In Defense of Newspapers
Recently my niece who is in her early thirties admitted to me she does not read newspapers because she can get whatever news she needs online. She made it sound like newspapers were a product of the buggy whip age and those of us who still subscribe were just so old-fashioned.
It may seem strange that I feel the need to defend the printed page. After all, I am a broadcast news writer and a blog writer, too. But I begin most mornings by taking the Los Angeles Times to bed and plowing through its sections.
In Burbank, it is a newspaper that makes me feel connected. The Burbank Leader is published on Wednesdays and Saturdays and it is one way of keeping up with what is happening in this town.
Burbank was once the home of several daily newspapers. I discovered this while doing research for a video I am producing on Temple Beth Emet of Burbank for its upcoming 50th anniversary gala. While looking through scrapbooks of temple history I found lots of yellowing newspaper clips which have helped fill me in on the history of this institution. Newspapers are recorders of history.
But beyond their history-keeping function, I find newspapers offer more depth and diversity than other forms of media. My niece would say she can get all of this online. But reading newspaper portals is not the same. One has to open up stories and be proactive. But something on the newspaper page might catch my eye and interest and lead me in a direction I had not even considered.
Then, there is the other argument. If we all switch over to just reading online versions of newspapers –ostensibly because we don’t have to pay for them –how many newspapers would remain in business. Right now, there is a struggle going on with lots of newspapers bleeding red ink. Newspapers are businesses –much like TV. They sell advertising to support the editorial side. Less advertising, less editorial. No readers. No advertisers. No advertisers, no newspapers. No newspapers, no online newspaper portals.
And if community newspapers such as the Leader or the Glendale News-Press disappeared, we would know a lot less about what is happening just outside our doorsteps.
I read two newspapers in the morning. Not just because I am a journalist and it really helps to be informed. But also because I just can’t get the hang of reading off my laptop in bed.
And I read more than just the news. I check the ads. Does Macy’s have a sale? What about Bloomingdales? Should I shop at Ralph’s this week or are the specials at Pavilions a bigger inducement? And what time is that show I think I want to see on television tonight? I guess I could find these things out online, but it is easier to check them out in the Times or the Daily News.
So I disagree with those who claim the day of the newspaper is over. Not as long as I can still clip the coupons on Sunday and cut out ads that I may want to look at later
That’s how I see things.
—Yvonne Beltzer
Outside my alma mater
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Good-bye Homer
It is always tough to say good-bye to a friend. For nearly 13 years, Homer was our friend and companion.
I can still remember the day we went and got him. It actually was evening and he was at a home in Mount Washington where he was actually a reject. You see Homer was a Saluki, a dog bred for show. He was a beautiful example of a so-called Harlequin Saluki but he had defects that made him ineligible for the show ring. (We didn’t intend to show him, just have him as a pet who filled a void left in our hearts by the death of our first Saluki, Zev)
We didn’t actually head out to purchase a dog. I’d told my husband that I just wanted to look at the Salukis –but he knows this is a dangerous proposition since I cannot resist falling in love with animals.
When we came home with the puppy, my son and his friend Ian quickly decided to name him Homer. I thought it was a poetic name for a poetic looking dog, but in reality he was named after … you guessed it.. Homer Simpson. And it was an appropo name since Homer, in reality, was a comedian.
He was my husband’s companion, but so much more. He loved to steal pens! He would grab the pen with his mouth and stand in the doorway of my husband’s home office to be sure he was seen… then trot around the house. He also filched papers, magazines, food (especially!) and anything else that caught his eye.
Early on, we hired a trainer to help him adjust to life with us and he proved a difficult pupil. Salukis are nothing like Golden Retrievers. They do not exist to please you… You exist to please them! But he was a loving dog and I can remember the first time my husband took him for a walk up the block, neighbors came out a cheered. They told me Daniel seemed so lonely without a dog to walk for it had been two months between the death of Zev and the arrival of Homer.
Now, once again, Daniel is alone. Or almost alone. We have another dog, Buddy, a mixed breed spanielish creature who joined our home six years ago. But it is Homer we are mourning because his passing had been so unexpected. Only last Thursday did we discover his body was rife with cancer and he was in pain. So we had to say good-bye to a very special friend.
Daniel and Homer
We will always miss you.
—Yvonne Beltzer
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Bowled Over
BOWLED OVER
I finally made my annual trek to the Hollywood Bowl last night and it is one of the easiest local attractions to visit from Burbank.
The tickets were for the appearance of star violinist Joshua Bell with the Los Angeles Philharmonic.
The easiest way to get to the Bowl from Burbank is to visit the Zoo. The shuttle buses run from the Los Angeles Zoo parking lot right to the bowl entrance and for $3.00, it is really a cheap ride.
The seats we had were up in the higher reaches of the bowl, but the sound was great and the big screen TV’s gave everyone a chance to enjoy Bell’s artistry. What surprised me was the number of young people in attendance and they applauded and hooted like at a rock concert.
If you haven’t visited the Hollywood Bowl recently, don’t miss this opportunity to enjoy a fun evening. I even appreciated the fact that it only cost 75 cents to rent a cushion to soften the impact of the wooden seats on my derriere.
Getting back home was just as easy once I found my way to the zoo bus.
To say the least, I was once again … bowled over.
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Speaking Out
Among the most alarming nightmares some surveys show is one in which the dreamer suddenly finds him or herself in a public speaking situation. (With or without clothes). Getting up and speaking in front of an audience can be a daunting task. But there is a well-established organization that helps people overcome their fear of public speaking and it has been doing such since 1924. I am speaking, of course, of the Toastmasters International organization. Last night, my friend Craig invited me to a meeting of a local Burbank Toastmasters Club #6011.
This was my first-ever experience at a Toastmasters meeting and it was very interesting and educational. The first prepared speech explained why we should like spiders even though they are ugly. (I admit to a fear of spiders) The talk was informative and entertaining. The second speaker explained how to hit the punchline on a joke and demonstrated by having three of the members read jokes. The third speaker looked at how difficult a job an evaluator had… since each speaker would be evaluated in a friendly way by another member. The idea here was to help people become comfortable speaking in public.
After a break, my friend Craig took over as the moderator of a section of the meeting known as “Table Topics.” In this section, people were called to speak extemporaneously on a given topic. He asked the first person if he’s had any memorable or unusual dates. (This was humorous since the person chosen had just become engaged to the club president.
Then, Craig asked me if I had ever met any celebrities? Up until this point, I thought I was there strictly as an observer. I got up and related a tale from my past about the time I failed to recognize Sean Connery.
It goes something like this: Many years ago when I worked for City News Service/Radio News West, I was sent to LAX on a Friday afternoon to interview an American who’d just been released from prison in Czechoslovakia where he’d been accused of being a spy. I raced to the airport and by the time I parked and ran into the International Terminal, I could see Joe Cala of KABC Radio talking to someone at the end of the hall. I ran down the corridor, but by the time I got to the end, Cala was gone and I was facing a tall man. So I asked him, “How were things in Czechoslovakia?” And a Scottish/British accent replied, “I’d never been to Czechoslovakia.” Oops. Wrong man, I apologized and ran up the escalator to the lounge where I found a news conference in progress. I set up my microphone and watched the Real Spy talk. Behind me, I heard one flight attendant say to another, “How Ironic! 007 was on the same plane as this guy.” That is when I realized that the man i FAILED to recognize was Sean Connery. In my defense, I must say, he was not wearing his hairpiece.
At the end of the meeting, the members vote on the best speech and the best table topic speech. I now have a ribbon for my little tale. I must say it was lots of fun.
If you want practice in public speaking or like to tell stories, you might was to give this organization a try.
The Burbank Club meets every other Tuesday at the Holiday Inn. That’s the first and third Tuesdays of the month. Guests are welcome and as you can tell from my experience, are often given a chance to try their hand at speaking. For more information about the program itself, go to www.toastmasters.org
Or contact local club president Reggie Stuenzi
Or just show up at a meeting –first and third Tuesday of the month. Visitors more than welcome.
This is the ribbon I won for the best "table topic" talkMy friend Craig --who invited me to a meeting of the Toastmasters
–Yvonne Beltzer
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Last week, we said farewell to a remarkable lady whom I might never have met except that I adopted her great grandson. In adopting him, she adopted us.
Marjorie Bedell Laughlin could have been cast by the movies as a proper Boston matron.
She was beautiful, but also had a regal air about her that belied the generosity and warmth of her spirit.
I met her nearly 21 years ago when my husband and I were referred as prospective parents for her granddaughter’s soon-to-be born baby. I am not sure how many other prospects were being interviewed, but somehow, we won the lottery.
Marjorie called us soon after our son was born, asking to see the baby one more time. I told her she could see the baby anytime she wished and that is how our son got to know his birth great grandmother as “Grammy.”
What I soon learned was Marjorie was an award-winning Interior Designer and a leader in that industry. I often wondered just how shocked she must have been to visit my Burbank home and see it in complete disarray.
Through the years, there are moments that standout my memory.
When our son was just four, he fell off a jungle gym and a ct scan showed he had only one functioning kidney. Within days, he was at the UCLA Medical Center to undergo surgery on the blocked kidney. Daniel, my husband, and I were scared for him. As we sat waiting for the surgery to end, Marjorie and her husband, Larry, came to sit with us and hold our hands… and reassure us that everything would be okay.
Marjorie always made sure that Christmas was a time of magic for our son, giving him wonderful gifts and lots of love. She and Larry would take him out for an afternoon to the Pasadena Children’s Museum or to a soda fountain in South Pasadena. She gave him memories as only a Grammy can give them. My own mother died two weeks before Alex was born. Daniel’s mother first lived far away and then, succumbed to the endless fog of Alzheimer’s. But Marjorie was there for him. She even attended his Middle School graduation.
Shortly thereafter, she and Larry moved to Seattle to be near Alex’ birth mother. But even when she lived far away, she would call up every other month or so to find out how things were going.
And a few years ago, we were surprised to learn that Marjorie and Larry had moved back to Southern California (could it have been the gloom of Seattle weather?) and they had moved into a senior living residential center right here in Burbank.
It meant we could see them again. We arranged to take them out to dinner several times.
But sadly, Marjorie began to slip away from us. When we went to see Larry around Father’s Day, he told us she was in the end stage of Alzheimer’s.
Last week, we were grateful to be invited to a celebration of her life at Pasadena’s All Saints Episcopal Church. And we were sad to say, “farewell,” to someone who will always be alive in our heart. Thank you, Marjorie. We’ll never forget you.
–Yvonne Beltzer
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Tags: Marjorie
The Brand Boulevard of Fun
Saturday Night we attended Cruise Night in Glendale for the third year. Every year we have gone to this fun event, it has grown. In fact, this year, it was like walking through a wall of people… so many had come to enjoy the artistry of hot rod renovation.
The weather was great and the cars were remarkable. This is a super civic event. it is interesting it is called “Cruise Night” because the only cruising was by people on foot admiring the cars. I remember when cruise night meant hopping into a friend’s car (with 3 or 5 others) and driving up and down the main drag .. be it Van Nuys Boulevard, Whittier Boulevard, or in my car, Main Street in Hackensack, New Jersey. The idea was to see and be seen.
Still, what Glendale put on was a fantastic block party. I salute all the people who brought their wonderful vehicles out to be admired, all the civic organizations that took part and all the people who came out to enjoy some old-fashioned fun. This year’s event was even more interesting because my niece just got her driver’s license and this has upped her interest in cars ten-fold. I do not think she wants any of the vintage models on display Saturday night, but we did have fun ooing and ahing over them.
Cruise Night seems a great example of what a city can do to bring excitement to the people in a summer plagued by house foreclosures and orbiting gasoline prices. One can only hope other towns will take note (hint, hint Burbank) and come up with some inexpensive pleasures that we all can enjoy.
—Yvonne Beltzer
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Why not have a Parade?
I love a parade.
This might date back to an event early in my life. We had just moved from Brooklyn, New York to Maywood, New Jersey on July 2nd. Two days later, we woke up to the sound of a drum and bugle corps getting ready to join in the town’s annual Fourth of July Parade.
Later, I got to march several times in this parade as a member of Girl Scout Troop 42.
Another great parade I remember is the Volunteer Firefighter Parade which took place once in Maywood and we lined up along the route to watch fire-truck after fire brigade make its way down Maywood Avenue.
Now, Burbank has its own parade, called “Burbank on Parade.” But I wonder why none of the towns around here have a 4th of July parade. Rather than salute civic pride, I would rather salute the birthday of my country. Maybe it would encourage some of the young people to have more pride in the country. The various Burbank civic organization could take part with that same pride I saw during the cancer fundraiser.
The 4th of July in Burbank has come to mean to me “grab a parking space early.” Since I live in the hills, people come up and park to see the fireworks. The idea of paying money to watch a swing band and fireworks seems elitist. People with money can celebrate –those without better find some space on the fire house lawn.
I think people who live in Burbank are patriotic, but we should come up with so ways to show this patriotism next year that can involve everybody –not just the people who have enough money to go to the Starlight Bowl.
—Yvonne Beltzer
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Tags: Parades
Antz
I do not know what makes Burbank such fertile ground for the Argentine ant. I am fighting a losing battle at my home against them. They are deceptive creatures. They seem to disappear in the winter and then when the weather heats up, they come marching in ant armies into my home.
I have tried to answer this invasion with all kind of home remedies since my husband is dead set against the use of any poisons in our house. (Every once in a while I try to sneak one past him when the ant invasion turns into a plague). I have sprayed lemon juice and dish detergent on their trails. They simply check their ant GPS and find another route into my cupboards.
I know they have invaded the cat food dishes in the upstairs bathroom when my cats start giving my reproving looks. I then have to clear everything (including the cats) out of the way and launch a counter assault.
My husband explains the problem is the Argentine ants who’ve arrived in Burbank have no natural enemies and unlike the native RED ants, they have no compunction about moving indoors and taking up residence in the sugar bowl, the coffee creamer or the petfood.
But I wonder why do they want to live in Burbank? It can get really hot here and they seem to cook underground. Why can’t they just move –say –to the Westside where the temperatures are moderate and they wouldn’t even have to install air conditioning in their anthills?
Until they realize life will be better elsewhere, I am seeking any remedy that would convince them to leave my hillside home short of arsenic.
—Yvonne Beltzer
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Pins and Needles
This morning I had acupuncture for the first time in my life. For months both my knees have been aching. Nothing seems to help. I stagger along and I feel like the doctor on the TV show House popping pills. (In my case, however, the pills are either Tylenol for Arthritis or Ibuprophen.) It has been difficult to admit I cannot walk two miles. Walking 200 feet would be enough to make my knees ache. Arthritis is quite an enemy! I have had aches and pains for years, but now, they are daily events.
So my husband suggested I check out acupuncture. He had been given the name of a local acupuncturist by our orthopedist. I decided why not give it a try.
Acupuncture is an ancient Chinese medical practice in which thin needles are inserted into the body and in my case, attached to electrical impulses. Doctor Mindy Minhong Dai –the licensed acupuncturist –explained to me that it would take more than one session for it to work.
But surprisingly, six hours after undergoing the procedure for the first time, I am sitting at my desk at work with very little pain in my knees. I am not sure I understand the Chinese medical philosphy behind acupuncture but I am amazed by it thus far.
Sadly, Doctor Dai says my insurance may not pay for the treatments because she is not a physician. This is almost funny since the insurance paid for a treatment I underwent earlier this year that failed to give me much relief.
I will let you know how well this procedure is working as I undergo it.
–Yvonne Beltzer
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