Closure sucks

I think I learned recently what it means to have closure.

I came across information recently about someone I knew long ago. I had heard that he was killed while in the military. I thought he may have died in Viet Nam, since that was the last place I knew him to be. I had searched for his name on the Viet Nam wall, but didn't find it. I have wondered all these years -- more than 30 years. I had secretly hoped it just wasn't true.

But I recently learned that my friend died in a small town in Texas. I am curious about the circumstances of his death. And I'd really like to know more.

I asked Google a bunch of questions, looking for anything I could find that would offer information. I wasn't interested in the pay-big-bucks-to-find-the-dirt-on-anybody sites. I quickly dismissed those.

When that didn't turn up anything I looked for an obituary. Plenty of sites make claims that they are free, but are really just another scam in my view. The sites, generally used for genealogy research, advertise free obituaries, but they aren't free at all. They advertised a free trial if you sign up -- WITH YOUR CREDIT CARD.

I know that gimmick. They tell you that after the trial period is over you can opt out by simply canceling. Trouble is you practically have to move mountains to get out of the commitment. Once they have their hooks into you, they never want to let go. I learned my lesson and will never do that again.

Perhaps if they are serious about offering a free trial period, just to let you familiarize yourself with what they have to offer, why don't they do what internet gamers do? Gamers provide free play for a number of minutes, usually 60. When the allotted time is up, you either sign up or you're done.

I literally spent hours one evening looking for information. I searched for an obituary. I found the newspaper in Texas that initially ran the obituary. It cost nothing to see a death notice dating back to 2000, but to see one older than that would cost almost $3. I was still reluctant to whip out a credit card just to read public information that should be free in the first place. I'm not trying to be unreasonable. The obit was online, according to a database that listed it. I just couldn't see it without paying for it.

Computer research is like a computer game -- of seek and find.

I found the name of the cemetery where my friend was buried, near his home town. Just seeing his name connected with a cemetery gave me pause. But when I clicked on his name, I wasn't really prepared for my own reaction. That was when it hit me.

I saw a photograph of the marker on the place where his body was buried in 1975. This was no longer a game. It was reality and it was sad.

Seeing that bronze plaque with his name and a date for his birth and for his death was disconcerting. I never cried for him before, until now. It hadn't been real until now.

This photograph was confirmation that someone I once cared about was dead at the age of only 24. I will always wonder about the circumstances, but the realization was enough. I now have closure. What that means to me is that all hope is gone. Closure is an ugly reality that can no longer be wished away. Closure sucks!

Internet writing

Internet writing

As a former journalist I have some real concerns about internet writing. It seems everybody's doing it, but is everybody qualified to do it? This should be of concern all internet users.

Not only is it difficult to earn decent pay by writing on the internet, but I see another problem as well.

Catering to Google

I am a big fan of Google. I too have my Google adsense account and try to use the proper meta tags. I want to please Google too. After all, it is Google that hosts this blog. But, it seems that writers are more interested in how Google perceives your work than facts and information internet readers are seeking. This is akin to newspapers catering to advertisers instead of their loyal readers. And look what happened to them. Google is a business. It should cater to advertisers, but writers should not.

Folks seem to be more interested in SEO (Search Engine Optimization), page rank, and visibility, than they are about checking facts.

Citizen Journalists

For example, I came across an article this morning, written by a citizen journalist, on one of those writing sites that touts 'write what you know.' The article was clearly her opinion. What she said could be construed as being detrimental to the person she wrote about. I hope he doesn't sue. Clearly her opinion, the article was presented as if it was fact, in a newspaper style. Now, I've been known to have strong opinions myself, but only with supporting evidence and an opposing viewpoint.

Her story was later picked up by a blog that quoted her, giving false credibility to her story.

I've also come across researching issues only to find the same misinformation copied over and over and over again.

A call to internet writers

Consider this a call to all internet writers -- check your facts before you publish anything. Is the information you are publishing reliable enough for your child to use in his/her term paper?

I love the internet and I don't want to see it filled with garbage. What we write lasts forever. I have found the internet to be an incredible resource. I would hate to see it tainted with bad information. Let's all band together as writers and do whatever we can to ensure that what makes it to the internet is responsible, factual, and legitimate.

Facebook and high school

I just love Facebook. It is so much fun to challenge my memory and reconnect with people far away from my daily thoughts.

I have been scouring the names of old classmates, struggling for some kind of recognition. At first, it was all a blur. The more I see though, the more it is coming back to me. I suppose I must mention that I graduated from Proviso West High School 39 years ago. It is no wonder I've forgotten things and people.

Funny, there are photographs posted on the school's Facebook page from 'back in the day.' One of them served as the catalyst for all the memories that were so long ago filed neatly away somewhere in my brain. It was a picture of a classroom filled with kids sitting at their desks; it could have been my own classmates for all I knew.

I looked at that picture and stubborn memories started oozing back.

I could feel what it was like to sit at that desk, usually near the front of the room. There was a clock on the wall above the door in every classroom -- how many times did I look at it, wondering when class would be over or when it was time for lunch or to go home? What does that say about my attention span? Above the clock was the speaker for the school's intercom system where the principal made announcements. There was that blackboard. I remember diagramming sentences on it. I wonder, how healthy is all that chalk dust we breathed? Suddenly, it all looked so familiar.

I saw photos of the school building(s) and tried to recall what it felt like to be there. I remember how crowded it was in the hallway during the passing periods. I remember getting off to a corner away from the moving traffic to peer out the window that overlooked the courtyard as I talked with friends, seeing hoards of students below, crossing from one building to another. I remember the smell of chlorine from the swimming pool that permeated the entire building -- "A building," I think it was?

I remember walking out to the bus and scanning the windows to see who had gotten there already. My arms used to ache from carrying books all the time. That would kill me now. And then there were those stairs -- up and down, up and down, three flights -- all day long. I don't recall being winded ever, but certainly would be now. The hallways were dark in the corners, near the stairwells. Different classes were strung out all over the huge school. How did we get from one class to the other in only six minutes? How did we remember where all those classrooms were, or our locker combinations?

Oh how we hated gym class every day. Now I wish I had a "mandatory gym class." I wish I had that opportunity today, courtesy of the public school system. Today, working out is costly. The gymnastics, modern dance, ping-pong, shuffleboard, swimming, tennis, archery -- it was all really fun stuff -- none of which I do anymore nor have I since leaving those hallowed halls.

I looked at the dresses we wore in those day - blue jeans were taboo. How archaic. Today if I'm not wearing blue jeans, I'm in my pajamas. (I prefer the latter).

And who can't recall sitting in class having to wear nylons -- no, not panty hose -- nylons that were held in place by a garter belt. I can't believe a garter belt is considered sexy. Whoever thinks that way was never a female high school student in the late 60's?

I have never been to a high school reunion. I doubt I ever will. But Facebook has given me the next best thing. And I have enjoyed it.

Want to enhance the memory -- go to your high school's website. Just look at the pictures. Read the last issue of the school newspaper. I just did. I looked at the class schedule too and realized there were some classes I would like to sit in on. My, how times have changed.

As I was reading this post, I just got an email from classmates.com. That was a great site until they decided to charge for free communication. Facebook offers so much more for so much less.

Go Panthers!

Summer in the Ozarks

This might just summarize my summer in the Ozarks.

This picture has all the elements
-- My beloved cat, Ryan who loves to peer out the window and watch the wildlife
-- The leaves of the oak tree that frames not just this picture, but so many beautiful scenes in the Ozarks
-- That thermometer tells the tale -- proof of the work of the strong, hot, sizzling Arkansas sun
-- A visiting fawn who stopped by with her mother and sister, who had already scampered off into the woods

This photo was taken from inside the sun porch where I like to wile away the hours, often with a glass of iced tea and my laptop. I am rarely without cats. There are six in all. One is an inside/outside cat. Timi was a stray who seemed to adopt us. We were so smitten by her that when she came home from one of her adventures in a family way, we also adopted her four kittens. They were all named after NASCAR drivers. Ryan is named for my favorite -- Ryan Newman. I already had a cat named Emily, who continues to adjust to the new kids on the block. Some days are better than others. The kittens were born on the front porch, but once Timi completed the event, I moved them all inside -- to the sun porch. Since it is the old neighborhood to them, I'm sure that is why they consider it theirs. On second thought, they think every room in the house is theirs. Hmm. I am grateful they share their room with me.

Life is good in the Ozarks.

Internet responsibility

I have been doing a little on-line writing lately, which requires learning about new things and researching issues of which I have very little or no knowledge. I love learning new things. I treat learning as almost a hobby. But it is vital to be able to trust what I know.

I am troubled by some things I have discovered.

The Internet often mirrors real life -- the good and the bad. My personal and professional experiences over the last 25 years have shown me that if a lie is told often enough, it is often taken as fact. That has certainly been a hallmark in the State of Illinois' quest to build the Peotone Airport, my personal poster child for things amiss.

The internet was begun by a bunch of geeks and scholars. Today, all people have embraced it.

There is an influx of on-line writing, citizen journalism, blogging, new website, and a general on-line presence. On-line writing sites encourage everybody to try their hand at writing. They advertise that you can earn money by writing what you know. That is great!

But in doing so, individuals get caught up in a competition with other writers to write more, and even earn more. The result is often more quantity than quality. Those stories written by wannabe journalists are placed on the internet for the world to see, for young students to use as research projects, or for other writers.

Some writers simply regurgitate Wikipedia articles, put their name to it and go on to the next project. They give little thought to the reality that wikipedia is a work in progress. Often times, wiki writers get their information the same way, from something that has been posted to the internet. They think it is fact, but it may not be.

New articles may not be 100% accuracy. Then along come an eager new writer anxious to score another article. They are more intent on satisfying their google page rank and parroting incorrect information than doing more digging to verify what they are writing. And like the old game of telephone, on and on it goes until nothing can be trusted for accuracy. I don't want to see that happen.

I love the Internet. It has been one of my favorite developments in the 20th century. It offers scads of information to teach new things, or in my case, replenish some of what I've forgotten. It offers new opportunities, potential for earnings, introduced new careers, and countless other things. I would hate to see it become tainted by too much bad information.

So, in the same context as real life, we must take responsibility for everything we write. If internet users are going to act like journalists, we must behave like journalists - dig, dig, dig for the truth.

The same goes true for users of social networking sites like MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, and others. Know that what you write, could last forever. Make sure it is what you really want to say. Use good common sense, do your research, be responsible, and think before you write. If that is done by all users of the internet, this medium will continue to be the wonder that it is.

Obsessed with weather

I'm obsessed with weather. I don't begin the day without at least one weather report, and sometimes several. If it is predicted to be an active weather day, I spend time watching the weather channel.

"You are the only people I know that watch the weather channel like it is a real show," said my daughter-in-law, about my son and me.

If there is any hint of rain, I use the remote, of which I'm always in control much to my husband's chagrin, to quickly reconnect with weather channel. I'm always searching for the weather on the 8's. My biggest pet peeve is turning to the weather channel during a commercial only to find a commercial there as well. I remember when the weather channel didn't have commercials. Those were good times.

Several times during the day I gaze at my computer to check out the local radar screen, promptly displayed on the top of my iGoogle start page. I use intellicast.com because:

- 1) It is the least intrusive to the workings of Sybil. I named my computer Sybil after the movie where Sally Field possessed multiple personalities. It seemed to fit.

- 2) Intellicast provides an instant look at current, local radar. Just one click provides a looped view, showing the path of a potential storm.

- 3) Intellicast shows various other maps, such as moisture, weather watches, storm tracking, global weather, and even the latest influenza report.

- I love Intellicast's pan and zoom feature. It lets you zero in on your own rooftop, so you can watch a storm relative to where you live.

- 4) With the kind of weather we have had of late, it is nice to know those bow echoes aren't aiming at us.

Thanks to the meteorologists on the weather channel, weather watching has become much more sophisticated. As a local reporter in Illinois I covered a story where members of the fire department took a weather spotters class. That means I got to take it too. It was fascinating and I highly recommend it.

I really love weather. Last year, we received 13 inches of rain. It was awesome. Because we live on a hill in the forest, the water just runs downhill toward a wet weather creek in the backyard. The sounds of the water rushing, the site of our yard transformed into a tropical rain forest, and the smell of the woods combine into a sensory delight. I love rainy days.

I think part of my interest in weather came from my grandfather. In fact, as I've gotten older, I think I've become him.

He lived in Michigan; we lived in Chicago. His visits were always a happy time, at least until 10 p.m. That was when he would put his finger to his lips and say, "Shhh, the news is on." He then devoted all his concentration to Fahey Flynn and P.J. Hoff, Chicago's local news and weather guys back in the 1950's. That was back when news and weather combined was only 15 minutes in duration. Sports scores were a mere mention back then.

When he and my grandmother moved away, I used to write him. His letters always began with a weather report. I noticed recently, that when talking to friends, I do it too.

That was so long ago. But as the times have changed, the tradition has not, at least in our household. I find myself shhh-ing just as Grandpa did whenever the news and weather is on. I always strain to hear the latest, amid all the noises that accompany a household with six cats, a dog, and a husband, telephones, and other distractions. The older I get, the more of a challenge it is to hear different noises at the same time. But then, I did live in too close proximity to airplanes and trains for an entire lifetime.

I wonder what Gramps would think of today's news and weather coverage around the clock and in so many varied ways. I bet he would be amazed. So the cycle continues.

Gramps died more than 25 years ago. I miss him. If he was here, he wouldn't have to shhhhh me.

Happy 21st Birthday RURAL

Twenty-one years ago, my life took a little jog in the road. I haven't been the same since. My daughter Jenny was only 8; my son Chris was 7. I'm a grandmother now. I have found peace in retirement, in the State of Arkansas where my husband John and I moved almost five years ago. But as much as my life has changed, the steadfast resolve that grew out of that day remains unyielding.

Aug. 2, 1988 was the day RURAL (Residents United to Retain Agricultural Land) was born. That was the official day, yet the real change had taken place weeks earlier -- in the spring -- when John and I attended our first airport meeting. John was so angry he rarely attended another one. I on the other hand can't count the number of meetings I have attended over the years. John's anger turned into pure hatred. Mine started that way too but was tempered, unbeknownst to me at the time, by a strong desire to mother a movement.

John was incensed when state consultants Marjorie and Suhail alChalabi, who are still with the project, painting a rosy picture of a successful airport with thousands of jobs and thousands of passengers eager to shun Chicago airports just to fly out of Peotone. Suhail argued that planes would not make noise in the future. He said there would be "noisless jets." That was the first time I ever laid eyes on Aldo DeAngelis, the late state senator, the beloved Italian who charmed everyone around him, as long as you agreed with him. I didn't.

There were 13 of us at that first meeting, who were all appalled at what we had heard. We stood in the parking lot at the Beecher Community Hall where we held our own little 'after the meeting' meeting. I later learned these were necessary to de-program us after such a meeting where there was always a purposeful assault to our intelligence. I suggested we pass our phone numbers around. Brenda Thunhurst whipped out a tablet and pen where we all signed names and numbers. She typed it up at work and sent it to all of us. I wonder where that piece of paper is now? I had all that information on another computer -- one that is no longer compatible with today's systems. If only technology hadn't moved so quickly, I could just search my computer for it. Hah, if transportation technology had advanced at a similar rate we'd be taking bullet trains. Or if Illinois politics would have matured past its historical pay to play mentality, eastern Will County would be a very different place today.

RURAL guiding principles, formed during those early days of the opposition to build a new airpor never wavered. Still in tact, they were transferred to STAND (Shut This Airport Nightmare Down). The overlying fact is that if something already exists -- airports in Gary on the east, Milwaukee on the north, Rockford on the west, and Kankakee on the south -- why build a new one? If a farm economy is working and contributing to the region, why destroy it for an airport that could turn out like the state's white elephant Mid-America at Mascoutah? To be fair, we didn't know about Mid-America then. But once we learned about it, what a great poster child it turned out to be for what not to do.

The Peotone airport project has seen countless promoters over the years, all state-sponsored, paid by tax dollars, who have come and gone. They have taken as much from the taxpayers as they could get before they moved on, probably for more steady work or bigger paychecks. They have never looked back at the chaos they helped create or the people, property, community, and more that they have destroyed.

Even the project has changed. It has changed boundaries, size and focus. The state is searching for a winnable solution and so far, has not found one. I doubt it ever will. I have said for 21 years that an airport will not be built. I'd like to stand by that statement. But I can't. I have learned that all things are possible when the equation includes greed, power, corruption, dishonesty, and lack of responsibility, integrity, and morality. There is money and power to be amassed, so they continue.

Not only was RURAL life-changing in itself, but it also sparked my career. On Sept. 2, 1988, after never writing any more than letters to the editor, I achieved my first byline on a story published in Kankakee's Daily Journal. I was a correspondent until 1997 when I went to work full time there. That was when I convinced George Ochsenfeld to take over RURAL. I entrusted him with something I considered very special, but I had been a volunteer long enough. My kids were getting older. Money was an issue, so I voluntarily gave up RURAL to work as a journalist. My association with the Journal continued for two years. In '99 I went to work for Russell Publications, the weekly paper that covers several towns. Because of Russell's stance against the airport, I was more able to write about what I knew about the project without having to kowtow to the multitude of official press releases that touted unsubstantiated claims about the project. I continued to report the facts.

One of the hardest things I have ever had to do was walk that fine line. But to the best of my ability I never compromised my integrity as a journalist based on my personal feelings. I did however; inject facts I knew into stories. Over time, reporters went to other papers or other jobs and the real meat of the airport story became lost in all those press releases with a few quotes thrown in from our side. The knowledge of past events that shaped today's happenings had all been lost. At that point, I became an advocacy journalist, reporting from a historical perspective.

Laid off now, I continue to write on-line and in this and other blogs. I still consult with George and STAND. And I have a lot of time for reflection. Perhaps one day I will announce a new book in this very blog.