As the managing editor of The Gazette, I have quite a few responsibilities. Many are probably obvious to most people: write and edit news, assign stories to reporters, and determine where and how this news should be placed in the paper.
But many aren’t nearly as obvious: sift through hundreds of e-mails each day, communicate with people who want to know how to submit news items such as anniversaries and obituaries, and attending local events to take photographs.
One responsibility I didn’t think much about before, writing headlines for letters to the editor, was brought to my attention earlier this week when a Stevens Point resident sent a letter about this subject. This is the bulk of what this peson had to say:
“When is it justifiable for a person, groups of people, and the media, to take a person’s comment/viewpoint and twist it into something other than the person’s original intent? This seems to happen a lot as of late, especially in the media. For instance, I recently wrote a letter to the editor and sent it to two of the local papers in the area. Both papers put a different title to the letter received. Now we all know that the title of anything written has an impact on the message or story which is being conveyed.
“One newspaper’s editor read the letter, acknowledged several points written, including a woman’s right to choose. The other put their own personal spin on what was written and in fact titled it with something never actually stated in the letter; thereby, controlling my actual message and bending my viewpoint (freedom of speech) to fit in with their take on things.
“I don’t care for someone else titling my writings and question the local papers as to why they need to ‘control’ what a person is communicating by putting their own title to the letters received. Do teachers/professors title a student’s report, review, thesis, article, etc.? Does a publisher title an author’s book? Of course not! That is wrong and is also wrong when it comes to Freedom of Speech. Real Freedom of Speech, not the made up, kind, Freedom of Speech which we are led to believe we have.”
The writer then challenged the editors to respond, which I did. This is what I said:
“To be perfectly honest, if people send a title and it works, I use it. I’d rather not have to title them myself, out of fear my title may not jive with the original intent of the letter. Especially with some of the letters we receive in which the person’s message makes no sense at all. I’m sure the editors at the other newspaper probably feel the same way.
I then explained why I titled the original letter the way I had, and then offered a suggestion:
“In the future, send YOUR title with the letter and a simple note asking us to contact you should that title not work. I receive those requests all the time and happily oblige.
“For the record, book publishers do change the titles of books all the time, and teachers/professors often do, too. I’ve had it happen to me in school. Freedom of speech entitles you to say the stuff you wrote. It does not entitle publication, though. As the editor, I have the right to edit, delete or reject letters or portions of letters, as stated in our letter policy. So please do not confuse freedom of speech with the paper’s rights.”
The writer responded and said my points were taken and that she does not confuse freedom of speech with my right as an editor. She also said she hoped I would run her letter and my response. Since I don’t typically respond to letters on the letters pages, I decided I would use this column to show our discussion.
In further e-mail conversations with the writer, I answered a question she had about the guidelines we use to title letters and why we may change a title if one is sent with it. This is what I said:
“Titles are often changed by us when they don’t conform to our guidelines as to what a title should be. You suggested titling your current letter ‘What is Freedom of Speech?’ That wouldn’t work for us, because it’s a question first off, and it tells us little of what’s actually in the letter. A better title would be ‘Woman questions how newspapers title letters.’
“Be assured we’re not trying to insert our own political beliefs. I’ve gotten to the point with letters it’s best to be simple with the titles and to make changes to content only when absolutely necessary. Let people say what they want to say, no matter what you think, is my philosophy.”
The writer questioned my use of the world “woman” with my suggested title, saying it was arrogant to use instead of “writer.” I’ll disagree, because had she been a man, I probably would have suggested “man” instead. I also use “writer” on occasion because it’s good to mix things up.
In the end, I’m not sure I got through to her, as she returned to her original point questioning the amount of freedom of speech she actually has because editors have some control over how her message is printed.
Again, I’ll argue editors have that right, whether or not anybody thinks we should. I’ve never used it to purposefully change the intent of a person’s letter. I’m glad she brought the issue to my attention, though, as I will think twice when titling letters, just to be sure.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Advice needed on how to raise an only child
I need advice from people who grew up as an only child.
I seek advice because my son, Braden, appears as though he will be an only child, and since my wife, Jenny, and I come from multi-children families, we don’t know how to deal with him being the lone child.
Even if someday Jenny and I were to have another child, Braden would be well older, as he is already 5-1/2. He’s spoiled with our attention, but we can tell it serves as a poor substitute for someone near his own age to play with on a regular basis.
Growing up, I often wished I was an only child, and not just because my younger sister, Kelly, was annoying, but also because I wanted to be spoiled by my parents like some of the only-childs I knew.
Kelly and I fought all the time. We pushed and hit each other, and when things got bad her claws came out, literally. I still have scars from places she scratched me. We spent so much time fighting we often forgot about the boredom that often comes when your life is dictated by those older than you.
When we did manage to play nicely together, it was usually because one of us had a friend over whom the other one wanted to play with also.
Whether or not we were fighting or playing together, my parents didn’t have to spend nearly as much time amusing us as Jenny and I spend trying to keep Braden entertained. From the minute we pick him up from school to the minute he goes to bed, he’s always asking one of us to play with him.
We try to oblige, since we both know the importance of having a good playmate. But when you’re trying to put away a week’s worth of laundry and clean two days worth of dirty dishes, taking 15 minutes to play Transformers with him often seems like the most tiring of the three options because you know when you’re done playing, those other things will still be there.
And unfortunately for him, we’re also trying to make sure he doesn’t become a “spoiled” only child. He’s got a fair amount of toys, but this amount pales in comparison to a lot of other kids we know. We’ve held numerous rummage sales over the years, and given other toys away, to keep his toy box from overfilling, and he knows not to ask us for a new toy when we go to the store.
It’s clear he doesn’t care about toys as much as I did when I was a kid, and the things he most likes are someone to play with on a regular basis and the attention of those around him.
This fact came out when he started kindergarten this fall. His teacher, Mrs. Z, told Jenny she can tell he’s an only child because when he wants her attention, he’s not shy about getting it as he’ll often go in front of other kids to ask her something. “I tell him I love him just as much as the other children, but you have to wait your turn,” Mrs. Z said.
So now Jenny and I have really been working with him to act like a boy with siblings, despite the fact he doesn’t have any. It’s tough, and that’s why I’m seeking a little advice from only-childs. I want to know what their parents did, or should have done, to make them feel more like they had siblings, without spoiling them with their own attention and with toys and other items. Play dates with other kids? Acting like a kid yourself (Jenny may say I often do this without trying) and playing with him? Go ahead and just spoil him anyway? I don’t know the answer.
E-mail your advice to me at pcgazette@g2a.net. I’d love to share it with others in a future column.
I seek advice because my son, Braden, appears as though he will be an only child, and since my wife, Jenny, and I come from multi-children families, we don’t know how to deal with him being the lone child.
Even if someday Jenny and I were to have another child, Braden would be well older, as he is already 5-1/2. He’s spoiled with our attention, but we can tell it serves as a poor substitute for someone near his own age to play with on a regular basis.
Growing up, I often wished I was an only child, and not just because my younger sister, Kelly, was annoying, but also because I wanted to be spoiled by my parents like some of the only-childs I knew.
Kelly and I fought all the time. We pushed and hit each other, and when things got bad her claws came out, literally. I still have scars from places she scratched me. We spent so much time fighting we often forgot about the boredom that often comes when your life is dictated by those older than you.
When we did manage to play nicely together, it was usually because one of us had a friend over whom the other one wanted to play with also.
Whether or not we were fighting or playing together, my parents didn’t have to spend nearly as much time amusing us as Jenny and I spend trying to keep Braden entertained. From the minute we pick him up from school to the minute he goes to bed, he’s always asking one of us to play with him.
We try to oblige, since we both know the importance of having a good playmate. But when you’re trying to put away a week’s worth of laundry and clean two days worth of dirty dishes, taking 15 minutes to play Transformers with him often seems like the most tiring of the three options because you know when you’re done playing, those other things will still be there.
And unfortunately for him, we’re also trying to make sure he doesn’t become a “spoiled” only child. He’s got a fair amount of toys, but this amount pales in comparison to a lot of other kids we know. We’ve held numerous rummage sales over the years, and given other toys away, to keep his toy box from overfilling, and he knows not to ask us for a new toy when we go to the store.
It’s clear he doesn’t care about toys as much as I did when I was a kid, and the things he most likes are someone to play with on a regular basis and the attention of those around him.
This fact came out when he started kindergarten this fall. His teacher, Mrs. Z, told Jenny she can tell he’s an only child because when he wants her attention, he’s not shy about getting it as he’ll often go in front of other kids to ask her something. “I tell him I love him just as much as the other children, but you have to wait your turn,” Mrs. Z said.
So now Jenny and I have really been working with him to act like a boy with siblings, despite the fact he doesn’t have any. It’s tough, and that’s why I’m seeking a little advice from only-childs. I want to know what their parents did, or should have done, to make them feel more like they had siblings, without spoiling them with their own attention and with toys and other items. Play dates with other kids? Acting like a kid yourself (Jenny may say I often do this without trying) and playing with him? Go ahead and just spoil him anyway? I don’t know the answer.
E-mail your advice to me at pcgazette@g2a.net. I’d love to share it with others in a future column.
‘Like a Hurricane’ takes new meaning when sharing name with storm
The Gazette staff is small, but some of us are, to quote Neil Young, “Like a hurricane,” literally.
That’s because a tropical storm and now a hurricane have had the names of three staff members here. We have two Matthews, the namesake of Tropical Storm Matthew, which caused trouble to the countries south of the U.S., and a Paula, who now shares a name with Hurricane Paula, which as of Tuesday, Oct. 12, was heading to Mexico.
When our Paula learned a hurricane has her name, she expressed dismay. She didn’t want to be associated with something that could cause destruction.
I’m not so kind. I immediately went to the Internet to see what future storms this year will be named, knowing a storm starting with “S” will come up soon. My hope was a Hurricane Scott was a possibility.
Hurricanes and tropical storms are named alphabetically from a rotating list in chronological order. As a result, the first storm of the season has a name that begins with “A” and the second is given the name that begins with “B.” The six lists contain names that begin from “A” to “W,” but exclude names that begin with a “Q” or “U.” Apparently not enough names begin with those letters.
The lists only change when there is a hurricane so devastating that the name is retired and another hurricane name replaces it. The 2010 hurricane name list is the same as the 2004 hurricane name list, although four hurricane names were retired after the 2004 hurricane season. This basically means names will be continually added to the lists, ensuring the possibility most people could someday share a hurricane’s name, unless you are unfortunately, or fortunately, named Quinn or Queen Latifah.
Hoping to share a hurricane name is demented – a feeling that’s easier to have living so far away from the destructive forces of these storms – but our meteorological friends sort of invite this hope by even naming hurricanes and tropical storms like this. Why not make them animal names few people would have? Why not names of locations?
They chose names of people, thus making compassionate people, like The Gazette’s Paula, feel dismay when one has their name and making less compassionate people, like me, feel hope they could become a hurricane.
Although many people won’t admit to it like me, a lot of them probably like the thought of sharing their name with a hurricane. It might be a power thing, as one can think of few things as powerful as a hurricane. Or it might be the temporary attention the name brings to you. It’s a combo of those two things, as I don’t have much power in real life – that belongs to my wife – and I like attention once in awhile, which is probably why I write a weekly column that can bring me accolades from some and dislike from others. Attention can be fun, even if it is negative.
Whatever the reason for possibly liking the thought of sharing a name with a hurricane, I’m sure most people who actually do share one, and kind of like it, hope their hurricane doesn’t cause too much damage. People named Katrina probably wish every day their hurricane would have been named something else, as any time they have to tell their name to strangers, the person probably responds “like the hurricane.”
Neil Young best describes these contradictory feelings in his song. “I want to love you but I’m getting blown away,” he sings. Simple, but accurate.
That’s because a tropical storm and now a hurricane have had the names of three staff members here. We have two Matthews, the namesake of Tropical Storm Matthew, which caused trouble to the countries south of the U.S., and a Paula, who now shares a name with Hurricane Paula, which as of Tuesday, Oct. 12, was heading to Mexico.
When our Paula learned a hurricane has her name, she expressed dismay. She didn’t want to be associated with something that could cause destruction.
I’m not so kind. I immediately went to the Internet to see what future storms this year will be named, knowing a storm starting with “S” will come up soon. My hope was a Hurricane Scott was a possibility.
Hurricanes and tropical storms are named alphabetically from a rotating list in chronological order. As a result, the first storm of the season has a name that begins with “A” and the second is given the name that begins with “B.” The six lists contain names that begin from “A” to “W,” but exclude names that begin with a “Q” or “U.” Apparently not enough names begin with those letters.
The lists only change when there is a hurricane so devastating that the name is retired and another hurricane name replaces it. The 2010 hurricane name list is the same as the 2004 hurricane name list, although four hurricane names were retired after the 2004 hurricane season. This basically means names will be continually added to the lists, ensuring the possibility most people could someday share a hurricane’s name, unless you are unfortunately, or fortunately, named Quinn or Queen Latifah.
Hoping to share a hurricane name is demented – a feeling that’s easier to have living so far away from the destructive forces of these storms – but our meteorological friends sort of invite this hope by even naming hurricanes and tropical storms like this. Why not make them animal names few people would have? Why not names of locations?
They chose names of people, thus making compassionate people, like The Gazette’s Paula, feel dismay when one has their name and making less compassionate people, like me, feel hope they could become a hurricane.
Although many people won’t admit to it like me, a lot of them probably like the thought of sharing their name with a hurricane. It might be a power thing, as one can think of few things as powerful as a hurricane. Or it might be the temporary attention the name brings to you. It’s a combo of those two things, as I don’t have much power in real life – that belongs to my wife – and I like attention once in awhile, which is probably why I write a weekly column that can bring me accolades from some and dislike from others. Attention can be fun, even if it is negative.
Whatever the reason for possibly liking the thought of sharing a name with a hurricane, I’m sure most people who actually do share one, and kind of like it, hope their hurricane doesn’t cause too much damage. People named Katrina probably wish every day their hurricane would have been named something else, as any time they have to tell their name to strangers, the person probably responds “like the hurricane.”
Neil Young best describes these contradictory feelings in his song. “I want to love you but I’m getting blown away,” he sings. Simple, but accurate.
Family’s nail worse than Packers’ ‘dagger’
I’m not sure who had a worse day on Sunday: the Green Bay Packers in barely beating the winless Detroit Lions or my family who had to substitute a trip on the Ducks in Wisconsin Dells with more than five hours of dealing with a hapless chain store.
Our troubles started more than two hours before the hyped Packers began their listless game against the Lions. On our way out of the Dells, after spending four days there for a mini-vacation (not so much so for my wife, Jenny, who was there more for work reasons), we decided to stop at one of the many places offering Ducks tours. Our son, Braden, and I had never been on one before, and because the autumn weather was beautiful, we thought it was the perfect opportunity to take a maiden Ducks voyage.
Exiting our vehicle and walking to the ticket entrance, Jenny noticed the front driver’s side tire was going flat. I looked and noticed a nail in the tire, much to all of our dismay.
Being Sunday, we decided the situation needed to be addressed immediately. I got out our spare tire and fairly quickly replaced the flattening tire with it. A bit of an expert at changing tires, as it really is the only mechanical thing I can do with a vehicle (even changing a windshield wiper is too much of an endeavor for me), I figured this problem was going to be quickly resolved.
Since most car mechanics are closed on Sundays, and also being in the Dells, which doesn’t seem to have many service garages available next to any of its dozen water parks, we took our vehicle to a chain store that features an auto center where we figured the mechanics there could fix the tire and put it back on the car, allowing us to drive back to Plover on a real tire and not a spare.
The lady who helped us was rude, but we didn’t really care. As long as they could fix the tire in the back of our vehicle and put it back on, life would be good.
Forty minutes later, when the problem was allegedly fixed, we got in our vehicle for the trip home. Jenny noticed they hadn’t charged us to fix the tire, so I got out to examine it to make sure a nail wasn’t still embedded in it.
The tire looked a little different, but I figured that was because they had washed it. The mechanic, seeing me examining the tire, came out and said the tire needed some air, but other than that it was fine. I asked about the nail, and when he looked dumbfounded, I had a momentary dumbspell. “Maybe there wasn’t a nail and it was just a small pebble wedged in the tire treads,” I said.
He agreed, noting the cold air the previous night can sometimes cause tires to lose a little air and look flat.
Jenny and I laughed about this, thinking our own foolishness actually saved us $50 since we were no longer going to take a Ducks tour, much to the unhappiness of Braden.
When we arrived in Plover and I attempted to fill up our gas tank – I couldn’t because the gas station ran out of gas, which is perfectly fitting to how things had gone – Braden asked Jenny about our “old tire” I had taken off. “They put it back on,” Jenny said, realizing maybe that wasn’t the case.
She got out of the vehicle and asked if the tire on our vehicle was still the spare. I looked at it, and said I don’t think so. “Look at the tire in the back,” she said.
As soon as I looked back there I saw the nail that originally started our troubles. “&*@#” and a few other choice words slipped out of me at that point.
We went to the Plover location of the same chain store, determined to fix the problem so Jenny wouldn’t have to drive to Marshfield on a spare the next day.
They were much nicer there, but unfortunately they were equally as inept. After hearing about our problem, the people there said they’ll fix it. Come back in 40 minutes, they said.
Forty minutes later, we returned to our car parked in the same location, untouched. “We have a problem,” they said. “The nail is located in an area we can’t patch up for liability reasons.”
Because the nail was located on the curve of the tire, policy dictates the mechanics there aren’t allowed to fix it. I understand this and realize I’m not going to convince them to change their policy. But, what I couldn’t understand was how they couldn’t page us or call us – they had our phone number – to let us know immediately about the issue, so we didn’t have to waste another 40 minutes looking at items on store shelves we had no intention of buying.
Fuming, I had Jenny handle the situation, which required another 40-minute wait as they replaced the spare with a brand new tire. I sat on a bench during this time, refusing to look at any items for the fear of purchasing anything from a store angering me.
This part of the escapade occurred during the second half of the Packers-Lions game, and when we finally got back in the car I heard the Packers announcer shout something about a first down being “the dagger” to give the Packers the victory. It sounded exciting, and at least it wasn’t a nail like the one we had to deal with. Only later did I learn the Packers barely escaped with a win, putting up a pathetic effort in the half and barely deserving the victory.
At least they came away with a win. We came away without a Ducks tour, a new tire to replace a tire we just purchased a few months ago, and a wasted morning and afternoon spent dealing with a stupid nail and a chain store that made the problem worse. I’ll take the Packers’ afternoon any day.
Our troubles started more than two hours before the hyped Packers began their listless game against the Lions. On our way out of the Dells, after spending four days there for a mini-vacation (not so much so for my wife, Jenny, who was there more for work reasons), we decided to stop at one of the many places offering Ducks tours. Our son, Braden, and I had never been on one before, and because the autumn weather was beautiful, we thought it was the perfect opportunity to take a maiden Ducks voyage.
Exiting our vehicle and walking to the ticket entrance, Jenny noticed the front driver’s side tire was going flat. I looked and noticed a nail in the tire, much to all of our dismay.
Being Sunday, we decided the situation needed to be addressed immediately. I got out our spare tire and fairly quickly replaced the flattening tire with it. A bit of an expert at changing tires, as it really is the only mechanical thing I can do with a vehicle (even changing a windshield wiper is too much of an endeavor for me), I figured this problem was going to be quickly resolved.
Since most car mechanics are closed on Sundays, and also being in the Dells, which doesn’t seem to have many service garages available next to any of its dozen water parks, we took our vehicle to a chain store that features an auto center where we figured the mechanics there could fix the tire and put it back on the car, allowing us to drive back to Plover on a real tire and not a spare.
The lady who helped us was rude, but we didn’t really care. As long as they could fix the tire in the back of our vehicle and put it back on, life would be good.
Forty minutes later, when the problem was allegedly fixed, we got in our vehicle for the trip home. Jenny noticed they hadn’t charged us to fix the tire, so I got out to examine it to make sure a nail wasn’t still embedded in it.
The tire looked a little different, but I figured that was because they had washed it. The mechanic, seeing me examining the tire, came out and said the tire needed some air, but other than that it was fine. I asked about the nail, and when he looked dumbfounded, I had a momentary dumbspell. “Maybe there wasn’t a nail and it was just a small pebble wedged in the tire treads,” I said.
He agreed, noting the cold air the previous night can sometimes cause tires to lose a little air and look flat.
Jenny and I laughed about this, thinking our own foolishness actually saved us $50 since we were no longer going to take a Ducks tour, much to the unhappiness of Braden.
When we arrived in Plover and I attempted to fill up our gas tank – I couldn’t because the gas station ran out of gas, which is perfectly fitting to how things had gone – Braden asked Jenny about our “old tire” I had taken off. “They put it back on,” Jenny said, realizing maybe that wasn’t the case.
She got out of the vehicle and asked if the tire on our vehicle was still the spare. I looked at it, and said I don’t think so. “Look at the tire in the back,” she said.
As soon as I looked back there I saw the nail that originally started our troubles. “&*@#” and a few other choice words slipped out of me at that point.
We went to the Plover location of the same chain store, determined to fix the problem so Jenny wouldn’t have to drive to Marshfield on a spare the next day.
They were much nicer there, but unfortunately they were equally as inept. After hearing about our problem, the people there said they’ll fix it. Come back in 40 minutes, they said.
Forty minutes later, we returned to our car parked in the same location, untouched. “We have a problem,” they said. “The nail is located in an area we can’t patch up for liability reasons.”
Because the nail was located on the curve of the tire, policy dictates the mechanics there aren’t allowed to fix it. I understand this and realize I’m not going to convince them to change their policy. But, what I couldn’t understand was how they couldn’t page us or call us – they had our phone number – to let us know immediately about the issue, so we didn’t have to waste another 40 minutes looking at items on store shelves we had no intention of buying.
Fuming, I had Jenny handle the situation, which required another 40-minute wait as they replaced the spare with a brand new tire. I sat on a bench during this time, refusing to look at any items for the fear of purchasing anything from a store angering me.
This part of the escapade occurred during the second half of the Packers-Lions game, and when we finally got back in the car I heard the Packers announcer shout something about a first down being “the dagger” to give the Packers the victory. It sounded exciting, and at least it wasn’t a nail like the one we had to deal with. Only later did I learn the Packers barely escaped with a win, putting up a pathetic effort in the half and barely deserving the victory.
At least they came away with a win. We came away without a Ducks tour, a new tire to replace a tire we just purchased a few months ago, and a wasted morning and afternoon spent dealing with a stupid nail and a chain store that made the problem worse. I’ll take the Packers’ afternoon any day.
Flood shows Mother Nature isn’t always nice
Last week’s flood serves as an important reminder that Mother Nature isn’t always nurturing.
While most people are well aware of that fact – television and other media do a pretty good job of letting us know the damage hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes, tsunamis, heat waves and ice storms cause – people in Portage County have had the luxury of avoiding nature’s fury a lot more often that most people elsewhere.
Tornadoes seem to breeze around the county, finding their way to Fond du Lac County instead; other weather phenomena seemingly don’t like Portage County either. My observations are just that – observations – but I can’t imagine many people will argue with me. This area somehow (knock on wood) repulses the truly bad things.
Just to the south and east of us, in Waushara County, where I worked for a decade at the Waushara Argus, once or twice a year part of my job required me to cover some sort of devastating weather event.
This included straight-line winds that took out entire forests and caused millions of dollars in property damage throughout a large chunk of the central portion of the county; a hail storm that destroyed hundreds of house roofs and automobiles in the Wautoma area; a fire that destroyed hundreds of acres in the town of Dakota; an ice storm that literally kept most people in their homes for several days, but not me (unfortunately) from going to work; and two different floods that closed Wautoma’s Main Street for days.
Not mentioned is the 1992 tornado that killed two people and leveled a large portion of Wautoma. I was still in high school at the time, and living in Berlin, but I witnessed the damage several days later when groups from my school went there to volunteer with the cleanup.
The two Wautoma floods occurred in consecutive years when torrential rains – one of them pouring more than nine inches on the city overnight – caused the normally gentle White River and one of its millponds to spill over their banks and into the town. Flood experts labeled them as 1,000-year floods, although getting them in back-to-back years made them seem more like yearly floods.
I’m going to knock on wood again, because I’ve rather enjoyed the fact Portage County has a good rapport with Mother Nature. While floods and other natural disasters can sell papers, it’s never fun having to see the devastation they can cause. I don’t want to see any of my Portage County brothers and sisters suffer because their home or property was located in an unfortunate spot hurt where nature unleashed its rage.
Judging by the good nature of many of the people I’ve talked to about the flood, including one family stranded from their home for several days because of road closings, people here have a lot of respect for nature. They know it’s not personal, and that it could have been a lot worse.
Making the situation better was the excellent response by local officials about the flood. Stevens Point Mayor Andrew Halverson, Portage County Executive Patty Dreier, Emergency Management Director Sandra Curtis and many others kept everybody well informed, took decisive actions to close roads when necessary and provided plenty of warnings, cautioning people to stay away from the raging waters of the flooded Wisconsin River.
On Thursday morning, well before the full impacts of the overnight rains were realized, reports came in about roads being washed out. I took a drive out to County Trunk C to get a photo of one of these washed-out roads. When I arrived on the scene, road closed signs were already installed, and for added safety, a pair of county workers in a truck were there to make sure nobody went around the sign, as some people may be inclined to do. Someone unknowingly may have had a lucky day because those guys were there to prevent them from doing something stupid, because anyone driving over the road would have most likely found themselves with a wrecked car.
Those two guys deserve a thank you, and since potential victims won’t realize they owe them one, I’m going to give one on their behalf. Thank you.
And thank you to all those who lessened the negative impact of the flood. While it’s impossible to stop Mother Nature when she wants to show her true power, it’s nice to know many people helped mute her a little bit.
While most people are well aware of that fact – television and other media do a pretty good job of letting us know the damage hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes, tsunamis, heat waves and ice storms cause – people in Portage County have had the luxury of avoiding nature’s fury a lot more often that most people elsewhere.
Tornadoes seem to breeze around the county, finding their way to Fond du Lac County instead; other weather phenomena seemingly don’t like Portage County either. My observations are just that – observations – but I can’t imagine many people will argue with me. This area somehow (knock on wood) repulses the truly bad things.
Just to the south and east of us, in Waushara County, where I worked for a decade at the Waushara Argus, once or twice a year part of my job required me to cover some sort of devastating weather event.
This included straight-line winds that took out entire forests and caused millions of dollars in property damage throughout a large chunk of the central portion of the county; a hail storm that destroyed hundreds of house roofs and automobiles in the Wautoma area; a fire that destroyed hundreds of acres in the town of Dakota; an ice storm that literally kept most people in their homes for several days, but not me (unfortunately) from going to work; and two different floods that closed Wautoma’s Main Street for days.
Not mentioned is the 1992 tornado that killed two people and leveled a large portion of Wautoma. I was still in high school at the time, and living in Berlin, but I witnessed the damage several days later when groups from my school went there to volunteer with the cleanup.
The two Wautoma floods occurred in consecutive years when torrential rains – one of them pouring more than nine inches on the city overnight – caused the normally gentle White River and one of its millponds to spill over their banks and into the town. Flood experts labeled them as 1,000-year floods, although getting them in back-to-back years made them seem more like yearly floods.
I’m going to knock on wood again, because I’ve rather enjoyed the fact Portage County has a good rapport with Mother Nature. While floods and other natural disasters can sell papers, it’s never fun having to see the devastation they can cause. I don’t want to see any of my Portage County brothers and sisters suffer because their home or property was located in an unfortunate spot hurt where nature unleashed its rage.
Judging by the good nature of many of the people I’ve talked to about the flood, including one family stranded from their home for several days because of road closings, people here have a lot of respect for nature. They know it’s not personal, and that it could have been a lot worse.
Making the situation better was the excellent response by local officials about the flood. Stevens Point Mayor Andrew Halverson, Portage County Executive Patty Dreier, Emergency Management Director Sandra Curtis and many others kept everybody well informed, took decisive actions to close roads when necessary and provided plenty of warnings, cautioning people to stay away from the raging waters of the flooded Wisconsin River.
On Thursday morning, well before the full impacts of the overnight rains were realized, reports came in about roads being washed out. I took a drive out to County Trunk C to get a photo of one of these washed-out roads. When I arrived on the scene, road closed signs were already installed, and for added safety, a pair of county workers in a truck were there to make sure nobody went around the sign, as some people may be inclined to do. Someone unknowingly may have had a lucky day because those guys were there to prevent them from doing something stupid, because anyone driving over the road would have most likely found themselves with a wrecked car.
Those two guys deserve a thank you, and since potential victims won’t realize they owe them one, I’m going to give one on their behalf. Thank you.
And thank you to all those who lessened the negative impact of the flood. While it’s impossible to stop Mother Nature when she wants to show her true power, it’s nice to know many people helped mute her a little bit.
Drinking on job now only socially acceptable in ‘Mad Men’
My favorite show on television right now is “Mad Men,” a series in its fourth year on AMC. Although it appears to be a show about advertising executives in New York City during the 1960s, it’s actually more about drinking on the job, something rightfully no longer socially acceptable.
I didn’t start watching the show until the beginning of its third season, at which time I caught up through marathon viewings of the first two seasons on DVD. Rave critic reviews, as well as multiple Emmy nominations and wins, convinced me I needed to see what everyone else seemed to be watching.
I’m glad I did, because “Mad Men” is intoxicating, in more than one sense of the word. Featuring the commanding lead of Jon Hamm as Don Draper, an advertising genius with a mysterious past, the show puts viewers in the time period and dares them to want to leave. Most people will stay, if just to count the number of drinks characters pour for themselves on the show.
I was born a decade after it takes place, and in a rural area far away from the hustle and bustle of New York City, so this show shouldn’t appeal to me. But the fact it’s so distant from my life makes it more appealing, because through it I can experience an era no other book, film or television show has so vividly portrayed before.
The show’s creator, Matthew Weiner, struggled as a writer in Hollywood for many years until landing a job as a writer for “The Sopranos.” When that show ended, he tried to sell his “Mad Men” creation to HBO, but they rejected it. Feeling spurned by his former employer, he shopped the show around, receiving rejections from everyone. When niche cable channel AMC bought it, Weiner’s agent dumped him, figuring if that’s the best he could do, he wasn’t worth the time.
The agent should have stuck with his client, though, because “Mad Men,” through its critical acclaim, water-cooler buzz and the buzz characters are probably feeling from the gallons of alchohol they are drinking, has transformed the station into a small powerhouse that is now producing other high quality television shows, including “Breaking Bad,” “Rubicon” and the upcoming “The Walking Dead.”
It’s also made some of its stars household names: Hamm, Elizabeth Moss, January Jones and Christina Hendricks. All four were featured on the cover of the last issue of Rolling Stone magazine. I think some song talks about the importance of that.
Don Draper is the show’s central character. The son of a prostitute and an abusive farmer, he left for the Korean War and literally returned a different man, abandoning his entire family for the potential riches of the big city, as well as its drinks.
Landing a job with the Sterling Cooper advertising agency, he rises to the top based on his innovative ideas and brilliant advertising campaigns. As a big shot, he believes he’s earned the right to cheat on his wife, ignore his kids, talk down to all the other Sterling Cooper employees around him, especially his secretaries whom he sometimes sleeps with, and drink a copious amount of alcohol.
Draper isn’t the only one in the office who drinks. According to the show, back then it was not only not frowned upon, but was sort of encouraged. Offices are well stocked with bottles of rum, gin, vodka, brandy and any other alcohol available at the liquor store. Parties are held often, and usually get out of control. Lawnmowers combined with Christmas party fun don’t mix well, as one character will attest.
While drinking on the job may sound like fun, it doesn’t seem like it would be healthy. The only time I’ve ever drank on the job has been two Wednesday production nights, as we were about to send the paper to bed, I broke open bottles of Stevens Point Brewery specialty beers Julie from the Brewery brought over for us to taste. Those two beers may have been the greatest ones I have ever had.
In its latest season, “Mad Men” is showing how unhealthy their drinking habits have become for some of the characters, especially Draper who is now divorced from his wife and leading a miserable and lonely life as a bachelor.
It’s misery and loneliness that provides great entertainment. Since we’ve become a society that doesn’t tolerate on-the-job drinking, and rightfully so, a television show like “Mad Men” allows us to live vicariously through it to see what that type of life might be like.
I didn’t start watching the show until the beginning of its third season, at which time I caught up through marathon viewings of the first two seasons on DVD. Rave critic reviews, as well as multiple Emmy nominations and wins, convinced me I needed to see what everyone else seemed to be watching.
I’m glad I did, because “Mad Men” is intoxicating, in more than one sense of the word. Featuring the commanding lead of Jon Hamm as Don Draper, an advertising genius with a mysterious past, the show puts viewers in the time period and dares them to want to leave. Most people will stay, if just to count the number of drinks characters pour for themselves on the show.
I was born a decade after it takes place, and in a rural area far away from the hustle and bustle of New York City, so this show shouldn’t appeal to me. But the fact it’s so distant from my life makes it more appealing, because through it I can experience an era no other book, film or television show has so vividly portrayed before.
The show’s creator, Matthew Weiner, struggled as a writer in Hollywood for many years until landing a job as a writer for “The Sopranos.” When that show ended, he tried to sell his “Mad Men” creation to HBO, but they rejected it. Feeling spurned by his former employer, he shopped the show around, receiving rejections from everyone. When niche cable channel AMC bought it, Weiner’s agent dumped him, figuring if that’s the best he could do, he wasn’t worth the time.
The agent should have stuck with his client, though, because “Mad Men,” through its critical acclaim, water-cooler buzz and the buzz characters are probably feeling from the gallons of alchohol they are drinking, has transformed the station into a small powerhouse that is now producing other high quality television shows, including “Breaking Bad,” “Rubicon” and the upcoming “The Walking Dead.”
It’s also made some of its stars household names: Hamm, Elizabeth Moss, January Jones and Christina Hendricks. All four were featured on the cover of the last issue of Rolling Stone magazine. I think some song talks about the importance of that.
Don Draper is the show’s central character. The son of a prostitute and an abusive farmer, he left for the Korean War and literally returned a different man, abandoning his entire family for the potential riches of the big city, as well as its drinks.
Landing a job with the Sterling Cooper advertising agency, he rises to the top based on his innovative ideas and brilliant advertising campaigns. As a big shot, he believes he’s earned the right to cheat on his wife, ignore his kids, talk down to all the other Sterling Cooper employees around him, especially his secretaries whom he sometimes sleeps with, and drink a copious amount of alcohol.
Draper isn’t the only one in the office who drinks. According to the show, back then it was not only not frowned upon, but was sort of encouraged. Offices are well stocked with bottles of rum, gin, vodka, brandy and any other alcohol available at the liquor store. Parties are held often, and usually get out of control. Lawnmowers combined with Christmas party fun don’t mix well, as one character will attest.
While drinking on the job may sound like fun, it doesn’t seem like it would be healthy. The only time I’ve ever drank on the job has been two Wednesday production nights, as we were about to send the paper to bed, I broke open bottles of Stevens Point Brewery specialty beers Julie from the Brewery brought over for us to taste. Those two beers may have been the greatest ones I have ever had.
In its latest season, “Mad Men” is showing how unhealthy their drinking habits have become for some of the characters, especially Draper who is now divorced from his wife and leading a miserable and lonely life as a bachelor.
It’s misery and loneliness that provides great entertainment. Since we’ve become a society that doesn’t tolerate on-the-job drinking, and rightfully so, a television show like “Mad Men” allows us to live vicariously through it to see what that type of life might be like.
Space is frontier Gazette is trying to conquer
“Space: the final frontier.”
Capt. James T. Kirk said these words at the beginning of each episode of the classic “Star Trek” series. On many Wednesdays, as The Gazette staff is putting together the week’s paper, I often feel like uttering them, too.
While Kirk said them in reference to outer space, a frontier mankind has really only dabbled in when our explorations of it are compared to the vast amount of space actually out there, my reference of it is to the space in the paper I’m given for the week’s news content.
Some people may be surprised to learn the size of our paper is not determined by the amount of news content we have, but rather by the amount of ads scheduled to run in the paper. The more ads we sell, the bigger the paper.
Each Wednesday afternoon, Paula, The Gazette’s production manager, gives me a list of ad percentages the paper will be at for specific page amounts divisible by four (the amount of pages can only increase or decrease by four because a printed sheet of newspaper contains four pages). I’m usually given three choices (most often 36, 40 and 44 pages), and my input is desired because I am the staff member who has the best knowledge of how much content we have to fill the option that is ultimately selected.
More often than not, we have more content than space. This means we have to cut stories, photos and capsules, based on two factors: timeliness and importance, the latter being a judgmental call. If an event is happening before the next issue comes out, then it’s timely and will most likely make the cut. If it’s a photo from the Rosholt Fair, its importance comes into play because many people picking up the paper the week after the event will probably expect to see such a photo. The same applies to a story about a School Board or County Board meeting.
Items that may be held for the following week can include scholarship announcements, new business features, stories about events not taking place within the next two weeks, and some of the lighter stuff in our paper that’s great to read but not absolutely essential for immediate publication. For example, this week’s Gazette features a story about Patrick Rothfuss and his new book. The story could have been in last week’s paper, but we didn’t have any room for it, so we saved it for this week. Other than Rothfuss himself, and now people reading this column, no one else in this county would have known the story could have gone in last week’s paper.
Another story we had to save for this week, although its importance factor was somewhat high because it was about an event that took place the previous weekend, was one on the results of the JusticeWorks run, which featured a number of photos. Space played a major role in our decision to hold it, though, because it was quite lengthy and printing it would have prevented us from printing even more important and timely matters.
We try not to hold stories and photos for too long. Items that are held for one week are placed at the top of the list the next week. While this is not a guarantee for publication, it does help its cause.
The only way items could be guaranteed publication is if the amount of ads we sell or receive is guaranteed to be large enough to allow for the production staff to make the paper as large as necessary to fit everything.
Of course, more ads could create a vicious cycle that could lead to the same conclusion we have now: the holding of news content. Here’s how:
More ads and a bigger paper may mean additional news staff would need to be hired to produce more copy, which would allow us to provide even better county-wide coverage.
More writers and photographers would crank out additional copy, and combined with what we already have, the amount of content would again begin to exceed the amount of pages we would be allotted.
Right now, the paper has one full-time news writer (yours truly), one full-time sports writer (John Kemmeter) and one part-time news writer (Matthew Brown). We have a number of other Gazette contributors who submit articles on a weekly, bi-weekly or monthly basis (George Rogers, Jim Schuh, Justin Isherwood, Nick Schultz, Bill Berry), and we have a number of community contributors who submit articles about their organizations and endeavors that we gladly print.
We also have a retired managing editor (Gene Kemmeter) who has become a rover who takes photos and writes stories for the paper based on where he is needed.
What I’m trying to say is buy more ads, or tell people you know who should advertise their business in our paper to try us out, because the potential for The Gazette is unlimited. Everyone would win, especially our subscribers who would receive an even better Gazette in their mailboxes on a weekly basis.
In his spaceship’s exploration of space, Kirk boldly went where no man had gone before. In The Gazette’s exploration of space, we’re trying to boldly go where the best newspapers have gone before: creating a publication everyone likes.
Capt. James T. Kirk said these words at the beginning of each episode of the classic “Star Trek” series. On many Wednesdays, as The Gazette staff is putting together the week’s paper, I often feel like uttering them, too.
While Kirk said them in reference to outer space, a frontier mankind has really only dabbled in when our explorations of it are compared to the vast amount of space actually out there, my reference of it is to the space in the paper I’m given for the week’s news content.
Some people may be surprised to learn the size of our paper is not determined by the amount of news content we have, but rather by the amount of ads scheduled to run in the paper. The more ads we sell, the bigger the paper.
Each Wednesday afternoon, Paula, The Gazette’s production manager, gives me a list of ad percentages the paper will be at for specific page amounts divisible by four (the amount of pages can only increase or decrease by four because a printed sheet of newspaper contains four pages). I’m usually given three choices (most often 36, 40 and 44 pages), and my input is desired because I am the staff member who has the best knowledge of how much content we have to fill the option that is ultimately selected.
More often than not, we have more content than space. This means we have to cut stories, photos and capsules, based on two factors: timeliness and importance, the latter being a judgmental call. If an event is happening before the next issue comes out, then it’s timely and will most likely make the cut. If it’s a photo from the Rosholt Fair, its importance comes into play because many people picking up the paper the week after the event will probably expect to see such a photo. The same applies to a story about a School Board or County Board meeting.
Items that may be held for the following week can include scholarship announcements, new business features, stories about events not taking place within the next two weeks, and some of the lighter stuff in our paper that’s great to read but not absolutely essential for immediate publication. For example, this week’s Gazette features a story about Patrick Rothfuss and his new book. The story could have been in last week’s paper, but we didn’t have any room for it, so we saved it for this week. Other than Rothfuss himself, and now people reading this column, no one else in this county would have known the story could have gone in last week’s paper.
Another story we had to save for this week, although its importance factor was somewhat high because it was about an event that took place the previous weekend, was one on the results of the JusticeWorks run, which featured a number of photos. Space played a major role in our decision to hold it, though, because it was quite lengthy and printing it would have prevented us from printing even more important and timely matters.
We try not to hold stories and photos for too long. Items that are held for one week are placed at the top of the list the next week. While this is not a guarantee for publication, it does help its cause.
The only way items could be guaranteed publication is if the amount of ads we sell or receive is guaranteed to be large enough to allow for the production staff to make the paper as large as necessary to fit everything.
Of course, more ads could create a vicious cycle that could lead to the same conclusion we have now: the holding of news content. Here’s how:
More ads and a bigger paper may mean additional news staff would need to be hired to produce more copy, which would allow us to provide even better county-wide coverage.
More writers and photographers would crank out additional copy, and combined with what we already have, the amount of content would again begin to exceed the amount of pages we would be allotted.
Right now, the paper has one full-time news writer (yours truly), one full-time sports writer (John Kemmeter) and one part-time news writer (Matthew Brown). We have a number of other Gazette contributors who submit articles on a weekly, bi-weekly or monthly basis (George Rogers, Jim Schuh, Justin Isherwood, Nick Schultz, Bill Berry), and we have a number of community contributors who submit articles about their organizations and endeavors that we gladly print.
We also have a retired managing editor (Gene Kemmeter) who has become a rover who takes photos and writes stories for the paper based on where he is needed.
What I’m trying to say is buy more ads, or tell people you know who should advertise their business in our paper to try us out, because the potential for The Gazette is unlimited. Everyone would win, especially our subscribers who would receive an even better Gazette in their mailboxes on a weekly basis.
In his spaceship’s exploration of space, Kirk boldly went where no man had gone before. In The Gazette’s exploration of space, we’re trying to boldly go where the best newspapers have gone before: creating a publication everyone likes.
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