Standing in My Place

If your kids are like mine, sometimes you get short notice on the meetings, performances and special events down at the school.  Take, for example, today’s Veterans Day Celebration at Woodstock High School.  My senior daughter told me about it late last night, as the whole family was headed to bed. 

“The chorus is singing tomorrow for a Veterans Day program, if you want to come,” she said.  That’s teen speak for “This is important to me and if you’re not there, it means you love my older sister more than me.”  I immediately set the alarm.

As instructed, I arrived at the school around 9:30 AM, all bundled up for the stadium, but because it was so cold today, the event was moved to the gym.  As I took my seat in the bleachers, the varsity singers and orchestra were warming up on “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” while members of the ROTC, decked out in their uniforms, prepared to escort local veterans and their guests to reserved seating on the gym floor.

At this point, the room was mostly empty, and I snapped a few photos with my phone.  Then the floodgates opened and hundreds of students poured into the arena. Some walking, some running, some jumping: It was that unrestrained teen spirit driven more by missing biology than saluting American patriots.

Then a young man from the ROTC unit asked for silence, and most complied as the ceremony began.  Young men and women in uniform formed an archway of swords as a list of veterans and their escorts was read.  World War II, Korean War and Desert Storm were there.  Some walked slowly, with the aid of canes and walkers.  Some looked younger, and walked faster.  All were escorted by wives, grandchildren and other family members.  

An unexpected lump formed in my throat.  These people weren’t playing some role in a play.  They had been in foreign lands, faced fierce enemies, saw death and somehow returned home, so you and I can sleep more soundly at night.

The band and chorus struck up a medley of armed forces themes, asking members of each to stand as their theme was played: Army, Navy Air Force, Marines and Coast Guard.  The applause was always polite, as members stood and saluted. Another lump and slightly moistened eyes resulted.

Colonel Michael Boyce, USMC (Retired) speaks at
Woodstock High School Veterans Day Program 

Colonel Michael Boyce, USMC (Retired), served as speaker, and did an excellent job in knowing his audience.  “I will be brief,” he promised the students, offering the adage, “To be noticed, stand up; to be heard, speak up; and to be appreciated, shut up.” Colonel Boyce reminded the students of four key character traits, “Duty, Honor, Integrity and Trust,” and quoted the promise found in Matthew 25:23, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” Something he said could apply to everyone who serves the nation in uniform.  


It was a beautiful ceremony, capped off with the wife of a Woodstock teacher singing, “God Bless the USA,” and the audience standing and applauding on the last chorus.

One poignant moment came early in the program when the color guard brought in the flags for the National Anthem.  As the anthem closed, the audience was told to be seated, but the colors had not been formally dismissed.  While the rest of us followed instructions, four of the older veterans being honored remained standing, saluting at full attention until the flag had officially left the floor.  

They weren’t offended or rude, just obedient and respectful of the training they had received.  We were sitting, while they were standing.

Somehow, that was the loudest message of the day for me: Veterans standing where I should have stood. And for that, I am forever grateful.

God Bless the USA. 

Did You Ever Notice?

The Apostle Paul once said, “Confession is good for the soul.”  For the record, I have never personally met the Apostle Paul, but I have read many of his letters several times.  Sounds creepy, I know.  So, I’m going through his mail. Sue me.

Anyway, about this confession, I have to admit that I have always been jealous of Andy Rooney, the commentator on “60 Minutes.”  That same Bible says we should not covet, but I am going to admit, I wanted Andy’s job.

Think about it.  While the other correspondents were covering terrorists in Afghanistan or Hurricane Katrina, Andy was snug in his office, still in front of a typewriter, sharing random thoughts which consistently began with “Did you ever notice?”  I sure did, Andy.  And I wanted your job.

Always wondered how Ed Bradley, Leslie Stahl or Mike Wallace might have felt when they were headed out to cover stories in the uttermost parts of the world and Andy would be at the water cooler.  “Did you ever notice how rude those TSA agents can be?”  Shut up, Andy.

“60 Minutes” has been a Sunday night staple in American television.  You knew when that ticking stopwatch came up on the screen, sometimes delayed by a football game, you were in for some amazing journalism.  Celebrity interviews were less fluff and more facts on “60 Minutes.”  The standard joke in PR is you know it’s going to be a bad day when you arrive at work and Mike Wallace is waiting in your lobby.

So I wake up this morning to learn that Andy Rooney is dead at age 92.  The silver haired curmudgeon just retired about a month ago.  That’s not long at all, about half of a Kardashian marriage.  Despite the cushy job, we will miss Andy Rooney.  He always said the things we were thinking.  Some of my favorites:

“All men are not created equal but should be treated as though they were under the law.”

“Anyone who watches golf on television would enjoy watching the grass grow on the greens.

“Computers make it easier to do a lot of things, but most of the things they make it easier to do don't need to be done.”

“Elephants and grandchildren never forget.”

Andy’s commentaries at the end of “60 Minutes” were like a sorbet at the close of a very satisfying meal.  It almost made bearable some of the bad news we had just consumed.

We’ll miss you, Andy.  Ninety-two years is a long life, but you lived it well, right down to the last second on the “60 Minutes” stopwatch.

But don’t worry.  I’m not gunning for your old job.  

Those are some big eyebrows to fill.

This is only a test

You’ve seen it many times before.  You’re watching your favorite TV show, or the big college football game, when suddenly the screen goes dark, followed by the worst gosh awful noise since the fax machine or dial-up Internet.  It’s a test of the Emergency Alert System (EAS), or worse, the real thing in case of a tornado, tornado warning, missing person or other local emergency.

It’s actually a good system.  Think about it.  You’re lost in the fantasy of some wonderful movie, or celebrating the come from behind victory of your favorite team.  You might not even notice that the skies have turned dark and winds picked up right outside your door.  With the EAS, all programming is interrupted like a slap across the face to make you aware of the problem at hand.  There’s a tornado down the street, Genius.  Better get to the basement.

This concept has been around for a while.  In fact, it started the year I was born, 1963, as the Emergency Broadcast System, changing over to the Emergency Alert System in the late 90s when cable and satellite channels got on board.  It is generally well coordinated jointly between the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), the National Weather Service and state authorities. 

Although, I do remember 2000 when Carlos Santana and Matchbox 20 were up for Record of the Year at the Grammys.  I was doing PR for a major telecommunications provider, and around the close of the show, after winning the award, the band struck up “Smooth” only to be interrupted by a test of the Emergency Alert System.  It’s not a very pleasant sound, especially when compared to your favorite song. 

As usual, we were blamed for the interruption and I spent the rest of the week trying to convince authorities we should delay EAS tests until after massively popular songs are played on live TV.

So now the next step.  On Wednesday, November 9, 2011, FEMA and the FCC will conduct the nation’s first ever test of a nationwide Emergency Alert System.  Authorities say the purpose of the test is to determine if a national-level system is needed should the President ever have a message for all of us, at one time, from sea to shining sea.  Hmmm.  During election season?  Not so sure.

Regardless of your politics, there’s no debate that we have a President who likes to talk.  I am trying to imagine how tempting a system like this might be to a “great communicator” here in the Twitter and Facebook generation: “My fellow Americans, is it just me or does Simon seem to be softer on The X Factor than he was on American Idol?”  “My fellow Americans, do the Christmas decorations go up a little earlier every year at the mall?” “My fellow Americans, Go Bears!”

I’m just not sure this is needed.  Like politics, the best news coverage is best handled at the local level.  The national TV networks seem to clamor for reasons to break into regular programming for breaking national news.  CNN and MSNBC, in particular, can’t get enough of the man in the Oval Office, so I have a hard time thinking we’d never hear from him.  So I wonder if this is really necessary.

To be honest, at our house, we have learned about Michael Jackson’s death, Bin Laden’s killing and protestors in the Middle East through social media long before the national TV networks or an emergency broadcast system.  Maybe we should pursue more of that.

Next week’s test will happen mid-afternoon, around 2:00 PM EST, and run about three-minutes across your favorite radio and TV channels, regardless of broadcast, cable or satellite.  So enjoy.  We’ll get back to you on the results.  But somehow, I’m sure it will be a huge success and implemented in time for the Republican presidential primaries.

To learn more about the national EAS test, visit FEMA at http://www.fema.gov/emergency/ipaws/eas_info.shtm or the FCC at http://www.fcc.gov/encyclopedia/emergency-alert-system-nationwide-test.

We now return you to regular programming, featuring Santana and Matchbox 20.