The Long Absence

A full-time job, a part-time cycling obsession, journalism job applications to painstakingly craft, a wedding to plan and a house to refurbish. I have lost all sense of time and, unfortunately, all time to write. I have notepads full of half-developed ideas sprung from newspaper articles, real-world observations and things that came to mind while cycling, driving, showering, etc. I have five draft articles in my WordPress file waiting for a final edit before I can hit “publish.” 

I will come back to this; there is never “nothing to write about.” Writing is my lifeblood, trying to figure things out is my passion. I have continued the finger work on my cycling blog, Mellow Velo, where I am attempting to develop a small community from which I can draw support and advice in my quest to become a better cyclist and enter my first bike race. Check it out if you’re at all interested in two wheels. Otherwise, keep reading below this post and keep an eye on Ten Thousand Feet. It won’t stay down forever.

- Katherine

People Perspective

Photo credit: Me. San Antonio Riverwalk

You just never know…

A few years ago, as a college sophomore, I had lunch with a couple of my elementary school teachers. It was a surreal experience; teachers are people we never really get the chance to understand or appreciate. One of them I adored as a child. The other, a former nun, I generally disliked for whatever reasons serious, intellectual people don’t easily endear themselves to small children. But sitting at lunch that day, I found myself increasingly drawn to the teacher I once grumbled about. The 50-something woman picked me up from work in her stick-shift SUV and turned out to be an incredibly interesting, well-read and well-traveled woman with a sharp mind and a delightfully dry sense of humor. 

I recalled the lunch meeting last night after leaving the art exhibit opening of a former high school teacher. It’s not often you get to glimpse into those kinds of personal worlds, although for me the opportunity has exploded since I got engaged to someone who now teaches at my old high school. (Having beers with your former biology teacher is quite the experience.)

The encounters involve getting introduced to people I already know all over again, and have taught me to maintain perspective with everyone I meet. It’s hard to become aquatinted with people on the deep level that allows room for critique. Without descending into dangerous naivete, the lunch taught me to withhold judgment of others, because I may not have the capacity or closeness to know them for who they really are.

A new model for investigative journalism

American University to address the high cost and near-extinction of investigative journalism

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer, Washington state’s oldest newspaper, was put up for sale on the 11th and will close if no one buys it in the next 58 days. This is the extreme of what has been happening in the newspaper business as budgets are condensed, readership goes online and even interns, paid a minimum living wage or nothing at all, are shown the door. 

It is a vicious cycle, because the in-depth stories that might draw readers are the ones newspapers can no longer afford. Top reporters are being let go and investigative reporting is increasingly being tabled. Newspapers are pushing story quotas – all of the j-jobs I’m searching for specify weekly numbers the reporter is expected to fill – which leaves little time to chase a tip that might require months of digging only to hit a dead end. 

I can’t speak with any authority, as I am only a few months out of journalism school, but I fear the cable news-ification of newspapers: a focus on event- and people-driven stories; thin, short, flat pieces that lack challenging depth; a focus on the argumentative rather than the informative and a tendency to beat a dead horse. Online news is a phenomenal monolith with endless possibilities, but it drives a tendency to hyper-focus on events and over-report them (due to ease, accessibility or for competition’s sake). This was never more clear than during the election season. All of the energy devoted to blogging ten times per day – whenever Sen. Hillary Clinton changed her clothing – could have been put toward an in-depth piece on something else. Anything else. 

American University in Washington, D.C., (my alma mater), and a former professor of mine who is deeply involved in the dwindling investigative journalism community, is trying to find a solution with the Investigative Reporting Workshop. The introduction on the program’s Web site reminds us that the demise of news has been poorly timed, as “the forces of technology and globalization are combining to make government and powerful private institutions less transparent, and thus, less subject to public scrutiny and oversight.”

The workshop will involve reporters, professors and students producing investigative pieces while trying to ascertain the most efficient, technologically advanced and economical way to conduct in-depth reporting. They seek to create an entirely new model, so that the reason all of us went to J-school in the first place doesn’t die out before we get our first big jobs.

Tips for Schmoozing (from a Washington insider)

I can’t tell you where I got this, but the author is a veteran political operative in Washington, D.C. Enjoy:

Tip 1: Have something to say

Tip 2: Hopefully the something you have to say is at least a little bit funny or interesting (note: interesting does not mean weird or shocking. That is an advanced move that should not be employed by a rookie schmoozer).

Tip 3: Smile

Tip 4: Use your hands when you talk

Tip 5: Be animated when you talk (see Tip 4)

Tip 6: Laugh at the other person’s joke/comments. You should almost always laugh (the heartier the chuckle the better) or at least smile with a giggle at a key moment when the schmoozee is talking.

Tip 7: Pack breath mints

Tip 8: Have a firm handshake (important tip for the ladies. Many have weak grips)

Tip 9: Look the other person in the eye when shaking hands

Tip 10: If you have a name tag wear it on your right lapel. That way when you are shaking hands with someone they can easily read your nametag without a difficult glance.

Tip 11: If stuck in a bad conversation, try to move on quickly. The more you stand there the more you will feel obligated to keep standing there.

Tip 12: Find a key time to touch the other person. Like a pat on the shoulder, an added handshake at the end of the conversation, a squeeze of the elbow. If you know the person well enough you should definitely hug him/her. So, the type of touch depends on the schmoozee (and the occasion).

Tip 13: Compliment the person. If possible, thank the person for something they did for you. Or tell them you like their suit, hair, whatever. Common compliments are: “it was great meeting you. Hope to see you soon.” “It was great working with you this cycle, hope to get a chance to work with you again.” “You look great, did you get a new haircut?” Again, the existing relationship and time and occasion will dictate your compliment strategy.

Tip 14: Listen to other person. Employing “active” listening techniques will take some time to learn… but one of the more important tips. In this town people rarely listen. If you actually listen to someone (don’t interrupt – ask them followup questions on what she/he just said) then you will make a better impression.

Tip 15: A cousin of Tip 14… Remember: It is all about how you make the OTHER PERSON FEEL during the schmoozing. It is not about you. The conversational details always fade over time, but the feeling that you get from someone stays around for a long, long time. That is why first impressions are a big deal.

Tip 16: Don’t take yourself or anyone else too seriously.

Tip 17: Not all of these tips have to happen (and most likely wont) with each individual schmoozee. Pick and chose among them for your best plan. If you did all of them that you would not be networking but instead be annoying.

Money to Erase Love

Photo credit: Me. Savannah, Ga.

On the front page of the San Antonio Express News yesterday was a story about a teacher fired from the city’s all-boys Catholic high school after marrying a divorcee. The reasoning given for her dismissal was that her husband’s previous marriage had not been annulled, meaning he wasn’t “officially” un-married from his first wife.

I have three close family members who are divorced and have since remarried. Two are Catholic, and both have been refused communion on occasion because their previous marriages were not annulled. The one who divorced her husband because he was an alcoholic is a devout, faithful woman and was deeply hurt by her church’s rejection. She looked into having her marriage annulled and was told the process would cost $800. On top of that, the Pope could still reject the request. 

She didn’t have the money. Even if she did, she never would have handed it over for something like that. “What about my kids?” she asked angrily when we discussed the issue. Technically, if her marriage was annulled, that would mean it never happened. In turn, it would mean that the six children she had with her first husband – all baptized Catholics – would become either non-existent or illegitimate bastards in the eyes of the church. 

“What was Jesus trying to tell us when he cleared the buyers and sellers out of the temple?” she asked. “It’s not all about money. Faith is not about money.” 

The other relative who has been refused communion now attends a different Catholic church, where the expensive technicality is overlooked because of his upstanding citizenship. He reads in church most Sundays and for several years has spent at least one weekend a month running the church’s soup kitchen. He is frequently mistaken for the church’s priest, not only because they look like brothers, but because of his truly Christian demeanor – one of kindness, compassion and thoughtful understanding.

News Anarchy

Why, not how, do we consume news?

With the advent of news blogs, specialty magazines and partisan Web publications, much has been made of how people are consuming news in the 21st century. The choices available to tailor our experience have exploded beyond FOX or CNN, beyond NPR or Rush Limbaugh. But few are asking why. Why do people consume news? What are they after? What are the expecting?

I started to question readers’ expectations a few months ago when someone wrote a letter to the editor of the San Antonio Express News complaining about David Brooks’s column. Brooks, a syndicated columnist from the New York Times, has always been my favorite conservative commentator, so you can imagine that it wasn’t his politics that south Texas readers were complaining about. It was his language. Words. Too big. Why do you run his column if we can’t understand it? 

I was further embarrassed this weekend, when San Antonio’s ombudsman Bob Richter felt forced to write a column to assuage the ire of E-N readers, inflamed this time by the story about President Bush getting a shoe thrown at him by an Iraqi journalist. We all know it by now, as front page headlines and nightly news programs featured the story for days. But several people had written into my hometown paper complaining that the story should not have been on the front page of the paper, or in it at all. 

Our news literacy in this county is already abysmal, and would be made worse if  newspapers canceled an intelligent column because readers don’t own a dictionary and don’t want to read things that challenge them, or if national news was tucked away and under-reported because it might embarrass someone or enlighten them to a harsh reality. 

The Pew Research Center offers a 10-question news IQ test that demonstrates why we can’t let newspapers slip away, and why the contemporary news culture of tailoring our consumption to our political views can be dangerous. I scored a 10 out of 10 on the test (which asked about big, well-covered news items) placing me in the 93rd percentile. The national average is a whopping 50 percent. 

I was raised to view reading the newspaper as a learning experience. As a child, it expanded my worldview and my vocabulary. It taught me about different viewpoints, which in turn helped me to develop my own. I fear the day people can wholly refuse to be aware of any news they care nothing about, living in a hazy, partisan oblivion of laziness and self-absorption. I call it “news anarchy” (a state of disorder resulting from the nonrecognition of relevant news).

Nothing says “Christmas!” like your face

Now, what’s the meaning of the season, again?

Ahh, the Christmas cards. As early as last week, they began arriving in droves, wrapped in brightly colored envelopes and embellished with gold and glitter. Almost all of them featured a photo of the sending family on the cover. I never thought much of it until today, when a Jesuit priest called us all out during an editorial spot on NPR.

“How would you like to get a birthday card that had my picture on the front?”

Rev. James Martin suggested that we stop making Christmas cards about us, and put our family and vacation photos inside for a change. Perhaps then we could feature something else on the front like  - oh, you know – Christ himself. Despite being buried in landslides of wrapped and bow-tied crap, He’s down there hanging on. All the reverend wanted was to put Christ back on our Christmas cards.

“More Virgin Mary, less Virgin Islands.”

I think he’s on to something.

The Aftermath

So not ready for life outside the bubble - The personal, political experience of an ex-Washingtonian

The election gave me great pause to reflect on the American political experience. Witnessing the campaigns from Texas was somewhat eye-opening, considering I attended college in Washington, D.C., at a university often ranked the most politically active in the nation. It was a hotbed of political thought, discourse and activism. I constantly see and hear my professors on news programs.

We did not live in the real world. Partisanship was rampant, but because we didn’t have constituencies to answer to, it did not impede cooperation, discussion nor understanding. There are lessons to be taken from our high idealism and passionate love of politics. Even the most heated arguments were underlined by respect. There was no reason to feel sorry for the other person, because they were working just as hard as you to pursue and advance their political ideals. Politics was about using your brain.

Because of that, I tend to forget that most college students (and many others) are too busy to think much about politics other than what their parents put before them, or what seems easiest to deal with. My peers and I lived and breathed the system. Every political discussion was full of historical, scientific and anecdotal information. Sound bites and overly emotional beliefs were not welcome and you would quickly be ushered out of a conversation if you couldn’t justify your opinion and otherwise convincingly hold your own. The challenge was not to be right, but to make sense. 

I often felt like the least-informed person in the room, and it was delicious. I had so much to learn. I lived in a total bubble. But after being coddled in a city where everything seems possible, and being tested and challenged by the might of the “east coast intellectual elite,”  the real world is a bit of a slap in the face.

In college, and especially in college in Washington, D.C., you can treat, view and study politics as a science and as an art. The daily slog politics of the average person is distant (a disconnect that often proves to be a problem). In Washington, politics is often intellectual and about possibilities. My Republican friends and my Democrat friends would pit their intellects against one another as if in sport, and then drink together in a kind of triumph of idealistic disagreement. 

I found this somewhere, and thought it would be worthwhile to share. Even though the election is over, it doesn’t mean that our disagreements are past us as well. We should still strive toward some semblance of civility. 

1. Don’t be mean, hateful, shaming or belittling. 


2. Don’t rely on stereotypes and cheap putdowns.
3. Don’t tolerate or join in when others are engaging in hurtful behaviors. 


4. Turn off the wingnuts when they come on TV or the radio. 


5. Practice faith beliefs instead of fashioning them into weapons. 


6. Don’t rely on wingnut rhetoric when you can’t come up with a good argument. 


7. Remember that even though family and friends might support candidates we don’t, we still love those people.

Re-Gifting

“…Thank you for a voice to sing, ears to hear the music, each other, and your words … This season, we return these gifts to you in thanks…”

Those words were part of a prayer spoken by the music director at church last Sunday, as he led a full orchestra and choir through a beautiful service of traditional music. His words resonated, and unavoidably made me think of all things seasonally trite. But I enjoy the idea that developing and using our individual gifts is also an act of giving: giving back to God in thanks and giving to each other in kindness.

Imperfection, Humility, Uncertainty

One of my longstanding struggles with religion is its obscuring of faith. I have trouble finding comfort in something that mires itself in details, dogmatism and judgements. I have trouble signing up for something that professes an adamant certainty - a certainty that allows its followers to discard their free will, and one so strong that it allows a religion to look down upon other Christians of different stripes, despite the sharing of core beliefs.  

It is those core beliefs that I am after, and I’ve decided to give up religion-shopping and to get back to basics, to seek God through the life lessons he left for us that really matter in the end. These are things like the Beatitudes and the ten commandments, things that cannot be re-interpreted to suit a specific religion’s leanings, a period in history or a contemporary culture. Do not kill is do not kill, no matter what century. 

I believe I was given free will for a reason, and I am humbled by the terrible responsibility to use it wisely. I actually find peace in recognizing my imperfection and life’s uncertainties. Perhaps it is my professional training as a journalist that makes me a consummate skeptic, but I am always a bit wary of people who are absolutely sure they know, or are certain they have the answer (except in algebra). 

Recognizing my inability is freeing. I just read a poem that articulates the feeling perfectly: “We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing this. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.”

The poem was written by Bishop Ken Unterer of Saginaw, Mich. in 1979 for a celebration memorializing departed priests. It has become associated with the Archbishop of San Salvador, Oscar Romero, who was assassinated in 1980 while celebrating Mass in the chapel of the hospital where he lived.

A Future Not Our Own

It helps now and then to step back and take a long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection, no pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives include everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water the seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing this.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders, ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.