Does My Moral Compass Need a Tune-Up, Or Am I Okay?

I need your help. Please tell me what to do!

To set the stage, let's just say that I was completely obsessed with the O.J. Simpson trial. Obsessed. I just couldn't believe any of it - from start to finish. And it was the finish that almost did me in. To this day, I cannot believe he was acquitted of those murders.

These many years later, I almost choked on the vomit that rose in my throat when I heard last year that HarperCollins announced the publication of a book in which O.J. Simpson told how he hypothetically would have committed the murders. I just wanted to cry over the audacity of it all.

Then I felt uplifted when, in response to public outrage that Simpson stood to profit from these crimes, HarperCollins canceled the book. Then a Florida bankruptcy court awarded the rights to the Goldmans in August 2007 to partially satisfy the unpaid civil judgment, which has risen, with interest, to over $38 million.

But the only way the Goldman's would see any of these funds would be if they published and sold the book. Which they have done.

So with an appropriate name change - the book is now called I Did It: Confessions of the Killer - and the addition of 14,000+ words from the Goldmans, which explain their belief that O.J. Simpson is the killer walking free among us, the book is now available for purchase.

And therein lies the rub.

I just can't decide whether or not to buy and read the book.

I NEVER would have bought or read the book had it been published as originally planned with Simpson receiving the profits. There would have been no fear of that happening, because I wouldn't have been able to live with myself.

But now that I know the Goldman's are getting the money, much of which they say is going directly to their family foundation set up in Ron Goldman's name, and now that I know the family is positioning this book as a way to slap Simpson in the face and say to the rest of the world that he is a killer, I'm more open to idea of buying and reading it.

I feel fairly comfortable with the idea that the Goldman's are using this book to make their point that Simpson is a murderer. I really don't think they are trying to profit personally from its sale. They aren't going to pocket blood money. Are they? The funds will go to a foundation that will work to make good things happen. Won't they?

That side of me that was obsessed with the trial over 10 years ago would really like to read the book. But the more mature part of me that is so disgusted with the entire debauchery that has become celebrity privilege, fueled by an out-of-control unsatiated hunger for sleaze provided by a media machine that is out of control makes me wonder that if I buy the book, wouldn't I be condoning the ick?

Am I making way too big a deal out of this, or am I right to be concerned?

So I ask you friends, what do you think? Should I buy and read this book?

Because It's Fall Fashion Week and I'm On a Tirade

Louis Vuitton describes this handbag as "this year's ultimate status bag". The patchwork handbag "easily overshadows the competition in originality, style and class."

Yours for only $52,500.

Dear Owners of This Year's Ultimate Status Bag,

Please consider selling your classy bag and using that $52,500 to fund a kid-in-need's college education. You'll feel so much better and you won't have to worry about buying matching shoes. It will feel good, I promise."

Love,

Lori

I'm just saying...

Fashion Faux Pas

From Today's Fall Fashion Preview in the New York Times:

This outfit is the hot new thing and consists of a Lanvin zip-up silk blouse, $1,090, and Alexander Wang wide-leg herringbone pants, $585, both at Barneys New York. Karen Walker leather belt, $132 at Mick Margo; LaCrasia leather gloves, $200; Patricia Von Musulin hand-carved ebony ring, $825 at Takashimaya; Kelly Christy felt fedora, $300 to order from kellychristyhats@hotmail.com; Chloé leather satchel, $2,595 at Chloé.

For a grand total of $5,727.

Because I'm worth it.

Or, NOT!

I love fashion. And I believe in wearing what makes you feel good. But $5,727 for an outfit? Really?

Because that would make me feel down-right ugly.

The Fate of the Camel is Not Known

Oh, the horror. And I'm filing this story under "Dear Lord, I'd Rather Not Go Out Like This".
______________________________________________

PET CAMEL KILLS AUSTRALIAN WOMAN

AP
Posted: 2007-08-19 20:18:43

(Aug. 19) - An Australian woman was killed by a pet camel given to her as a 60th birthday present, police said Sunday. The woman, whose name has not been released, was killed Saturday at her family sheep and cattle ranch near Mitchell, 350 miles west of the Queensland state capital Brisbane, state police Detective Senior Constable Craig Gregory said.

The 10-month-old male - weighing about 330 pounds - had knocked her to the ground then lay on top of her in what police suspect was mating behavior, Gregory said. Camel expert Chris Hill agreed with Gregory.

Hill, who has offered camel rides to tourists for 20 years, said young camels are not aggressive but can be dangerous if treated as pets without discipline. The woman was given the hand-reared camel in March as a birthday present from her husband and daughter.

The fate of the camel is not known.

An autopsy of the woman will determine the precise cause of death within days.

Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. The information contained in the AP news report may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or otherwise distributed without the prior written authority of The Associated Press. All active hyperlinks have been inserted by AOL.
2007-08-19 20:18:43

They're Right Next to Dorothy and the Scarecrow

According to Frommer's travel guide, the #1 question most frequently posed by visitors to Atlanta is, "Where are Scarlett and Rhett Buried?"

It's Been a Long, Long Time

Well, hello! I’ve missed you.

Here are some things I’ve been up to since we last spoke:

Cheering Levi Leiphemer of the Discovery Channel Team on to victory in the Tour de France. He’s currently in fourth place, but I hope this Billings, Montana native can work it out over the next few days. You should watch the fabulously weird, charming animated movie The Triplets of Belleville for a look at the love the French have for their annual Tour. (The soundtrack to that film is tres magnifique, too).

Watched La Vie en Rose and am now totally intrigued by Edith Piaf and her crazy life.

Commissioned a feasibility study to gage public interest in beginning a Michael Vick’s Gotta Go campaign. Creep.

Got my hair cut really, really….really short.

Busting hump at work putting together the education and outreach plan to accompany Ken Burns upcoming multi-part series, The War. Watch this documentary beginning on September 23 my friends, it will be amazing. And find your local public television’s web site – I bet they will be hosting a World War II story collection site for your community and you should submit the war stories from your family. They will live on in a permanent archive.

Became utterly obsessed with Bear Grylls and Man vs. Wild on the Discovery Channel. Watched an entire marathon on a Sunday. That’s a huge emotional commitment, you know? The news broke that he was a bit of a fraud on Tuesday. I continue to mope. Shame on you, Bear. You led us to believe that we, too, could hack our way out of the Sierra Madres or the Amazon rain forest or the Sahara desert with a positive attitude, a flint, and the occaissional grub worm or raw fish for dinner. When really you meant that we needed room service and a good massage after a dip in the hot tub.

Started a diet that involves my doctor’s supervision and prescription-strength diet pills. Because I need another addiction.

Discovered that I love smoked salmon.

Found some of the ugliest Birkenstock-esque shoes that you have ever seen and actually put them on, only to discover that they are the most comfortable shoes in the universe and have cured my always-achy high-arched feet. And by “found” I mean my mom handed them to me and forced me, against my will, to try them on and admit that they were the solution to my problem, but only after she had to listen to me moan about how hideous they looked and how much I hated the store we were in. When I wear these shoes, I can actually feel my leg hair growing faster and I have no desire to shave. But man oh man, do my feet ever feel good.

A World of Difference

A few things came together in the just the right way for me this morning and have left me feeling good. Lighter, more refreshed, somehow. It happened while reading the paper.

I am such a fan of pundit and syndicated columnist Kathleen Parker. She is classified as a moderate conservative, but I put heavy emphasis on the "moderate" because I do think she resides comfortably in the middle area, give or take a few slides further right every now and then. I find myself agreeing with her take on things most of the time.

Her column today was one of her more simple, but I just loved it because it told the story of two extremes, contrasting the political protester who's been dubbed "Rage Boy" with Paul Potts, the singer who won a British televised talent show. Read it here.

When I say that things came together, I mean that first, I really like the writings of Kathleen Parker. Second, I am so concerned with all of the anger and hate mongering coming from EVERYONE these days and Rage Boy is just one example of what is freaking me out. Third, I am a COMPLETE FOOL for a good underdog-wins story, and Paul Potts is a rock star in my book. And finally, there is something truly special about the Nessun Dorma song, Puccini's gift to humanity. Even if you don't know opera, you know this song because you've heard it in movies and televised concerts and even cartoons. It truly brings on chills for me and most of the time I tear up when I hear it because it is such a moving song. If you aren't familiar, go to iTunes and download it right now because you won't be disappointed.

Here is the YouTube clip of Paul Potts singing Nessun Dorma.



Quoting Ms. Parker, "Not everyone has the natural talent to sing an aria, obviously, but everyone has the voluntary will to see beyond one's personal wounds and to view narcissistic rage for what it is."

So, chill out Rage Boy.

Voulez Vous Couchez Avec Moi, Ce Soir?

I was reading Carrie Coppernoll’s column in the Oklahoman the other day where she was writing about June being National Learn French month. You gotta love that. National Learn French month. Because Learning French is really important and it needs a month dedicated to its cause. Carrie thought it was important for us to take a moment and learn a few important French phrases in honor of our friends across the pond.

I totally agree, so here are some sentences we, as Oklahomans, may need to know.

Phrases you might hear spoken by French visitors to Oklahoma

Que signifiez-vous que je ne peut pas fumer dans le théâtre de film ?
What do you mean I can’t smoke in the movie theater?

Je ne peux pas croire que le dejeuner ne dure qu’une heure.
I can’t believe lunch only lasts one hour.

J’aurai besoin d’un chapeau de cowboy et des bottes avent de rentrer chez nous.
I will need a cowboy hat and matching boots before we go home.

Nous nous rendons.
We surrender.

Phrases you might want to say to French tourists visiting Oklahoma.

Le vignoble le plus proche est a une demi heure d’ici.
The nearest winery is half an hour from here.

Non, nous n’offrons pas de plat de fromage aux Cattleman’s.
No, we do not offer a cheese platter here at Cattleman’s.

J’ai achete le meme sac de Louis Vuitton a la boutique de destockage au Texas.
I bought that same Louis Vuitton bag at the outlet mall in Texas.

Je suis désolé que nous n'avons pas un bidet mais comment de. ... une douche ?
I’m sorry we don’t have a bidet, but how about…a shower?

Phrases Oklahomans may need to know when visiting France

Je voudrais la sauce de ranch avec mon repas, s’il vous plait.
I would like ranch dressing with my meal, please.

Deoderant. C'est différent que le parfum.
Deoderant. It’s different than perfume.

Mais je ne veux pas le vin rouge avec le petit déjeuner.
But I don’t want red wine with breakfast.

Soutenir du gars de mime!
Back off pantomime guy!

If It's Not True, It Ought to Be

A headline from Monday’s news made me remember this story. One of those stories that make me snort laughter when I think about it. Not only because it’s funny, which it is, but because it brings up memories of living with Beth during the summer of 1998 when we were goddesses on Alegria. We told story after story every night while sitting on her porch drinking club soda and wine and trying to stay cool. And nobody…nobody…tells a story like Beth when she’s on a roll.

Beth was a television news reporter in Little Rock, Arkansas circa 1990, her first job out of college. Before she was assigned to cover politics, and a certain Governor Clinton, she was assigned more local-interest type stories.

So it’s a SLOW day in the newsroom when she gets a call from an absolutely hysterical woman who is SCREAMING at the top of her lungs.

HELP ME! HELP ME! COME HELP ME! COME HELP ME RIGHT NOW!

Beth is pretty alarmed and tries to get a word in to ask her what’s wrong.

THERE’S A GIANT DRAGON IN MY YARD!

Blink….blink, blink…blink…

COME HELP ME RIGHT NOW – THERE’S A DRAGON OUTSIDE THAT’S COMING AT MY BABIES!

Beth said she can hear hollering and kids screaming MAMA, IT’S A DRAGON! IT’S GONNA EAT US in the background.

Beth yells at the woman to call 911 who says she has but they hadn’t yet responded. No doubt because this woman sounded like a raving lunatic. Somehow the lady thought to call the local TV station and was put through to Beth.

Beth gets the address and grabs her cameraman and they head out in the station van to a very rural, isolated part of the countryside way outside of Little Rock, figuring that this was a prank. But it was a slow news day so it gave them something to do. The drive was one of those deals where they had to turn right at the red barn, then left when they see the hay stack in the field, kind of thing, but they somehow find their way and eventually drove up to this ramshackle double wide in the middle of nowhere.

When they step out Beth can hear the screaming inside. She and her camera man slowly start to walk up and all of a sudden the door swings open and the hysterical woman tells them to GET IN HERE FAST, THE DRAGON IS AROUND BACK TRYING TO GET IN THE BACK DOOR!

So Beth in her little skirt suit, hose and heels goes hot footing it across the gravel and she and her camera man jump inside where chaos is in full swing. She said there were about six children, all under the age of 10, just wailing and clinging to their mother. Beth finally peers around the cluster of people and looks outside the sliding glass door going out of the kitchen onto the back yard.

She said she jumped back and screamed “HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?” She was looking at a gigantic 10 foot long…dragon.

Her language sort of stunned all the little kids quiet. You just have to know Beth and watch her reenactment to know how funny this is. While she didn’t admit it, I think her second reaction was probably to throw one of those little children out in the backyard to act as a decoy so that she could safely bolt out of there, back to the van.

But the camera started rolling and Beth is trying to collect herself and report on the story, but she keeps getting distracted by crazy wailing kids and the fact that there is a mean looking alien animal 3 feet away from her that might possibly be capable of breathing fire. She calls someone from her station, explains the situation and tells them to send out animal control.

While waiting for help, Beth tries to check the thing out – its giant tongue was flicking on the glass, and she swears it was is 6 feet long and a foot and a half tall. It looked like a Komodo dragon, but it was the type of giant lizard that had one of those collars that flares up around its head when it is defensive. That collar thing was in full flare, it’s big tail was curled up and it looked mighty menacing.

So animal control shows up and the same scenario ensues with them dashing into the double wide, then not believing their eyes. They don’t know what to do about it, so they call the zoo, which sends people out and they go through the same thing of rushing in, only to stare. The zoo then called the wildlife department and the same scenario played out. Beth said that by the end of it, there were about 30 people all jammed into this ramshackle trailer with everyone yelling and screaming and not having a clue what to do. The owner of the house kept shouting SHOOT IT! JUST SHOOT IT!

Finally, someone takes control and they decide to shoot it with a tranquilizer and then this whole funny scenario ensues about how they picked the person that was going to have to go around back and do the shooting while 30 faces are pressed up against every window on that side of the double wide watching in horror.

I think the brave soul with the tranq gun got in a pick up truck at the front of the house and drove around back and shot it out the window, then peeled away when the dragon ran towards him before the drug took affect.

I don’t remember where it went from there but the zoo ultimately carted the beast away for observation. And Beth got her story.

When she got back to civilization, Beth researched the history of that area and discovered that the University of Arkansas used to have a biological/zoological research center near there that had long since been shut down. She figured that maybe the animal escaped or had been let go from that place, which had been closed for 20 years, and had been living in the Arkansas jungle all this time until it stumbled up onto the double wide.

There are a couple of Beth’s stories from her reporting days that get me laughing hard. This one, the one where a Slavic band of gypsies slaughtered and roasted a goat at a local Motel 6, the time she went with the DEA to report on a drug trafficking story on the border and ended up in a Mexican jail, and of course when she was an embedded reporter in Saudi Arabia for six weeks during Desert Storm.

Is it any wonder she eventually chose the relative safety of public television? The most dangerous thing Beth had to worry about there was avoiding being goosed by the pervy, old donor, and surviving the waitress at the Hole in the Wall (our lunch hot spot) who used to ball her out for being a bad tipper.

Incomprehensible

An Oklahoma company went public today, making its CEO, and majority share holder, a billionaire. Oklahoma now has 3 billionaires. 3.

One billion blows my mind.

One billion seconds ago it was 1959.

One billion minutes ago Jesus was alive.

One billion hours ago our ancestors were living in the Stone Age.

And one billion really isn't considered that large a number anymore, is it? YouTube sold for over 1.5 billion dollars. Warren Buffet donated 33 billion dollars to the Gates Foundation. There are 7 billion people on the Earth.

And I have one billion reasons why I haven't really written any stories in more than a month.

So I wonder what this new Oklahoma billionaire will do with all of that money... (Can I get an ANYTHING HE WANTS TO DO?!)

Lonesome George

I was moved by this funny and poignant story from today's New York Times about Lonesome George, a certain type of tortoise who is the last of his kind, and has been since he was found over 20 years ago.

Scientists are on the hunt for a female, but the prospects are dim.

I find myself rooting really hard for George, just like I did last year when those researchers thought they caught a glimpse of the thought-to-be-extinct Ivory Billed Woodpecker.

I want to believe that extinction doesn't have to happen...that there is the possibility we haven't screwed everything up. That life will survive even though we humans have been careless. I want George to find his mate!

Mungojerry and Rumpleteaser Were A Notorious Couple of Cats

Yikes! Seeing this ad in Sunday's paper for Cats coming to OKC in May made me feel as freaking OLD as Gus the Theater Cat. How is it possible that this show is celebrating its 25th year?

I saw first saw Cats in New York in 1985 with my mom. The show was at the Winter Garden Theater and it was all the rage. We had great seats, fairly close to the stage, although the stage wasn’t traditional at all – it jutted out into the audience all over the place.

When the lights dimmed and the orchestra began playing I was almost breathless. And then it was ON… cats were jumping and playing and dancing and singing and shouting and crying and being nice and mean and sweet and sad and it T.S. Elliot’s poems were coming to life.

It was unlike anything I had ever seen, and I loved it. But at one point I looked over at mom and she looked totally perplexed. And sort of annoyed. A look that said she wasn’t sure what to make of this musical melee with its no-dialogue-having plot being nothing but a loosely tied together string of songs sung by bulge-showing leotard-clad actors who were jumping and hissing around like banchees, with crazy lighting effects, and a giant descending spaceship. This was the closest thing to “performance art” either of us had ever seen and it pushed the limits of our Helena, Montana sensibilities.

The day before, we had seen the incredible musical 42nd Street at the Schubert Theater, which was right up our alley. Now that’s how musicals were SUPPOSED to be, right? A simple, straight-forward plot that involved a sweet love story and “saving the day”, fabulous songs, big tap dance numbers and lots of high-kicking Bob Fosse feather and sequin costume-wearing chorus line choreography. THAT was a musical.

Cats was much more “out there” than we were used to at that time. And it’s funny to think now that I actually thought Cats was “out there”, then. But I digress…

Mom was a really good sport and she hung out with me afterwards at the stage door so I could see Laurie Beechman who had played Grizabella (and sadly, has since died of ovarian cancer when she was not much older than I am now!) and that foxy Terrance “Rum Tug Tugger” Mann. Meow…

From that point on, I was pretty much eaten up with Cats. I thought it was awesome. I got the soundtrack on audio cassette and listened to it so much the tape warped. I bought the score and tried to learn to play some songs on the piano, but sounded fairly atrocious.

On that note, I have a funny memory of my wonderful grandmother, Mom Jo. As I’ve said before, Mom Jo was an extraordinary pianist and a musician of some renown in the gospel music world. Mom Jo had a VERY distinct style of playing that I don’t even know how to describe in words. It’s the sound that I will forever attach to old-school gospel quartet music, if that means anything to anyone. She would play songs in a real boogie-woogie style with a double-time bass line. Anyway, it’s hard to explain, but Mom Jo was visiting one summer and I was upstairs doing something and she was downstairs playing the piano and I could tell she had found the Cats music because I heard her playing the beautiful, haunting song “Memory” in that boogied-up, double bass beat gospel style. It was hilarious.

Fast forward some period of time, I really don’t remember how long, and the Broadway production of Cats was touring through Denver. My buddy Steve and I were pretty pumped and we had fun seeing the show together. Steve had seen the show in New York before I did, AND he had sent a Laurie Beechman a fan letter, to which she responded with a personal letter and picture, so he was a bigger Cats nerd than me.

Steve and I share a totally ridiculous Cats memory, but we thought it was hysterical at the time. There was a fairly small Cats promotional poster hanging inside the theater that I really wanted. And while I am completely embarrassed to admit this, we concocted this elaborate scheme to take the poster that involved waiting until everyone was gone. So we lurked and hid in dark shadows until the theater was clear. Then Steve held the door open and I quickly untacked and grabbed the posted and put it in my coat and once outside the doors we “walked/ran” as fast as we could to the car, laughing the whole way, thinking we were pretty Oceans 2 clever for getting away with stealing the Hope diamond. Never mind the fact that the theater had 100 copies of that same poster in their office and probably would have just given me one if I'd have asked, this was a treasure and it was MINE. I had it mounted and framed and it hung on my wall for years. Classy.

I had eagerly anticipated seeing Cats on PBS when they aired the show some years ago as part of Great Performances, but alas, I was disappointed. To me, Cats isn’t something you can watch on TV; it’s something you have to experience, and that only comes across to its fullest in the theater.

So now Cats is 25 years old and not so avant-garde, anymore. It’s one of those musicals that I don’t think I can ever see again because I over dosed on it years ago. I know it too well. I would want to fast-forward over certain parts. It would be a little bit tedious. It wouldn’t be the same as it was low those many years ago when I was a wide-eyed teenager being exposed to a little NYC culture.

Oh, what the heck…in the spirit of feeling really old as Cats celebrates its 25th:

Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again

Philanthropy - Give and Take

Somewhere in me I have something BIG to say about philanthropy and nonprofit organizations and fundraising, but it just hasn’t found its voice yet.

I know that I am constantly amazed by people’s generosity and the variety of good and important causes that exist to make our world a better place. And I am forever impressed by successful, creative fundraisers. To be a great development professional you have to have so many different skills.

But also churning around in this gray area of my thinking on this subject is the impact of “the great idea”. That ground-breaking philanthropic idea that creates a shift and changes the entire fundraising enterprise. Like Easter Seals did years ago when it was the first organization to send free address labels with their solicitations, or the original organization that decided to offer a premium, or thank-you gift, for certain giving levels, or the dawn of the mega-gifts like Warren Buffet’s staggering donation of 30 billion to the Gates Foundation. These are only a few of the many great ideas of philanthropy that have had enormous and lasting impact on giving decisions and fundraising activities.

I’m thinking about this today as I’m tripping down memory lane after reading the article, “A Time to Thrive” from the April 5 edition of The Chronicle of Philanthropy. This detailed article reveals how many charities are setting new fundraising records through traditional and not-so-traditional means (7 in 10 charities raised more money last year than in 2005, and nearly a quarter of organizations said they achieved gains of almost 50 percent or higher.)

A big section of the article told about Lance Armstrong and his Armstrong Foundation in Austin that raises money for cancer research. It just so happens that every part of Lance Armstrong’s personal story fascinates me, not the least of which is the impact and success of his foundation. Talk about the right time, right place thing working out to its perfect manifestation – this guy has been able to leverage his cancer survival, phenomenal sports success, celebrity and personal passion into an amazing organization.

But the part of the story that made me feel good today was when I read that the sale of the yellow Livestrong bracelets has grossed $65 million since 2004. That is truly amazing.

Lance Armstrong’s management firm that handles his business dealings was also our partner at the public television station where I worked, helping us produce Austin City Limits for PBS. As a result of that partnership, I had the amazing good fortune to be part of different ACL projects and meetings and got to know these people a little bit.

We were in a meeting one day preparing for our big ACL Gala and a friend from this firm handed me a little plastic bag containing one of the Livestrong bracelets. She said that this was a new thing that they had developed in conjunction with Lance’s foundation and the bracelets had just arrived that day. She explained to me its symbolism and how they were hoping to get people to show their support for cancer awareness, research and treatment by wearing them.

Little did I know when I put that bracelet on that day that I was one of the first to be wearing the next great idea in philanthropy. I thought the bracelet with its simple, yet powerful, message was cool and the idea had meaning, and I could certainly see Austinites getting into them since Lance was one of their favorite sons, but I had no idea (and neither did they!) that the yellow bracelets would quickly become an international phenomenon and would touch people’s psyches in the way that they did.

And to think that the Livestrong bracelets went on to spur an entire philanthropic (and commercial) industry where almost every “cause” jumped on the band wagon and produced their own bracelet for their constituents to show their support. We certainly did at public television – our bracelet is blue and says “Support public television”. A couple of the programs that we air during pledge drive created a bracelet for their show and offered it as a premium. For awhile, these different bracelets were everywhere.

The fad has certainly quieted down since its inception, but I still see people every now and then wearing the yellow Livestrong bracelets and I am reminded of the importance and impact philanthropy has in our world and how the next great idea might be right around the corner.

And how any one of us can play a part in its success.

Why

My heart is aching for all of those involved in the Virginia Tech massacre.

When I heard the news my immediate concern was for the students – those who died, those who were injured and those who were traumatized – and for their families. How awful. At the exact same time my heart instantly went out to those who are now working behind the scenes.

Especially that one person.

That one person who is ultimately going to be in charge of the logistics and fallout that will result from this catastrophe. That one person whose life is forever going to be changed and whose professional responsibilities and priorities have been violently shuffled and are now completely different than they were on Monday. That one person who has to immediately rise to the top of their game and lead hordes of people through a disastrous situation that they never in their wildest dreams thought they would be a part. That one person who is going to have to direct every detail of every team involved from communications to coordinating with law enforcement, unflinchingly answer the really hard questions, comfort the families, eventually deal with the families’ anger and its many manifestations, dissect the response effort, develop an immediate plan for future response efforts, deal with the relentless media onslaught that will pick and prod and accuse, quickly plan and execute a high-profile national public memorial service and later a permanent memorial, and handle the finger pointing and public outcry that will surely result from the actions of one crazy person.

In this case, I’m guessing that that one person will be the Virginia Tech President, and I have the deepest respect and a special empathy for him and for the teams of people who support him. Some careers are going to be made during this time and some careers are going to be broken. The strong will get stronger and the weak will wilt. All will be personally affected.

I know that person because that person was my dad when the Columbine High School shootings happened eight years ago, almost to the day.

As Jefferson County Manager, dad was at the hub of that disaster and had to manage every aspect of it from top to bottom. This was before 9/11 when things like this just didn’t happen. Or maybe it just seemed like disasters of this magnitude didn’t happen with the frequency they seem to do now. The stories I could tell about Columbine would take up weeks and weeks worth of blog space. I’m thankful that dad has written his memoirs on the subject because they provide a unique glimpse into an unexpected national tragedy.

So my hope is that all of us will take just a second to think of and bless everyone involved in the Virginia Tech massacre. They say there are 31 victims in this shooting rampage, but we all know that through the ripple effect there are hundreds and thousands of victims, all working hard to make sense of a completely senseless situation.

Adding Another Personal Issue to a Very Long List

I have total ringxiety. I hear my cell phone ringing all of the time.

The phenomenon of phantom ring tones has been in the news for awhile now, but my problem seems to be getting steadily worse. I have an old-school ring – “brrrring, brrring” – no fancy ringtone, no cool song, no cartoon catch phrase (mainly because I have an inability to figure out how to download anything new as my ringer).

But I hear my phone ringing when I’m watching TV, listening to the radio, driving down the street, blow drying my hair, in the shower…all the time. Even when a commercial comes on that I already know is going to trigger this response in me, I still fall for it and for one split second wonder if my phone is ringing. It’s SO ANNOYING.

I’ve read all of the articles that this has something to do with the pitch frequency of my phone in relation to my hearing range in relation to my growing dependency on a cell phone (this would be the PERFECT time to illustrate my point with a Venn Diagram, but I’ll spare you the charts and graphs!) yet instinct to answer wins out over reason every time.

Last night I was flying home from a weekend in Beautiful Colorado celebrating Macy’s FOURTH birthday and I watched the poor woman next to me get her phone out of her purse about six times. You could see the “ohmygosh I’m crazy” fear appearing in her face each time because she KNEW her phone was turned off, but she kept hearing it anyway. As I was silently empathizing with her, I had to laugh because we’ve become a society of cell phone lunatics.

But when the day comes that I finally muster up the gumption to figure out how it’s done, I’m going to download my nieces’ laughter as my ring tone. There is no sound better in the world, so IF I have to suffer from ringxiety, at least it would be to the giggles and belly laughs of Ruby and Mason. There are certainly worse things.

Good Luck Charm

You may have heard yesterday that a crowd of over 10,000 people were waiting to buy magic amulets in Bangkok, Thailand, and a stampede to get to the front of the line erupted killing one woman and injuring dozens of others.

10,000 people…in line…to buy MAGIC AMULETS…a STAMPEDE…and someone died. And it’s 2007. But someone died in a crush to get a magic amulet. I just can’t wrap my mind around it.

I googled the magical amulet, called a Jatukam Ramethep, and found out that they are round, ranging in size from a penny to a silver dollar and they come in a variety of colors. They’re named after a Brahmin deity, the skilled warrior prince of an ancient Southern Thai kingdom. Believers feel that the amulet can bring good luck and protect them from evil and violent attacks including gunshots and knife wounds.

You can buy an authentic Jatukam Ramethep amulet on Ebay for $15.50. But a woman DIED yesterday because 10,000 people crushed her in their effort to get one of these things. A magic amulet.

A MAGIC AMULET. Really? Like magic, magic? Call me a skeptic, but REALLY? Because if so, SIGN ME UP.

It’s reported that the deity won’t help the owner if they ask for things that they can’t afford or things that aren’t moral, but hey, I can think of plenty of other ways that good luck could find me that are squeaky clean and completely moral.

On second thought, maybe I should reserve judgement on these kooks obsessed with a little charm…

Years ago my friend Beth became friends with Kramer. Kramer is an astrologist of some renown in Austin, Texas, and you can always count on a good time if you have Kramer read your cards or your astrological chart. I’ve never been a big believer in the dark arts, but Kramer had a real disdain for Pisces (me!) and was convinced that Pisces were those in the Zodiak that had the biggest problems…big, big problems (me!). Most notably, that we weren’t grounded in reality (me!). His solution? Wear a hematite ankle bracelet on your left ankle every day for a year. The energy from the hematite stone was supposed to keep me grounded and focused and it would overpower any indecision or insecurity.

Just IN CASE Kramer MIGHT have had some insight into the Pisces condition I decided to go with the flow, so when the next woo-woo astrology fair came through Austin, I went from one patchouli scented booth to the other until I found just the right hematite ankle bracelet.

And I’ll be damned if I didn’t wear that thing for, like, three years straight.

Now, there are three things that I’ve always thought make a woman look mighty trashy – long fake fingernails, bleached blonde hair, and ankle bracelets. And yep, I’ve pretty much had all three - many at the same time - many times during my life. But for those years, the ankle bracelet kind of became my thing and it was fun to tell people that it was grounding me in reality.

The fact that I received many promotions and raises during this time, lost quite a bit of weight, and seemed to be dating on a regular basis was just coincidence, right? Perhaps. Perhaps not. The ankle bracelet finally broke one day and I took this as a sign that it had fulfilled its mission and its grounding properties were no longer needed in my life. And things have been pretty much downhill since.

Okay, maybe I’m just kidding. But maybe there really is something else to consider. If 10,000 people were willing to wait in a line and ultimately kill another person for a charm, maybe I could fork over the $15.50 to Ebay, forgo the drama and reap the good rewards. Perhaps?

Perhaps not.

Life on the Emotional Roller Coaster

Nothing like some tears to go with your morning coffee. I busted out the big, heavy, hot crocodile tears this morning – the kind of tears I normally reserve for when watching Terms of Endearment or reading Brian’s Song.

When checking the on-line headlines, I read that archeologists in Italy discovered this couple buried 6,000 years ago, hugging each other. The lead archeologist said she has never seen anything like it and has never been so moved.

The sweetness just got to me. This ancient couple is locked in an eternal embrace and their love is timeless. Timeless!

Then the bitterness got to me. But I want timeless love! I REALLY want timeless love!

So I got good and worked up. I felt like a female version of Ronny Cammareri (Nicolas Cage) in Moonstruck. Like I was pointing my wooden hand at the love gods while shouting “Johnny has his hand! Johnny has his bride! You want me to take my heartache, put it away and forget?” (I love Moonstruck so much).

Then I realized I was being a completely hormonal drama queen, so I told myself to “snap out of it!”, quoting my SECOND Moonstruck line of the morning.

Who knew I'd get worked up over some old bones?

I think we should just bury this loving couple back up and let them continue their slumber untouched. But you know we won’t do that. We’ll poke them and prod them and dig them up and put them in a museum.

And I’ll be the one with my face pressed up against, hugging, the glass case peering in at the couple while boo-hooing that they look so in loooooooove. They’ll have to bring in the Windex behind me, I’m sure.

Love rocks!