was born just a week ago, again to my eldest son. Jake Shamgar is his name (no, I'm not kidding).

I completed a cross-country trip that saw me drive 18,000-plus miles from sea to shining sea and then some. That picture above is mine, taken somewhere in the high plains of Colorado. I have a ton of wonderful stories to tell, in both photography and audio I collected on my way. Just don't ask to see it because, frankly, it feels like I'll never get it out into the world for others to see (this relates directly to the "good excuse" mentioned earlier).

My second son has launched a vigorous and respectable freelance writing career; meanwhile he has completed a pretty good, though very raw, novel. In fact he has rewritten said novel; he's begun to launch into the real world of agents (and rejections). This is something his old man has dreamed of and never, ever, even gotten close to. I'm incredibly proud of him, even if it never gets published.

My eldest, besides becoming a father for the second time has also published a book, of his photography, again, beating his old man to a dream.

My youngest son from my first marriage looks more like he grew up in the corn-fed fields of Nebraska than the rain soaked suburbs of Seattle; he's broad-shouldered, a bit arrogant and worth every bit of respect he's due as Navy Corpsman. He's now training for the killing fields of Iraq, where he will soon be deployed with a company of Marines, who will call him "Doc," whose lives he will literally hold in his hands. I am bursting proud of him and I am scared shitless for him at the same time. I can't imagine what my days and nights will be like when he's finally deployed. Perhaps the thing of which I'm most scared is that once he goes to The Suck, as the Marines call who've been there call it, he will never be the same. The person he is today will not be the person that returns...

And so 51 is here; I will, at some point, sooner rather than later, be employed again, though in what capacity I can't say. I'll have to keep the wolf from the door very soon now; there is little financial cushion left. I've chewed it up and spit it out... what a mess.

Thankfully, each day is a reprieve; it's something I no longer take for granted.

Down to the Sea in Ships

brock — Thu, 29 Jun 2006 02:15:00 -0400

If there were any romanticism in sailing for my middle son then mother nature has most assurdadly kicked the crap out of any such notions.

This week my son set off as a member of Greyhawk, a 1980's vintage 34-foot Person sailing boat. The new owner of the boat, a New Hampshire university professor, bought her for $12,000 and is sailing her from Maryland to Maine. My son is part of a six member crew helping with the passage.

You can see Greyhawk in the picture to the left; it's the small one on the left hand side of the pier.

But the weather has conspired against the good ship Greyhawk and her crew from the very start. A storm front set against the Northeast and hunkered down all week like a huskie on a cold night; the storm just refused to leave the coast.

Greyhawk, which already was looking small for six men for a week at sea, must have seemed like little more than a postage stamp at times during her passage.

They are due in July 1st and I anxiously await the details. In the meantime, here's a little slideshow of the Greyhawk and her preparations.

News Trifecta

brock — Sun, 18 Jun 2006 22:44:00 -0400

No news is better than bad news and good news is, well, better than no news. See how creative I'm getting while on sabbatical? What? You didn't know I was actually on sabbatical? Um... well, that's what I'm telling people these days.

Having mentioned to several that I'm "unemployed," you would have thought I said something more along the lines of: "Oh, by the way, you might want to wash your hand after shaking with me, you see, I have leprosy," by the look of horror on their faces. As if they could "catch" unemployment just being in my orbit.

And so there is a trifecta of good news running through the Meeks clan these days.

First up, my oldest son's photography is getting recognized beyond a small circle of friends and family. He has an absolutely dynamite looking exhibit set up in a Nicaraguan cafe in San Juan del Sur. The El Gato Negro is run by a couple of expatriates down there trying to make a go of it. The other, bigger news, for my son is that his photos have been noticed by the biggest magazine in Central America and because of that, they are doing a full on profile of him and running several of his pictures full size in their magazine. Well done, son.

And, oh yeah! Sometime early next year, he (and his lovely wife) will make me a grandpa twice over!

Stepping Up Her Game
The newest member of the Meeks clan, my daughter-in-law Ashley, is moving up to the world of daily newspaper journalism, this after having paid her dues working on a small weekly newspaper up in Maine. And she's done it at lightening speed, having gone from interview to job to out of the job in about 14 months.

Jumping into the world of daily newspapering is more psychological than anything else, at least at this level. If she were jumping to the New York Times, or even the Toledo Blade, it would be a hell of a leap; instead she's making a smaller but significant transition to the Roswell Daily Record, a paper whose most significant story to date was probably the 1947 page one article seen here.

I'm as proud of her as if she were my own kid; well done, Ashley, you're destined for much bigger papers, if you so choose.

Another Notch in the Belt
Completing this trifecta? Well, that would be me. I've won a National Press Club award for having produced the Best Online Journalism for 2005. Ok, it wasn't just me, the award was given to a small group of reporters (four of us) and photographers (three) that produced the "Rising from the Ruin" series for my previous employer, MSNBC.com.

Here's what the judges said in presenting us the award:

"MSNBC's excellent blend of outstanding journalism and comprehensive use of technology continues to lead this category. Their superior blend of text, graphics, interactivity, streaming audio and video in personally configurable formats, combined with solid journalism covering an important problem - the recovery after Hurricane Katrina - and the various perspectives of journalists, readers, and those who experienced (and continue to struggle through) the post-hurricane Katrina recovery, created the winning entry. Overall, an excellent work from a powerful site that leverages web technology effectively to explore what is arguably the nation's biggest problem of 2005."

This is actually my second award from the National Press Club. I won my first NPC award ages ago working for Communications Daily and I won for a series of investigative stories I did back then.

And here's the kicker: my old boss didn't even have the decency to send me an e-mail and let me know about the award; I heard it second hand from another reporter sending me a "congratulations" message. And that's about all I have to say about that...

Time to Get Drunk and Be Somebody

brock — Sun, 14 May 2006 13:13:00 -0400

In the coming months this how you're much more likely to find me, rather than hanging out in the Washington bureau of NBC News. No, I haven't been reassigned. I have resigned.

I am scared, I am nervous and a huge part of me feels like a fool for casting my net into uncharted waters.

And for all the fear and trepidation, I have to say, I feel at peace with my decision. I can no longer hide behind the excuse that "I'm just a coward," for not moving ahead with my dreams and ambitions. Change is coming; hell change is here.

It's an American Toad

brock — Mon, 03 Apr 2006 02:17:00 -0400

A few nights ago we were invaded by horny toads, not to be mistaken with "horned toads." No, this isn't a joke.

And not just any toads, oh no, these are toads with cool scientific names: Bufo Americanus. That's "American toad" to you and me and grade-school science books.

Over night it seems our serene fish pond turned into a toad orgy; again, I'm not kidding.And the sounds these toads make! Good grief! Click here to listen to the toads that I recorded just this afternoon.

And this goes on and on and on, throughout the night. So, not wanting to be driven crazy by what I assumed as a single toad in my pond, I went out, flashlight in hand and promptly nabbed the offender in nothing flat. And just as I was congratulating myself, the sound was back and this time I noticed there was a kind of "call and answer" rhythm to the sounds.

Sure enough, over the course of just a half hour I pulled 15 toads out of that pond... I obviously missed a dozen or so more!

Here's what assorted official "we really study toads for a living" web sites have to say about the American Toad:

The male's advertisement call is a long, dreamlike, musical trill lasting from several seconds to 30 seconds or more (average duration around 10-15 seconds). Each male in a chorus sings at a slightly different pitch, with males alternating and overlapping their calls in a pleasing manner.

American toads are mainly nocturnal, and are most active when the weather is warm and humid. They are solitary, congregating only at breeding ponds in the early summer and late spring. During the day American toads hide under rocks or logs or dig into dead leaves and soil. In regions with a cold winter, American toads dig deeper to hibernate. When digging they back in, pushing out dirt with their back legs.

Buying Double

brock — Sun, 26 Mar 2006 02:05:00 -0500

No, you're not seeing double, this is actually another Ford Escape Hybrid sitting in my drive way. There is one big difference between this picture and the previous one: this Escape is all mine.

Yes, that's right, I liked the car so much I bought two of them! Ford began offering a 60 month, 0 percent financing deal just two days after I bought the first one and I decided to see if I could get that deal for my first Escape. As it turns out, Ford was able to rework the loan papers and give me both cars at the Zero percent financing for 60 months deal.

This is not what I had in mind when I first walked into the dealership a week ago. I was going to pay cash for the cars, one for my wife and one for myself. I was through with making car payments and liked it that way. But here's how the thinking went: I'm getting these cars with no interest paid; that means I can stash the money I would have used to pay for these cars in another kind of financial vehicle and make it work for me earning interest. Meanwhile, I'll have enough money in the bank to buy them outright should I find myself in a situation where I won't be able to pay for them monthly.

VidCasting

brock — Fri, 17 Mar 2006 18:22:00 -0500

Yes, I know, "they're back," the Castpost postings. Seems the Castpost servers were "overwhelmed" and just shut down for a few days. Again, it's a free service and one that is in beta testing at that. Guess you gotta live with those bumps at this stage.

The Envelope Please..

brock — Thu, 16 Mar 2006 16:04:00 -0500

In the end, the car buying process wasn't all that painful. And considering I hadn't bought a new car in 16 years, I thought episode was surprisingly straight forward.

You see, I didn't even haggle. I walked in, asked to test drive a specific car; even asked for it by its VIN I knew the asking price before leaving my house.

I was armed with some good advance knowledge, gleaned from the Edmunds web site, which I researched on the advice of a trusted car dealership insider, who just happens to be my kid sister. She sells cars on the west coast and she gave me the whole "buying a car" drill, a kind of script to expect at the dealership. She told me what kind of deal I could realistically expect to make and how to get it. The only piece of advice from her I didn't take was to buy a car in the last week of the month, when dealerships are desperate to make their quotas.

Edmunds provides a great way to find the True Market Value (TMV) of a new car, that is what others around the country are paying for the same car, equipped the same as you're considering, etc.

In my case, the dealer was having a "dealer's invoice" sale. And sure enough, the invoice at the dealer was the same as I'd gotten online from Edmunds and was, in fact, a few hundred dollars below TMV. No other dealer around would touch that offer so I jumped at it.

And so when I'd actually bought the car (that's it in the above picture) I pulled the finance manager aside, as I might do a government source hanging out at the margin of some press conference, and asked him: "OK, now that you have my money, now that the game is over, tell me honestly, without blowing smoke up my ass, how much money did you guys actually make on this deal?"

He smiled, pulled me back to his office and showed me the "deal screen" on his computer; all the incentives, dealer holdbacks, etc., are factored in and the profit for the dealer shown on a separate line. He swung the monitor my way and jammed a slightly greasy finger toward a bottom line figure: $487.00

Fair enough.

The Ford Escape Hybrid gets about 31 miles per gallon around town, 36 on the highway. Will the car hold up? "What good ever came out of Ford?" my best friend has already chided me when I mentioned I was considering the Escape. I suppose that remains to be seen. I have a seven year, 75,000 mile bumper-to-bumper warranty. If anything on the car breaks, it's covered under the warranty, so I'm not too worried. Best of all, the Hybrid is replacing our Dodge Caravan Sport, a beast of a vehicle that has been nothing by a money pig since we bought it (used).

That leaves finding a replacement for my trusty '94 Mazda pickup with 187,500 miles on it. I've had this truck since the oddometer said 1,704... I'm in no hurry.

Update: Well, I wasn't in any hurry but apparently my wife was. She called me on Friday to say, "Honey, I sold your truck!" Ok, I lied... she never said "Honey." Sold it for $1,000. Even with the transmission slipping I think the guy that bought it got a great deal.

Several people are coming to look at the van tomorrow. Now I'm thinking maybe we'll become a two Ford Hybrid family...

I am the Only Man In America

brock — Sun, 12 Mar 2006 17:10:00 -0500

Whose's wife is pestering him to buy a new car.

For months now my wife has been poking, prodding, chiding and cajoling him to buy a new car, only have to me, time and time and time again, rebuff her, ah, suggestions.

And it's not really a "can we afford this" type of thing; we have enough money to buy the car cash; in fact, we're talking about replacing both our cars and buying new ones, both for cash because if I can avoid it I want to stay as debt free as possible.

After we sold the old house we swiftly did away with all of our debt except for the mortgage; it's a tremendously gratifying feeling to be essentially debt free and have a enough cash stashed away for any emergency.

So why am I still driving a 16 year old Mazda pickup with 185,000 miles and a transmission that is slipping through the first two gears? Answer: Because it still runs and 'gets me there.'

This is so odd because a half century ago, when I was a young lad of 25, I would have been ALL OVER buying a new car, and loving every minute of my new ride. Now going to a car dealership is like going to the dentist for me. Except, the pain from the dentist provides a quick payoff; the pain of dealing with a car salesman seems to last a lifetime.

I came 'this close' to buying a new car this afternoon; took a two hour test drive, blah, blah, woof, woof... and then I walked away from the deal.

And on the way home, the ride in my ol' truck felt particularly good, like an old worn-in pair of Levi's 501s. Priceless.

Just Follow Along...

brock — Sun, 05 Mar 2006 12:10:00 -0500

I visted my son, Jeremy, last year in Nicaragua, where he and his wife are serving as missionaries. They started a church down in San Juan del Sur and after a couple of years, the guy that was pastor of the church, whose family Jeremy and his wife had followed to SJDS, bailed on the whole idea because his own marriage was breaking up. Jeremy was given the evangelical equivalent of a battlefield promotion, appointed pastor with a "be warm and filled and keep your Johnson in your pants," and now finds himself leading the church... at the ripe age of 26.This is a small clip I took of him leading the youth Bible study last year. At the time he had no idea that within six months he'd be all on his own...

Update... well, it doesn't seem like that castpost service is very reliable or very fast so I'm dumping it... in the meantime, if you want to download this clip, click here.

Rowan Brothers at the Birchmere

brock — Sun, 05 Mar 2006 11:53:00 -0500

This was a job I did late last year.

And here to, is the download link for this video clip.

Half Past Life

brock — Mon, 06 Feb 2006 02:14:00 -0500

It does not seem possible to me, turning 50. And yet, here I am, already more than 24 hours past my 50th birthday.

I saw an ad today highlighting a bunch of famous "baby boomers," the first of that demographic (born in 1946) to turn 60 and the catch line of the teaser ad copy said: Is 60 the new 40?

Hardly, but it was a good try, probably written by an aging copy writer, staring wistfully at his poster of the Doors playing the old Fillmore in San Francisco he keeps hanging in his office, if for no other reason that to remind him that he was once "with it, man."

My 50th came and went with little fanfare. I received exactly two presents: a gift certificate from my best friend and a bottle of JD "Single Barrel" bourbon that is out of this world. And that was enough of a "celebration" to be honest.

I don't like the idea of turning 50; my life is more than half over now. If pressed, I will have to admit that my life has been more blessed than most. I have had a degree of fame, enough of a taste anyway to realize that being really famous is nothing more than a huge pain in the ass and is the price one pays for the riches that come with it.

There are more than a score of lost opportunities scattered among the five decades that rattle around in the rear view mirror of my-life-to-date; some of them make me weep; some of them make me angry; some of them make me wistful; some of them are secret and known only to me.

I have no idea if it is healthy to take stock of one's life, to chart out the X's and O's on the sidelines of one's existence, but it seems to be compelling to me to do so. I'll spare you (whoever the hell "you" are these days, seeing as this has become a stealth blog) the long detailed list and just give you the cheat sheet version, looking back at where I was a year ago, before my life was "half over."

A year ago I was in the throes of Dengue Fever, wishing I were dead and promising myself that I would never, ever go anywhere more exotic than Disney World. (I got over this pretty quickly and I am, in fact, planning another trip to Nicaragua in a few months.)

I weigh five pounds LESS today than I did a year ago. This may not seem like a huge achievement but it's a damn sight better than weighing MORE than I did a year ago.

A year ago I didn't have a brilliant and feisty second daughter-in-law to go with my bright and insightful first daughter-in-law. But my second son took care of that about mid-year. She is a welcome addition to the family; she is a member of my professional tribe (journalist) and she is absolutely the best thing to have come along in my son's life, ever.

A year ago I wore glasses; today I don't thanks to laser surgery on my eyes.

A year ago I had $75,000 in cash in the bank; today I have $113,000 and I don't know if that is a good thing...

A year ago I was so pissed off about my job that I was threatening to just walk away from it all; today I'm on the cusp of having a dream job, one that I dreamt up on my own, pitched to my bosses and had accepted... and now I'm scared to death that I'm getting what I wanted. I'm scared that my tired old 50-year-body and spirit won't be up to rigors required of my new gig...

A year ago I had no idea what I wanted to do in ten years, now I know: when I turn 60 I am going to sail--SOLO--around the world non-stop, and none of this passage via the canals; I'm going around the three great capes.

A year ago my three older sons were dabbling in creative ventures; today all three of them have made money exercising their creative talents; two of them have made money with their photography and one is selling freelance articles to magazines.

Turning 50 isn't a thrill ride, but I'm sure as hell going to try and make being 50 a more exciting year than I've had in a long time.

Merry Christmas and a Hell of a New Year

brock — Sun, 25 Dec 2005 00:05:00 -0500

Merry Christmas everyone.

I hope each one of you had a wonderful holiday, religious or not. The New Year is staring at us from the other end of the tunnel; that bright light doesn't mean danger, it means hope... I'll see you all on other side of the side year.

May each of you find grace in unexpected places.

Backwater on Bright Ave.

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Where I've Been in the World