Tell Me More
 
January 31, 2007

White Mothers, Black Sons

Jolene Ivy, Maureen Evans, Kelley Ellsworth and Michel Martin

"Mocha Moms" panelists Jolene Ivey, Maureen Evans, Kelley Ellsworth with host Michel Martin. (Not pictured: Becky Thompson)

Lee Hill
 
Kelley Ellsworth with her husband and four children.

Kelley Ellsworth with her husband and four children.

Photo courtesy of Kelley Ellsworth

First, thanks to those of you who are already playing the name game. In last week's post, I invited our listeners to help us pick a name for the program. We had a slow start -- I admit I was beset with the same insecurity I experienced right before my wedding ("What if nobody comes? Waaah.") But of course, you did not disappoint. Suggestions are rolling in and we love reading them. We especially love the spirit behind them. Keep playing!

And in another shout-out to listeners: This week's feature actually originated as a listener comment in response to one of our first podcasts. Before Christmas we did a program introducing a segment we plan to offer regularly: the Mocha Moms. They are a nationwide support group of primarily African-American women who consider themselves stay-at-home moms (an elastic term at best -- one of them is a state legislator, for heaven's sake). But we think their common sense approach to parenting issues offers something for everybody. In response to our feature on making Christmas culturally relevant, we got a posting from a woman who described herself as a white mother who is part of a multiracial family. She had a number of thoughtful questions she wished she could discuss with the Moms.

That got us thinking about the particular challenges of white mothers raising biracial or multicultural children and so we organized today's program around that theme. We invited three white mothers (white Mochas! Just like at Starbucks!) raising biracial or African-American children who came to them either by adoption or biologically. We started out by focusing on sons just because the whole white woman/black man relationship is so fraught in our history -- and, let's face it -- the story about Madonna's decision to adopt was everywhere. But as you will hear, the conversation roamed far beyond that. And we invited one of our regular panelists, Jolene Ivey, a co-founder of Mocha Moms, to offer her take on what seemed unique to the multicultural family and what was just, well, family.

After we finished the taping, one of the Moms said, "I wonder how the kids would answer some of these questions?" Good question!

So we invited Rebecca Walker, one of the most thoughtful young writers on issues of race and identity, to talk to us about some of these questions. She is the author of the memoir Black, White and Jewish. Her mother, Alice Walker, also an author, is African-American and her father is white and Jewish. She also wrote the introduction to a new anthology of short fiction on the multiracial experience called Mixed.

We had also planned to talk with the editor of the anthology, Chandra Prasad, about her selections as well as her own experiences as a multiracial American, but she had the nerve to go into labor right before out interview! (We trust that all went well and we wish her and the new baby all the best!)

We love how you helped us brainstorm even though you weren't in the room with us. I've asked this before, but if you haven't weighed in, I'll ask it again: Would you have appreciated an opportunity to participate in this conversation somehow? Why or why not? And if yes, how? Would you like to have been able to call, or if we had posted the topic in advance, would you have e-mailed questions or comments? How about a post broadcast conversation? Would you find it interesting to have a Web chat with our guests after the fact? Finally, would you have liked to have heard from an "expert" -- a psychologist or someone like that -- to talk about the issues we discussed in the broadcast?

No need to answer all these questions unless you want to. You can pick just the ones that interest you. And thanks again.

 
January 26, 2007

What's in a Name?

It's a simple enough question. People hear you have a new show and they ask you, all friendly-like, "So, what's the name?"
"Uh, name?"
"Yeah, the name. What's the name of your new show?"
"Oh, right. The name...the name...."

Enough secrets! Enough lies! We don't have a name yet.

There, I've said it. It's out. I feel so much better... relieved, really. I don't have to hide anymore. We don't have a name yet. We really want one. Just a little name. A name all our own. Is that too much to ask?

It's not like we haven't been trying. We have. But we haven't been able to come up with one that satisfies us, and perhaps more important, our legal department (it can't already belong to another radio show, for example). A group of us is having a meeting on Monday, when Marie and I return from Los Angeles, to brainstorm some more.

But then the obvious thought occurred. Why not ask you?

This is not really a contest because there is no prize -- but you can best believe that if we pick your name I will take you out to dinner if you get yourself to Washington. And we'll put your picture on the Web site. Fair enough?

I'm not going to bore you with all the ideas we've tossed around. Start fresh. Put your thinking cap on. Help us out. The name we pick might be your own.

Update: We now have official rules for our show-naming contest -- yes, contest.

 
January 25, 2007

'Honey, We Need to Talk'

A few years ago when I was covering a national political convention for a television network, one of the anchors pulled me aside to tell me that he had observed that I had "only" interviewed black people. "Try to grow," he said, or something like that. I was furious. By that time in my career, I had interviewed actors, golf pros, gang members, heads of state, world famous symphony conductors and victims of every conceivable disaster. In essence, I had been talking to white people -- and all other kinds of people -- my entire professional life about all kinds of things.

My job as floor correspondent was to seek out the most interesting people I could find -- plus, there weren't that many black people at that convention! What the anchor said to me simply could not be true, I thought.

As the sportscasters say, let's go to the videotape. I looked at what had been on the air. The anchor had gone to me exactly once for an on-camera exchange with a convention delegate, and indeed, the person I interviewed was African-American. But the reason I selected that delegate had nothing to do with her race -- it was because she was from a swing state. Even more interesting, the correspondent who followed me -- a white person -- had also interviewed an African-American, also for reasons that had nothing to do with her race. The perception was that both interviews were mine.

Race affects perception; I might even say distorts it. I don't know why it does -- I just know that it does. Black people and white people often disagree about what words like "integrated" or "diverse" mean. If a previously segregated country club decides to admit one black member is it "integrated"? If a previously all-black college or university has a small white or Latino student population, is it "diverse"? Clearly, some minority cultural figures have universal appeal. But to achieve that appeal, is there a limit to how much reference can be made to that person's heritage?

Many people claim they "don't notice" race. Overseas, it can be said, African-Americans often report that they are more likely to be viewed as American than as black. And if that's the case it's because their "American-ness" -- the power that comes with their passport and their resources -- proves far more relevant to their travel experience than their race. But in this country, when people say they "don't notice" race, often what they're really saying is that racial issues don't interest them, don't affect them (at least not negatively) or they just don't want to talk about those issues. That may be fine for them, but what if other people's lives are affected by race? What if those affected do want to talk about it?

I'm bringing this up because I am responding again to some of the listener posts about this new program we are developing. As I have previously noted, the vast majority of the responses have been extremely constructive and supportive, even when people haven't liked everything we've sent out. Some have questioned whether the perspective of the show, so far, is too heavily weighted toward African-Americans -- a fair point, worth discussion.

But there is another group of respondents that I feel I must address. You will not have seen all of these posts because some of them are abusive, which violates the terms of this online community. Still, I need to talk about their logic. I want to challenge it.

Essentially, they are saying that because this program clearly highlights voices of persons of color, that this program has no right to exist. Some seem to think if a program is not catering to them, it is discriminating against them. Others are just not interested in either our topics or our approach. But it isn't enough that they can choose not to listen to us. They seem to believe that whatever does not interest them should not be discussed on the air. By anybody.

Now think about that.

If we lived in a world where there was only one radio program you could listen to, and that program had to meet all your needs for news and information, then I could see where you might say, "You know, I don't really care if you feel it's important to make your holiday celebrations reflect your culture." But we are not in that world.

We are in a world of hundreds of channels and hundreds of listening opportunities in news and talk, on satellite, Web, radio and podcasts. Do you really want to tell me there's no room for another program where people can talk about distinct challenges and interests that relate to their culture and heritage? Is there really no room to discuss issues from a perspective other than that of the majority?

For some people, maybe not. Last spring, when I was sitting in for Neal Conan on Talk of the Nation, the news that week had been super serious and I wanted to do a couple of minutes of lighter fare. So I invited one of the nation's top fashion and business writers on the program to talk about what was considered "hot" in spring fashion. I got I don't know how many calls or e-mails complaining that the segment was stupid. (I note that the Washington Post's Robin Givhan, fashion writer extraordinaire, won the Pulitzer Prize for criticism not a week later -- but I digress.)

I wondered why these people had such a sense of entitlement? I would never dream of calling up and chastising Neal for talking about baseball, which is, like fashion, both a diversion and a huge business. If he and millions of other people are passionate about it, why can't he talk about it? And if he can talk about baseball, why can't I talk about shoes?

I draw the same analogy to race, which is, after all, just another relationship. We are all here together, sometimes happily, sometimes uncomfortably. In any relationship, interests and priorities will differ. Sometimes it's funny (spring fashion vs. baseball). Sometimes the differences are quite profound requiring serious and ongoing discussion. In all partnerships where there is any equality at all, the time will come when a partner will put up his or her hand and say, "Honey, we need to talk." Sometimes the other partner doesn't want to hear it. But that doesn't mean the issue has gone away -- far from it. People of good will find a way to talk. The great thing about this experience is that I have discovered just how many of you are people of good will, who only want to be shown a way into the conversation. We are committed to doing just that. And the great thing about us is if you're not ready for it, you can turn us off and come back later and you won't have to sleep on the couch!

In this space we're going to talk. I hope you join us. And don't forget that this week I am in Los Angeles. I'm sitting in for Farai Chideya at News & Notes on Friday. Wish me luck. Sitting in someone else's anchor chair is like driving somebody else's car -- you don't want to leave any crumbs, and you sure don't want to crash.

 
January 22, 2007

Powerful Voices

Iraqi women attend a press conference in Baghdad, August 3, 2005.

Iraqi women listen as the head of the Rafadin Women's Coalition, Iman Abdel-Jabber, speaks during a press conference in Baghdad, August 3, 2005. The RWC works to encourage women to play an active role in Iraqi politics.

Ahmad Al-Rubaye/AFP/Getty Images

"The perspective of the two eyes is different from the perspective of one eye. " ---Mariam Alsadig Almadi

Unless you've taken a vow of no news, you've probably heard that Sen. Hillary Clinton (D-NY), the former first lady, has decided to run for president. No doubt this will occasion even more commentary than we've already had about whether a woman can be elected, whether women govern differently and so on.

So I don't want to talk about that.

Here's what I do want to talk about: The U.N. estimates that only 15 percent of heads of state, parliamentary and cabinet ministry positions worldwide are held by women.
What difference does this make? One difference it makes is that reporters traditionally pursue "leaders" for comment on significant stories. The logic is that these are the people in a position to effect change so we want to know what they think. But what if there are no women "leaders"? Do we lose an important perspective, as the quote above, from Sudanese politician Mariam Alsadig Almadi suggests?

I mention Sudan because an ongoing civil conflict -- U.S. officials have called it genocide -- centered in the Darfur region has left tens of thousands of people dead and hundreds of thousands displaced. New Mexico's Governor Bill Richardson just returned from Darfur where he was participating in talks to support a previously negotiated ceasefire; he spoke to Talk of the Nation's Neal Conan about his trip.

If you've followed this story then you've probably seen many images of women weeping or carrying sick babies or staring the traumatized war victims' stare. What you probably have not seen or heard are women taking leadership or even being consulted in regard to the events that so affect their lives. So when we had a chance to interview two women political officials from Sudan, we could not pass it up.

A group called the Initiative for Inclusive Security, which recently hosted its eighth annual conference in Washington, wants to increase political participation among women in "high conflict" and post-conflict areas. The conferences allow women leaders to learn skills from each other as well as from other political and policy professionals. This year delegations came from Colombia, Nepal, Uganda and Sudan. Individuals came from Liberia and Iraq.

We honestly cannot tell you whether the women we interviewed would be considered "power players" back home. One, Amna Ahmed Ali, was born in Darfur and was one of the first women graduates of the University of Khartoum. She is a civil servant who now works on development projects in Darfur. Mariam Alsadig Almadi, quoted above, is a former pediatrician who gave up medicine for politics. She is now a communications officer for the Umma National Party, a secular Islamic centrist party (and an opposition party).

We thought the opportunity to hear from women in positions of responsibility in that region was so rare that it was worth it just to hear their voices and opinions.

Also joining our group: Mishkat Al Moumin, who somehow managed to survive as a lecturer in human rights at Baghdad University under Saddam Hussein's regime, only to be the target of two assassination attempts during her stint as Minister of the Environment in the interim Iraqi government. Her take on how to move forward in Iraq is very different from what you have been hearing elsewhere.

We've said that one of the missions of this program is to let you hear voices that often go unheard. In today's show, you'll truly hear some of those different voices.

To expand on the question of women in leadership, we also talked to the person who founded the Initiative for Inclusive Security, someone who feels passionately about the importance of promoting women's political participation. Swanee Hunt is a former Ambassador to Austria in the Clinton administration. She is a philanthropist, has a doctorate in theology and happens to be one of the daughters of the now-deceased H.L. Hunt, once one of the richest men in the world. She recently published a memoir about her own remarkable journey to leadership, so we decided to interview her as well.

And there's more: We round out the program with a commentary by economist Julianne Malveaux, well known to some for her appearances on News & Notes and other programs. Dr. Malveaux didn't appreciate a comment made by Sen. Barbara Boxer (D-CA) to Secretary of State Condi Rice last week and... well... we'll just let her tell you.

I know this is a long post, but I thought I needed to take a little extra time to explain some of our editorial choices this week.

I'll be out of pocket for a couple of days; I'm guest-hosting this week on News & Notes, which is based in Los Angeles, so I may or may not post something from there. We don't want to let that California bliss escape.

My questions for this week: The interviews are a bit long... we have a traditional idea of the length a program should be and we have completely disregarded that in this case. Is the length OK or did your attention wander? And the accents may be heavier than you are accustomed to for an American program. We felt that the opportunity to hear from these women in their own words was worth the risk of turning you off because of it. Do you agree with our decision? And thank you again for helping us with this project.

 
January 18, 2007

A Puerto Rican Bill Cosby

'One Nation, One Standard'

In his new book, One Nation, One Standard, Herman Badillo claims that Hispanics don't put the same emphasis on education as other American immigrants.

Do you remember the dustup about three years ago when Bill Cosby spoke at a dinner commemorating the anniversary of the Brown v. Board of Education case? That was the case that ended legal segregation of the schools, and Bill Cosby was, shall we say, disappointed with the way some members of the black community had risen to the opportunity in the years since the decision. He was a lot more blunt that I am being; let's just say there's been a lively discussion of the merits of his argument in the three years since -- which is ongoing, by the way.

Mr. Cosby has traveled all over the country, meeting in community forums with people who want to talk about his view that too many black folks have become so fixated on racism they aren't doing what they can to improve their communities, educate their children and live up to the promise of America. These sessions --I covered one for ABC's Nightline -- are heartrending, exhausting and uplifting at the same time. Heartrending because these people are in so much pain; they are terrified and furious about what they see happening in their communities with kids who seem out of control and parents who won't take control. They're exhausting because they go on for hours and sometimes the anger is very raw. There's a lot of finger pointing.

But then there's an uplifting side because, while Cosby does speak, he also goes out of his way to showcase people from each community who have done something remarkable -- overcome great odds to get an education, started a mentoring program, etc. At the session I attended, most people came because they agreed with Cosby and wanted to tell him and wanted some inspiration. Some came because they found his message offensive. One scholar calls Cosby's meetings the "blame the poor tour" and wrote an entire book just to rebut him. The debate continues.

Now comes a book by a public figure who may not be a household name all over the country but who is a giant in New York politics. His name is Herman Badillo and the book is called One Nation, One Standard. Badillo was the first Puerto Rican-born U.S. congressman. His own story is nothing short of remarkable. He was orphaned as a small boy, came to the mainland to live with relatives at the age of 11 (speaking not a word of English), and went on to become a lawyer, a congressman, a mayoral candidate and the chairman of the board of one of the largest public university systems in the country.

Badillo was one of the main architects of bilingual education law; the principal sponsor of the Bilingual Education Act of 1974.

But now he says he was wrong -- a rare admission for most of us! When I read the book, I knew I wanted to talk to Badillo, in part because the book reminded me so much of the debate Bill Cosby set off. Only this time, the subject is the Hispanic community.

In today's segment (audio), we take a traditional NPR-ish approach to a topic like this: A famous person writes a book and we talk with him about it. But we thought Badillo's argument was such that he needed the floor to himself to discuss it. Our question to you is: Is this approach, with one subject, satisfying? Or did you find yourself hungering for more of a debate? Let us know.

 
January 17, 2007

P.S. on HPV and 'Ordinary Oprahs'

Your responses to our two most recent segments -- on HPV and "Ordinary Oprahs" -- have been remarkable. First, on the story of the two women who have built or supported schools overseas, most of you loved the story but hated the title.

A typical comment: "There's nothing ordinary about these women, and the title is actually somewhat demeaning." I hear you, but I don't agree. The title actually came from a conversation with one of the guests, Wendy Johnson. When I was writing her intro, she was standing near me (because, remember, she works here) and I said, "How shall I describe you?" She responded, "I'm just an ordinary person." So I thought, yes, that's it.

Wendy and Lidia don't mind at all that we called them ordinary and that you think they are extraordinary. In related news: Dennis Whittle of Global Giving, the organization we also highlighted in the program, was so impressed by both Wendy and Lidia that he is going to try to include their projects among those supported by his organization. We mentioned that Wendy's family previously adopted a little girl from Ethiopia. After years of effort they have succeeded in locating her sister and are bringing her to the U.S. on Thursday, Jan. 18. We are so happy for all of them.

Finally, many of you wrote to highlight the efforts of "extraordinary Oprahs" whom you know. We're going to see if we can do this story again and reach out to some of the people you told us about. Stay tuned for that and keep the ideas coming.

On HPV: After we posted our story, the news broke in the Washington Post that the Washington, D.C., City Council is proposing a requirement that girls be vaccinated for HPV, the virus that can cause cervical cancer. The logic is that D.C.'s large population of African-American women are disproportionately affected by cervical cancer. That has provoked much discussion here in D.C., where we are based. One prominent local columnist denounced the proposal as well meaning but racist; there's been lively discussion on neighborhood discussion boards about this.

If we can figure out a follow up that would be interesting to a national audience, we'll jump on it.

We also asked our male listeners to tell us if they found the story interesting. Many of you were quite emphatic about your desire for more information about how the virus affects men. We're trying to figure out the best way to handle that side of the story, either through this vehicle or in a future podcast.

Once again, thank you for your close attention and passionate interest in our work in progress!

 
January 11, 2007

Yes, You Are Invited

 
“When we say we want to appeal to diverse voices, what exactly do we mean? Is this a program meant to be mainly by and for African Americans, or is everyone invited?”
 
 

Asking for feedback from the public is a lot like asking strangers if your pants make you look fat. You're not totally sure you want the truth. That's what this open piloting process has been like so far. But for the most part, I'm happy to say, the jeans are looking just fine!

If you've been reading this blog for the last few weeks, you know what I am talking about. But if you're just discovering this space, let me explain. NPR decided to open up the process of developing my new show (a work in progress) to the public. We are asking folks to listen to the segments and to offer their comments. And you have done so.

The comments, whether laudatory or critical (and most have been remarkably supportive -- thank you very much) have been overwhelmingly thoughtful, constructive and gratifying to read. There have been a few nasty, dyspeptic cranks, which I plan to talk about in another blog. But for the most part, people seem genuinely interested in what we have to say and in helping us improve our ability to say it.

One question seems important to address right now: When we say we want to showcase new voices and appeal to a diverse audience, what exactly do we mean? Is this a program meant to be mainly by and for African-Americans, or is everyone invited?

You know from my photograph, and perhaps from my work in television, that yes, I am an African-American. We expect to have a very diverse staff, and we expect that diversity will inform the stories we do and the conversations we have.

I am also a journalist with more than 20 years experience covering everything from presidential politics to the performing arts. I love basketball and ballet. I am a mom, but I spent so many years as a single woman traveling the world I have not forgotten that life. I devour international news. I like to cook, shop and read. I am fascinated by faith. I am trying to learn to swim. In short, African-American is what I am -- but not all that I am.

My producers and I are deeply interested in the intersection -- and sometimes clash -- of cultures in the United States. We are also deeply interested in the world, especially parts of the world that don't always get a lot of attention.

I read an interview with Maya Angelou that I loved. She quoted Terentius Afer (also known as Terence), an African enslaved in Rome and later freed, who became a popular playwright circa 154 B.C. He wrote, "I am a human being. Nothing human can be alien to me."

So if the question is, "Are you invited?" Whoever you are, the answer is, "If you are a human being, yes."

And we have some questions for you and they might be a bit sensitive, but here goes:

Can a program that emphasizes African-American and other ethnic minority commentators still be considered diverse? Do you need to hear from white commentators to consider a program appealing and relevant to you? How important is it to you to hear voices that sound ethnically diverse? We really want to know, so please be honest (and please be respectful).

And remember to check out this week's feature.

 

Ordinary Oprahs

Africa school

Lidia Schaefer, a Washington, D.C.-based mancurist built the Lidia Secondary School in her home village of Feres Mai, Ethiopia.

Courtesy of Lidia Shaefer

 
picture of Medhine

The death of Medhine (above), a 9-year-old from Feres Mai, Ethiopia, gave Lidia Schaefer, a manicurist from Washington, D.C., the inspiration to build a school for the African village. Medhine was killed by hyenas during her three-hour walk home from the nearest school.

Courtesy of Lidia Shaefer

We were interested in the hullabaloo surrounding the opening of Oprah Winfrey's Leadership Academy for Girls in South Africa. We stumbled onto a story, actually. We realized that two people we see all the time are doing what Oprah has just done, and let me tell you, they don't have Oprah-sized pockets.

Lidia Schaefer works as a manicurist at a salon in Washington, D.C., but she managed to build schoolhouses in Ethiopia. And Wendy Johnson, an administrative assistant here at NPR, works part time so that she has the time to hand deliver her contributions in support of projects overseas. We thought you'd be interested in meeting them and hearing about what they do. We broaden the story with a conversation with Dennis Whittle from Global Giving, an organization that helps small donors find worthy projects. We also talk with Gene Sperling, a leading economist who tells us why this is good for the world and not just the soul.

Oprah stories are irresistible, but discovering that ordinary people are doing the same thing was too good to pass up. Do you agree? Tell us what you think. Was it interesting? Did it keep your attention? Are you comfortable with the variety of accents you heard? Did you hear something that you have not heard anywhere else? And did it make you think about the choices you make with your time and money?

 
January 5, 2007

A Common Virus

"Every single sexually active person is going to get it at some point in their life."

What?! Who?!

When I first heard a guest on today's program (audio) say those words, I almost stopped the interview to fact check the statement right then and there. I didn't -- because I was taping and we could do it later (which we did, in fact, do; see below*). But it made such an impression on me.

The guest -- her name is Tamika Felder and she's a women's health advocate -- was talking about something called HPV. It's a common virus, harmless to most, but it can cause genital warts as well as cervical cancer and other cancers. I had never heard of it until I read an article she wrote for a women's magazine. I spend hours every day reading, watching and poring over the news. So how could I not know about something that is both so common and yet has serious potential consequences?

One answer is: There is just so much to know -- science, history, politics, international affairs. How can anyone keep track of it all? In the news business we struggle with the same question from a different vantage point. With so much going on, how do we choose what to tell you?

One way to sort through it all is to use events to focus awareness. January is Cervical Cancer Awareness Month. So, that is what we would call a news "peg" -- an event on which to hang a story.

Another way is to compartmentalize information into segments. Think of it this way: If programs are like supermarkets; segments are like the aisles. If you want pickles, say, you go down the pickle aisle. If you want mac and cheese, you go down the row for that. While you're there, we hope you'll pick up something else.

We want to do some reporting on health and have been thinking about how to do it. The issues are important and often there are things one needs to know immediately. But how do we make it interesting as well as informative?

Having "met" Tamika through her article we thought, "Here's a personal story that will make this issue very real." And we paired her with Michelle Hannah, an activist who is working to eliminate the HPV virus. We did not go to a traditional medical expert because we thought the science is well established and the personal narrative made the story more accessible.

What do you think of our approach? Does the so-called "bottom-up" method of covering this work for you? Or would you still want to hear from an "expert?" Finally, the issues raised in this segment primarily affect women, but we'd like to ask our male listeners if you find it interesting, as well. Tell us what you think.

*As to Tamika's statement about everyone having HPV, the Centers for Disease Control Web site says the following:


"At least 50 percent of sexually active men and women acquire genital HPV infection at some point in their lives. By age 50, at least 80 percent of women will have acquired genital HPV infection. About 6.2 million Americans get a new genital HPV infection each year."

We asked Tamika to comment. She says her conversations with CDC researchers and HPV medical experts suggest these figures are too conservative. Her understanding is that unless two virgins become sexually involved and remain completely monogamous (forever!) one would be exposed to some form of the virus.

 
January 2, 2007

Evolution or Revolution?

Happy new year all.

It was a strange day here in Washington. There remained a bit of that subdued holiday mood: quiet streets and little traffic since much of the federal government was closed due to President Gerald Ford's funeral. I think we are still trying to absorb the meaning of Saddam Hussein's execution -- a brutal man meeting a brutal end. And it was a day of new beginnings: a new mayor in Washington was sworn in, new members of Congress are starting to arrive.

And -- surely not as momentous -- it was my first time as a guest on NPR! I was a guest on Talk of the Nation this afternoon (I show up about 17 minutes into the segment).

The subject was a new book called Wikinomics, and one of the authors, Don Tapscott, talked about how major corporations are using the open source method to solve problems and research new products. I found this fascinating because I was familiar with corporations (and news organizations, for that matter) using focus groups to test new ideas and products, but I wasn't aware that some rather large companies had begun opening that process up to the public. Which is, of course, exactly what we are doing with my new show. And I thought it was our idea! OK, not really. Are there any original ideas? And does it matter?

As you may know, Talk of the Nation is a call-in show and it occurred to me that our open piloting method is the logical extension of the sense of community and inclusion one gets from that show. One caller asked, "Is this evolution or revolution?" I don't know. You tell me.

 



   
   
   
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