JACK BERNARD'S TRAVELS

Posted by jdbernard743

· January 9, 2020

We Need the Newseum…

The University of Montana’s School of Journalism, established in 1914, is one of the oldest accredited journalism programs in America. My mother was one of its first female graduates in 1928, and though she never worked as a journalist she inspired me to be a writer and would be proud to know her granddaughter is a mid-career writer, editor, and freelance journalist.

It’s not surprising then that we, as a family, are staunch supporters of the First Amendment and its important role in maintaining a free and open society. Unfortunately, our current president, thin-skinned and notably ignorant of the country’s founding principles and documents, views the press as “the enemy of the people.”

Journalists and other writers are and have always been the social and political conscience of the people – not the enemy. Americans may be unfamiliar with the term Fourth Estate, but it’s common in other democracies and derives historically from journalism’s role as a check on the three traditional estates of the realm – the clergy, the nobility, and the commoners (Wikipedia).

Today’s Fourth Estate, news media, acts as an informal agency to monitor and report back to the people on the executive, legislative, and judicial branches of government. It is society’s conscience, the guardrail that keeps government from overstepping its bounds and its officials accountable… especially in troubling times like these.

That’s why I was devastated to hear that the Newseum, a Washington D.C. museum built to celebrate journalism and honor its practitioners, was closing its doors on New Year’s Eve 2019. Words, the tools of the trade in journalism and so important in the defense of liberty, are wholly inadequate to express my upset.

Only a year ago, M and I spent most of a day at the Newseum where I took this picture of the US Capitol from its outside walkway. Originally located across the river in Rosslyn, Virginia, in 2008 it was relocated to D.C.’s Pennsylvania Avenue at a cost of $450 million. From the beginning, it was an ambitious but under-financed project competing for visitors with 15 free museums a block away on the National Mall. A private institution with an adult admission of $25, the price was beyond the reach of many visitors. When it became clear that its operational costs were unsustainable the trustees sold the building to Johns Hopkins University.

While there were many exhibits at the Newseum, from sections of the Berlin Wall to live feeds from 80 international newspapers, I think the Journalists Memorial was the most striking and memorable. Covering a floor to ceiling wall and composed of the photographs of 2344 reporters, photographers, and broadcasters who died reporting the news, it spoke dramatically of the courage, responsibility, and danger associated with the profession.

The Fourth Estate is vital and active but under attack – and not just from Mr. Trump. News delivery is changing. More than 1 in 5 newspapers have closed since 2004. Newspapers can’t compete with Breaking News on the Internet. Traditional network news is losing ground to a variety of opinion-based cable channels. Investigative reporters fact check their stories and reveal the truth, but consumers find it increasingly difficult to distinguish reliable sources from bots and trolls.

At every campaign rally, Mr. Trump rails against the press, often threatening journalists and calling them out by name. In this era of extreme political division, with rage and unparalleled access to firearms, his provocations call for increasing vigilance.

We need the Newseum. We need a monument to the Fourth Estate, a substantial brick and mortar testament to journalism’s role in a civil society. Along with the Holocaust and African American museums on the Mall, the Newseum reminds us that our freedoms are not free.

The Newseum trustees are looking for a new location. It may not be as grand as the one they are leaving, but let’s hope they find one soon to honor the men and women who educate, inform, and prepare us for our role as citizens.

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Categories : Art, Ethics, Film/Television, News and Media, Personal/Family, Politics, Travel, Uncategorized, Work and Adventure

Posted by jdbernard743

· December 30, 2019

· 1 Comment

Admiration and Hope…

As the year draws to a close, I find myself reflecting on the good, the bad and the ugly of the previous twelve months. So much of our public discourse has been devoted to the ugly that I decided to end the year by shining a light on a few friends whose accomplishments and attitudes I find especially admirable. As I reflected, I was reminded of the serendipity of life – that random events and minor differences can alter the course of a life. Where you were born, when you were born, whether you inherit good genes or bad, are lucky or unlucky all play a part and remind us to focus and live in the present.

Some folks read the news
And get the blues
Others avoid the Top News Section
‘Cause it causes indigestion.
All the news of Donald Trump
Leads some to seek a stomach pump.
His staff plays a game of musical chairs
About sycophants and millionaires.
When the music stops, no one knows,
But when it does, someone goes.
One way to cope is deadly prose
That works for many, I suppose.
Others read their news in witty verse
Administered by a comic nurse.

Let’s all sit back and have a good time.
Cause here comes the Donald all in rhyme!

The poem above introduces Reverend David K. Fly’s third book – I’m President and You’re Not: The Residency of Donald Trump – A Distasting. David is the newest of the friends profiled here, and though all five are singular in their achievements, David may have the most eccentric resume – standup comedian, professional clown, and Episcopal priest.

David says the three roles became increasingly intertwined throughout his life. The big top of the circus came to represent for him the church with its sense of wonder and mystery—a world from which no one is excluded. He sees his role of clown and Christian as an opportunity to expose the folly of pretense and vanity of pride.

David, a stretched out 5’6”, is married to my friend Adrienne, aka Sam, who at 6’2” can probably still dunk a basketball. David tells me he’s just grateful he has a partner who can reach things on the top shelf.

I met Adrienne before I met David. We were both single and living in Manhattan. The sister of a fellow Marine and law school friend, she was working as a researcher at Life Magazine and I was flying for Pan Am out of JFK. We were both broke but enjoying the free museums and concerts all around town. Then we grew up and took off in different directions. She went to law school, and I transferred to Berlin.

David and Adrienne are about to celebrate their 30^thanniversary and proudly share his 5 daughters now scattered around the country. In 1998, David retired as rector of Grace Church, Kirkwood, Missouri but he and Adrienne, a practicing lawyer, spent the next 13 years giving other Episcopal clergy the tools they would need for their own retirement. When I asked about his health, Adrienne told me he was struggling with COPD, but he added with characteristic good humor “I earned it.” I believe him… in the best way. Attitude may not be everything, but it does help smooth the bumps.

When it comes to bumps, my friend Hugh Milburn has been dealing with one that would defeat most of us though you might never know it. His attitude in the face of the obstacle is astonishingly calm.

Last year, while enjoying a well-earned retirement after 40 years as an oceanographer at NOAA, he was diagnosed with a rare genetic version of ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease). This is a guy who was riding his mountain bike on single track, waterskiing, and playing the guitar into his 70’s. We shared these interests and four years ago at his urging I started taking lessons on alternating weeks with him and his guitar teacher. A couple of years later he and his wife, Marilyn, moved to their dream retirement home looking out on Puget Sound near Olympia, and last year after noticing some muscle weakness… they got the diagnosis.

When the Milburn’s two daughters were growing up, Hugh, my wife M, and Tom Bird whom you’ll meet next, had children in the same schools. When they became concerned about how science was being taught in their schools they formed a non-profit called Friends of Science, and dedicated themselves to improving the teaching of science in their local school district.

I didn’t know Hugh until I moved back to Seattle, but in yet another serendipitous small world coincidence, we discovered that my son Brent, a NOAA Corps officer, worked for Hugh as the executive officer on one of NOAA’s ocean-going ships gathering scientific data in the Pacific. Small world indeed.

When M and I visited Hugh last week he was cheerful and welcoming though confined to a wheelchair now. There wasn’t a trace of self-pity in his manner and his smile is as bright as ever. When I Googled his name, ResearchGate, a social networking site for scientists and researchers, listed 17 publications he either authored or co-authored, most of them from PMEL (Pacific Marine Environmental Laboratory) with subjects ranging from tsunami hazard reduction to deep ocean bottom measurements – something my son’s ship was involved with. I’ve always wished we had known each other earlier but definitely glad for what we have now.

Hugh and Marilynn’s partner in Friends of Science was Dr. Thomas Bird. Tom has been a Professor of Neurology and Medical Genetics at the University of Washington for 40 years and a pioneer in the field of Clinical Neurogenetics. He’s the recipient of numerous national awards for his research on hereditary diseases of the nervous system including Alzheimer and Huntington diseases and established the first clinic for adults with neurogenetic diseases in the United States.

Tom and his wife, Ros, share our interest in theater and for the last 10-15 years we have seen play after play in each other’s company. He recently published Can You Help Me: Inside the Turbulent World of Huntington Disease, a narrative account of his encounters with Huntington patients and the bizarre unpredictable, and devastating disease for which there is no cure. M and I were honored to be manuscript readers before the final publication and are always in awe of his ability to manage patient care with empathy for those suffering from this incurable and devastating illness. Tom has ceased his clinical practice, but continues to work on research projects and mentor others at the UW and the VA hospitals.

Ruth Kagi is a relentless crusader for children, a recently retired state legislator, a mother, grandmother, and a warm and generous friend. She began her public life as a policy analyst for the Department of Labor in Washington DC after graduating from Syracuse University with a master’s degree in Public Administration, but her passion and life’s work really began when she retired from the federal government and, working with the League of Women Voters, became an advocate for children.

With years in the bureaucratic and non-profit trenches and encouragement from her husband, Mark, who died of COPD while she was in office, Ruth ran for the Washington state legislature in 1998. She stayed for 20 years, served on the Appropriations and Environment committees and chaired the Early Learning and Human Services Committee. She has been a forceful voice for children, expanding early learning opportunities, and reforming the child welfare system. In the process she has become a nationally recognized authority in the field.

In the legislature, Ruth initiated and shepherded the passage of legislation establishing quality standards for child-care and pre-school, protecting foster children, and creating the new Department of Children Youth and Families.

One of the remarkable things about Ruth and one I truly admire is that she is the child of one of Washington’s pioneering lumber families but has devoted her entire adult life to helping the less fortunate, especially children, in difficult circumstances. Today, she continues her work as Early Learning Ambassador for ABC Partners, a collaboration of philanthropies, supported by Connie Ballmer of the Ballmer Group, that dedicates itself to creating early learning opportunities to enable all children to enter kindergarten ready to succeed, especially those who are disproportionately likely to remain in poverty. Her dogged advocacy isn’t flashy, but it has changed the lives of many children in both Washington state and on an expanding national canvas.

The outlier in this group of friends is Dave Northfield. He’s the son of my high school friends, Bob and Sue, but Dave and I have a friendship independent of his parents. In the ‘90s we were both living in Salt Lake City where he was the morning anchor on KTVX the local ABC affiliate. During our overlapping four years we skied, played tennis, and went to jazz clubs reinforcing what has become has become a special intergenerational friendship.

A graduate of the University of California, Berkeley, an alma mater we also shared, Dave also has a master’s degree from Columbia University School of Journalism. As a young reporter, he was on a rocket ride in broadcast journalism – but for a series of bad breaks.

When KTVX had an evening anchor opening he was told he looked too young for the job and was passed over for a Mormon applicant. Maybe SLC wasn’t a good choice after all. He had come to KTVX from KGET in Bakersfield, a smaller market, where he broke into the field and served his apprenticeship. When he was passed over for the evening anchor job in Salt Lake City, he shopped his resume around and chose KGW, the NBC affiliate in Portland, a still bigger market, where he was hired as a general reporter hoping to advance to an anchor job.

Malcolm Gladwell makes a point about timing in Outliers: The Story of Success. Timing is everything and Dave’s wasn’t great. After a few years at KGW with no anchor openings, he felt his career was stalling, so with three children in or approaching college he made the difficult choice to leave broadcast journalism. The transition wasn’t easy, but his journalism experience made him a natural in public relations. He recently landed a very good PR job as Director of Communications for the Oregon Association of Hospitals and Health Systems.

Broadcast journalism lost a star when it failed to recognize how good he was, and that’s not just friendship talking. I watched him work in two markets. On air, he was a charismatic, well-informed, Emmy winning journalist with the kind of interview rapport that made everyone comfortable.

Gladwell is right; timing is everything. Media has changed. Networks are struggling. Cable news is expanding but much of it is opinion rather than journalism. Investigative work is thriving, but the job market is shrinking. Like shopping malls and chain bookstores, print journalism is dying. Dave will succeed in PR but the public would have been better served if he had been allowed to follow his career of choice.

Sometimes it isn’t COPD, ALS, or even age that interferes with success… it might just be timing, so as the year draws to a close I’m sharing these friends and honoring them for their accomplishments and attitudes – true citizens of the world and examples of the goodness that will hopefully be our salvation.

Happy New Year 2020

Categories : Books, Ethics, Film/Television, Friendship, Personal/Family, Politics, Uncategorized, Work and Adventure

Posted by jdbernard743

· December 22, 2019

· 1 Comment

A Special Disappointment…

It was going to be a special shared birthday; drive to Portland for an upscale getaway dinner during a particularly bleak time of year in the Northwest. We enjoy everything from dive bars to special occasion restaurants so long as they’re unique. In September, we ate at four very different restaurants in New Orleans, all James Beard award winners, so when I told a friend of our birthday plans he suggested we try Jory, the restaurant at the Allison Inn and Spa, a luxury wine estate, near Newberg south of Portland.

Several days before the trip I went online to make a 6:30 reservation using the Open Table link on their website. I was given 5:45 or 8pm as their openings. Neither was good, but of the two, 5:45 seemed like better timing. It was the first in a series of disappointments. Not a great start.

In an earlier life I owned a small upscale Italian bistro called Piccolo in Sun Valley, and when I was new in the business I was mentored by Wolfgang Schmidheiny the Swiss CEO of Napa’s Cuvaison Winery. Early in our friendship I asked him to talk to our staff about wine. He agreed but redirected the discussion to what it takes to give the customer a good overall restaurant experience. With respect to wine, he told us to keep it simple; let the waiter in the tuxedo down the street talk about “notes of blackberry and chocolate on the nose.” He suggested the waitstaff say the wine in question was “representative of the varietal, well reviewed by the experts, and one of our best sellers.”

Then he talked about the restaurant experience itself. He told us that there are four things to consider in evaluating a restaurant – food, atmosphere, service, and “recognition.” Food preparation, he told us, may be simple or complex but all restaurants worthy of a review use high quality seasonal ingredients and prepare them well. Consequently, food was the least important of the four considerations on his list. The most important was recognition, by which he meant how the customer was treated. If he was a returning customer, he should be recognized and greeted warmly by name. If new, he/she should be welcomed cordially and made to feel comfortable? Service was the second consideration, essentially an adjunct to the first, and atmosphere was third.

This leads me to the crux of my review of Jory, the Allison Inn restaurant. On Tuesday, M and I drove to Portland. My friend told us to take a “bag full of cash,” but cost wasn’t going to determine our restaurant choice. We had looked at the menu and knew what to expect.

Sadly, the evening didn’t measure up – but it wasn’t the food that disappointed. When we arrived at the Inn, in driving rain and heavy traffic, we gave the car to the valet and presented ourselves to the maître d’hôtel. His welcome was cold and unsmiling. He seemed distracted, surprised to see us, and asked “Would you like to wait in the bar until your table is ready?” Really? Does ten minutes early mean you have to sit in the bar when the dining room is empty? We told him we preferred to be seated, and with reluctance he led us to our table in the totally empty dining room. Not long after we were seated another couple came in and the four of us sat alone in the room until just before 7pm. There is nothing less enjoyable than watching the wait staff fidget while you wait for your food in a large empty dining room. I wondered why my 6:30 request had been denied. If we had been seated at 6:30 our orders would have been in the kitchen queue before the 7pm arrivals. Were they understaffed and unable to handle a full dining room? Didn’t they realize an empty dining room always raises questions about a restaurant?

Despite the bad start, our servers were attentive and there were a couple of nice surprises including a mushroom amuse bouche with our drinks and sorbet between courses. Our waiter was knowledgeable, and when I asked about a local Pinot Noir his recommendation turned out to be just right for the octopus and chorizo pappardelle starter and later with the seared Pacific scallops with a pomegranate garnish. Marilynn’s Australian Wagyu striploin was cooked to a perfect medium rare but delivered to the table on the cool side. Not fatal but not up to her standard. The service was competent throughout and, all in all, the food part of our meal was good. Unfortunately, the overall experience was degraded by the 5:45 start, the empty dining room, and the imperious greeting by the maître’d. On the way back to our hotel we didn’t discuss the excellent food flavors. Instead, the conversation turned on how ridiculous and condescending the maître’d had been. Our special occasion dinner experience fell flat, and though we got away for $200 we would rather have spent more for a memorable birthday dinner.

The lesson is obvious; if your business depends on the customer experience, the staff needs training. You never know who that customer is going to be. The Jory didn’t know I was a freelance travel writer or that we had restaurant chops. My friend Wolfgang was 100% right; with three of the four factors on the right side of the ledger the experience was still disappointing. Even with special touches like the suite of chocolates on a Happy Birthday plate (below) we left the restaurant wishing it had been better. It’s a shame that Open Table and a condescending host can turn a special celebration into a disappointing occasion. It takes such little effort to do it right.

Categories : Food/Restaurants, Friendship, Personal/Family, Travel, Uncategorized

Posted by jdbernard743

· December 15, 2019

· 1 Comment

Laugh it Off…

I feel like the fabled frog in the fabled pot of hot water. I know it’s getting warm and there’s a danger my frogish ass will get cooked if I don’t get out of the pot… but where’s my lifeline?

Here’s my problem: The heat of impeachment is rising. Congressional committees are working through the night. Both parties are stewing in their juices. Temperatures are climbing, voices more strident. Articles of Impeachment have been drafted, and pundits are frothing at the mouth, and just this morning, Rudolph Giuliani returned to the White House to report on his latest escapades in Ukraine, and they’re all driving me crazy.

Republicans are screaming about “process” while the House Dems are rushing to impeach without exhausting their legal remedies – something every first-year law student learns not to do. Good lawyers don’t litigate without all the evidence they need, and they need Bolton, Pompeo, Mulvaney, Kushner, and Giuliani under oath before they take it to the Senate. The old impeachment cake is half-baked without their court-ordered testimony and all the documents the White House has been holding back.

It’s painful to watch, so I’m working on an alternative survival strategy. Last week, I wrote about weaning myself from the daily news cycle. So far, those results have been marginal, but I’m on the right track. I’d rather be hiding out on a beach in Southeast Asia, but that’s not in the cards at the moment. Maybe later. Instead, I’m going with the strategy laid out by Norman Cousins in his groundbreaking 1964 book, Anatomy of an Illness.

Cousins was an American journalist and editor of the Saturday Review. In 1964, battling a life-threatening disease, he wrote a book that changed many lives, including his own. After conducting research on the biochemistry of human emotions, he developed the theory that laughter could be an effective tool in a patient’s recovery. The book was an enormous success and survival strategy for Cousins and others. Told by his doctors that he had one chance in 500 of recovery, he recovered and lived a full life, dying 26 years later at age 75.

Faced with 11 more months of breathless reporting on Trump’s lies, impotent protestations from impeachment-obsessed Democrats, righteously truth-denying Republicans, and the frenzied Fourth Estate, I’m planning to treat my own emotional health with a heavy dose of humor in the hope that I’ll be able to laugh my way to the 2020 Presidential election.

My emotional recovery began with the documentary Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins. I confess my education was deficient until two years ago when M and I spent three weeks crossing the great state of Texas with Gar and Mollie Lasater, two long-time friends from Fort Worth. They introduced us to Ivins’ humor and to Lawrence Wright’s God Save Texas, a rollicking ride through the Lone Star state’s oil, cattle, and government history. We’ve been laughing hard ever since.

Molly Ivins was a take no prisoners political humorist whose books include You Got to Dance with Them What Brung You, Politics in the Clinton Years and Shrub: The Short but Happy Political Life of George W. Bush. One can only imagine what she would have done with Trump (see above). Unfortunately, she passed away in 2007 at the age of 62, but she left us with a treasure trove of political humor.

You’ve got to love a woman who names her dog Shit. She was definitely a Texas original, but from a strain of Texans with Eastern roots. Like our friends, Gar and Mollie, who are 3^rd/4^thgeneration Texans with legacies to Vassar and Princeton, Molly Ivins left the River Oaks neighborhood in Houston to attend Smith College, the Institute of Political Science in Paris, and earn a master’s degree from Columbia University’s School of Journalism. She paid her dues at the Minneapolis Tribune and New York Times before returning to Austin as a syndicated columnist for the Fort Worth Standard.

Her comments on Texas politics and politicians were classics, e.g. “If you took all the fools out of the Texas legislature it would not be a representative body anymore,” and “Every two years, one of the most hotly contested elections in Texas is the poll taken among members of the capitol press corps to determine who are actually the ten stupidest members of the Legislature. Two years ago, there were thirty-seven official nominees and several write-ins.”

Molly’s gone now, but her equal-opportunity political observations remain as do her successors – Jon Stewart, Maureen Dowd, Bill Maher, SNL, and Stephen Colbert. I’ll continue to go back to Molly’s well, but there is plenty of fresh material and I plan to laugh until November of 2020 when the Trumpian circus folds its tent, pardons all its felons, and stuffs its pockets on the way out of town.

“I dearly love the state of Texas, but I consider that a harmless perversion on my part and discuss it only with consenting adults.”

Categories : Art, Ethics, Film/Television, Politics, Travel, Uncategorized, Work and Adventure

Posted by jdbernard743

· December 6, 2019

· 4 Comments

Advice to Self…

Remember when “parental control” was a euphemism for discipline. We invoked it when we thought the kids were watching too much television. Now parental controls are built in to their devices. A much better idea – no nagging – way to manage their “screen time.” That’s great for parenting but we parents need to limit our own screen time. We’re are drowning in TMI, too much information. We need self-discipline to control the deluge.

John Lennon told us, “Christ, you know it ain’t easy.” And it isn’t. Look around. Watch people on the bus. Nobody’s talking. Everybody’s staring at their phones. They’re consumed. TMI. Look at all the morbidly obese people the next time you go to Starbucks. Too many Frappuccino’s. TMF. I probably shouldn’t wade in these waters, but too much political news is just as bad for your health as too many Frappuccino’s.

Sometimes the effects are hard to grasp. I didn’t know how liberating it was to go without news until it wasn’t available. In 2011 M and I were living in Saigon where the only American TV we could get was American Idol, Glee, and Suzy Orman. No news is good news – no CNN, no MSNBC, no Fox News. It was liberating.

That was in 2011 during the run-up to an earlier presidential election, and in that far off land without cable news our heads weren’t cluttered with polling data and other political detritus a year before the election date. Our days didn’t revolve around the daily squabbling between Ron Paul, Newt Gingrich, Rick Santorum, Rick Perry, Michelle Bachman, and Mitt Romney. Remember them? Romney is still a player, but the rest are part of a long forgotten sideshow. Today, there’s a new cast of characters jockeying for position on the Democratic side. I doubt we’ll remember their names 8 years from now.

Back in the USSR, I mean USA, as another election year rolls around the media blitz is in full swing again, and as curious as I am about the impeachment drama, the Democratic death spiral, and what should be the slam dunk burial of Donald J. Trump, I’m determined to exert my inner parental controls.

A basketball coach friend once told me, after winning his first three games, “Jack, it’s a long season.” The same holds true in politics. What I learned in 2011 is that the American elections last too long and cost too much. I don’t want or need to know Nate Silver’s daily rankings of the primary candidates. The election is a still a year away.

M and I take two newspapers, four magazines, have two TVs, two computers, two smartphones, two e-readers, and two radios plus Sirius XM in the car. The day starts with Morning Joe and coffee and ends with a glass of wine and Colbert’s LateShow monologue. I know Clint Watts and Nicolle Wallace, George Conway and Maggie Haberman as if they were old friends and cringe when Tucker Carlson or Sean Hannity– emissaries of an Evil Empire made of their own polyester hold forth. By the time I’m tucked in bed watching Colbert, I’m too exhausted to appreciate how brilliant he is.

Here’s my Advice to Self:

Get a life.
Stop obsessing over Trump’s tax returns. Yes, he cheated.
Tell Nancy Pelosi to cool her jets over impeachment. It’s a long season.
Keep the faith. Big Macs may do the job for us.
Limit screen time on Fox News and MSNBC.
Go to the gym.
1. Do Cross-Fit or MUV Training. You’ll be too tired to change channels.
Binge watch The Crown or Chef’s Table.
1. Don’t cheat and look back at cable news.
Plan Date Night with M.
1. Drink a martini…maybe two…on Date Night.
2. Talk to the people at the next table. She does it anyway.
3. Don’t ask about their politics.
4. Call Uber for a ride home.
Plan a vacation. Foreign travel helps you reset.
Go for a walk or get a dog. Both will get you outside.
Go an independent bookstore. Buy a book.
Sit down to drink your latte.
Disregard… it’s an unlucky number.
Spend more time with your kids and friends.

It’s hard for me to acknowledge Donald Trump’s feral genius, but he has us all wringing our hands and chasing our tails, and jabbering about him. I’m opting out. I don’t care whether he’s impeached or defeated at the polls. I want him gone one way or another. I hope it’s humiliating, but he’s so shameless it’s probably too much to hope for. Regardless, I’m going to get on with my life and hope the internal controls keep my media/screen time within bounds.

It’ll be hard to wean myself from Nicolle Wallace’s Deadline: White House, but truth be told I’d rather read an Alan Furst or David Ignatius novel anyway. I might catch Brian Williams’ 11^thHour but hope it’s after an episode of The Crown, Chefs Table or The Kominsky Method.

Lately, I’ve been watching Book TV. It’s my guilty pleasure. Who else do you know who watches Nerd TV? I love it. It feeds the inner nerd who loves books and author talk – but please Lord save me from the Donald Trump Jr. Jackie Gingrich drivel. Some people’s children shouldn’t be allowed in print.

Bottom line:

Live your life as if CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News didn’t exist. You’ll feel better, sleep better, and live longer.