In Deep Smit– 08/29/08


Another week has blown by for me in a blur of work, wedding preparations (my BIL ties the knot this weekend), and the Democratic National Convention.

Which brings me to my latest love affair… this week I am in deep, deep smit with PBS.

My whole life, I’ve been a fan of public television. I was hooked on their children’s programming before I was a year old.

In fact, my parents eventually discovered the unexpected etiology of one of my first words, “Ahg-ee” when Maria from Sesame Street’s voice shouted “Agua” as the screen filled up with cartoon water.

Yes, I started out bilingual. How cosmopolitan! Photobucket

Since then, I’ve loved PBS for their classics, their theater and concert productions, but this last week I’ve had special reason to fall in love with them all over again.

I’ve immensely enjoyed following the DNC coverage. My husband and I flipped from station to station on various days. Every single other station covering the convention was loaded with discussion panels… various folks from various backgrounds discussing the convention talking right through the speeches. Often, also, banners were flashing over the screen with “fun facts” or “breaking news” that was completely not important.

During the big headliners’ speeches, the large networks kindly let us see what the speakers had to say, but most of the other speakers were blatantly ignored.

Except on PBS. PhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucket

Deep, deep smit. Photobucket

On PBS, the commentators let the speakers speak. They discussed the convention briefly in between speakers, but mostly let the viewers see the convention as it was presented. They didn’t snipe at anybody or spin anything.

I Photobucket PBS!

The DNC also rocked, BTW. 😉


Fellow Pilgrims

Every morning when I work, I wake up before dawn, outside black as midnight. It is only the last couple of weeks when a thin pink line highlights the horizon by the time I pull out of my driveway and speed towards the east.

I have a long drive to the children’s hospital where I work. The landscape changes as I travel from the middle of cornfields to the middle of the city. The traffic is light as we all home towards Chicago. Over the months I have made this drive, I have become familiar with many of those who make this same journey.

We’ve never spoken. I’ve never seen their faces, not by the dim pre-dawn light.

But we are still connected by our combined path.

A cobalt pick-up truck, with oversized wheels, bears bumper stickers proclaiming support for George Bush and “I just got a gun for my wife– best trade I ever made!” Clearly, the driver and I have little in common. And yet without trying, we meet and travel together.

It is an odd camaraderie, but undeniable.