DAN MILLER'S NOTEBOOK

WELCOME

"Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come in the door of memory unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these."  -- SUSAN B. ANTHONY

MY STREETWISE 10-YEAR OLD

By Dan Miller 

March 10, 2009 

My daughter sees and hears things pretty clearly. 

She asked me rhetorically, "Why is it that whenever I answer the phone, if it's an adult, they always say - "How's school going?" 

"Do they always say that?" I asked her. 

"Yes, unless it's summer, then they ask, 'How's vacation going?" 

We adults are so conversationally limited. 

And kids know it.

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THE DARKNESS OF EDGAR ALLAN POE

By Dan Miller

March 6, 2009 

As a kid, I always figured that famous literary figures were, in their time, joyful in their fame, and probably rolling in money. 

Through adult eyes it becomes clear that every person struggles with issues of some sort in their lives. 

That certainly includes the most talented and honored individuals. 

In truth, people who possess great gifts, or fame, often struggle more than "ordinary" folks. 

Take the case of Edgar Allan Poe. 

He's considered one of America's greatest writers of short stories and poetry. 

He popped into my mind this week when I read an account -- by Associated Press writer Zinie Chen Sampson -- of a letter Poe sent to his New York publishers in 1842. 

In the letter, Poe apologized to the publisher for his drinking and "misbehaving on a trip to New York." 

He explained how he really hoped they would buy an article he had written, because he was "desperately pushed for money." 

The article was rejected by the publisher. 

Poe would live for only seven years after writing that letter, and spent most of that time in desperate need of money. 

Earlier in his life he had been forced to drop out of the University of Virginia because he had no money.

Here in 2009, the University of Virginia is presenting an exhibit of Poe's enduring literary works, marking his 200th birthday. 

As part of the exhibit, the university purchased that letter I just wrote about. 

They won't disclose what they paid for the letter but, 21 years ago, when it sold at auction to a private collector, it brought $26,000, so I'm guessing it sold for considerably more than that now. 

Edgar Allan Poe was an exceptional literary figure. 

Three of several places where he lived are now preserved as Historic Sites. 

He influenced and inspired such literary giants as Thomas Hardy, Joseph Conrad, Arthur Conan Doyle and James Joyce. 

Alfred Lord Tennyson referred to Poe as, "the most original genius that America has produced." 

His works have been savored and studied by untold millions of people. 

Yet, when Edgar Allan Poe was found lying sick and delirious on the streets of Baltimore in 1849, he was wearing someone else's clothes. 

He died 4 days later. 

He was only 40 years old. 

He looked much older.

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DAN THE COMPUTER MAN

By Dan Miller 

March 3, 2009 

Ah, these computers and the internet are not only enjoyable, they've become indispensable in our society. 

And while I'm clearly not a computer wizard, I've gotten OK with the basics.

 

I can type faster than ever before (thanks to the marvel of backspace, delete and spellcheck)... and I know how to print a page of text. 

I can navigate websites fairly well... I've even conquered "copy and paste".... 

And, except for a few pigheaded, uncooperative attachments, I can handle email. 

Even when I'm struggling to understand a particular computer function, I can always turn to my 10-year old daughter, who can patiently walk me though what I need to do. 

It was all just getting too easy.... until recently. 

Ever since I made the big switch from dial-up to cable for my internet connection, everything had been downloading quickly and efficiently. 

But then, several weeks ago... everything..... started........ downloading......... slowly.......... like........... pouring............. mo... lasses......... and..... it............ was...... maddening. 

A friend asked me if I had "password protection" on my wireless setup in the house. 

"No" I said, "do I need it?" 

"Well" he said, "you might be supplying a wireless network for your entire neighborhood, and that could eat up your bandwidth." 

Hmmm... would people do that? 

Would they click into my wireless network? 

I confess that -- on one or two occasions -- I have looked to see what wireless internet connections might be putting a signal onto my computer.... 

I've also noticed that some of the available networks bear the names of some neighbors.... things like "Bob's network." 

I've also noticed that if -- accidentally, of course -- I tried to click into one of those networks, they -- everyone of them -- have password protection. 

So my new mission was to set up password protection for my wireless network at home. 

I struggled until after 4 am.... that's 4 in the morning.... trying to figure it all out. 

Today, I have reason to believe that I have password protection.... though I'm not certain. 

I guess I could listen out for any neighbors bellyaching about losing their internet access. 

Or I could humble myself and ask my 10-year old if she could give her daddy a little help.

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ARE WE TOO EASILY EXASPERATED?

By Dan Miller 

February 26, 2009 

I'm going to link you to an amusing clip that addresses how easily we get annoyed at the amazing things in our lives. 

The little video has obviously been passed around the internet quite a bit in recent weeks, since I've already seen it posted on three or four different blogs, and even posted by one of my "friends" on Facebook. 

It's simply a comedian doing part of his routine on Conan O'Brien's show, but he does uncloak some obvious truths. 

Let's face it, we are becoming a bunch of whiners. 

We seem to be overwhelmed by commonplace annoyances. 

We spend hours online, visiting miraculous, intricate social websites like Facebook and MySpace, and then complain about how it consumes all our time, and we can't get anything done. 

We subscribe to cable and satellite TV service with hundreds of channels, then moan and groan that there's nothing worth watching. 

We have mini-vans and SUVs that will seat 6 or 8 people, but drive around alone, complaining about heavy traffic and no parking spaces. 

We pull into fast food restaurants and get edgy because it's taking more than 3 or 4 minutes to get our "meal" after we place our order. 

Perhaps we've become spoiled by our bounty. 

The truth is, many of the things that trigger stress in our lives really shouldn't. 

The video clip I mentioned earlier shows comedian Louis C.K. (that's his name) in an exchange with Conan O'Brien on NBC a few months ago. 

It runs only 4 minutes. 

In it, the comic addresses such topics as our impatience with cellphones, when just a few years ago we all had to deal with dial phones, connected to a wire at just one location in our homes. 

It's a funny, revealing perspective on our society and how easily we become spoiled and bothered. 

Now, you might notice that I'm not allowed -- by company policy -- to "embed" video in the middle of this essay, which really, really, really annoys me! 

Think about it... if I could embed here, you'd actually see a little YouTube screen with the video right there. But nooooooo, the bosses say I'm only allowed to put a "link"... which means you'll then have to go to all the trouble of clicking on that link with your mouse, in order to see the video. 

Boy oh boy, I'm really annoyed about such an inconvenience! 

That's going to cost you an extra 2 seconds! 

But do it anyhow... CLICK HERE... and hear Louis C.K.'s take on modern day annoyances. 

Be advised, it's mildly crude, but amusing.

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THE DAN & DEMETRIA OSCAR RESULTS

By Dan Miller 

February 23, 2009 

OK, so Demetria squeaked out a razor-thin victory in a very tight Oscar picking contest. 

Let's see.... she correctly picked 5 out of the 6 categories... while I picked 2 out of 6 correctly. 

But -- and I'm not making excuses -- yes I am -- when we made our selections, I had not seen any of the nominated films.... none of them. 

I was simply making uneducated guesses. 

However, the night before the Academy Awards my wife and I watched "The Visitor" on cable, for which Richard Jenkins was nominated for best actor. 

After seeing that movie I thought he should have won. 

There was scant inspiration or entertainment in the Oscar telecast. 

It was monotonous and draining. 

I thought the most entertaining presenters of the night were Steve Martin and Tina Fey, with novel introductions of the Best Screenplay categories. 

That came early, and it was down hill from there. 

Speaking of Steve Martin, I think they should invite him -- or David Letterman -- back as host. 

There were clearly moments when the telecast undeniably needed the wit and perspective of a comic.

Anyhow, congratulations to all the winners.... including my co-anchor Demetria Kalodimos in our annual little "pick-the-winners" contest. 

I'll be back.

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DAN & DEMETRIA PICK THE WINNERS

By Dan Miller 

February 20, 2009 

For the fourth straight year, my co-anchor Demetria and I are matching our movie wits in our annual picking of the Oscar winners. 

Last year Demetria finally managed to beat me, after being utterly humiliated by my rousing victories in the first two contests. 

This year though, she's at a distinct advantage since -- for the first time I can remember in my whole adult life -- I haven't seen a single movie that's listed in any of these award categories..... not one. 

So I'll have to depend on my razor sharp movie instincts to carry me to victory. 

Here are our picks: 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS 

Demetria says the winner will be Penelope Cruz for her performance in "Vicky Cristina Barcelona." 

That's a too easy and predictable pick, and probably correct. 

Even so, I say it will be Marisa Tomei in "The Wrestler." 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR 

There's only one choice. 

Every expert says the late Heath Ledger wins for his stunning performance in "The Dark Knight." 

So does Demetria, and so do I. 

BEST DIRECTOR 

Demetria picks Danny Boyle for "Slumdog Millionaire." 

I pick Gus Van Sant for "Milk." 

BEST ACTOR 

Demetria really wanted to pick Richard Jenkins, simply because he attended her alma mater Illinois Wesleyan... but she didn't.... she picked the favored winner, Mickey Rourke for "The Wrestler." 

I expect the surprise winner to be Sean Penn for "Milk." 

BEST ACTRESS 

Demetria is playing it safe by picking Kate Winslet for "The Reader", while I'm strongly tempted to pick Meryl Streep. 

But I won't.... I'm predicting it will go to Anne Hatthaway for "Rachel Getting Married." 

BEST PICTURE 

This is the big one. 

Demetria picks "Slumdog Millionaire." 

I say the "Milk" will grab the Oscar. 

I'll calculate the winner in my next entry.

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A WIN/WIN FOR ALL AT THE MALL

By Dan Miller

February 17, 2009 

My goodness, this must be trouble.... 

I could see dozens of police cars right there in the shopping center parking lot. 

And why wouldn't I assume that? 

Just this week alone, we've run stories in our newscasts about a fearsome situation involving disruptive teenagers at Opry Mills Mall, and about how concerns over safety and security appear to be scaring away customers from Hickory Hollow and other malls here in Nashville. 

But I wasn't in Nashville. 

I was pulling off the interstate into a little shopping center just west of Birmingham as my family and I were heading toward Mississippi. 

And I quickly realized what I was seeing wasn't a problem.... in fact, it might be a solution. 

Yep, I happened upon what could be a simple answer for all the fears about gangs, crime and rowdiness at local shopping malls.

 

As I looked around, I realized this was a quiet, pleasant place where nobody would dare commit a crime, and where teenagers would certainly be hesitant to engage in loud, rowdy behavior. 

At the far end of the parking lot dozens of police cars were neatly lined up in several rows. 

The mere presence of so many police officers could, no doubt, do wonders at keeping troublemakers away. 

They were parked in front of a community police precinct or substation.... or, perhaps, it was a main police station, I'm not certain. 

Regardless, I saw it as a sensible and cost-effective way to deal with both safety at malls, and the enormous expense of running a city police department. 

Imagine the benefit for city budgets, with malls providing free space, utilities and facilities for police precincts.... maybe even coupled with some cash incentives. 

And think about the good news for mall tenants. 

It would be a magnet for customers to shop at a place where they feel safe, secure and protected.

 

It's certainly not a new idea. 

Simon Property Group, a company based in Indianapolis, owns some 300 malls in this country, and they've established police substations in 64 of those malls. 

One of their malls in Boston leases space to the city for $1 a year, and even contributes more than $100,000 to police salaries there. 

Think about it.... 

Free facilities for police departments, at no cost to the taxpayers.... 

And a constant presence around busy malls that would create a legitimate feeling of security for shoppers, theatre-goers, merchants and restaurants. 

If that's not a win-win, what is?

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THE BEST RECORD EVER MADE

By Dan Miller 

February 13, 2009 

Keep reading, because I'm going to reveal to you the best recording of a song ever done, and even let you listen to it. 

In selecting the best recording, I'm taking into consideration the arrangement... the orchestration... the quality of the recording... the vocal performance... and, of course, the song itself. 

Impossible you say? 

Too subjective? 

Too many recordings to pick from? 

All that is true. 

But since I'm the one writing this, I get to pick. 

And I've been listening to this particular selection for almost half a century, and still haven't heard anything that tops it. 

A person who likes only country music might suggest it's one of Johnny Cash's gems, or perhaps Marty Robbins or Patsy Cline. 

Opera fans might select from the work of Luciano Pavarotti or Leontyne Price. 

Those who like big band music would lean toward something recorded by Glenn Miller or Benny Goodman. 

Rock historians could turn to the recordings of the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Aretha Franklin or perhaps Lynard Skynard's classic "Free Bird." 

Gospel fans might say Mahalia Jackson surely made the best recording ever. 

Jazz aficionados might find their best among the hundreds of Louis Armstrong's tracks. 

All could be worthy places to look. 

From time to time I've discussed with my son Stephen -- who's a long time appreciator and player of rock music -- what's the best ever recording.... and even he (sort of) agrees with me on this one. 

And it's definitely not a rock song. 

Here it is. 

Based on all the considerations and criteria I mentioned above, I believe the best ever recording of a song is Nat King Cole's understated, dreamy rendition of Hoagy Carmichael's 1927 composition "Stardust." 

It was recorded at Capitol Records for inclusion in Nat King Cole's 1957 album "Love Is The Thing." 

It was arranged and conducted by Gordon Jenkins. 

If you're not familiar with this particular recording, or if you haven't heard it in a while, I found several offerings on YouTube. 

Take a listen just below.

If you know of any recording that's better, let me know, I'd like to hear it.

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RANDOM THOUGHTS & PONDERING (FIFTH EDITION)

By Dan Miller 

February 10, 2009 

I haven't posted random thoughts for a number of months, so here's my latest batch. 

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I always consider it a pleasant start to the work day when I arrive at the office and immediately notice that red message light on my phone is NOT shining. 

And, if there are no internal messages on my computer, that's a nice little bonus. 

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It's been only a couple of weeks since I signed up for a Facebook account, and already I understand what so many people warned me about... it has a ferocious appetite for my time and attention. 

But it can also be fascinating. 

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I was raised in the Eastern time zone, and though I've spent most of the past four decades living here in the Central time zone, it seems the calibration of my own inner clock is still most in harmony with the Eastern time zone. 

Of course, having our late TV newscasts at 10 rather than 11 is a fringe benefit of working in the Central zone. 

For all of the six years I lived in sunny, southern California and the Pacific time zone, everything felt slightly out of step. 

I found myself constantly calculating the "real" time back east. 

----------------------------- 

I think maybe they should just do away with Mountain Standard Time. 

It seems the most unnatural and unnecessary of all. 

Just divide that zone between Central and Pacific time. 

----------------------------- 

Mercury -- which used to be called quicksilver -- can be quite dangerous. 

The experts warn against exposure, and I believe them. 

I don't want my kids or grandkids exposed to its dangers. 

Yet -- when I was a child -- we played with the liquid metal quite often. 

We would roll it around on tables or the floor.... we'd break open thermometers just to get the mercury out.... we'd hold it in our hands.... we'd make coins shiny by coating them in mercury.... it was even available in some children's chemistry sets. 

It was great fun to play with. 

Nowadays, if even a small spill of mercury takes place, a building will be evacuated and taken over by haz-mat crews, wearing suits that look like what astronauts wear for space walks or landing on the moon. 

I hope it did no damage to me and my boyhood pals, but I have fond memories of touching it.

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MAN CAVES

By Dan Miller 

February 6, 2009 

If you watch those home decorating shows on cable, you might conclude that some innovative young home designer dreamed up the idea of man- caves. 

After all, the man-cave is the newest "must-have" feature in many family homes these days. 

But don't be misled -- thousands of years ago -- when families literally lived in caves, I feel confident there were little auxiliary cave-rooms chiseled somewhere near the main dwelling.... a place where the cave-guys could go do a little "stone repair work".... or discuss the recent hunt.... or practice using their sticks, stones, clubs and spears. 

(Incidentally, you can probably credit those ancient sticks, stones, clubs and spears with being the forerunner to two important present- day phenomena.... the military-industrial complex.... and golf.)

Simply stated, a man-cave is an extension of boyhood tree houses, where our budding imaginations could run wild.... and girls were not allowed. 

(I'm not sure what we boys were thinking back then, but those were the rules, and they seemed to make sense at the time.)

 

Here in 2009 the man-cave is a room, garage or some other space where the man of the house (and perhaps his pals) might hang out to watch games, shoot pool, play cards, solder wires, glue broken things together, clean tool boxes, or do other things that the womenfolk would rather not be done in the living room. 

Some men even like barber chairs and gym lockers in their man- caves.... or ventilators to remove cigar smoke. 

The first man-cave I remember was the basement of the house where I grew up. 

My dad had hauled many wheelbarrows full of red Georgia clay out from beneath our house, and converted that sprawling, damp area into a place no self-respecting female would ever care to visit. 

It was filled with work tables and benches, drills, air compressors, tons of wires, vice grips, shop lights, tools of every conceivable kind, duck tape, electrical tape, spare parts for most everything upstairs, hoses, small engines and quite a few contraptions and gadgets that were unidentifiable. 

There was also a wealth of dust and grime. 

It never really crossed my mind that this was my father's man-cave. 

For a young boy it was simply a wonderland where it really didn't matter if you had mud on your shoes or grease on your hands. 

It was a place where -- if crumbs or paper dropped on the floor -- it was no big deal. 

You could just leave it there until it disintegrated, or until the annual sweeping took place. 

I recall my mother occasionally venturing onto the steps that led down to the basement, to call us for supper.... but I don't recall ever seeing her actually there in the basement. 

Today, my wife demonstrates the same self-denial, rarely entering my junky little room in our basement, which I prefer to call my "audio room" because I keep an old turntable there. 

Well, I'd better stop writing for now. 

I just informed Karen that I needed to go to the basement to find a particular pair of pliers so I can fix an extension cord. 

That seemed to sound reasonable to her. 

I'll reappear upstairs in an hour or so.

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POST SUPER BOWL GRIPE

By Dan Miller 

February 2, 2009 

I'm not sure which is more annoying.... 

The Gatorade bath at the end of the Super Bowl.... or me, always grumbling about it. 

I have noticed friends and family tend to leave the room whenever I start my verbal manifesto about Gatorade being dumped on the coach. 

What troubles me is that it is so obviously contrived and sponsor- supported. 

Did you notice that at the end of Pittsburg's dramatic win over Arizona this year, the live cameras somehow missed the actual moment when the Gatorade was dumped on coach Mike Tomlin? 

No worry.... before 30 seconds or so had passed, the TV crew had managed to show the video recording of the incident.... and the hosts talked about it.... not once, but twice. 

I strongly suspect that's the guarantee in a signed contract between the Gatorade folks and the network. 

I always enjoy seeing athletes and fans engaged in spontaneous celebrations for their teams.... but when it becomes a sponsor supported requirement, I'm annoyed. 

The ritual is no longer impromptu.... it's no longer funny or entertaining.... it's clearly something that the players are either encouraged or instructed to do. 

Yet, if players execute a truly spontaneous celebration after a dramatic touchdown, they're penalized. 

Most of these players are intelligent, fun-loving young men who could certainly come up with their own inventive ways of "honoring" their coach. 

Let's let them do it.... let's set them free from this commercial expectation. 

Wouldn't it be refreshing to again see the players simply carry their coach onto the field on their shoulders?

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GOLDEN AGE OF TALKING TO YOURSELF

By Dan Miller 

January 30, 2009 

I'll have to be careful with this, so I don't offend those of you who routinely talk out loud to yourself. 

When I was a kid, people used to say that talking to yourself was the first sign of madness. 

Well, it wasn't so bad to talk to yourself.... but if you answered yourself, you were obviously "deranged" for sure. 

A monologue with yourself was odd, but a two-sided conversation with yourself was looked on as just plain wacky. 

Of course, none of that is necessarily true. 

Most of us.... probably all of us.... talk to ourselves at certain times. 

My preferred time is when I'm driving through heavy traffic and get behind a really bad driver. 

OK, maybe I'm not exactly talking to "myself".... so that's a whole different issue. 

There was a very peculiar guy who used to walk the streets of my Georgia hometown when I was a boy. 

Up and down the streets he'd go, walking at a brisk pace with long steps, looking straight ahead, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere, with lots to say along the way. 

He was probably in his mid 30s, nearly totally bald. 

He often wore a hat and an ill-fitting, brownish-orange, Dacron polyester, wrinkle resistant suit. 

We knew him as Cranston. 

I don't think that was his real name. 

Seems to me we assigned him that name because -- being such a baffling, shadowy figure -- we linked him to Lamont Cranston, the character on the old radio drama "The Shadow." 

Cranston was quite a chatterbox.... though he was always alone. 

I never saw him actually speaking to another person, just to himself. 

My pals and I would try to overhear snippets of his monologue as we'd pass him on the street, but we couldn't really grasp the flow of his words. 

The truth is, we were reluctant to linger too close for long, being the brave bunch that we were. 

Consider the irony that, in the present time, Cranston would feel very much mainstream, and nobody would even give him a second glance. 

With all our wireless phone headsets, Bluetooth devices, and speaker phones in cars, the streets and shopping malls are teeming with people walking or riding alone, talking out loud. 

Sometimes I feel embarrassed for them.... sometimes they scare me.... but more often I don't even notice. 

It's difficult for me to distinguish between those who are really talking on the phone.... those who are just faking it so people will leave them alone.... and the weird ones who don't even have a phone. 

I occasionally wonder what became of Cranston. 

Is he an old man, still alone and talking to himself? 

Even today, I wonder what he was discussing. 

Maybe he was an inventor, who had devised a hidden wireless phone of some sort, and was simply ahead of his time. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he knew what evil lurks in the hearts of men.

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WHO DECIDES WHAT'S NEWS?

By Dan Miller 

January 26, 2009 

People often say to me, "There's so much crime on TV newscasts, who decides what stories are covered?"

Well, it's a collaborative process that goes on all day long. 

Producers, reporters, newsroom executives, anchors, website personnel and others meet several times a day in "rundown meetings" to discuss all the ideas for each newscast and the sequence for presenting the stories. 

Usually, much of the discussion is about the lead stories... the ones that will appear first in each newscast. 

On every newscast, we give the top story the same consideration as a newspaper gives to its front page, since the first story you hear on a television newscast is -- in essence -- our front page. 

Suggestions and ideas for stories come from all over.... from press releases, tips from viewers, scheduled government events and, of course, from other news sources, including NBC and Associated Press. 

It seems to me that, usually, the best stories -- the most unusual ones -- the ones that involve true investigation.... are brought to the table by our team of reporters and photojournalists.... and the decision for inclusion is made by the producers and the news director. 

Day in and day out, I'm astounded at the resourcefulness of our top reporters in finding good stories. 

But there's another group of people who make decisions that almost always impact what will be included on evenings newscasts... on our channel and the others. 

We might dislike admitting it... but the misguided decisions made by these people must be taken into consideration as we select the news you hear about. 

They're the local criminals and thugs. 

Whenever someone decides to hold up a convenience store.... 

Whenever someone makes the decision to deal drugs.... 

When someone decides to lead police on a high speed chase... 

When a man decides to beat his wife.... 

Or shoot his neighbor.... 

Or molest children.... 

Or swindle investors.... 

Their terrible decisions lead directly to our decision to include their stories on the news. 

The bad news is.... no matter how many criminals are taken into custody, there always seem to be others, waiting in the wings, to commit other crimes on other days. 

The good news is.... in our community and society as a whole, those crimes are out of the ordinary.... still unusual enough that it's an easy decision to consider them "news."

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INAUGURAL PAYOFF

By Dan Miller 

January 21, 2009 

I've witnessed (on TV) lots of presidential inaugurations, but Barack Obama's might well be the most inspiring yet. 

Whenever the cameras panned across the aggregation of nearly two million souls there in the National Mall, I saw the true face of America. 

They were openly shedding tears of joy... witnessing and celebrating something they'd waited a lifetime for, and thought they'd never see. 

In many ways, this election represents a payoff. 

It's a small portion of the reward for generations of folks in our country who've long struggled for equal rights and privileges. 

It's also the payoff for the supporters of candidate Barack Obama, who invested time, money, emotion and passion in this election. 

But I can also see another big payoff a few years down the road. 

Maybe an unexpected one. 

Of all the sights that caught my eye, my favorite was Obama's young daughter Malia, perhaps unknowingly, creating an investment that could yield a significant payoff in the future. 

During the inauguration, and the days preceding it, we all saw Malia with her digital camera in hand, snapping her own photos. 

My first thought was, hey, why is she taking those photos? 

There'll be countless professional videos and photographs for her to choose from, showing all the images she'd like to remember. 

But think about it.... 

Someday.... beyond a time she can even imagine.... those photos, snapped from the unique perspective of a little girl watching her daddy become president, will become priceless national treasures. 

You can count on it.

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PRESIDENTIAL ENCOUNTERS

By Dan Miller 

January 16, 2009 

Every time a new president is inaugurated, I start thinking about the other men who've served in that office.

Years ago I heard John F. Kennedy on the radio commenting that, prior to being elected to the office himself, his life had spanned seven different presidents. 

So I immediately counted to see how many presidents had served during my lifetime. 

At that point there had been four, including JFK. 

Now, in 2009 -- including Barack Obama -- my life has spanned 13 presidents, beginning with the end of Franklin Roosevelt's term. 

Then I started thinking about how many of those 13 presidents I've actually seen in person. 

The number is six. 

The first president I ever encountered in real life was Dwight Eisenhower, and I saw him a lot. 

It just happened that his favorite getaway during his administration was the Augusta National Golf Club in my hometown, where he visited a lot... and we'd often spot him coming or going. 

Once, shortly after he left office, I had a particularly close encounter with President Eisenhower. 

During my college years, Mr. Smith, a neighbor who ran an audio-visual business there in Augusta, had been hired to show movies of old Masters Tournaments to a group of men at the Augusta National. 

Mr. Smith asked me to assist him. 

To my surprise, Eisenhower was part of the group. 

So we set up the projector and screen on a patio outside the clubhouse. 

Then -- before and during the movie -- I stood there, not more than 10 feet from this famous war hero and president, listening as best I could to everything he said. 

The next president I saw with my own eyes was Lyndon Johnson in 1964. 

He spoke at a political rally in front of the Municipal Building in Augusta. 

I was working at a local radio station at the time, and -- as I recall -- a huge crowd of several thousand was on hand. 

I remember being rather embarrassed for my fellow Augustans when they booed our Commander In Chief.

In March of 1974 I saw Richard Nixon on stage for the grand opening of the brand new Grand Ole Opry House. 

It's hard for me to believe it's been 35 years since then, but I clearly recall Nixon taking a yo-yo out of his pocket, and telling Roy Acuff that he'd stay in Nashville and learn to yo-yo if Roy would go up to Washington and be president. 

In the early 1980s I attended an event here in Nashville where George H. W. Bush was making a speech. 

He was still vice-president at the time. 

In 1991 I sat just two seats away from Ronald and Nancy Reagan at a celebrity tennis match in Los Angeles. 

I never spoke to him, but I did sort of nod a hello, and he nodded back.... at least, I like to think the nodding was for me. 

During the middle 1990s, Bill Clinton passed within a foot of me at WSMV as he was preparing to appear on the Phil Donahue Show, which was being taped in our studio. 

I could easily have reached and touched him, but I wasn't in the mood that day to be wrestled to the ground by secret service agents. 

And while I don't believe I've ever seen Jimmy Carter in person, I did have a brief encounter with his always spirited mother, Miss Lillian, more than 30 years ago. 

We brushed elbows moving through a crowd. 

Let me think... hmmmm... was it some political event, or perhaps some stuffy banquet where she made a speech? 

No, I remember... she was in the ringside seats at the Ali-Spinks heavyweight championship fight at the Superdome in New Orleans, having quite a time. 

I always liked Miss Lillian. 

Who can forget how -- after her son Jimmy was inaugurated as president -- a reporter asked her, "Are you proud of your son? 

She replied, "Which one?"

________________________

CONTEMPLATING PRIORITIES

By Dan Miller 

January 13, 2009 

When you're told something consequential, that you simply must share and discuss with someone, who do you call? 

Whose phone number is the first one you dial.... your spouse, a friend, your lawyer, your boss or, perhaps, your parents? 

I remember hearing CNN's Larry King telling an interviewer that when anything eventful happens... no matter what it might be... the first phone call he makes is always to the CNN office. 

After that, he says he'll call his wife. 

He said if there was an earthquake in his hometown, he'd call CNN, then call home. 

Hmmm... let's see... Larry's been married what, eight times? 

Maybe that calling priority offers a hint as to why. 

Just the other day Terry Bulger, my pal at the TV station, was told that management would like to switch him over full time to the sports department. 

They felt they could utilize his notable talent as a storyteller, and also have him share some of the sportscaster duties with Rudy Kalis. 

It would be a big change for Terry, after nearly 19 years doing daily news features for which he's been nationally recognized and honored. 

It was neither good nor bad news for Terry.... but significant news, since it would definitely impact his work schedule. 

By that afternoon I had already been informed of the change, though it was not yet common knowledge among everyone in the TV station. 

As I passed Terry in the employee's food lounge, I quietly asked, "So what do you think, are you OK with everything?" 

Here's how he answered me: "I'll drop by your office later and talk to you about it, but I don't feel it would be right to even discuss it until I can reach Julie (his wife) and tell her." 

An hour or so later, after he'd finally reached Julie, he came by my office to talk over the changes. 

Terry's a guy who undoubtedly has his "discussion priorities" in the proper order. 

I don't think any wife or husband wants to be second on the list of who their spouse might choose to discuss things that could affect a family's life and routine. 

I hope Larry King reads this and takes heed. 

He can thank me (and Terry) later.

_____________________________

SIDEWALK MEMORIES

By Dan Miller

January 7, 2009 

I was immediately concerned the first time I arrived in Nashville when I noticed long stretches of neighborhood streets with no sidewalks whatsoever. 

That was in 1969, and the sidewalk situation is gradually being corrected. 

But many years ago, far too many of our roads were being built with only vehicular traffic in mind. 

In the subdivision I first called home here in Nashville, there was not a single sidewalk anywhere within walking distance. 

Walkers had to take their chances in the actual road, or by cutting across neighbors' lawns. 

I now live in an old area of town and, though there's still no sidewalk next to our house, I can walk -- with attentiveness -- along the edge of a street until I come to a splendid sidewalk less than a half mile away.

My Georgia hometown was, and still is, a city laced with sidewalks. 

That explains my fondness for them. 

As a kid I could walk the 3 miles from our residential neighborhood to downtown Augusta, never having to leave the safety of a sidewalk, except to cross streets. 

And yes, I walked that 3 miles quite often. 

There were even times when I would journey onto the 13th Street Bridge -- across the Savannah River -- into South Carolina without ever relinquishing the reassurance of a sidewalk. 

It's been around 45 years since I last took those long walks in Augusta, but I still have occasional, vivid dreams of the streets, and the structures along them, that I came to know so well. 

I even recall several of the spots where the sidewalk was broken, or warped, by the roots of an old tree growing nearby. 

My preferred route was something I became intimately familiar with. 

I knew which stores and businesses would be welcome shelter if I got caught in a sudden downpour along the way. 

And, still today, I could show you the exact spots where the water would pool several inches deep after such a downpour. 

Oddly, I can vaguely recall the faces of several people who would often be standing at certain bus stops as I walked by. 

I remember the smell of diesel as the buses passed.... 

And there was one particular, unidentified aroma -- not exactly unpleasant -- hanging in the air whenever I crossed the little bridge over the Augusta Canal. 

If someone imported that aroma into Nashville today, I could quickly tell them its original source. 

Aromas, they say, can spark memories. 

My walks would take me directly in front of a Texaco gas station on Walton Way, with an attendant who bore a striking resemblance to the actor Jeff Chandler. 

I can still conjure up a clear image of him, usually wiping grease from his arms and hands with a maroon cloth. 

In recent months I've been taking 2 mile walks around my Nashville neighborhood. 

It's not something I started with any wistful yearning about walking.... I simply figured it would be an agreeable form of exercise, certainly preferable to weightlifting or jogging. 

The first time I headed out... within about 200 yards of my home... I found myself looking at an old, attractive stone house that I've driven by countless times over the years. 

It was loaded with character. 

And you know what? 

I'd never even noticed the house before. 

I'd never even looked in that direction... until I walked by. 

All these years after my youthful walking excursions down in Georgia ended, I still find that whenever I need to stir my senses, or focus my thoughts, sidewalks seem to work just fine.

________________________________

A CUP OF KINDNESS YET

By Dan Miller 

January 1, 2009 

Chances are, many of us stayed up later than usual Wednesday night just to make sure 2008 ended once and for all. 

For lots of folks, it was an agonizing year.

 

And wouldn't you know it, 2008 actually went into overtime... ever so slightly... because scientists added one extra second at the end of the year. 

These scientists are apparently granted -- by some authority somewhere -- carte blanche to fiddle with time. 

I don't know who these scientists are.... but they work at, or hang around, the lovely grounds of the Royal Observatory at Greenwich Park, overlooking the River Thames in London. 

Think about it -- do you know anything about these guys? 

Are they elected or appointed? 

And by whom? 

How much clout do they have? 

Maybe we need to keep an eye on them. 

Could they, if so inclined, decide to add another month to any given year? 

Could they, on a whim, eliminate Thursdays altogether? 

Could they decree that all clocks must be speeded up? 

Well, maybe it's not so bad, since the calendar now shows all of us one second younger than we actually are! 

Of course I'll have to go around the house now adding one second to all my clocks.... an even bigger aggravation than switching to Daylight Saving Time. 

Oh well, the year 2009 brings some exciting events. 

Starting this month (January 2009) they'll be banning incandescent light bulbs in Ireland. 

It'll be interesting to see how that goes because, sooner or later -- actually in 2014 -- many, though not all, incandescent bulbs will be disallowed here in the U.S. 

"Close the curtains Mabel, here come the light bulb police!" 

I don't know about you, but for me those curly little fluorescent light bulbs cast weird shadows, can't be dimmed with rheostats, and give me a headache. 

And, who can forget, 2009 brings a spelling reform for the Portuguese language. 

That means they'll be adjusting the rules on hyphens, removing the trema, and changing the diphthongs.

My knowledge of the Portuguese language and diphthongs is somewhat limited, but I can tell you it has something to do with those little squiggly marks and dots that are placed on certain letters.

 

Since Portuguese is not the official language of all Metro Nashville government business, you might wonder how these changes will impact you.

Well, I discovered while scanning Wikipedia that Portuguese is a wildly popular language. 

It's the official language of Brazil. 

It is, in fact, the sixth most common language on earth, spoken by well over 200,000,000 people. 

OK, I think I've wandered a bit off track. 

Anyhow, early 2009 brings at least two fascinating changes that will not go unnoticed.... the inauguration of our new president, and the end of analog television transmission. 

Those are things we'll be talking about a lot in the weeks to come. 

For now good people, please accept my wishes that 2009 is a year filled with kindness and good fortune for you and your family.

__________________________

JUD COLLINS, MR. TELEVISION

By Dan Miller 

December 26, 2008 

These days there are so many news anchors on Nashville TV stations that I can't even name them all... and, goodness, I'm one of them! 

Conversely, from the time the original three stations signed on -- up until the mid-1970s -- there had been so few news anchors in Nashville that they could be counted on your fingers, and everybody in town seemingly knew all of us by name.

 

But there was only one at the front of the line in Nashville. 

That was Jud Collins. 

He beat the path for the rest of us. 

Jud moved over from WSM-Radio to WSM-TV when the station first signed on the air in 1950. 

If you look at the middle photo attached to this essay, you'll see Jud sitting in a very small, completely glassed-in room... the announcers' booth... where he'd read the news on the Esso Report.  

He did the news from that booth because there was so much noise in the rest of the radio/TV station... from live commercials, to country music shows being broadcast or rehearsed... that it was the only quiet place to do the news. 

Jud became a newscaster at a time when there were no rules on how to do it. The titles "anchorman" and, for certain, "anchorwoman" or "anchorperson" had never been heard. 

There were no consultants. 

There was no video tape. 

There was no teleprompter. 

Jud just did it.... and he instinctively did it right.

 

Like most of us who started in broadcasting many years ago, Jud came into his role as a television journalist... not from a newspaper background... but from the ranks of a radio broadcaster. 

In those days, you did more than just work in a radio or TV newsroom. 

You did commercials... you drove radio news cars... you did interview shows... you did music shows... you might even sing, or do play-by- play of some sport... you did kids' shows... you did station breaks... you participated in everything that was on radio and television. 

Jud even worked for awhile as a Grand Ole Opry announcer. 

Ultimately, Jud brought all the skills and talents he developed as a "broadcaster" to the news desk. 

He understood the proper, conversational phraseology for speaking on television... and he always comprehended he wasn't speaking to the masses, but to one person sitting in a room somewhere. 

He once told me, "That's the trick, you're talking to one person." 

Jud was a gifted writer, but preferred speaking without a script when possible. 

Not many folks around the station nowadays remember that he also served as news director here at Channel 4 for a couple of years. 

It would be an understatement for me to say I was intimidated by Jud when I came here... in my 20s... in 1969. 

Jud was Mr. Television... he was the man. 

When Jud elected to hang up the anchor duties at just 50 years old... and I was informed -- to my utter surprise -- that I would replace him... I divulge to you that I had nightmares -- literal nightmares -- over a period of several weeks. 

Later, on more than one occasion, Jud told me he regretted giving up the anchor desk at such a young age. 

He later tried to resurrect his anchor role at Channel 2 but, by then, the market, the industry and the world had changed. 

Jud's return to the role of newscaster was short lived. 

Jud was a good and generous man, who -- when asked, and sometimes when not asked -- freely offered advice and encouragement to all of us. 

Anytime I was indecisive about how to handle a particular guest or situation, Jud was there for the asking. 

He'd take off his glasses, stick the tip of the frame in his mouth, ponder for a couple of seconds, and offer simple, inspired advice.

 

The bottom photo shows Jud standing next to the table where I'm seated on the right, with Teddy Bart on the left, next to Al Voecks. 

I had invited them to join me for a Sunday night Miller & Company roundtable discussion. 

The theme for that night's show was "Four Anchor People Talk About Things." 

When I first saw that photo, I told Jud that it looked like he had a halo of some sort around his head. 

He said, "Maybe I did." 

Maybe he did.

__________________________

FINDING FAIRIES

By Dan Miller 

December 23, 2008 

It was probably a little over 7 years ago, as my daughter was approaching her third birthday. 

She had -- as two year olds are apt to do -- climbed into our bed. 

Right in the middle of the night, still asleep, she started talking. 

She sat straight up -- obviously emerged in a dream. 

"Where are they?" she said.

 

It certainly got the attention of my wife and me, being the first time we'd actually heard McKensie verbalizing in her sleep... dreaming out loud. 

We hoped it wasn't a scary nightmare. 

"Shhhhh," I whispered to her, "What's wrong sweetie?" 

"I can't get back to them, where are they?" she said, "I can't find them." "They're not there."

 

"You can't find who?" I asked. 

"The garden fairies" she said, "I was playing with the garden fairies." 

We had no way of knowing exactly what enchanting scenario might be playing out in our little girl's dream, but it was comforting to know she was imagining herself in the company of garden fairies, rather than some scary monsters. 

"Go back to sleep" I told her, "I'm sure you'll find the garden fairies again." 

She put her head on the pillow, seemingly reassured and happy, and slept soundly, dreaming -- I suppose -- of being among dancing garden fairies and other delightful things. 

I'd not thought about that dream incident until just the other day when my wife -- who remembers everything -- reminded me of it. 

Here's what brought it up. 

This past weekend ended this year's run of Nashville Ballet's all-new, delightful "Nutcracker" at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center. 

The dancers were backed by flawless orchestration from the Nashville Symphony, and the production earned rave reviews from near and far. 

It was done in a new way this year, with a uniquely Tennessee flair, and featured new settings, new interpretations and even some new characters. 

Guess what new characters were added? 

Garden fairies. 

And guess who performed as one of the inaugural garden fairies? 

That's right.... it was McKensie's third time to appear with Nashville Ballet in Nutcracker.... but this time, as a garden fairy. 

Who says dreams don't come true? 

McKensie found the garden fairies.

__________________________

UNREQUITED GIFTS

By Dan Miller

December 19, 2008 

I feel something akin to sadness when I consider the brilliantly creative people who never enjoy the fruits of their gifts. 

We all know the story of Vincent Van Gogh. 

In his short 37 years of life, he sold just one painting.

 

It's simply remarkable to me that Van Gogh earned money for only one of those stunning paintings that stir the soul of all who see them. 

Yet today, 118 years after his death, a Van Gogh original can easily bring $80,000,000 or more at auction.

It's astounding. 

And consider poet Emily Dickinson. 

For much of her life she lived in virtual seclusion in Massachusetts, prolifically turning out poems. 

She wrote nearly 1,800 of them... possibly more... never hearing any testament to the masterpieces she was creating. 

She stashed them away, untitled... simply numbered. 

During her lifetime Emily Dickinson published fewer than a dozen poems... hardly a worthwhile monetary payoff. 

And the few that were published were altered by the publishers, because they felt her unconventional style didn't fit the preferred poetry format of the day. 

After her death in 1886, her sister uncovered a cache of Emily's unseen poems. 

When they were eventually published, she quickly emerged -- in death -- as one of this country's most revered poets, on a level with Walt Whitman, Robert Frost and T. S. Eliot. 

Some people will tell you that reading Emily Dickinson's words can be life-changing. 

Those words, they say, can do what poetry does best... give wings to our thoughts.... 

Lead us to soften our fears and prejudices.... 

And put life in perspective. 

Consider the meager 48 words that make up Emily Dickinson's untitled poem, #1665: 

I know of people in the Grave 

Who would be very glad 

To know the news I know tonight 

If they the chance had had 

'Tis this expands the least event 

And swells the scantest deed -- 

My right to walk upon the Earth 

If they this moment had.

_______________________

YOU NEVER KNOW WHO'S NOTICING

By Dan Miller 

December 15, 2008 

I'm always appreciative when somebody tells me they've been inspired or somehow uplifted by what I do on TV. 

You just never know who's watching, or listening, or reading what you write. 

About 27 years ago, when I was producing my little Sunday night interview show Miller & Company here on Channel 4... one December night during the Christmas season, I decided to show a crackling fireplace, nothing else, for the entire 30 minutes. 

It would, I figured, be a meaningful holiday gift for viewers who missed, or never had, a fireplace... allowing them to just sit and relax in front of their "TV fireplace." 

People still mention that specific show to me. 

It probably got more response than anything else I've done on television. 

One letter in particular came from a couple who told me how much they'd enjoyed the gift of a virtual fireplace. 

In fact, they told me that if their baby... due exactly nine months later... was a boy, they'd be naming it "Dan" as a way of saying "thanks" for the fireplace that night. 

Now, that's an impact on viewers! 

Another time, about 10 years ago, I was in New York to interview Maury Povich for a series we were doing on "reality" television shows. 

As I waited in the hall at the production studios, the director of the Povich show came up to me... introduced himself... and told me that his inspiration for becoming a television director had taken shape as he worked as an intern at Channel 4 in the early 1980s. 

He traced his passion directly back to watching the way we produced Miller & Company with unique staging, camera shots and interviewing style. 

I was complimented that he had paid such attention our method of doing that program. 

All this came to mind just the other day when I happened across an essay written by a young man named Chris Cerenelli, who works at WJET- TV in Erie, Pennsylvania. 

With any luck, by CLICKING HERE you can read Chris's first entry on his personal, work-related blog. 

It's the kind of thing an old guy like me enjoys reading. 

I remember Chris well, and I believe he has a bright future in this industry. 

For now though, I'm thinking of a long list of people who've stimulated and inspired my own life and career, people I've never really offered a shout-out of appreciation.... 

The list is long.... 

You'll have to take my word for that. 

And, by the way, I still haven't heard whether there's a young man out there somewhere, in his mid-20s, named "Dan," whose parents might have gotten a real fireplace by now.

______________________________________

MY BLOSSOMING BABIES

By Dan Miller 

December 10/11, 2008 

This is personal, about my kids, but you're certainly welcome to read it. 

But I must warn you... it's extremely complex, and will require your full focus and attention. 

Bear in mind, there could be a test. 

The dateline spans two days, December 10th and 11th. 

Those are two big dates in our family, though the events of those two dates are separated by a quarter century. 

Everybody who knows me has heard this story a hundred times, but it's time to tell it again. 

On December 10, 1973, my middle daughter Darcy was born here in Nashville at Baptist Hospital. 

Twenty-five years (and one day) later, December 11, 1998, my youngest daughter McKensie was born, also at Baptist Hospital. 

That's the two of them together in the top photo. 

In 1998, when my youngest was born, several of the same nurses and hospital staff who had been there in 1973 when Darcy arrived were still there, and I'm pretty sure they assumed I was back to welcome a grandchild.... 

Surprise!! 

Now don't get me wrong. I do have grandchildren... three of them in fact. 

One belongs to middle daughter Darcy, mentioned above. 

The other two grandkids belong to my oldest daughter Jennifer... who is 17 months older than middle daughter Darcy. 

Jennifer, though, was born at St. Thomas. 

That's her in the second photo with youngest sister McKensie, who's more than 26 years her junior. 

The oldest of my clan is my son Stephen. 

He was born in Augusta, Georgia... at the same hospital where I was born almost 25 years earlier, and -- get this -- he was delivered by the same doctor who delivered me! 

Here's another fascinating factoid... that doctor who delivered us was the brother of longtime U.S. Senator Strom Thurmond. (For some reason, Stephen likes to downplay that little fact!) 

That's Stephen in the third photo with his baby sister McKensie, who's more than 30 years younger than him! 

It's all so complicated, yet -- to me -- there seems to be some sort of weird symmetry here, I just can't put my finger on what it is. 

Anyhow, at 10 years old, my daughter McKensie moves into double digits this week... while big sister Darcy officially becomes of legal age to run for president, if she so chooses. 

And I, for one, think she'd make a fine president. 

So I'm writing this today simply as a way to wish happy birthdays for my two beautiful, youngest daughters... and to brag a little about all my kids.

________________________________

ARE WE WORRYING ENOUGH?

By Dan Miller 

December 5, 2008 

The economy is in deep trouble, and there's oh so much to worry about. 

The stock market has gone crazy... the war just won't end in Iraq... Afghanistan is still a big question mark... banks and giant automobile companies are failing... our personal savings and investments are dwindling... careers are being cut short by layoffs... the threats of terrorism hang over us...

 

Yet, the other day I stood at a discreet distance -- unnoticed -- and watched my almost 10-year old daughter looking at herself in the mirror.... swaying in dainty little moves to some song playing inside her head.... deciding how she wanted to fix her hair.... speaking softly and lovingly to her puppy who sat at her feet. 

Out the bedroom window I could see colorful leaves still clinging to trees, even though fall is swiftly giving way to wintertime. 

I watched a neighbor walking his dog in front of our house, waving to another neighbor who was raking some of those colorful leaves that couldn't hold on any longer. 

My wife was downstairs in the kitchen mixing and heating cinnamon tea. 

The aroma had drifted all the way upstairs. 

That night we set out to one of our favorite restaurants. 

On the way we passed the Boy Scouts Christmas tree lot, brightly lit and open for business, with enthusiastic young scouts working in the chilly evening air, helping families pick just the right tree. 

There was a catchy little James Taylor song on the radio. 

The restaurant was warm and comfortable. 

We were served by a pleasant young man, and were even greeted by some friends who happened to be dining at a nearby table. 

Everybody seemed to be of good cheer that night. 

Is the word not getting out? 

Don't people know we're in trouble and should be spending our days and nights worrying? 

Well, maybe tomorrow. 

It's raining outside right now, and it sounds quite soothing on the roof.

_____________________________

A QUICK ROCK AND ROLL QUIZ

By Dan Miller 

December 2, 2008 

This quiz might be easy for some of you, while others will find it quite tricky. 

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame officially opened its doors in Cleveland, Ohio a little over 13 years ago (September 2, 1995).... though the foundation had been selecting inductees in each of the 9 years before the hall actually opened. 

The Inaugural Class of 1986 consisted of 10 true icons of rock and roll music, but -- since I was a "radio-listening music fanatic" when I was a youngster -- I can assure you they omitted one particular artist who, without question, should have been in that initial group... but was not inducted for several more years.

 After you finish this simple quiz, I'll tell you who was conspicuously passed-over in the important Class of '86. 

Here's the quiz.... 

Only 10 of the following 25 early rock and rollers made up the inaugural class of '86. 

Can you name those 10? 

I'll bet you can't do it! 

I'll give you the correct picks a few paragraphs down.

 

1. Fats Domino 

2. Marvin Gaye 

3. Roy Orbison 

4. Sam Cooke 

5. Aretha Franklin 

6. Smokey Robinson 

7. Little Richard 

8. The Coasters 

9. Muddy Waters 

10. Jerry Lee Lewis 

11. Ray Charles 

12. B.B. King 

13. The Everly Brothers 

14. Ricky Nelson 

15. Eddie Cochran 

16. Carl Perkins 

17. Chuck Berry 

18. Jackie Wilson 

19. Elvis Presley 

20. Bo Diddley 

21. Bill Haley 

22. James Brown 

23. Clyde McPhatter 

24. Big Joe Turner 

25. Buddy Holly 

You might be wondering why the Beatles aren't listed. 

Well, to be eligible, it must be 25 years or more since the release of a performer's first record. 

Since the Beatles' first release was in 1962, they only became eligible for the vote in 1988, when they were a shoo-in for inclusion. 

Here's the correct answer. 

The 10 who were the original Hall of Fame inductees were all males.... Fats Domino, Sam Cooke, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ray Charles, The Everly Brothers, Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, James Brown and Buddy Holly. 

The other 15 on that list made it in 1987, the second year of voting. 

As for the artist who SHOULD HAVE BEEN included in that initial group... 

It's LaVern Baker, one of the greatest rock and rollers of all time, who tore up the charts in the 1950s and early 60s with songs like "Tweedley-Dee"... "Bop-Ting-A-Ling"... "Jim Dandy"... "I Cried A Tear"... "Jim Dandy Got Married"... "Saved"... "See See Rider" and many other songs. 

LaVern's influence and impact on music is immeasurable. 

Amazingly, 4 more years would pass (1991) before LaVern was finally given her rightful place in the R&R Hall. 

It makes me question the whole nomination process. 

Another time, I'll tell you the deserving performer who's conspicuously missing from the Country Music Hall of Fame.

_______________________________

THANKSGIVING TIME AGAIN

By Dan Miller

November 26/27, 2008 

Just like my birthdays, Thanksgiving seems to come around a lot more often than it used to. 

As always, there's much for me to be thankful for.... more than I can possibly list here.... so I'll mention just a few things that immediately come to mind. 

First, of course, I'm thankful for the usual suspects.... 

My beautiful and resourceful wife Karen.... 

My four kids, Stephen, Jennifer, Darcy & McKensie.... 

My sons-in-law, Marcus & Darin.... 

My three grandkids, Felix, Elouise & Philip (the new one since last Thanksgiving).... 

My wife's parents, Hilman and Mary Jo (the senior members of our clan).... 

And all the other wonderful and unfailingly interesting relatives who occupy the various branches and categories in our sprawling family. 

Oh, and I should mention McKensie's new puppy Pippo, who I'll be even more thankful for once he masters the art of conducting his "business" in the proper places, if you know what I mean. 

For that reason he probably won't join the rest of us around the Thanksgiving table, at least not this year.

Let's see.... what else comes to mind? 

Well, for one thing, the roof over our garage -- that I personally patched more than two years ago -- is still not leaking. 

For that, I'm both surprised and thankful. 

If you've ever climbed on a roof and actually applied the gooey, messy patch-up stuff, you'll certainly understand. 

I'm thankful that my old car is still running fine.... now in its 8th year.... and the only thing I've done is occasionally have the oil changed. 

OK, so it's a little beat up, but it still gets me there.

 

I'm thankful that, just when I think country music has completely passed me by, I can still hear Emmylou Harris do something like "Blue Kentucky Girl"... or Merle Haggard's "That's the Way Love Goes"... or Cal Smith's "Country Bumpkin"... or Ernest Tubb's recording of "Waltz Across Texas"... or anything by Tom T. Hall, and have my faith in country music rejuvenated.

 

Thankfully, I've almost figured out how to work many, though not all, of the features on our HiDef television set. 

It's nice, but I still miss the old days of black and white analog, when it all seemed so simple and magical to me. 

Both my wife and I are thankful that I finally cancelled my satellite radio service. 

She's been patient and understanding, but weary, I'm sure, of hearing my never-ending complaints about it. 

I'm thankful that Nashville still has the best, down-home "meat & three" restaurants in the world.... places like Swett's, Sylvan Park, Rotier's and Pie Wagon. 

I don't know what I'd do without them. 

I'm thankful for my friends, old and new. 

I'm thankful for every one of you reading this.... I really am.

___________________________________

NEWS ALERT?

By Dan Miller

November 21, 2008 

Sometimes I think news folks are a bit too eager to label stories "Bulletin" or "News Alert" or "Breaking News" or "Flash" etc. 

Not many years ago, much of our news came to us via Associated Press and UPI teletype machines. 

The big, loud, clunky printers stood lined against a wall here at Channel 4 and in every newsroom in the country. 

The news content was printed on long streams of paper that was pulled through the typing mechanism. Everyday we'd go through several boxes of paper feeding those old machines. 

Whenever a "Bulletin" or "News Alert" came across the wires, we'd be alerted by the sound of a loud, ringing bell.... and we'd know something big and important was happening somewhere in the world. 

If there were lots of bells, everybody in the newsroom would scamper to the wire machines to see what had happened. 

It was almost always something urgent, and too often something unpleasant. 

It might be the death of a prominent person, or perhaps a plane crash, or an important statement from the president. 

Nowadays, the old wire machines are relics of the past. 

The news services now send stories direct to the computers on our desks in the newsroom. 

When something happens that warrants a "bulletin" or "alert" designation, the slug, or headline, for that story is displayed with a bright color. 

It's red when it first appears, then yellow in the follow-up alerts. 

No matter how long someone has been in the news business.... even the jaded journalists.... we all pay special attention when a red or yellow "alert" or "bulletin" pops up on the wires. 

So when I saw the stack of brightly colored bulletins from Associated Press, I felt that familiar little adrenalin rush, knowing I was about to read something really important. 

Would this be a major story? 

Would it be something we'd be talking about for days? 

Would we have to interrupt programming for a bulletin? 

Would this change our lineup for the upcoming evening newscast? 

Here, verbatim, is the text of the "News Alert".... 

APNewsAlert,0091 

LONDON (AP) - Court schedule says Madonna, Guy Ritchie to get preliminary divorce decree in London on Friday. 

That's it. 

Am I missing something? 

News alert?! 

Bells and whistles?!! 

I suppose my appreciation of critical, life-changing celebrity news must be running thin. 

I'll be honest.... I didn't even know they were married.

 ______________________________________

THE TEMPTATION OF CHOCOLATE

BY DAN MILLER

November 18, 2008

 

Wanna know what prevents me from maintaining the slim, trim figure that I had 25 years ago? 

Perhaps the vending machine pictured here plays a small part. 

It stands majestically in our little break room at the TV station, beckoning all passersby with an assortment of goodies just waiting to be eaten. 

Actually, I'm pretty good at pacing myself, and rarely indulge. 

When I do, the machine has the inexplicable power to play a cruel little trick on me. 

Just last night, for example, I decided that a Hershey's Milk Chocolate with Almonds would really hit the spot. 

And, after all, what harm could one little candy bar do?

 

I put in my dollar.... (yes, they get a dollar for a Hershey bar that was 5-cents when I was a boy).... and the rotating coil moved the candy bar forward to drop it into the tray.... 

But it stopped.... and the Hershey bar didn't quite make it out of the coil. 

It was stuck. 

I shook the machine as best I could.... but it's a big, heavy machine, difficult to wobble even the slightest bit.

Gravity could not pull the candy bar down. 

It remained stuck. 

I pondered the dilemma. 

What, theoretically, would Albert Einstein do in this situation? 

OK, I'd put in another dollar, and I'd have two Hershey bars. 

That would be fine.... I could spread the two treats over a couple of days. 

The coils rotated again, and the first candy bar dropped into the tray below. 

Then it stopped. 

The second bar didn't drop. 

Stuck again. 

Wow.... I had to see if I had another dollar bill. 

Yes I did... but $3 to satisfy this longing for Hershey's candy.... goodness, I could have gotten a whole bag of Hershey's at Kroger for $3. 

But I had no choice. 

It could either put in a third dollar, or leave that 2nd Hershey bar hanging there waiting for some other lucky soul to hit the jackpot. 

I put in a third dollar bill. 

Eureka.... both fell into the tray, and I went back to my office with three giant Hershey bars. 

I ate one of them. 

The other two were perched there on my desk, beckoning to me like the sirens in Homer's Odyssey. 

OK, that first one was really tasty.... I decided to go ahead and eat another. 

It was good too. 

I let 15 minutes pass. 

Surely I was stronger than the lure of a third Large Size Hershey's Milk Chocolate with Almonds! 

I wasn't. 

Now my stomach hurts, and my mission for the next few days is to avoid direct eye contact with that candy machine. 

Besides, the (free) hot chocolate dispenser is looking relatively inviting today.

_____________________________________

DON'T MAKE ME DANCE!

By Dan Miller 

November 13, 2008 

Listening to different satellite radio channels over a span of several days, an awareness settled in. 

I was hearing lots of songs about dancing. 

They're always there. 

It's a common theme. 

"Do You Love Me (Now That I Can Dance)" by the Contours... 

"Dancing In The Dark" by Bruce Springsteen... 

"Shall We Dance" from The King and I... 

"Save The Last Dance For Me" by the Drifters... 

"The Twist" by Chubby Checker... 

"I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack... 

"Waltz Across Texas" by Ernest Tubb... 

"The Dance" by Garth Brooks... 

"I Could Have Danced All Night" from My Fair Lady... 

"Dance By The Light Of The Moon" by the Olympics... 

"Dancing In The Street" by Martha and the Vandellas... 

"You Should Be Dancing" by the Bee Gees... 

"Dancing Queen" by ABBA... 

"Tennessee Waltz" by Patti Page... 

and many others. 

As I enjoyed the music, an astounding revelation swept over me.... 

In my life, I've never once... never, ever, not once... thought to myself, "Gee, I think I'd like to go dancing."

And whenever I've been obliged to dance, at weddings or social functions, I've done so reluctantly and with conspicuous discomfort. 

Don't get me wrong. 

For most people, dancing seems to be a delightful, healthy activity.... 

I suppose it releases some deep, primitive instincts.... 

It's unquestionably one of our most beautiful, spellbinding arts.... 

Just not when I'm the one dancing. 

So, there you are.... as both Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald sang on separate hit records, "I Won't Dance, Don't Ask Me."

____________________________

MY OWN ANNOYING PHRASES

By Dan Miller

November 10, 2008 

You've no doubt seen that new list of the most irritating phrases and words in the English language.

Researchers at Oxford University released it last week, and I've seen it turn up seemingly everywhere.... in every blog, in every newspaper, and on most newscasts. 

Now, with all due respect, I personally agree with most -- but not all -- of the fairly unique phrases selected by Oxford. 

A few lines down I'll list the 10 phrases that are -- at this moment in time -- considered most annoying. 

Then, since it's not rocket science, I'll add a few of my own. 

I think you'll agree that, at the end of the day, it's absolutely impossible to pin down phrases that everyone agrees on. 

Even for language experts, I'm sure it's a nightmare to research thousands of choices, so I suppose I shouldn't of been too judgmental about the Oxford researchers. 

Those poor guys have probably worked on this 24/7, for months. 

Here's Oxford's official list of the most irritating phrases: 

1 - At the end of the day 

2 - Fairly unique 

3 - I personally 

4 - At this moment in time 

5 - With all due respect 

6 - Absolutely 

7 - It's a nightmare 

8 - Shouldn't of 

9 - 24/7 

10 - It's not rocket science 

Now, I'll tell you 10 more that irritate me: 

1 - "To make a long story short" *(when it's too late for that) 

2 - "No problem" *(after asking your waiter for something) 

3 - "My bad" *(Hey, this 'bad' belongs to me) 

4 - "Went missing" *(the opposite of "came found") 

5 - "A drug deal gone bad" *(probably a bad idea all along) 

6 - "Ran him over" *(Why not just 'ran over him'?) 

7 - "Stay on message" *(new political jargon) 

8 - "Let's touch base" *(Are we gonna advance on a fly ball?) 

9 - "From the get go" *(sounds like instructions for a horse) 

10 - "Summering in Spain" *(like, I'll be nighting in my bed)

________________________________

THE THING

By Dan Miller 

November 6, 2008 

There's a drawer in my closet where strange things dwell. 

Clearly these are things that I've put there over the course of several years, though I rarely remember when or why. 

Out of curiosity, I started digging through the drawer the other day. 

There are coins... lots of coins. 

There are buttons of different sizes that have obviously popped off pieces of clothing, never to be reattached.

Mismatched collar stays seem to have found a permanent home in that drawer. 

Paper clips are a staple of the drawer.... in fact, a few actual staples are pushed into corners. 

Because my wife feels safety pins should always be salvaged, there are enough stuck in the drawer that -- when her anticipated worldwide shortage of safety pins really happens -- we'll be set. 

Old receipts are folded and bundled.... receipts that seemed important to hang-on to, though I don't have a clue what purchase they represent. 

There are scraps of paper with unfamiliar phone numbers.... 

There are scribbled names that I have no recollection of.... 

Small strips of paper have baffling phrases, like, "corner with shuffle board." 

What was I thinking? 

Business cards.... old grocery lists.... a cough drop or two, still nicely wrapped.... two or three lip balms, worn too low to use.... quite a few old keys that fit long forgotten locks.... 

And then, the cluttered drawer yields something that's.... well, that's it pictured on the right. 

I placed it on the kitchen countertop for further examination. 

"What's this thing?" Karen asked, "Do we need to keep it?" 

"I've no idea" I said, "I was hoping you'd know." 

We studied it carefully. 

It resembles a tiny space satellite, but I'm fairly certain a miniature satellite hasn't fallen from orbit into my drawer. 

But it looks important, so I'll put it back into the drawer for another year or two. 

Whatever it is, I might need it someday.... and, believe me, I'll be relieved to know I still have it.... right there in my drawer.

______________________________

READERS RESPOND TO DEMETRIA

By Dan Miller 

October 31, 2008 

When I posted the previous essay, OCTOBER LOVE STORY, I had no idea of the volume of reader response it would generate. 

If you've read it, you're aware that it's about my co-anchor Demetria's recent wedding, and also about the sad passing of her father, Mike Kalodimos, just two weeks after the wedding. 

So I'm dedicating today's post to publishing just a few of the emails from hundreds of kind folks who took time to write-in after reading OCTOBER LOVE STORY, or after hearing my comments on TV explaining why Demetria had been away from the news broadcast so often in recent weeks. 

Personally, I'm appreciative of the kind words you sent to both me and to Demetria, and I will forward every single email... these, and the ones not included here, to Demetria. 

I'm copying a few of the reader comments in the comment section below:

______________________

OCTOBER LOVE STORY

By Dan Miller 

October 28, 2008 

If I was asked once, I was asked 500 times in recent weeks, through emails and on the street, "Where's Demetria?" 

I understand everyone's curiosity, since she's been away from the newscasts for most of the last month-and-a-half. 

But there's a good reason -- perhaps I should say bittersweet reasons -- for her absence. 

Here's photographic validation of one of the reasons for her extended absence. 

Yep, the pictures tell the story. 

Demetria and long-time beau Verlon Thompson (finally) tied the knot. 

I knew each of them years before they knew each other, and this joining of two of my favorite people makes me happy. 

In fact, look closely in that top photo and -- right between them -- you can see me being happy. 

The wedding day was storybook.

 

Family and friends gathered at Verlon's (well, now it's Demetria's and Verlon's) combination barn/house, which I always refer to simply as "the farm." 

The brilliant colors of a Tennessee October created a setting that any travel brochure for our state would be proud to display. 

The sunlight through the trees cast a magical spell on the banks of the South Harpeth River, which winds through the little valley just behind their place. 

If you want a description of the bride's dress, well, I'm not the one to ask. 

I'm not very knowledgeable when it comes to awareness or descriptions of fashion. 

As I've often said, if you walk up to me, ask me to cover my eyes and describe what I'm wearing at that very moment, chances are I wouldn't have a clue. 

But I can tell you that Demetria had mentioned to me she was indecisive about whether to wear a long or short dress, so she split the difference... she wore a unique dress that was short in the front and long in the back.... sort of a blend of the two. 

It was a very nice compromise. 

Every wedding needs a little music.... and this one had some of the best. 

Immediately after the vows were exchanged, before Demetria and Verlon walked back up the aisle... uh, the trail... Verlon picked up his guitar and left not a dry eye around when he sang to Demetria a song he wrote for her titled "Get To You Waltz." 

 

Then it was time for everyone to gather in the big tent set up on the side of the barn/house for food, wine and more music. 

That's where Verlon was joined by his pals Guy Clark.... Shawn Camp on fiddle and mandolin.... and Mike Bub on bass. 

Not a bad little band for a wedding! 

Even Verlon's mom Darwettia got into the act when she got up with the boys and sang a rousing version of "Little Bitty Woman (Put a Big Hole in my Heart)." 

Verlon credits his mom -- out on the windy plains of Oklahoma -- with teaching him to play guitar before he could even reach his 4-year old hand around the neck. 

His dad Don... a real-life cowboy... is more content to be in the audience. 

Here's the bittersweet part of the whole evening. 

After everyone had enjoyed their dinner, and before the rest of the music started, Verlon asked everyone to listen because he had one more musical gift he wanted to share.

 

If you know Verlon, you understand he's much more comfortable with a guitar in his hand, singing a song, than he is making small talk. 

Right there, in the middle of the big tent, Verlon strummed his guitar and shared with all of us a song he'd written for Demetria last Valentine's Day. 

This one was a poignant tribute, not only to his bride, but to her roots. 

He titled it "Mike and Betty's Daughter".... 

That's Mike and Betty Kalodimos in the last photo. 

Mike and Betty weren't able to come to Tennessee to see their daughter marry Verlon. 

Mike has been in the middle of a struggle with recently discovered late-stage lung cancer, and other related health issues.... which is another reason Demetria has been away from work lately. 

On the day of the wedding, Mike had no choice but to stay in Chicago, and Betty stayed there with him, side by side, as they have been for 51 years. 

In the long years leading up to this wedding, Demetria's parents got to know and love Verlon. 

And Verlon got to know them. 

Mike and Betty have given Demetria and Verlon, and all their other kids and grandkids, a wonderful example of how to do it right. 

From that beautiful October day forward, rest assured you'll find Verlon side by side with Mike and Betty's daughter. 

Mike Kalodimos peacefully passed away at 7:30 Tuesday morning, October 28th, at the age of 80.

_____________________________

WHITE HOUSE WINNER AND LOSER

 By Dan Miller 

October 24, 2008 

Contrary to all logic, not everybody really wants victory for their presidential candidate-of-choice. 

At the very least, some might see a splendid opportunity for themselves in a win by the other guy. 

Campaign workers will, no doubt, feel great disappointment if the opposition wins.... after all, it's been an extended, contentious and expensive process. 

People who've contributed money might feel they threw it away in a losing campaign. 

But I can think of a few people (and corporations) in my industry who'll benefit greatly by the defeat of the very candidate they've been actively supporting. 

Trust me, they'll never publicly admit it.... never.... 

But the real, reversed winner will be one of the news channels, MSNBC or FOX. 

Think about it.... 

If Barack Obama wins, the cable news winner is Fox.... who've actively leaned in favor of McCain throughout the campaign. 

It would provide Fox with four years of fodder to hound the administration and criticize everything they do.

Show hosts like Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity would be invigorated and focused with a Democrat in the Oval Office, providing the perfect target for nightly barrages. 

On the other hand, if John McCain wins, the cable news winner is MSNBC for exactly the same reason.... since they'd been quite conspicuous in their preference for Obama. 

Again, you'll never hear Keith Olbermann or Rachael Maddow admit it, but a McCain victory would position them ideally as disbelievers and skeptics, fully armed for nightly ranting about the doings of another GOP administration. 

Either way, I predict four years of loud, unrelenting bluster from both camps of the cable news world. 

But the reality is... no matter who wins*... we're all in this together, and we'll all move forward -- for better or worse -- adjusting to whoever occupies the White House. 

Then we'll do it all again in four years.

*So Obama is the winner... we'll see how it goes over the next 4 years.

______________________

CONSIDER YOURSELF CAPTIVATED

By Dan Miller 

October 20, 2008

(there's a video clip at the bottom)

Read this, and it might just save you from having to fly to England. 

The classic stage musical Oliver will open in December for a new, long run in London at the historic Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and it might just be worth the long trip to see it. 

But here's a tip -- trust me on this -- you don't have to cross the ocean to experience the full magic of this wonderful show. 

You don't even have to leave Nashville. 

Just drive out to the Looby Theatre in Metro Center on Thursday, Friday or Saturday evening... or Sunday afternoon for the matinee. 

Of course, you'll have to do it by November 2nd.***  

In the spirit of full disclosure, I'll admit my initial attachment to this production was because my daughter McKensie is a member of the ensemble cast.... but within minutes of the opening curtain I was hooked on the story, the remarkably versatile set, and the cast of engaging actors... many with professional credentials. 

While watching the play I realized that I'd never seen a production of Oliver... not on stage, or on the movie screen, where it won the Oscar for Best Picture 40 years ago. 

For most of my adult life I've been familiar with songs like "Consider Yourself (At Home)" and the lovely "As Long As He Needs Me".... I just didn't realize those songs were from the score of Oliver. 

Right now, my new favorite song from Oliver might just be "Oom Pah Pah", which is performed with great gusto by an ensemble of all the adult cast members at the start of the second act. 

And I'm still touched by Rachael Bernard's heartfelt rendering of "As Long As He Needs Me"... which seemed to cast a spell over the audience. 

Standing in the lobby where the cast gathered immediately after the performance, I overheard an elderly patron congratulating young actor Evan Williams for his on-the-money portrayal of the considerably older character Fagin. 

The man was explaining how he himself had, many years before, taken on the role of Fagin and therefore understood the difficulty in mastering that character on stage, which young Evan had done in such a stirring way. 

There are so many affecting performances in this production of Oliver that I'm reluctant to name names, for fear that I'll omit so many performers who should be named.... 

But I'll say this.... Macon Kimbrough and Jamie London alone are worth the price of admission as Mr. Bumble and Widow Corney performing "I Shall Scream." 

Tim Bush (all 6'4" of him) is downright intimidating as a mean Bill Sykes. 

And young Wes Richardson's sensitive portrayal of Oliver would do Broadway proud. 

While I'm admittedly partial to that young Miller girl, I'll have to say she has certainly extended her range as an actor, since she's actually playing a "boy" in this one. 

Just check the way she's standing on the extreme left of the top photo. 

She says that's her "boy posture." 

By the way, McKensie told me her one and only regret about this play is that she's not included in the "Oom-Pah-Pah" scene. 

The casting for Oliver is the most solid, from top to bottom, of any Circle Players show I've seen. 

There's not a weak spot in the cast. 

You won't even catch any of the youngest actors glancing into the audience, trying to spot Grandma. 

You can credit seasoned director Clay Hillwig for that. 

Near the end of the play, watch closely for a little piece of "stage magic" that would make even David Copperfield proud. 

OK, so I'm a hopeless shill for the Circle Players.... but if you want to have a good time, for a very low price (even free for the very young ones), check out Oliver at the Looby Theatre.

***Sorry you missed this one, but you can watch a little one-minute video clip just below***

And CLICK HERE for info on what's in the works now for the next Circle Players production. 

_________________________

HOW TO PICK A PRESIDENT

By Dan Miller 

October 16, 2008 

So that's that... the presidential debates are history, and now we move on to November. 

Each of the three debates was, frankly, a rather uninspired parroting of points, catch phrases and rhetoric we've heard a lot during this extremely long campaign, stretching all the way back to when my head contained slightly fewer gray hairs. 

But that's really all these guys can do. 

They can't come to physical blows.... that wouldn't be the American way. 

They can't call each other obscene, ugly names.... or whip out compromising photos of one another. 

So they make promises of stirring things that probably can't, in reality, be fulfilled by any one person, even a president. 

And each tries to convince us that we should be appalled by the trail of mistakes and broken promises made by his opponent. 

During the debates I never heard a real honest-to-goodness "eureka line" that will echo through the years.

There was no "You're no Jack Kennedy" comment... 

No "Read my lips" moment... 

Not even a "There you go again" that served Ronald Reagan so well. 

The best zinger of the night had to be John McCain's quip, "If you wanted to run against President Bush, you should have run four years ago." 

It was a really good line, though I think it amounted to little more than an air jab, with no damage to Obama. 

The truth is, most promises made during presidential campaigns turn out to be "air jabs" in a sense. 

Remember when George H. W. Bush promised no new taxes? 

Remember when Lyndon Johnson promised to win the war on poverty? 

Remember Richard Nixon promising to quickly resolve the Vietnam War? 

Remember hearing about how Franklin Roosevelt promised to keep our country out of World War II? 

Remember George W. Bush pledging that the U.S. military would not be used for nation building? 

Remember Bill Clinton pledging universal healthcare? 

Presidential campaign promises are purposely never chiseled in stone.... they're always subject to revision. 

Perhaps the best payoff from these debates is a little insight into the character, decency and human qualities of the candidates. 

Who lifts you up and inspires you? 

Who makes you feel good about our country's future, and your own? 

Maybe it's all just a feeling. 

Maybe it's as simple as that.

___________________________

PHONE BOOKS... BAD BUT BEAUTIFUL

By Dan Miller 

October 14, 2008 

The accompanying photo shows a couple of old phone books, which happen to be two of my favorite possessions. 

One is a 1957 edition, the other circa 1965, from my hometown in Georgia. 

Though these phone books are surprisingly thin, each contains both the white and yellow pages. 

Augusta was, after all, a considerably smaller city in those days. 

Back then, most everybody listed their telephone number and address proudly and conspicuously. 

In fact, I didn't know a single person with a private, unlisted number. 

As odd as it might sound, nowadays I take great pleasure looking through these old directories and finding familiar names from years gone by. 

Even the ads in the yellow pages stir up warm memories. 

I occasionally surprise myself at how many numbers of old friends and family I can still recall. 

I thought about my old books today when I happened across an article on the dark side of telephone directories. 

One expert says discarded phone books -- the white and yellow pages -- account for at least 30% of the space used in our landfills. 

You'd think, in this age of recycling, it would be getting better. 

But I dunno... every year, at least two or three thick yellow pages, and the somewhat thinner white pages, mysteriously show up on the front porch at home.... and the same number show up in my office at work. And when I consider all the other houses and businesses and universities getting stacks of phone books, it's really unsettling. 

According to the recycling organization known as Earth911, so many phone books are manufactured every year that if you laid them end to end, they'd circle the earth 4.28 times. 

And what eventually happens to them? 

Well, on average, they say 660,000 tons of phone books end up in landfills every year. 

We should do better than that. 

According to the American Forest & Paper Association, for every 500 phone books recycled, we save between 17 and 31 trees, not to mention 7,000 gallons of water, 463 gallons of oil, 587 pounds of air pollution, and 3.06 cubic yards of landfill space. 

The thing is, I hardly ever -- and I mean ever -- use present-day phone books anymore. 

Do you? 

Every year I haul several of them to recycling, still wrapped in that protective plastic cover. 

With so many on-line directories, websites, even GPS available, does anyone really use the big, bulky phonebooks? 

Why are these things still plopped on our doorsteps every few months? 

The answer, of course, is advertising. 

As long as they're profitable -- and apparently they still are -- they'll keep showing up on our porches every year. 

Bottom line... Recycle those old phone books. 

But don't forget to set aside one or two just to keep. 

They'll soon be a relic of the past. 

You'll thank me 50 years from now.

__________________________

MORE DEBATE PHOTOS

By Dan Miller 

October 8, 2008 

Here are five more pictures that clearly illustrate the glamour of covering a presidential debate.

 

The top photo shows our modest broadcast tent(s) set up in the garden area outside the Belmont Mansion. You'll notice there are actually two tents pushed closely together, which left a slight opening between the two. 

When the heavy rain came -- as you can imagine -- that little crevice caused a bit of problem.

 

But I'm happy to report that our creative technical folks --- with the clever use of plastic, wires, tape, clamps and perhaps a prayer --- were able to create a makeshift gutter and keep everybody and everything reasonably dry. 

Second photo. 

At seven o'clock, some of us went to the giant media tent for a little celebrity-watching and dinner. 

From left to right, that's Hal, Cara, Don, Phil, Kevin and me. 

By the way, Hal and Phil are the ones who created the magical gutter that sealed our tents in the first photo.

Poor Don, our field producer -- third from left -- will, unfortunately, probably need to have that cellphone surgically removed from his left ear after holding it there almost nonstop for two full days. 

Third photo. That's just to give you an idea of the sheer size of the media tent. 

It's astounding.... easily the size of a football field. 

Tables and cables and television monitors were set up to accommodate thousands of visiting journalists and media reps. 

This is where we watched most of the debate. 

Fourth photo. 

This just shows a section of the sprawling metal scaffold erected just outside the Curb Event Center, where the debate took place. 

I snapped this photo from the front porch of the Curb. 

This platform is where networks and television stations would have reporters stationed for interviews and live reports. 

Fifth photo. 

Even though the Belmont campus is a truly beautiful place, at certain spots, and from certain angles, it took on the appearance of a prison, or perhaps Berlin in the 1960s. 

Of course, this fence that surrounded, and cut across, much of the campus, was only temporary for the debate -- and has probably already been removed.

It's all so elaborate.

It makes me think back to the very first debate in 1960 between Nixon and Kennedy. 

It was done in a small studio at WBBM-TV in Chicago, with only a panel of a few journalists asking questions. 

Yet, 75,000,000 Americans watched.... every newspaper and magazine wrote about it.... and it's still talked about today. 

I wonder.... do we really need 3,000 journalists converging on a place to cover a debate? 

________________________________

OUR DIGS AT THE DEBATE

By Dan Miller 

October 7, 2008 

Thought you might like a peek behind the scenes at our Belmont workspace. 

This is a basement level room in a dorm/classroom building there on the Belmont campus. 

Just about 30 feet outside that window (and above ground) is the spot where I've been broadcasting from in the garden area near the Belmont mansion. 

It might not appear to be a palatial office, but -- trust me -- I've worked out of other spaces at past events that, by comparison, make this look like a state-of-the-art NASA research lab. 

We even had our own (semi) private restroom down the hall. 

Belmont has done a superb job of accommodating the, literally, thousands of journalists who've converged on the campus from all over the country to cover the presidential debate.

 

The second photo shows Mike, Don, Mike & Phil.... just four of WSMV's dozens of technical workers putting in long hours to get our reports on the air from Belmont. 

We had one little computer glitch and weren't able to access scripts from the station.... but the good news was, I brought along my laptop and --- back to the basics --- the producers at the studio simply emailed the scripts to me and we printed them. 

So my little laptop was a hero-device for awhile. 

More photos later.

_______________________

QUIRKY, COMPULSIVE OR WEIRD?

By Dan Miller 

October 2, 2008 

There's a little thing I do when writing on my computer here at the television station. 

Actually, I had never even noticed it until somebody stuck his head in my office and pointed it out to me.

Whenever I get to the very bottom of a page of script, I always hit the little arrow that scrolls the page down.

It's hard to explain, but if there's nothing else on the page, a little bell rings. It rings, I suppose, to let me know that very fact.... that there's nothing else written on that particular page. 

Well, it turns out, I always hit the little arrow three times, so that the bell rings three times... 

Not two times.... not four times.... but always three times. 

It also turns out -- since I keep the volume on my computer turned up fairly high -- people outside my office can hear the bell. 

After the person so abruptly pointed out to me that I had this little "typing quirk"... I actually tried to adjust.

I'm a fairly fast typist, but trying to avoid hitting that little arrow at the bottom of each page slowed me down.... 

It made me feel clumsy.... 

I found I desperately needed to hit that key three times.... 

I needed to hear that little bell.... 

And I needed it to be at full volume. 

I might seem odd to you.... but at least I don't separate my M&Ms into color categories.... 

And I don't worry about stepping on cracks in the sidewalk.... 

And black cats don't concern me. 

OK, that's all for now. Ding, Ding, Ding.

______________________________

A BEAUTIFUL MAN

 By Dan Miller 

September 29, 2008 

I could hear snippets of several conversations from nearby tables at lunch on Saturday. 

It was the day after the first big presidential debate between Obama and McCain, and that's what I presupposed everybody would be discussing.... but I never even heard it mentioned. 

The topic of the day was Paul Newman. 

A woman sitting one table away from me obviously hadn't heard about his passing. 

After a friend told her, I could hear her respond, "Oh my, he wasn't very old was he?" 

"He was eighty-three" her friend answered. 

The woman said, "My goodness, I just never thought of him as being an old man." 

I didn't either. 

Paul Newman seemed ageless.... and even as he gracefully moved deeper into his senior years, he was still the guy the rest of us guys wanted to be like. 

His extraordinarily handsome face never stood in the way of his prowess as an actor. 

In fact, he most often played against his natural allure by portraying a likable hustler, rebel, scoundrel or loser. 

He once said, "I was always a character actor... I just looked like Little Red Riding Hood." 

Newman never flaunted his status as a famous movie star. 

He kept his private life his own.... 

But he touched, even changed, countless lives with his boundless generosity to those less fortunate. 

His food company alone generated nearly $200-million for charities. 

He never took a dime in profit from it. 

In his younger years he championed civil rights, and was quite vocal in his opposition to the Vietnam War. 

He liked to brag that one of his proudest achievements in life was making it onto President Nixon's "enemies list." 

Paul Newman remained a charismatic force right into his twilight years. 

It was easy for me to overlook that he had become an old-timer, because he never really stopped being Cool Hand Luke. 

The impact of his contributions as an actor, and his passionate generosity as a human being, will resonate far into the future.

_____________________________

ELECTRICITY

By Dan Miller

September 26, 2008 

Electricity is something I simply take for granted, at least until it's not there. 

I don't really comprehend how electric currents are generated and regulated, and sent with balanced intensity into our homes and businesses. 

I don't understand -- if I turn on a vacuum cleaner or power drill -- why my neighbor's lights don't dim a bit, if the electrical line runs to my house first. 

Thankfully, I don't have to understand.... there are other people who do. 

I'm awestruck that electricity... and its potential... has always been here on the planet. 

Eons before humans even walked the earth, electricity was around, waiting in the wings to be discovered and harnessed. 

I imagine the earliest cave dwellers and their kids were amused when they found they could scrape their feet along the leaves and furs covering the floor of the cave, then touch the skin of another cave- person, producing a little spark and pop. 

Their crude knowledge of electricity was probably about the same as mine today. 

It's beyond my comprehension how -- after the water has rushed over the spillways, and the wind has spun the big blades -- the resulting electricity can be stored, and then sold and transferred over long wires to power companies hundreds of miles away. 

It's all miraculous to me. 

These days, electricity even provides a sensation of security and comfort. 

Recently, in the middle of the night, I sat straight up in bed.... something was wrong. 

I awakened because the house was suddenly too quiet and still. 

Immediately I knew... there was no power. 

It would remain off for a couple of hours. 

Everything is.... and feels.... darker when the power is out. 

A house can become rather spooky when current stops flowing through its veins. 

There comes a creepy silence. 

Little noises that we've grown oblivious to are suddenly conspicuous by their absence. 

Refrigerators, ice-makers, clocks, digital cable boxes, fans, fluorescent lights, air conditioners, water heaters.... 

The silence actually closes in around you.... 

The stillness is unsettling, and keeps you awake... 

Then "pop"... the power's back... and sleep comes easily.... 

At least after you've reset the clocks.

_______________________________

WHY SPACE ALIENS PICKED THE HILLS

By Dan Miller 

September 22, 2008 

It was an outlandish news story that I became a bit preoccupied with 47 years ago. 

Then, just days ago, it got my attention again -- but for a whole different reason. 

Originally -- way back then -- I was fascinated because I'd never heard of anything like it... and the people involved seemed so credible.... a social worker and a postal worker, both around 40. 

Of course I was young and impressionable, still in the last vestiges of my teen years, and eager to accept such a story as factuality. 

I was far from alone in my acceptance of the story.... many others did, and still do. 

It has never been explained or disproved. 

On a peaceful, late September night in 1961, a reputable, trustworthy couple... Barney and Betty Hill... were traveling in their 1957 Chevrolet along a mostly deserted US Route 3 near Indian Head, New Hampshire.

They were returning home from a vacation north of the border in Canada. 

And there, on that lonely road in the mountains of New England, they insisted something really weird happened. 

A giant flying saucer hovered over their car, and when they stopped to investigate, they were abducted by space aliens. 

To this day, it probably remains the most detailed and credible story of an alien abduction. 

It was the subject of several books, including the best seller "The Interrupted Journey" ... and there have been at least two movies made about the abduction of the Hills.... one in 1975 titled "The UFO Incident" starring James Earl Jones and Estelle Parsons. 

I won't go into detail about what supposedly happened.... you can easily find more than you might care to read about it by Googling "Barney and Betty Hill"... but I will tell you what caught my attention the other day as I read an article chronicling the abduction on its 47th anniversary. 

As much as I always wanted to believe the Hill's story, I couldn't help but wonder why space aliens would travel light years across the universe, only to select these two rather unremarkable earthlings as guinea pigs for their strange probes and tests. 

Well, the answer was right there all the time. 

It's simple... the Hills were driving a '57 Chevy. 

Even aliens from other worlds are enchanted by a really nice '57 Chevy. 

I'm living proof that a '57 Chevy can spawn unlikely behavior. 

I submit for your consideration, this.... 

Thirty-nine years ago when I was preparing to move from South Carolina to Nashville, I was the owner of a '57 Chevy Bel Air . 

I decided that, rather than drive it to Nashville, I would offer to sell it to a guy named Alan who bought my house in South Carolina. 

You know how much I asked for -- and got -- for that '57 Chevrolet? $5. 

That's right.... $5. 

Not $50... not $500... not $5,000.... but $5. 

I recently saw a nice '57 Chevy on eBay selling for $50,000! 

You know what? 

Those space aliens should come back and probe my head to see if they can figure out what in the world I was thinking.

 

I wonder if Alan still has that old car.... and I wonder if he's ever been visited by space aliens.

__________________________________

I DON'T REALLY WEAR GLASSES

By Dan Miller 

September 17, 2008 

Look at the small photo up near the top, right side of this web site, and you'll observe I'm not wearing eyeglasses. 

Yet, some of you might have noticed that I do wear them on TV. 

Recently, my co-anchor Demetria Kalodimos told me that someone had referred to me as "the guy on the news who wears glasses." 

Well, that surprised me because I don't think of myself as a "glasses person." 

It's true that I've been wearing mild prescription glasses on all our newscasts for the past two or three years, but that's just so the tele-prompter won't look so blurry when I read it. 

Perhaps we need to buy clearer tele-prompters! 

And -- I'll admit -- I've been using the little drug store "cheaters" to read small print for the past few..... uhhh, well, for the past 20 or 25 years.... 

But I still don't consider myself a person who actually "wears" glasses. 

That's something other people do. 

I mean, Woody Allen and Drew Carey and Sally Jessy Rafael wear glasses.... so did Buddy Holly and Barry Goldwater.... but me -- no -- I just make use of them now and then. 

When I first started buying those cheap drug store magnifiers, I liked the lowest power, #1.00.... now I'm up to around #2.50 or #3.00.... but, remember, that's just to help me with menus in dark restaurants, or to assist with the much smaller type that publishers -- for some unknown reason -- seem to prefer in recent years. 

Oh, my colleagues around the newsroom laugh because they see me occasionally wearing two pairs of glasses at the same time.... but that's just to give me two separate focal ranges.... one for my computer, and the other for the TV monitor in my office. 

And just for the fun of it I try to keep a pair of those "cheaters" next to every chair in my house.... and I like to have five or six pairs, with varying strengths, next to my bed.... but that's just in case I need to read something with small, or medium, or not really huge print. 

No, in spite of the fact that you'll often see me wearing glasses -- even two pairs at once -- I'm proud to say that I've made it this far in life without really wearing glasses.

_____________________________________

MY FAIR LITTLE LADY

By Dan Miller 

September 11, 2008 

Saturday brought one of those invigorating Tennessee evenings that simply commands everyone to be out in it. 

So, out of the blue -- without spousal consultation -- I suggested a night at the state fair would be a fun thing to do.

 

My wife was immersed in preparations for a big event she's chairing, and said she couldn't go, but figured it would be a delightful outing for Daddy and daughter to do together. 

"She'll enjoy going with you" my wife assured me. 

Within a span of half-a-second, McKensie enthusiastically agreed.

 

McKensie has -- in recent years -- gleefully walked the midways in Wilson and Williamson counties, but this would be her first time at Nashville's iconic Tennessee State Fair. 

As an aging father who no longer feels the inclination to climb aboard rides and contraptions that spin, twist, twirl and swirl.... what could be easier and sweeter than watching this still 9-year-old girl experiencing the magic of the midway? 

And, you know what? 

I felt a rush of confidence that I could win for her a big stuffed animal of some sort. 

Somehow I've always managed to be pretty good at that. 

So off we went. 

As we entered the main gate, surrounded by crowds of laughing, spirited teenagers, a little obstacle suddenly appeared. 

Right in the middle of the entrance was the one thing I knew McKensie always finds unsettling at carnivals.... the loudmouthed clown who sits over a tank of water, hurling insults at everybody, challenging them to dunk him with a well-aimed baseball. 

I confess.... ever since I saw Gary Busey's chilling, over-the-top performance as one of those clowns in the movie "Carny" years ago, I've been a little disturbed by these guys myself. 

We edged against a fence, and managed to make it around the dunk tank without even a sneer from the clown. 

I asked McKensie if she was OK. 

"Yes, I'm having fun" she assured me. 

Since we'd not had supper, we headed straight for the building where I remembered the food court being located. 

It's where various community organizations like Civitan, 4-H, Eastern Star, Scout troops and schools always offered delicious homemade barbecue, sandwiches and burgers.... even some vegetables. 

After walking around the building for about 10 minutes, it became apparent that the food court was no longer there. 

So we opted for classic midway hot dogs and lemonade. 

"Was it good sweetie, did you have enough to eat?" I asked. 

"Oh yeah Daddy, it was good." 

First on our agenda after dinner was the livestock pens.... the cows, goats, chickens, bunnies , and a few other critters. 

Except for unfortunately stepping in some spots where we wished we hadn't stepped, it might have been McKensie's favorite part of the fair. 

She loves the animals. 

We scraped off the bottoms of our shoes and headed for the midway. 

The rides along the midway presented a bit of a dilemma for a girl who's almost 10. 

She's slightly too big for most of the kiddie rides... 

And slightly too small for the big rides. 

But she never acknowledged the problem, being resourceful enough to find several that seemed to fit just right. 

I felt a hint of melancholy as I caught the excitement in her little face... knowing all too well that very soon -- like my three already grown children -- she'll choose to visit fairs and other big events with her young friends, and (further down the line) even young men who aren't her daddy. 

It's natural.... I know it's coming. 

Before we left, it was my turn. 

Time to show my daughter how easily her father could put the basketball through the small, sort of egg-shaped hoop, and win for her a giant teddy bear. 

I bought six tries for $5. 

This would be a cinch. 

My first shot didn't even make it to the basket. 

Whoops... my second shot fell short as well, another air-ball. 

Hmmm... I should've zeroed-in by now. 

Was the old man losing his touch? 

My third shot bounced off the side of the rim... slightly closer. 

My fourth and fifth shots bounced high off the backboard. 

One more shot to go. 

I couldn't believe my eyes... another air-ball, off to the left. 

"Sorry sweetie," I said, "I'm a little off tonight, maybe I should try again." 

"That's alright Daddy, you were real good, you came close." 

Such a girl. 

So we left, empty handed. 

It was almost 11:30 when we got home, and McKensie started relating to her mother some of the things she'd done at the fair. 

"What was your favorite part?" Karen asked. 

My ears perked up.... I was eager to hear what part she would say she liked best. 

"Just being there with Daddy" she said. 

It was a September evening well spent.

_____________________________

A TRUTH ABOUT MONEY AND HAPPINESS

By Dan Miller 

September 8, 2008

Money can't buy happiness or health, or the same amount of gasoline it did last year. 

Still, I find it hard to dispute the idea that money -- though it won't bring you happiness -- could make you more comfortable while you look for it. 

It appears pro wrestler Hulk Hogan and his wife have been fairly comfortable, though unable to discover happiness.... at least not with each other. 

Their big disagreement in a Florida divorce court concerns how much Hulk is worth. 

His wife Linda contends Hulk is worth just under $27-million.... 

But Hulk insists he's about $5-million happier than that, with a total worth of $32-million. 

Whatever it is, that's fine.... he's earned it. 

To me, the captivating part of their story is Linda's list of monthly expenses. 

She says, every month, she has to spend $7,258 on clothing.... $7,500 on maid service.... $1,700 on jewelry.... $6,100 on vacations.... $1,318 on grooming.... $2,464 on lawn and pool maintenance.... $2,175 in pet expenses.... and $17,840 for her legal and accounting fees. 

That's every month! 

And poor Hulk... he's living in a separate residence, and guess what he listed as his monthly clothing expense? $102. 

That's right, 102-dollars a month for clothing. 

In fairness to Mrs. Hulk Hogan, I'm sure her wardrobe -- unlike the Hulkster's -- consists of more than bandanas and tights. 

It's possible Hulk might have sensed trouble brewing for quite awhile.... he listed his monthly legal fees as being double his wife's, at $38,000. 

Neither Hulk nor Linda listed any charitable contributions.... oh wait.... Hulk did say that he contributes $11 a month to a religious organization. 

The funny thing is, I'd wager that organization is happy to get that $11. 

There's no real bottom line here. 

As I said at the beginning, money doesn't buy happiness. 

I believe that. 

In fact, I read the other day about a survey that found virtually the same level of happiness between the very rich individuals on the Forbes 400 and the Maasai herdsman of East Africa. 

And if you're still befuddled about money and happiness, remember the words of comedienne Joan Rivers: "People say that money is not the key to happiness, but I always figured if you have enough money, you can have a key made." 

___________________________________________

JERRY REED, GUITAR MAN

By Dan Miller 

September 3, 2008 

My last conversation with Jerry Reed was not exactly the most comfortable we'd ever had, but it worked out just fine. 

It was about three years ago when he wandered into my office at the television station, and we sat talking for 30 minutes or so. 

Jerry was going through an agonizing period with his health, and he wasn't able to sing or play the guitar at the time. 

In fact, that day Jerry felt certain he'd never play guitar again.

 

As you can imagine, such a scenario was hard for him to cope with. 

Jerry was feeling the gravity of aging and mortality that particular day, and our talk soon turned to life and spirituality. 

Jerry was a deeply religious man. 

He held firm, specific beliefs.... and obviously he enjoyed instructing me about them. 

His faith was strong and true. 

But I quickly realized that Jerry didn't really want to discuss or scrutinize anything about his religious convictions.

 I knew it because, somewhere in the conversation, I said something -- I don't even recall what -- that seemingly rubbed him the wrong way. 

As he left my office, I could tell he wasn't as companionable and engaging as he had been when he first walked in. 

About 10 minutes later, as I sat having coffee in our snack room down the hall, Jerry walked in, sat down across from me, and told me he wished we hadn't even discussed religion. 

"Me too" I told him, "it can sometimes get real uncomfortable."

 

He explained how he didn't even like to think about any ideas that weren't in perfect conformity with his beliefs. 

So then, as we sat there together, we wondered how we might talk about the journey of life without actually getting into a specific discussion of religion. 

I suggested that we should recite the old nursery rhyme "Row Row Row Your Boat." 

I've always believed its four short lines spell out a philosophy of life that rises far beyond a simple child's nursery rhyme. 

Row, row, row your boat 

Gently down the stream 

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily 

Life is but a dream 

Jerry nodded his head up and down. 

He smiled and liked it. 

"That says a lot" he said. 

Tuesday night, after I'd heard the news that Jerry Reed had died, I sat in an edit room watching the tape of an interview I did with Jerry 25 years ago, in the spring of 1983. 

During that interview he talked about many aspects of his life, but the theme always went back to the guitar and his music. 

He said, "God was good to me -- He let me love music." 

That was a nice answer, but I wanted more. 

I asked Jerry if he was in the music business for his love of music, or was it for the money?

 

Here is how he answered: 

"I just really don't care about money." 

"The money comes if you need it." 

"I never know how much I've got on me... I'm always bumming money." 

"I'd rather know how to play a C-sharp, and a 7th flat 5... I'd rather know what that is." 

Jerry was a guitar picker. One of the best.

____________________________

XENOPHOBIA, OR GOOD BUSINESS?

By Dan Miller

August 29, 2008 

So the LPGA is going to require that all the golfers on the tour speak English. 

Starting immediately*, any new player wanting to be a part of Ladies Professional Golf Association must pass an oral evaluation of her English proficiency.

And starting in 2009, any player who's been an LPGA member for two years will face suspension if she can't pass the English exam. 

The tour recently convened a mandatory meeting with South Korean golfers and informed them of the new policy. 

I suppose it's purely coincidental that the South Koreans have been burning up the courses lately. 

Goodness, doesn't the LPGA have enough problems already without stirring up stuff like this? 

It makes me ponder several questions.... 

How many words in English will be enough to qualify? 

Could the golfers be certified by simply learning a few phrases like, "Hello, I must get the ball in the hole to win"... or perhaps, "Thank you very much, golf has been very very good to me."?

 

Must the English spoken by the players be grammatically correct? (Let's hope not... I've heard a few Americans who might not qualify)

With lucrative LPGA tournaments being held in Mexico, France, China, Korea and Japan, will we somehow offend the people in those countries if the visiting U.S. golfers don't speak their language? 

And mostly, this whole thing started me thinking about a young track star from Cuba named Suslaidis Giralt. 

For awhile she was the best long jumper in the world among her peers. 

She's obviously a gifted athlete. 

She's also deaf and nonspeaking. 

If she'd been a great golfer instead of a sprinter and long jumper, I wonder how the LPGA would justify their new requirement to her. 

* On Friday, September 5th, under increasing criticism.... of which I'm proud to be a part.... the LPGA announced it was backing off plans to suspend players who couldn't speak English at its tournaments. Smart move, LPGA!

_______________________________

ARE WE FORFEITING JUSTICE?

By Dan Miller 

August 25, 2008 

This troubles me, because I fear we've embraced a warped sense of justice in an over-zealous war on drugs.

First, read the verbatim press release sent out 8/19/08 by the Cumberland County Sheriff's Department. And, as you read it, keep in mind that the man driving the truck wasn't arrested.... 

He wasn't charged with a crime.... 

In fact, he simply went on home. 

Here's the press release: 

######## 

Release Date: 8/19/08 MEDIA RELEASE TRAFFIC STOP NETS LARGE CASH SEIZURE On August 15, 2008, Lieutenant Investigator Casey Cox of the Cumberland County Sheriff’s Department, which is also assigned to the AHIDTA Middle Tennessee Drug Task Force, along with Investigator Jeff Slayton of the Cumberland County Sheriff’s Department, observed a tractor and trailer traveling west on I-40 in the area of Peavine Road and requested assistance of the Tennessee Highway Patrol to conduct a traffic stop of the vehicle. As Lt. Cox and Inv. Slayton continued to follow the vehicle, Trooper Adams and Trooper Robertson, which are assigned to Putnam County, conducted a traffic stop in the area of the 283 mile marker of I-40 of the tractor trailer. A K-9 Unit from the Cookeville Police Department arrived on scene, was deployed and alerted to the cab of the vehicle. During a detailed search of the vehicle, a large amount of U.S. currency was discovered in a hidden area of the truck. The total amount of cash which was seized totaled $283,210.00. The driver of the truck was identified as Jimmy Clinton Smith of Ochelata, Oklahoma. Special Agent Mike Burnette, of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, was also present and assisted with the seizure. All of the agencies, which were involved with this seizure, worked very well with each other and displayed great teamwork, dedication, and commitment to the common goal of fighting the war on illegal drugs throughout the Middle Tennessee area. 

######## 

So, the recap... no crime... no arrest... no charges... no drugs found by the dog... the driver was free to go

Oh, and what happens to that quarter-of-a million dollars? 

Not mentioned in the press release is the fact that it will likely be split among all the police agencies involved in the search and stop. 

Some of you might recall when, in 1991, a Nashville man named Willie Smith amassed almost $10,000 in cash from his nursery business and headed for Houston to buy shrubs and flowers. 

It was a trip he made several times a year, and -- as a gardening contractor -- he preferred taking cash as the most efficient way to deal with the small growers in Texas. 

Wouldn't you know it.... an airline ticket agent felt compelled to notify authorities because -- of all things -- a black man had just paid for his plane ticket with cash! 

Mr. Smith was detained by police, who seized the cash... all of it... cash that was part of his profits from a legitimate nursery business. 

No crime... no arrest... no charges... he was free to go, minus his $10,000 which police kept. 

And I recall another story a few years back of a woman who had purchased a used car and headed home, driving through Louisiana. 

Police stopped her for some reason, and while searching her car they happened across, what appeared to be, a concealed compartment in the car.... a small, EMPTY compartment that could, theoretically, be used to hide something. 

The woman didn't even realize it was there when she bought the car. 

What did police do? 

They seized her car.... they took it away from her. 

Months and thousands of dollars in legal fees later, she got it back... no crime... no charges... nothing illegal uncovered, or even suspected. 

If you browse the internet, you'll find countless heartbreaking stories of federal and state Asset Forfeiture Programs run amok, jeopardizing our senses of fairness and proportion.

Is this the way things are supposed to be? 

Is this the American way? 

Have we lost our bearings?

__________________________

PERSPECTIVE ON A BULLY

By Dan Miller 

August 20, 2008 

I opened the letter from Georgia, sent by the committee planning our next high school reunion. 

The merrymaking is scheduled for next spring and, frankly, I don't know whether I'll be inclined to attend. I've already attended two of these affairs. 

While class reunions can be enjoyable for catching up with old friends.... they can also present graphic proof that time eventually takes a conspicuous toll on fresh young faces and strong bodies. 

Such an assemblage can shatter the myth we all cling to... that we're basically indistinguishable from what we were back when those yearbook photos were snapped. 

We're not. 

As I read through the committee's letter describing the activities planned for the big reunion.... my thoughts got hung up on one particular list. 

It was an alphabetical listing of "those we'll miss dearly".... former high school classmates who have died.

 

We had a big graduating class at the Academy of Richmond County -more than 600, I believe. 

And now, almost a half century later, my classmates and I have advanced into our 60s and watched most of our own kids graduate from high school, even college.

 

It's only natural that a few former school mates would've passed away.... but when I saw the names of 75 classmates whose lives are over.... well, it got my attention. 

And, the thing is, I know that list isn't even complete. 

I'm personally aware of at least two deceased classmates whose names aren't listed.... and I know there are scores of people the reunion planners just can't locate.... so, it's possible there could be hundreds on the list. 

Among the names were a few memorable old friends. 

But my eyes locked on one name in particular. 

I won't use his real name here, I'll just call him Butch. 

I remember Butch mostly from junior high school. 

He was a bully. 

I suppose every class, at every school, is destined to have a bully.... a person who seems to take pleasure in tormenting classmates with senseless threats and intimidation.

 

I can still recall the heat in my face, and the sense of urgency in my brain, the day Butch confronted me behind the school during recess. 

He said he wanted to fight me... to "beat me up" as he put it. 

He stood there, about 15 inches from my face.... glaring at me.... telling me in great detail what he could, and would, do to me. 

Obviously, I'll never know who could've done what to who, because I didn't move.... I didn't flinch.... I didn't want this confrontation to play out. 

We eventually turned away from each other.... me, with a great sense of relief.... Butch with a smirk on his face, feeling -- I suppose -- that his ridiculous threat could somehow be interpreted as a victory. 

From that day on, until high school graduation, I don't recall ever having another exchange of words with Butch. 

Not even a "hello." 

I never feared him, he was actually rather small and skinny. 

I just didn't like him. 

There was nothing I wanted to say to him. 

But just days ago, when I saw his name on that list of classmates "we'll dearly miss"... I felt a flicker of sadness. 

For better or worse, Butch played a role in a scene from my own life story. 

Tonight I looked at his smiling face in his senior photo in the high school yearbook, and thought how he actually looked like a nice young guy. 

If Butch were still alive, and we were both inclined to attend that reunion next spring, perhaps we would've had a conversation.... and maybe we would have laughed about that silly day.... if he even remembered it. Or maybe he would have confronted me again and wanted to fight! 

Who knows? 

But I wouldn't have fought. 

I wouldn't want to hurt him. 

I don't dislike him anymore.

_________________________