Maybe Next Christmas
Yet another houseplant casualty...
Tough time to throw a Christmas, right? I know I’m sort of broke. So, here’s a list of improbables–an idealistic smattering of things I would like* but probably won’t find under my tree .
(*Excluded are the really obvious wishes like “Time-traveling to the age of the dinosaurs” and “For Kiefer Sutherland to give up acting indefinitely.”)
Without further ado:
1. A green thumb: I am a perpetrator of plant genocide. Senselessly and in the tens and twelves, they die. I’ve dehydrated a cactus. I’ve overwatered an African violet. I once murdered a potted tulip in three days. While people like my friend Caleb merrily snip sprigs of rosemary from their window herbs for cooking, I am an outcast in their world of hanging ferns and shiny, green succulents. Plants take patience, careful vigilance and the intuition to know when to stop fiddling around with them. Maybe I could use a little more of all three.
2. Better biking: Call me a hater, but a perfect world is where lots of people bike commute, few people drive and nobody rollerblades. Yes, cyclists can be difficult, rude and overly aggressive rule-breakers. But they’re not begging to be yelled at, swerved into and pinged with walnuts (true story!) Imagine if we all got along, got in shape and got from one place to another with a little less gasoline! Outrageous, I know.
READ ON…
I want more reliable bike lanes and urban paths that aren’t just slung in the parked car door zone. And how about more incentives like the Bicycle Commuter Act to help put peddling on equal footing with the tax breaks for public transportation? We deserve a little love at Christmas, right? After all, it’s usually our brainmatter that gets splattered on the street when bikes and cars go fender à fender.
(Oh, and Santa, please bring a new seat for Colonel Mustard and me.)
3. Finding impossibly wonderful records: These two would be a good start:
The Freewheeling Bob Dylan (white label promo)
Velvet Underground & Nico (w/ peel slowly and see Warhol sticker)
Not the rarest or most expensive LPs of all time, but I slog through most every crate of records I see at yard-sales and record stores and I’ve never seen them. Being able to afford them if I did find them is another issue entirely. Here are the caveats–It’s got to actually play on my turntable and I’d like it if the jacket was in good shape. And no buying on eBay or picking up new re-issues. It’s either the real thing, or it’s cheating. It’s got to be about that feeling of kismet where you’re flipping through a pile of mealy Barbra Streisand classics in the new arrivals bin and something like this lands in your lap. My life has been too busy for music discoveries lately. I miss joy of finding a new perfect album and spinning it around for the first time.
4. Stupendous health: I’ve got a pretty hearty immune system from running around outside and eating lots of mud pies as a kid. I usually get sick maybe once every two or three years, with the occasional sniffle in between, which I cure with a stiff upper lip and a swig of orange juice straight from the carton. But whether it was the stress of grad school, the lack of sleep or the running around without my hat on, this year knocked me flat. I had an emergency room visit with strep, a cold that refused to die, a broken toe and possibly pink eye. And then there was the horrible 24-hour bug that made me ruin a friend’s champagne brunch in Chicago and consequently throw up on the El train.
Nothing particularly heinous, but it’s bound to be a lot more annoying and expensive when I lose my health insurance on January Uno. Which brings me to my final wish…
5. Jobs for journos: Of course, I mean for myself. And my fellow J school grads. And for all the other talented journalists that are looking for work this Christmas. More than 14,000 people have lost jobs at newspapers this year, according to Paper Cuts. Most of them weren’t doing it for the money or the job security or because it’s easy or to push a political agenda. They do it because of the value of a free and robust press. For the good stories and powerful photographs that document our place and time. They do it to shine sunlight in the dark crevices of the world and reporting back with with accuracy and fairness.
I know good journalists who have been laid off– journalists who still had stories to tell. And I know others who are out there doing their best every day, without any assurance that they will have jobs tomorrow. Then there are the people I know best… the young journalists like me who took a chance on the business and took it to heart when our mentors said “The world still needs good reporters” and “There will be room for you if you work hard.”
I don’t know how to fix journalism or what kind of journalism I’ll be doing in 10 or 15 years. But I think we all want the opportunity to help figure it.
