Heroes The Media Forgot

 
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All Over The Internet

I am now a contributor to Philadelphia Magazine's new web site - The Philly Post. And I am also putting together nightly commentaries for WPIX in New York and other Tribune TV stations across the country. As part of the commentaries, I also blog on the WPIX site.

All that means that I will be posting even less here.

I am going to keep this site going to post my father's writings. I will post every once and awhile. I will also be posting links to my latest work at Philly Mag and WPIX.

On that topic - click here for my latest commentary on honoring the nation's war dead. You know, the brave men and women in Irq and Afghanistan who the media forgot.

And click here for my article on Saving Local News. It is on life support, but there is still time.

A Tribute To Andrew Wyeth

Last year on my birthday, Andrew Wyeth died. He was 91 years old.

Wyeth is considered by many, and by me, to be the Greatest American artist. Recently I visited the Museum of Modern Art in New York to see, maybe his most famous painting, Christina's World. As a small digital age tribute, it is now forever a picture on my cell phone.

You need not travel to New York to enjoy Wyeth. You can head out Route One to Chadds Ford and visit the Brandywine River Museum, which is next door to the Wyeth family home.

I write this today because this morning I paged through the 2009 end of year Time magazine and in it was a tribute to Andrew Wyeth. It was written by his son Jamie Wyeth, a famous painter in his own right.

Andrew Wyeth was my best friend, my teacher, my mentor and my father. His death left a gaping whole in my life. Among his legions of admirers and battalions of critics, the question remains: Was his art an intellectual challenge, or was it sentimental pap? To me, that misses the point. Wyeth was not a realist painter; he was, quite simply, an outsider. His work was utterly untouched by any style, fashion or movement. His world was a magically airless, crystal-lit microcosm, of which he was the sole inhabitant, and his heart will forever remain, by his own design, elusive.

Jamie writes as beautifully as he paints and sculpts. His family's works are on display in museum's around the world. Still, the Brandywine Museum is my favorite.

There you will see works by Jamie, Carolyn, Henriette, their father Andrew and their Grandfather N.C. Wyeth.

It is worth the visit. And if you for some reason are not familiar with the work of the Wyeth family, I fell especially gratified that I can lead you to discover one of the great treasures of this area.

Words That Inspired My Father

I have mentioned before that I started this blog in honor of my Father's writings. Specifically a leather bound book of poems that is cherished by our family. Some of the poems date back to the 1920's.

Also in the book are quotes and sayings. Some are my Father's. Some are from poets and philosopher's he admired. Some are credited. Some are not.

Here are a few:

"Superstition is the serpent that chokes religion; it is the cruelest enemy of the pure worship due to the Supreme Being." - Voltaire

"I would rather believe all the fables...than to believe that this universal frame is without a mind. A little philosophy brings a man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy brings a man's mind to religion. - Francis Bacon

"He who tries and fails is ultimately better than he who does nothing and succeeds."

"Passions are not vices, but raw material for both vice and virtue." - Aristotle

"Men use thought only authority for their injustice, and empty speech only to conceal their thoughts."- Voltaire

"Silence isn't always golden. Sometimes it's just plain yellow."

"Few things are as safe, as damp, and as horribly uninteresting as silence."

"Most people have an insatiable desire to know everything except that what is worth knowing." - Oscar Wilde

"Hate comes from the fact that we can never stand someone having the same flaws as ourselves." - Oscar Wilde

"He who is placed on a pedestal has no place to step but off."

"Love is the history of a woman's life; it is an episode is a man's." - Madame de Stael

"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go."

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Snow Job

We are officially in the February ratings period. You probably could tell from all of the promotional spots that ran during the Grammys telling you to watch the 11 O'clock news to get a "butt like Beyonce."

Even though stations can now see the "overnight ratings" everyday, making the "sweeps periods" far less important than they used to be, TV stations still work themselves into a frenzy.

Like legendary stories of soldiers who didn't get word that the war ended, they keep fighting in an imaginary battle. Their arsenal? Sweeps pieces about fad diets that don't work, reports that are "investigative" in name only and anything at all they can use to scare you about your safety or the safety of your children.

And snow.

Research shows the number one reason people watch local news is for the weather. The mention of the word "snow" is a big ratings grabber.

Show producers, news managers and tease writers will hound meteorologists for any sign of snow. The TV weather people are not above reproach in this matter. Snow means more face time and another chance to lead the newscast. And so they scour the satellite images and maps for snow like an addict searching the crevices of the sofa for a lost fix.

Let me help you decipher the way these weather people will fool you into thinking snow might be on the way.

If they say, "Snow in the forecast?" or any similar question, like "Snow for your weekend?", the answer to either question could also easily be no. Similarly if they say, "And we are looking at a chance of snow in the forecast," that could mean a whole host of things, like there is a 30 percent chance of snow in the Allentown five days from now.

If they say "Snow in our area," that almost always means it is going to snow in the Poconos and nowhere else.

Also, do not be fooled by scenes of snow from Chicago, Minnesota, the Sierra Nevada's and elsewhere, accompanied with the question "Is this coming our way?" Again, the answer you might find out is "no" and even if it was headed our way, it probably will be significantly weaker.

And then there is my favorite term - "A Wintry Mix." That usually means they can't find any snow whatsoever in the precipitation and "wintry mix" still sounds snow-like.

You just need to be an informed news consumer. If there was really snow in the forecast, believe me, the meteorologists will not hide it with questions, qualifiers of euphemisms. They will blare it from the rooftops or, as was famously done in Philadelphia, write a crawl to run in Prime Time proclaiming "The Storm of The Century."

That crawl ran on the last night of the February ratings during Law and Order. The storm was five days away. Things, like storm intensity and track, can easily change. And it did change. We now all remember the "Storm of the Century" as the "Blown Forecast of The Century."

And that's the problem. A short term gain in ratings costs a long term drop in credibility. So the irony is that this "do anything for ratings" desperation we see in three to thirty second promotional bursts during our favorite shows is undermining its own intent. The quick spike in the ratings is in reality a measure of the people who were fooled into watching and will eventually catch on and stop watching.

This is one of the main reasons local TV ratings are plummeting. Viewers are savvier and are on to the tricks.

Here is a tip. When you see an ad that says, "Snow in the forecast," go to Weather.Com, The Weather Channel site. There is no hype, no tricks, no egos, just the forecast - for your zip code. Then you can see the 30 percent chance of flurries in the Poconos for yourself and go to bed early if you want.

As for the butt like Beyonce, unless you are going to go back and change your own gene pool or spend thousands on cosmetic surgery, it is probably not going to happen.

Michael and His Magic Buttons

By Michael Mendte as told to his Mommy and Daddy

My name is Michael. I am five years old.

I am just like other little boys and girls.

I play.

I go to school.

I like to eat chocolate chip cookies.

And I have a secret.

A secret that makes me special.

I have magic buttons.

They are all different colors. They are all over my body and only I can see them.

But they are really there.

When I push one of the magic buttons I am not a little boy anymore, I become someone else.

When I push this blue button on my right shoulder I become a baby raccoon.

I crawl around on the floor like a baby raccoon and I make baby raccoon noises.

Then I push the yellow button on my left shoulder I become a construction worker.

I wear a hard hat and I can build anything.

When I push the green button on my belly I become an alien. I can travel in a spaceship and I like to eat candy pieces.

If I push the purple button on my right arm I become a superhero. I can fly and I am very strong.

Then I push the black button on my left arm and I become a firefighter. I wear a mask and a helmet and I save my little brother.

And I have a brown button on my forehead that turns me into a big Teddy Bear. I cuddle with my Mommy and Daddy and make them feel better.

I have lots of magic buttons that make me lots of things.

But my favorite button is the red one right in the middle of my chest.

When I push that I become a little boy again named Michael.

PETA Pet Peeve

by Megan Morris, my niece

You know, I have nothing against PETA in theory… well, I guess I do…But, when I heard that they were “up in arms” over the way the famous groundhog “Punxsutawney Phil” is handled… held by the scruff of the neck as he’s pulled from his lair each Groundhog Day… I must say, it gave me pause.

I am sure Phil is mildly annoyed for that moment. It may be somewhat uncomfortable for the little fella, sure.

But you know what? He goes right back in his cushy little habitat and eats until he cannot move. He doesn’t have to scavenge or face predators in the wild… or even turn his head very far to the left or right to get a drink. Phil’s doing FINE!

How can PETA representatives hold their heads up in public when that’s their beef in a world where Haiti is going on? HUMAN BEINGS are lying in morgue piles.. small children dying every day simply because we cannot figure out how to transport the medicine and food they need from the local airport to their villages… just miles apart?? They have lost their parents beneath a city of rubble and they are starving! Phil has food. Phil has water… and I bet if Phil gets a boo boo, someone puts a band-aid on it.

So you know what PETA. Let’s put poor Phil out of his misery. If his life is so bad, How about we feed Phil to the kids in Haiti. Get that Hell’s Kitchen guy to slice him up, skewer him and marinade Phil in a lovely chianti sauce.

Now the only concern is how to get the yummy Phil fillets from the airport at Port Au Prince to the starving kids. Maybe PETA can work that one out for us, instead of worrying about Phil’s aching neck, eh?