Jeff’s Dark and Early Blog

I was shocked and disturbed earlier this week when the media were banned from a Dennis Moore town hall meeting on health care.

Moore told us later that he wanted to talk about health care, and didn’t want a side show created by the media.

While I’m willing to admit that the media can sometimes create such “side shows”, the fact is, this is the United States of America and we are embroiled in a bitter debate of how to care for the sickest among us.

There are plenty of questions out there, and it is our job as media to answer them.  This becomes quite difficult when we aren’t allowed to cover a discussion with a representative on the subject.  The key word here is “representative”.

Freedom of the Press is vital to a debate of this magnitude.

It was one heck of a morning.
Someone in suburban Shawnee had set cars on fire in the streets, there were wrecks all over the metro, and just when I thought it couldn’t possibly get any more hectic, a car crashed into a power line in Olathe, knocking that power line into a school bus.

The good news was, no one was seriously hurt, including the kids on the bus.  The bad news was, I didn’t know that at the time and had to get to the scene in a hurry.  The worst news of all…..I had little gas in the tank.

So I did what most of us would do.  I chanced it.

10.4 miles later, I was in Olathe, first on the scene, last one to leave.  I was out of gas, out of patience and in need of a beverage.

Still convinced that I couldn’t possibly have run out of gas, I decided the battery was just dead.  A nice church lady with a pair of jumper cables tried to help.  No dice.  No gas.

So I did what most responsible adults do.  I uttered a few choice words (not in front of the church lady, of course), and I called the boss.

The boss is used to getting phone calls from me about cars.  They don’t like me.

My own car likes me just fine.  Her name is Betty.

But work vehicles….not so  much. 

If a company car is about to break down, it waits until I get behind the wheel.

My first week at KMBZ involved a ticket for a tail light being out.  At one point, someone even tossed a rock through the windshield while I was parked.

The bottom line….when cars get angry, they get me.

I like to think I’ve seen just about everything in my years as a street reporter. A few weeks ago, I told you about the guy who wouldn’t do an interview because he admittedly wasn’t wearing underwear. Weird.
I once encountered a naked man laying in the middle of a highway in Jopin, Missouri. Uncomfortable.
I’ve seen it all, but until this week, never on consecutive days.
We’ll start with Tuesday. I was having car trouble and was on my way to Mission Tire when I encountered, in the middle of Johnson Drive, a man walking with a marijuana bong!  Not only that, but he stopped in the road, took a hit, laughed and walked on.  No cops in sight.

That was yesterday.

Moving forward to this morning, where I found myself parked near the Stein Mart on 95th next to what I thought was an empty vehicle.  A short time later, that empty vehicle began to rock.  I blinked a few times, saw the shawdow of the two individuals inside.  I’ll let you imagine the rest.

Two days in a row.  I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

As the health care debate wages on, the politicians add their spin and the protestors add their frustration to the daily news cycle.
What I’ve heard this week, and what we tried to bring you this morning was what you won’t hear a lot of on the 24-hour cable news networks.
There are a lot of real people out there, heck, I’d even call them the majority, who have real, valid questions about the future of American health care. They aren’t the type to attend a town hall meeting. Maybe they’re shy. Maybe they don’t have time. It doesn’t really matter why.
What’s important is that their voice make the airwaves as well.
One woman I spoke with called herself a “special needs” patient. She wants to make sure changes in the system won’t leave her slipping through the cracks.
Another gentleman I spoke with would like to see more personal responsibility in the way we take care of ourselves. He wonders if there’s any focus on prevention in these new plans.
Another still wants to make sure a new plan has some sort of provision for those with pre-existing conditions.
These views are far and wide, left and right. They are the views of nothing more than average, every day Americans, and sometimes the news cycle doesn’t allow for their two cents.
I’m proud that we gave them that this morning.

My first cell phone looked more like a walkie-talkie.  I was about 16, and while this may be hard to comprehend for today’s walking, talking, texting teenagers, I was one of the first in my class to have one.  Needless to say, sending text messages was not even an option in those days. So, as you can imagine, I’m a little behind the times when it comes to the language most local teens can probably recite from memory.

Thanks to a recent trip to the home of my in-laws, however, I now feel a bit more confident in my “text speak”, and for that matter, a bit more frightened about the day my son becomes a teenager.

Part of my reading material on that weekend trip was an article given to me by my step-mother-in-law.  It included what it called the “periodic table of texting”.  Modeled after the famous list of the elements, this chart basically lays out the most common appreviations used by teens when they text, what they mean and how they range from simple to strange.

I knew the basic ones.  LOL means “laughing out loud”.  LMHO is “laughing my head off”.  BRB is “be right back”, and so on.

At the bottom of the table, however, was a list of the more risque terms apparently quite common among young people.

For instance, LH6 stands for “let’s have sex”.  How romantic.

Something as simple as the number 9 stands for “parent watching”.  Those of you with teens might keep an eye out for that one.

Or, there’s the ever popular D46, which is asking whether the recipient is “down for sex”.

Now, I want to be clear.  Most of the abbreviations on the list are harmless.  Things like DHU….Dinosaur Hugs, which is apparently an odd way of showing support.

But in a world where I cover stories ranging from “sexting” to stalking, it might be wise for parents to familiarize themselves with this list.  It’s a Google search away.

IG2R  (I’ve got to run)

Jeff

Cliff Clavin always took pride in his work.  The fictional postman on the sitcom “Cheers” once entered the bar in the midst of his mail route, stating that when he was carrying his mailbag, nothing came between his lips and his job.  Upon being offered a beer by Woody, Cliff quickly stated that he would call the post office to see how stiff the penalty might be as he reached for the mug sitting at the end of the bar.

That, of course, was comedy.  But for me, the cast of real life postal characters I grew up with might have been the perfect group for a modern day reality show about the ins and outs of delivering the mail.

I’ve been particularly close this week to the news that the United States Postal Service is cutting back, consolidating and in many cases, closing up shop.  You see, my dad has been delivering the mail since the early 1980’s, and continues to drive a jeep and carry a bag to this day.

Because he carried that bag in wind, rain, ice, snow and more, I was able to enjoy childhood as a member of blue collar, middle class America.  My dreams were always at my finger tips.

Because he carried that bag, I was able to turn the keys in my first car when I turned 16.

Because he carried that bag, I was able to waste a number of semesters of college, before finally getting my act together and finding my unconventional way into the field of journalism.

Because he carried that bag, we enjoyed holidays, vacations and all of the other perks that go along with the American dream.

For a man without a college education, the Post Office provided a means of working hard, providing for a family and looking forward to one day being able to retire.  Dad never minded the hard work.  In fact, I think he hoped my brother and I would learn valuable lessons from it.

We did.

As postal jobs become scarce, post offices close and the age of email, Facebook and Twitter rolls along, I find myself holding onto the hope that jobs like the one my father held will not be gone for good.

Americans, including those of the blue collar variety, have always been willing to work.  That work has been the backbone of our society for generations.  We would do them a great disservice if we can not find a way to continue to provide good paying jobs for those willing to do the hard work that goes along with them.