A few months ago, on a mid-September, Saturday morning, I woke to an odd, gnawing pain in my left side. As the pain progressed, I cancelled plans and took a nap. By mid-afternoon, the pain vanished, so I took in an Atlanta Braves baseball game. I’ll do just about anything to hear the crack of the bat on a warm, fall night in the south.

Sunday, fine.

Monday, fine.

Tuesday, death.

The gnawing pain returned, times ten. Honestly, pain isn’t even the right word. More like anguish, torture, or agony. I’m not being dramatic here. #truth

My primary sent me to urgent care, urgent care sent me to the hospital, and the ER doctor sent me on a morphine high. It took the edge off but the pain was very much still there. A short while later, a surgeon came by to tell me I wasn’t going home and that I needed emergency surgery. That’s where things quickly got foggy. I don’t know who took my clothes off, who took my phone, or how family figured out details. The last thing I remember was…#idunno #idontcare #wentblank #gonnadie

By days end, Dr. Nazia Bandukwala removed a 6 mm kidney stone blocking my left ureter, likely, since Saturday. I’d fully recover about two weeks later.

As health scares often do, I took stock about my choices. Dr. B suggested replacing diet soda with water or sparkling water, saying diet soda can cause chronic dehydration. Dehydration can prevent your kidneys from cleaning your blood and removing toxins from your body. Chronic dehydration, in combination with a high protein diet, can set you up to be a visitor in Dr. B’s office.

Here’s a good read. https://www.kidney.org/atoz/content/kidneystones_prevent

Thankfully, I only had one stone, though many people form multiple stones. Here are some numbers:

Kidney stones affect 7% of women

Kidney stones affect 13% of men

The average ureter is 3 mm to 4 mm

Stones range in size from a sugar crystal to a ping pong ball (just kill me now)

Most people can’t pass a stone bigger than 5 mm

Kidney stones aren’t generally life threatening, but can be dangerous to the overall health of your kidneys and passing them is extremely painful. The pain is caused by the rough edges of an oversized stone scrapping along RAW nerve endings. It’s even worse for men, at least according to my brother, an ‘expert’ with multiple stones. I believe him.

Here are a few more numbers I’ve worked for you:

I’ve downed more than 27,000 diet sodas since I was 20.

I’ve spent more than $30,000 on diet soda.

My kidney stone emergency surgery and aftercare cost more than $40,000.

Water costs $0.

Turns out, my diet soda habit was more expensive than I’d imagined. I’m proud to say I kicked the habit in September and wonderful, unexpected things happened.

Benefits of Ditching Diet Soda

I immediately lost weight! I lost 8 pounds within three weeks and have kept it off. I no longer crave sugary, salty sweets and am instead scrounging for sources of protein.

My stomach flatted out. Bloat be gone along with the doughy, lumpy, thick feeling I carried around…and I couldn’t be happier. Goodbye bloat. I hated you.

My stomach feels happy! I no longer feel like I have sludge in my tummy. It feels calm, happy and healthy. I prefer chicken, fish, and veggies over processed foods and sugar.

I found yogurt! I challenged myself to like yogurt because of all the health benefits. I mix two parts Fage Greek yogurt with one-part Dannon Oikos (coconut and banana). Delicious. Filling. Healthy. Great digestive bennies.

Sparkling water is delicious. Who knew?? There are no calories, sugar or citric acid in sparkling, club or seltzer water. Many come in lots of yummy flavors. Generic brands taste just as good and sparkling water has the same benefits as regular water. Soda water at restaurants is usually (but not always) free. Dr. B said to put a lemon-a-day in drinks to further help the kidneys.

More energy! I have much more energy and have incorporated a 7-minute HIIT workout at home. I feel like a younger, fresher me!

My equation goes something like this:

Scary day + lost control + needles + emergency surgery + watershed moment + commitment + good choices – diet soda – junky craves + veggies + sparkling water + protein + yogurt = happy and healthy!

What’s your equation?

What do you need to ditch in 2018?

Do the math.

Make the choice. 😊

I had it all planned.

I’d venture first to NYC, visit with friends, shop and take in a morning skate at Rock Center, before taking the train to Upstate, New York, to enjoy the holidays with family and friends. Both places are charming at Christmastime for different reasons.

The odyssey began after a weather waiver diverted my flight from NYC directly to Syracuse. No Christmas in the City this year. Ok. No biggie.

I arrived Monday and started the hustle and bustle of catching up with family and friends, watching my niece win a basketball game, and SU lose one. Thursday, Christmas Eve, Eve, Eve arrived quickly, and I was excited to have lunch with my sister, Kathy, and our childhood friends, Anne and Lorraine, in support of Lorraine, who lost her beloved husband, Larry, Christmas day, 2015.

Forever friends: Lorraine Barney, Donna Adamo, Anne Sullivan, Kathy Faccioli

As a surprise, Kathy invited, her son, my nephew, Dan, and his 3-month old son, Connor, to join us, knowing it would be the first time we would meet. We had a wonderful lunch, all went our separate ways, and over the next day and a half, did all the holly jolly things you do just before Christmas.

The first ping came late Friday afternoon. Raised in the snowbelt, it’s not uncommon for that first familiar gulp of a sore throat to come out of nowhere, then, if you’re lucky, disappear. Could be allergies or maybe just dry air. I swallowed again. Nothing. Weird, but okay, GOOD. I drank water, forgot about it, and got on to my business of designer wrapping gifts before going to bed, excited to see everybody Christmas Eve. It’d been two years since I’d been home for Christmas. No way would I get sick. I work out, eat healthy, and haven’t been sick in years.

Nothing like a designer wrapping…for a 3-month old. Connor loved it.

Not so fast.

At 5 a.m. a searing pain in my throat, accompanied with the old familiar chills and gripping headache, jolted my deep sleep. I hadn’t had the flu since the mid-2000’s when my colleague, CBS 5 news legend, Maureen Green, rightfully and abruptly, cut my ‘live hit’ short, apologizing to viewers for the bronchitis I’d hoped no one would notice. I fell back asleep, burrowed beneath blankets, unable to move.  At about the same time, my sister, Kathy, woke with the same fate. We’d find out later, my nephew, Dan, was  rushed to the hospital Friday with a 103+ fever, testing positive for strep throat. Kathy was managing her symptoms better, likely because she had her tonsils out as a teen.

Several times throughout Christmas Eve day, family offered to take me to the ER, but I refused. My head hurt so bad, I hated needles, and thought, even if I had strep, I could just sleep it off. I’m never sick. Looking back, clearly, my way wasn’t working.

Come Christmas morning, my symptoms hadn’t budged. Again, my mom and sisters encouraged me to go to the ER. I was weak, sick, tired, hurting and just couldn’t do it. Besides, Dan was now home and Kathy was getting better. ‘Just a few more hours’ I thought. Family kept checking on me before heading to my sister Teresa’s home for Christmas dinner. They’d only be gone for a little bit, just down the road. I insisted I’d be fine and would just sleep it off.

What I didn’t know is that strep throat is dangerous, especially, in older adults. Strep is a throat infection, caused by the streptococcus bacteria, and if not treated immediately with antibiotics, can cause potential serious side-affects and complications such as kidney disease, meningitis, pneumonia, even toxic shock.

By 4 p.m. Christmas Day, voices from the living room jarred me. Dizzy, I sat up in bed before bungling my way to the living room to ask them to quiet down. To my confusion, no one was home. I remembered the Chargers were in the Super Bowl, and someone moved my mother’s home to a suburb in Washington, DC where I lived….

At least I was smart enough to text my brother, Mike, visiting from Delaware, for help.

I’m quite sure he was embarrassed by my odd entrance into St. Elizabeth’s Hospital. A faceless ghost with The Walking Dead hair, I sprawled on the gurney like a useless piece of mass. I tested positive for strep. My WBC (white blood count) was elevated to 20. A normal count is 4.5-10. Attached to a heart monitor, I was flooded with an IV cocktail of fluid, penicillin, Toradol, anti-nausea meds, and potassium, and was released five hours later. I retreated back to bed and remained pretty much a sad story until Tuesday night, when finally, things started to turn around.

Be smart, and get on an antibiotic ASAP. Waiting is ugly.

I had slept through all of Christmas.

In reflection, I realize a few things:

First, our bodies talk to us. Listen. My body was communicating the same message my family was communicating. Go. To. The. Hospital. I wasn’t receptive. I’m thankful for the gift of love and the friends and family who – to paraphrase FOTUS – ‘go high when you go low’. #giveitup #listentoyourmom

Also, I’m grateful for a renewed sense of appreciation for the compassion and dedication of first responders, nurses, doctors, medical and lab technicians, pharmacists, gas station personnel, police, fire, news people, DOT crews, and all others who selflessly work holidays to provide services for people they’ve never met, and probably, will never meet again.

Those are some hefty gifts that don’t fit under a tree. More reminders Christmas doesn’t come from a store.

Nothing can ever out-cool kindness to family, friends and strangers, all year long.

Cheers to all and to all a good night. ☺

#dontmesswithstrep

When Syracuse University men’s basketball Coach Jim Boeheim enters the NRG Stadium in Houston, Texas, Saturday night for the Final Four matchup against ACC rival North Carolina, a few things are certain: he expects to win, his wife, Juli, will be by his side, and thousands of loyal SU fans will be close to his heart. Literally.

First, a little about the couple, then Jim Boeheim’s jackets. Both are remarkably interesting.

I first met Juli Boeheim at a children’s charity event in 1998. She was the guest speaker, I was the emcee. She was the star of the show, though in her humbleness, she’d never see herself in that light. Thing is, you can’t help but notice Juli Boeheim. She fills a room. Her genuine southern charm and natural beauty dazzle anyone who meets her. She’s kind, gracious, helpful, sincerely, gentle, engaging, sweet, funny and fun. She’s not afraid of hard work, adventure, and is also not afraid to give where it counts the most – from her heart and her time. Family is her priority.

In 2003, I had the honor of interviewing Juli and Jim in their Fayetteville home the week before the team brought home the Championship in New Orleans. I asked the couple to share ‘a day in the life’ of Juli and Jim Boeheim. I wanted the public to see her as I saw her, and as I saw them. It’s quite a love story actually, though on the surface, the couple couldn’t appear to be more different.

Juli’s open. Jim’s private.
Juli’s radiant. Jim’s intense.
Juli’s adventurous. Jim’s good with routine.
Juli’s calm. Jim’s a bit restless.
Juli is sweet, kind, and heartfelt. It’s been reported, and not by me, Jim has a prickly edge.

Say what you want about Jim Boeheim – cuz we all know the #hatersgonnahate – but anyone who spends the little free time he has teaching kids how to play basketball, signing autographs, raising millions for cancer research, and who also is taking my favorite team to the Final Four – AGAIN – is a pretty bada** in my book.

Back to the interview, I wasn’t sure Jim would agree. After all, big decisions take two yesses.

Besides, Coach Boeheim doesn’t exactly have an affinity for the media, especially after a loss, when reporters want answers about things he doesn’t want to talk about. But Jim Boeheim knows the PR game like nobody’s business. It’s that love-hate thing every star, every player, every coach has with the media. It’s great when it’s good and it stings when it’s bad. Coach Boeheim smartly answers the tough questions and scoffs at the dumb ones with his intense, competitive personality that makes him one of the most respected collegiate basketball coaches in the country. Besides, I think he’s pretty entertaining when he’s got a point to make. He makes it, moves on, waves a hand, and is done with it. Bug off, pal.

He also happens to be loved by one of the most beautiful, intelligent, classy women I know. So while I’m sure Coach Boeheim wanted to say no to me, Juli’s husband said yes.

Juli invited us into her beautifully decorated southern charmed home for our sit-down interview, greeting us with her gracious smile, despite the phone ringing like a phone bank with requests for her free time. Jim entered with a pleasant hello, as the two sat down on the couch in the family room warmed by mahogany walls and family pictures. They sat close to each other, in a familiar way, as Juli brushed the shoulder of Jim’s shirt as he thanked her with an appreciative smile. As we set up, Juli and Jim teased each other in a language only a couple knows.

A good reporter knows that moments like these are privileged.

Jim Boeheim grew up in Lyons, New York, a small town of 5,000 people. He started playing basketball when he was five. His family owned a funeral business, which Jim walked away from, to go to attend Syracuse University as a history major, where he was walk-on for the basketball team in 1962. By the time he was a senior, he was team captain. Then graduate assistant. Then assistant coach, and the rest is history, fast forwarding to this season with more than 900 career wins. Jim Boeheim, a small town boy, is now a big game Hall of Fame basketball legend.

Jim met Juli Greene at the Derby in Lexington, Kentucky in the mid-nineties. The synergy between Juli and Jim was undeniable. It wasn’t long before Juli moved to Syracuse where the couple married and now raise three children, James, and twins Jack and Jaime, while also maintaining a close, loving relationship with Jim’s daughter, Elizabeth, with his on-great-terms- with, former wife, Elaine.

Back to the interview couch.

They laughed. They teased. They flirted. They’re one of those couples, when you’re around them – you feel love.

They talked about sports. About the value of winning and losing. The schedules. The travel. The kids. The charity work. The notoriety. Jim’s voracious reading. They talked about a room they were thinking of adding in the back. About a new picture frame he noticed. And how Juli made him a better-dressed man. Juli said she’d never change anything about Jim, that she loved him ‘as is.’ Well, except for the plaid jackets he once wore, which she felt didn’t show Jim’s softer side.”

Jim revealed two things he didn’t like: “a bad call and wearing a suit. They’re uncomfortable and stuffy.”

I can see his point. Wiggle room is important for flailing arms, aggressive leg clomping, and choleric contortions. We’ve all been there.

Bad calls are out of his hands, but for just-the-right-fit, the Boeheim’s turn to Rochester tailors, Adrian Jules Custom Clothing. You can check out their coolness at http://www.adrianjules.com. The clothier, founded by Italian master tailor and designer Adriano Roberti, opened shop in 1964, when Boeheim was a junior in college. The clothier employs dozens of tailors who dress an impressive list of who’s who. Boeheim began his tailor treasures some 20 years ago with Peter Roberti Sr. The honor is now handed to Peter Roberti, Jr. who provided some insight on the Coach’s style.

Using some 30 measurements on his 6’4″-ish frame, along with taking the Coach’s posture, slope and how he stands into account, the team builds a tailored sport coat that concentrates the weight in the shoulders so as not to compromise comfort or style. “We add fabric to the center and side seams in the back of the garment to give him more movement in the coat,” Peter Roberti said. “Adding more fabric gives him more movement and ease in the shoulder blades.”

Juli has chosen two of the Coach’s faves to bring to Houston:

Neapolitan Blue Sport Coat – Coach Boeheim wore this tailor-made jacket in the First Rounds of the NCAA playoffs in St. Louis, and according to Juli, will likely wear this jacket against North Carolina. The cashmere wool jacket is custom silk-lined, imprinted with a photo from the Feb. 2010 record-breaking crowd of 34,616 fans at the Carrier Dome where SU beat Villanova.

Black Herringbone Sport Coat – Coach B wore this tailor-made cashmere jacket at the Elite 8 game in Chicago to beat Virginia, which is also custom silk-lined with a photo from another Syracuse game, but the clothier didn’t reveal which. This is the jacket of champions. My words, no one else’s. ☺

“The linings of his jackets are personal to him,” Peter Roberti Jr. said. “They represent different moments in his career.”

Roberti says the process is pretty simple. “I was in Coach Boeheim’s office one day when he pointed to a picture he wanted in a lining.” Roberti said. “So I took out my cell phone, took a picture of it and made that lining.”

Roberti says he’s honored his family has been able to provide Coach Boeheim and Juli with high quality attire that the Boeheim’s appreciate for the majority of 20 years, take away a few years here and there. “He’s Syracuse. He’s the guy. Syracuse is important and he wears it close to him.”

Here’s few other facts about Jim Boeheim’s jackets:
The last button hole on the sleeve will be orange.
The inner pocket will be monogrammed “Custom Styled for James A. Boeheim.”
The “A” is for Arthur.
His attire is chosen and coordinated by Juli.

“She picks out everything,” Roberti clarified. “I can’t take credit for that. We just make the clothes, she puts everything together.”
Like they say…behind every man….

I asked Juli a few years ago what goes through her mind when Jim’s boiling mad from the bench.

“Juli, what are you thinking when you see Jim’s face contorted with stress,” I asked, “when his veins are popping out of his head and neck?”

“All I’m thinking,” Juli quipped with a smile, “is breathe, Jim! Breathe!”

The first time I met Bill Carey was in 1997 while waiting for a verdict outside the Onondaga County Courthouse. I don’t remember the story, but I do remember the moment. He was a well-respected, seasoned Channel 9 reporter, and I was a cub anchor/reporter for Channel 5, humbly about five seconds into my new morning show job.

It was a sticky fall morning when Bill showed up with a lazy tie, rolled up sleeves and cigarette in hand. He was thinner than I expected, and probably would have found it ridiculous that I was impressed by his thick, wavy hair. His signature voice was gritty, commanding, and confident.

He didn’t say much to me, which was good, because anything I would have said back would have been dumb. And, as a grasshopper, I didn’t disappoint.

Courtesy of News10Now

“Hello, Mr. Carey,” I said.
“Bill, please,” he replied.
“Yes, sir,” I responded like an idiot. ‘Sir?’

Intimidated, I jotted down every thought in my head so I’d have enough material to fill my live hits and so he’d think I was paying attention. It didn’t take long to realize my predictive questions were no match for his proficiencies. His conversational style was unencumbered by pen and paper. Live hits are often best unscripted – facts often change – so it’s a good idea to never get completely committed to copy or a story you already wrote in your head.

Something he obviously knew and I was oblivious.

I committed. The story changed. I fumbled.

I couldn’t see Bill, but I could hear his signature voice in the distance. He was confident, flexible, flawless, and experienced. Over the next decade, after some big stories under my belt, I spent many hours alongside that signature voice. Bill’s knack for telling stories made it look easy, when in reality, it takes years to tell the right story, connect with the right people, ask the right questions and put it all together cohesively and quickly under pressured deadlines.

No one in Central New York, then or now, cared as much, or told a story as good, as Bill Carey. He was a gentle giant with a “just the facts ma’am” style. He was your worst and best competition. Worst, because he’d kick a** on ANY story. Best, because by his very skill and nature, he made you WANT to be better.

He could make grass growing, interesting.
He could make paint drying a lead story.
And if politics or election night was on the board, forget it.
You might as well take a seat.
Bill Carey was untouchable.
He was that good.

Any reporter who had the honor of standing in reporter row alongside Bill, learned.
You couldn’t not learn from him.

Bill would not approve of my grammar in that last sentence.

He was a man of few words in the field.
He was a man of the right words in the field.
If he said it, it was fact.
And if you got a smile, a hello, and a question along the way, it was a sign of respect.
And it was enough.

Central New York has lost its signature voice, its lead storyteller. A man who loved his family and community and honored the stories that poured from every corner. And if you think that doesn’t matter, it does.

Like Ron Curtis, Bill was a trench coat journalist. He was an iconic gift to Central New York because he stayed on the front line where bright lights don’t often shine.

Above all else, Bill Carey was fair and the best interviewer, bar most. Every question had purpose. If he didn’t get the facts he needed from one angle, he’d flawlessly slide in from another angle.

It’s hard to say goodbye to a person you thought would always be around.

We say goodbye to a style that only he could bring. We say goodbye to decades of integrity, knowledge, and experience. We say goodbye to a big piece of broadcasting excellence colleagues and viewers were privileged to know only because Bill chose not to leave for brighter lights and bigger paychecks. He’s a void that cannot be filled.

Perhaps his greatest gift, as an Emmy and Murrow award winner with 40-plus years covering stories, was setting the standard for every reporter who stood in reporter row alongside him. So in a way, his excellence is ubiquitous.

I don’t know where you go when it’s your turn to go, but I want to believe there’s a corner for news people in the Heavens…and while their mics are down, I want to believe Bill Carey, Andy Brigham, Joe Galuski, Ron Curtis, Sheryl Nathans, and Donna Speez are having a few brews sharing stories that matter. Intro. Pkg. Tag.

Goodbye, Mr. Carey. RIP Bill. You will be so missed.

While I’m disappointed, once AHHHHGAIN, my SD Chargers didn’t advance to the Super Bowl, I do take great interest in a good championship game and great commercials. Coming from a rich news background, I can appreciate the value of commercials, because without them, there wouldn’t be television news. Ad revenue pays salaries. It’s that simple.

The Super Bowl is the one time of year, millions of football fans are tethered to their television sets actually craving commercials. Advertisers use this mid-Winter Sunday night to take full advantage of our weaknesses, knowing exactly what tugs at our amygdala. Fast cars, food, cute babies, talking animals, sweaty men, and sexylicious women will round out a number of the 70, or so, Super Bowl Super-sized spots. More than a hundred million viewers is quite a sexy audience.

The usual big guns are on the front line again this year for Super Bowl XLIX, spending up to $4.5 million on a 30-second spot hoping to gain your buy-in: Anheuser-Busch, McDonald’s, Doritos, VW, Coke, Pepsi, E-Trade, Calvin Klein, GoDaddy.com, Taco Bell and newcomer Carnival Cruise. And, oh goodie! Expect to see the Victoria Secret’s sultry divas twisting and turning their assets at the two minute warning. Furniture crawling and eating air are life skills and much harder than they look. I’ve tried both. Gawd, they make me feel so…FAT.

I digress.

Each 30-second spot is a bit of a mini-Hollywood production about a story with a surprise ending as viewers hang on to the edge of their seats. Of course it helps that each year, companies pay big bucks to seduce top talent to endorse their products and play bit part roles. This year’s A-listers include: Pierce Brosnan, Katie Couric, Bryant Gumbel, Mindy Kaling, Snoop Dog who’ll be, not hungry, but hangry…and of course the Clydesdales (personal fave) saving a pup. There’s even Wix’s super-bowled ‘fantasy team’ of Brett, TO, Franco and Emmitt.  Good stuff.

So I’d thought it’d be fun to share some super facts about Super Bowls, super commercials and super bowl foods, so you can sound super smart at the water cooler tomorrow.

The FCC sanctioned the first television commercial in 1941.

Watchmaker, Bulova, paid $9 for the world’s first television commercial which aired on WNBT in New York in July 1941. The 10-second ad ran during a live broadcast of the Brooklyn Dodgers vs. Philadelphia Phillies.

Kids watch 30,000-40,000 commercials a year, about 100 a day.

By the time you’re 65, you’ll have watched nearly 2 million commercials.

In 1967, a 30-second Super Bowl commercial cost $37,500 with an audience of more than 24,400,000.

In 2013, a 30-second Super Bowl ad costs about $3.8 million, talent not included, with an anticipated audience of more than 111,000,000.

It’s estimated 50% of the Super Bowl viewers this year will be women.

Women make up 80% of the buying power in the home.

Yet, 35% of Super Bowl ads are steered toward men. The remaining are mostly gender neutral.

Go figure GoDaddy.com.

It’s believed ‘super’ Super Bowl ad fever started in 1984 when Apple ran its “1984” commercial (based on George Orwell’s novel) campaign ad introducing the Macintosh computer.

Anheuser-Busch enhanced the fever in 1989 with its “Bud Bowl” campaign where small bottles of Bud beer made football plays. Men + beer + beer making football plays = makes total cents.

Every commercial has a title.

Anheuser-Busch’s “911 Tribute,” which aired only once, in Super Bowl XXXVI (2002), is one of the most popular commercials to air. It’s one of my personal favorites. Like most commercials, it’s an illusion, but it still gives me chills. Never forget.

Roman numerals began being used by the NFL with Super Bowl V.

Super Bowl XLV – Green Bay Packers (31) vs. Pittsburgh Steelers (25) – was the most watched program in television history, knocking out Super Bowl XLIV, which knocked out the final episode of Mash, which held the title for 28 years. It was one of the only Super Bowl games that had no cheerleaders.

In 1954, the Baltimore Colts was the first NFL team to have cheerleaders.

26 of the 32 teams in the NFL have cheerleaders. The Chicago Bears, Cleveland Browns, NY Giants, Detroit Lions, Green Bay Packers and Pittsburgh Steelers do not have cheerleaders.

NFL cheerleaders are not allowed to date/fraternize with players. This is not the case in college or high school.

NFL cheerleaders make about $75 per game.

The average American does not have the body or stamina of a cheerleader because while the ladies burn off about 10,000 calories during a Super Bowl game, the average American eats 1,200 calories during the game. Our favorites:

1.2 billion wings

37% will eat those wings with blue cheese, unless you live up north, that increases to 50%

11 million pounds of chips

70 million pounds of guacamole (70 million is not a typo)

14 billion hamburgers

50 million cases of beer

So, I guess it’s no wonder 6% of us won’t be sharing any of these super facts at the watercooler Monday because that’s the percentage that call in ‘sick’ the day following the Super Bowl.

Now, time to go get ‘supered’ up for the big game!

Go Chargers!!!! Help a sister next year.  Which by the way will be called Super Bowl 50, not Super Bowl L.

Earlier this week, my friend Angela was preparing to give a talk to aspiring journalists at her alma mater, which is also my alma mater, Utica College of Syracuse University*.  Angela put a shout out on Facebook asking if any journalists had advice worth sharing.  Angela, a well-respected producer at the top of her game in the number one market in the country, New York City, didn’t really need the help.  But that’s what trained journalists do – consider every source, every angle, and leave no stone unturned.

Her request, to no surprise, solicited a mix of solid advice, a bit of lark, and a good dose of professional sarcasm.  All in good fun.  All true.

Her request got me thinking about the first time Angela and I met.

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We all fall short on something.   For each of us, there are some things in life we just don’t ‘get.’  Literally.

Some people are short on cash.

Some on courage.

Others, are short on patience.

Sadly for some, life is short-lived.

But for me…well… I’m just plain short.

So when my acting coach, Nick, recently told me to bring my own monologue to my first advanced acting class, I wrote about what I knew best.  It went something like this:

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I dedicate this blog to Jim Meech, former colleague and talented CNN nightshift live truck field logistics engineer dude, who’s up all night, tonight.  

I have no idea what woke me up at 2:03 this morning and I’m too tired to think about it.

Actually, I’m not even sure I ever really fell asleep.  I think I did.  Maybe.

If I was paid for every time I woke up in the middle of the night, I’d be retired on Sanibel Island with a frothy fruity drink in my hand next to him.

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Yoga people are always so…fit.

It’s so annoying.

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If you’re squeamish, or if you’re in a really great mood tonight, you might want to pass on this blog.  It’s dark and dreary, but worth sharing.  After telling stories for 16 years, I’ve learned some stories get surprising happy endings, even if the beginning and middle are terrible.  The end is a chance to get it right.  I hope that happens in the sex slave case in Cleveland.    Continue reading →