A few random predictions on a lazy Saturday

Republican Bob McDonnell will edge out Democrat Creigh Deeds in the November gubernatorial election in Virginia. This race is being watched nationally and will act as a gauge on how the country feels things are going under the democrats in Washington. With unemployment rates continuing to rise, I expect the party not in power to win the race for the top spot in Richmond. When you run for mayor, you need to promise to keep the streets clear of snow and the garbage picked up on time. When you run for governor, you need to promise to generate jobs. Unless the unemployment rate reverses, expect the McDonnell to win, not because he has the best ideas, but because his party is like the backup quarterback on a team with a losing record. Fans get restless and want to see what the other guy can do.

Speaking of football, I see the New York Giants and Baltimore Ravens in the Super Bowl this season. The defending champion Pittsburgh Steelers had no running game the other night against the Tennessee Titans. That's a cause for concern for the black and gold nation. New England, a favorite of many people to win the AFC, simply turns my stomach, so I can't pick them. The San Diego Chargers are talented, but there is always the Norv Turner factor to consider. For local fans in Northern Virginia, sorry, but I see the Washington Redskins finishing last in the NFC East. I think the Indianapolis Colts will struggle a bit under a first-year coach and the Dallas Cowboys will have a new coach by the end of the season to go along with their new stadium with the fancy video screen that some bonehead hung too low over the playing field. So now,the NFL decided, we're going to get "do overs" whenever a punter hits the screen. I think Michael Vick will do something stupid and be banned from the league or booted by the Eagles. Remember, the Eagles didn't put up with the nonsense of Terrell Owens for very long.

HBO's trendy vampire series, True Blood, will end with a dud in this Sunday night's season finale. The show has not risen to the level of writer/director Allan Ball's other work, which includes another HBO series, Six Feet Under, and the movie, American Beauty -- one of my favorite films. Most fans want to see Maryann get whacked. I personally can't take another season of Tara and Eggs so I am hoping they both fall into a vampire pit. I am also rooting for Eric to grow his hair back and return to his old menacing self so that us guys can feel their is at least something masculine about this show. True Blood is coming back for a third season, so expect a cliffhanger at the end. I don't think they will mess with Sam possibly dying, because they already did that earlier this season. And everyone knows the main characters, Sookie and Bill, aren't going to bite the dust. I predict the cliffhanger will involve the nature of Sookie's powers and whether or not someone else is turned into a vampire.

And finally, I am predicting that this winter will be brutally cold in the east. Of course, I am only basing that prediction on the last two days. Seems far too early around these parts to have temperatures only reaching into the upper 60s. The air conditioning hasn't gone on in days and people around Northern Virginia are forgoing the shorts and returning to long pants and jeans. Fortunately, it appears temperatures will be back in the 80s by tomorrow.

"The Last Truck" documents more than just the demise of a GM assembly plant

HBO has been airing a documentary about a GM truck plant closing in Ohio. It centers on the people who are counting down the final days until they are unemployed. It's not so much about why the plant is closing as it is the sense of personal loss.

"The Last Truck" is about assembly line workers, male and female, but it could be about any occupation in any town, blue or white collar. In under an hour, the film accurately captures what it is like to lose a job that you felt connected to in some way other than just by a paycheck. It gets into many of the human aspects of working along side people for years, and what it is like when those good and bad times cease. Of course, it also touches on the financial hardships that are inevitable with any layoff. Businesses in town that relied on workers from the plant pumping dollars into the local economy were also impacted by GM's decision to close the plant.

The down-to-earth folks in this film will make you tear up, particularly if you've ever experienced a profound job loss. You will realize that we in the middle class all have a lot in common regardless of where we live or whether we work behind a computer or with our hands and backs. Anger at top management for abuses that got GM into financial trouble was evident. Fear of the future came through loud and clear. Frustration with the direction this country is going as our dependency on foreign manufacturing continues was another theme. Some mentioned the billions spent on war and aid to foreign nations while we do less and less for our own people.

These folks talked a lot about pride in a job well done and friendships, too. And while their jobs have been difficult, losing them has been far worse. Some will undoubtedly land on their feet, and may even get better jobs, but most folks probably won't. A 10-minute followup segment that provided updates on these plant workers' eight months after the plant closing indicated that not one person featured in the film had found a new job. Several of the people in the documentary were over 45 years old and with limited options.

I felt for these people. But I also knew they'd have each other, at least for a while. They were all leaving their jobs together as soon as the last truck was completed. Many lived on the same streets in town. None of these GM workers would be alone if they didn't want to be. There was no sense of failing or being cast out as individuals. They went to work together every morning and they left the plant together on the final day, consoling each other in the parking lot and the nearby pubs. There were no secret layoffs where two or three people disappeared in middle of the day.

Many of the sentiments expressed by the plant workers showed classic Midwestern values and sensibilities. They spoke in ways that Harvard professors and Washington politicians can't relate to anymore. And that's part of the problem with the way this country is going. The middle class is disappearing. The elites continue to thrive. CEOs still get bonuses, not for being smart or honest, but for being ruthless and shortsighted. We're rewarding and empowering all the wrong people.

It's beginning to feel as though we need some form of a revolution to right the ship and to restore some basic and time-tested values.

Like many HBO documentaries, "The Last Truck" is very well done and told mostly through the words of real people, not ego-driven TV journalists who like to hog camera time. I wish there was a way to get more people to watch shows like this. Not only does it raise the cultural bar a bit, it might just help turn things around with how this country is run. Corporate America and do-nothing politicians had their shot in the driver's seat and drove us into a brick wall. It's time for a new approach. Maybe it's time to go back to the future. I end with a quote from Thomas Jefferson:

"If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their money, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them (around the banks), will deprive the people of their property until their children will wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered."

A slap to the face of an innocent child

I saw a mother slap her young daughter in the face today while standing in the parking lot outside of a pet supply store. The daughter's crime: Playfully yelling out to her sister, standing about 30 feet away, to make sure their dog uses the grass to "go to the bathroom."

I won't describe my actions that followed. Suffice to say, I didn't walk away.

The girl, probably about 10, teared up and held her face in a state of disbelief. She had a look in her eyes that didn't quite grasp why the person she presumably loves the most would slap her like that for no apparent or justifiable reason. It was right out in the open, which makes me wonder what goes on behind closed doors. The parent screamed at the girl, "I am the mother, not you!"

When sacred trusts are betrayed by parents, children usually will forgive...for a while. When it becomes a pattern, forgiving isn't so easy. Violence against children, verbal or physical, often causes those children to grow up with trust and anger issues that may not be resolved in adulthood.

When any of us are hurt by the ones we care the most about, it always stings a lot more than if the assault came from a stranger. When the hurt is inflicted upon an innocent child for no other reason than the adult being frustrated with their own life, it becomes criminal in my mind.

You don't see people hit their kids in public very often these days. If they do, it's usually a mild whack to the butt for stepping out into the street. What I saw today wasn't that. It was the act of a woman who was obviously angry about other things and decided to take it out on the cheek of her daughter. I am seeing a lot of anger and frustration everywhere lately.

It will take several more hours or days to get that image out of my mind.

I have come to realize in recent weeks that there is a profound mood swing going on in society. I don't know if it's caused by the bad economy, our growing sense of entitlement or something more cosmic. But it appears to me people are losing it, for lack of a better description. Losing their patience on the road. Losing their ability to empathize. Losing a sense of common courtesy. You see it in all forms. Today, unfortunately, I saw it in the welt on a young girl's face.

Rush Limbaugh has a meltdown moment

In general, I like talk radio. I don't really care if the host is conservative or liberal. I just want them to have an opinion and to express it in a somewhat articulate and entertaining fashion. However, today, Rush Limbaugh seemingly lost whatever grip he had on reality by going nuts about President Obama's urging of citizens to perform some public service to honor the memory of those killed on Sept. 11, 2001. This is kind of like opposing oxygen.

It seems no matter what one side says or does, the opposition will portray it as evil, which is why my favorite talk show host is Michael Savage. The San Francisco-based broadcaster, who is originally from New York, tells it like it is -- a seemingly common trait among many people who were raised in NYC. His mistrust of all politicians is a refreshing approach. Savage's unbiased dislike of almost everything other than animals, good food and music, warms my heart. Here's a link to Savage's web site: http://www.michaelsavage.wnd.com/

Are Americans letting their guard down again?

I was at home, in small temporary apartment in Reston, Va., getting ready to start another work day. The TV was on. At first, the reports of a single plane hitting the World Trade Center in New York were sketchy. It seemed like it was a small plane involved in accident. Bad but not horrible. I kept an eye on the news reports because that was part of my job. As a journalist, I had to be aware of what was going on in the world because it would impact how my day and night would unfold at USA TODAY. It wasn't long before I was on the phone with folks in the newsroom.

Of course, Sept. 11, 2001 involved something much worse than a small plane colliding into a skyscraper. The Twin Towers were struck by two commercial airliners that were taken over by terrorists. The building that I worked in just outside of Washington D.C. was only a couple miles away from the next terrorist target, the Pentagon. The former USA TODAY building is the tallest structure in the area and some people who were at work early that day saw the plane flying low, right outside the windows, along the Potomac River. Even though Reagan National Airport is also just up the road, the jet seemed too low. Moments later, American Airlines Flight 77 hit the Pentagon.

It was hard getting to work that afternoon. All roads in Arlington were closed. But with my press badge, I managed to convince police to let me through. The smell of smoke was in the air. I could only imagine what the scene was like in New York. When I entered my office building, the newsroom was humming. Not only was this going to be a journalistic challenge, but it was also somewhat personal. The low-flying jet, which some people estimated to be only a couple hundred yards from our office building when it erratically flew by, hit the defense department mega structure that many of my coworkers drove by every single day and was the site of where some of our friends and neighbors worked. The Pentagon is massive and employs thousands of people from D.C., Maryland and Virginia.

Yet, things could have been worse. A fourth plane that was heading to Washington was heroically taken over by passengers and crashed in a field in Pennsylvania before the terrorists could guide it to their intended target.

By now, we all know the story. The tragic day has been well documented. The personal stories and official investigations have been told. Memorials have been erected in Pennsylvania and Northern Virginia. The Pentagon has been fully restored. The southern edge of Manhattan is still scarred but maybe that's not an entirely bad thing. Sometimes we need raw reminders.

I was working in New York City during the first terrorist attempt to bring down the Twin Towers. I was at The Associated Press when car bombs went off in 1993. There was a lot of damage in the underground garage but no threat of the building collapsing. That attack should have been a wake-up call.

As a teenager growing up in Rockland County, N.Y., I recall seeing the tops of the newly built Twin Towers from a vantage point near my house up on a hill on Route 301. From 30 miles away, nothing else in the city was visible other than the towers.

I also recall taking my daughter to the towers when she was a young girl. We stood at the base and looked up. It was an intimidating site for anyone, let alone a child who hadn't previously seen any building taller than several stories. I asked her if she wanted to take the elevator to the top. But she was pretty determined to simply enjoy the view from ground level. As someone who doesn't like heights, I must admit I was somewhat relieved.

While we argue about health-care reform and worry about unemployment, we also need to pause on days like today and quietly remember what happened in 2001. We also need to act, be aware of our surroundings, report suspicious activity whether it's at the airport or in our own neighborhoods. It never ceases to amaze me how unaware we are of things that are often in our immediate view. I remember a time, growing up in New York, when people called the police for just about anything. Now, at least where I live, someone in robes with "death-to-America" signs could be openly constructing a bomb in the middle of the parking lot at Chuck E. Cheese's, and no one would say boo.

It's cloudy here today, very unlike the sparkling September 11th day eight years ago. I can't help feeling that there is something in the air that indicates we are far from safe. 9/11 was a wake-up call, but Americans tend to get lulled back into a false sense of security rather quickly. We don't want to believe that another 9/11 type of event could disrupt us from going to the mall or hamper our cellphone service...God forbid.

A shoot-first mentality in the suburbs

PETA is trying to stop a planned bowhunt of deer in a Leesburg, Va., community. Read about it here:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/09/08/AR2009090803886.html

Granted, the deer population in Northern Virginia is out of control. I saw a fawn in a park near my home in Sterling recently. It was alone and calling out to its mother. I presumed the fawn was lost or perhaps the mother died on Algonkian Parkway like so many other deer. The parkway runs along a highly residential area that hugs the Potomac River. Drivers consistently speed along this stretch of road and kill deer almost daily. It was heartbreaking to see a tiny animal wondering around making such a distressed sound, knowing its mom had probably perished under the wheels of a BMW or Lexus in this affluent, self-absorbed area of the state.

I saw an adult deer once that must have been hit by a car before I passed by it on Route 7 near Reston. It was still alive and sitting up in an awkward position, twisted and totally stunned, and probably about to die. Again, a very distressing thing to see. I still remember the look in its eyes that reflected the glare from my headlights.

But shooting deer with arrows in a subdivision doesn't appear very smart or humane to me. I must agree with PETA's stance on this. There should be a better way to solve the problem.

It seems every time there is a wildlife issue anywhere in this country, man's first choice is to shoot it. Sometimes wildlife is an inconvenience to us, so we rather blast away than have our rose gardens disrupted. We don't like when those damn geese poop on our pristine walking paths, either. Often, we pretend that burying an arrow or bullet in the skull of an animal is somehow good for nature. Of course, it's not so good when the hunter misses and the animal runs off with a wounded leg and slowly bleeds out over 12 or 24 hours.

We like to pride ourselves on being the smartest creatures on the planet, but never seem to want to stretch our imaginations too much to solve problems (often ones which we created in the first place) in less violent manners.

Every picture tells a story

I don't know a lot about this photograph. I found it on the Internet a few years ago.

I know that my grandfather, Anthony Calvacca, is the man pictured second from the right. He was the chief photographer of the New York Post, but is without his camera in this picture. I assume he's in the company of other newspaper folks and perhaps their spouses. Most everyone called him Tony.

Obviously, this group of people is on a boat or ferry, presumably somewhere around New York City. From the style of clothing and the apparent age of my grandfather, I am guessing this picture was taken in the late 50s or early 60s.

My grandfather, and later my father (a news cameraman for WNBC and WABC), were Big Apple-media guys, each with their own unique stories and colorful experiences.

My father, Michael Calvacca, was in Time magazine for getting in fight with another television station news crew during a union dispute. Another story for another day. He also came to the rescue of Mason Reese, while doing a story about the child actor. Reese evidently was being harassed on the street by a mean-spirited passerby. My father won an Emmy and was pretty highly regarded in New York City media circles. He was friends with on-camera personalities such as sportscaster Marv Albert. When he died, WABC aired a 90-second obit/dedication at the end of the evening newscast. That's a lot of air time to give to one of your own.

My grandfather was a newspaper guy in the grittiest, street-wise sense. His photographs often appeared on the front of the tabloid. He was fearless in making great images. He helped friends and relatives get into the business. It was an era when friends helped other deserving friends get a job.

I know a lot less about my grandfather's career, but I do remember that when he retired, Mayor Beame held a farewell dinner at City Hall for him. Not bad for a newspaper photographer without an education and who worked on a family farm in New Jersey early in his life.

My career in journalism has been a bit different. Less glamorous, among other things.

I entered the newspaper business about the time it was transitioning from sort of a blue-collar, rough-and-tumble industry, to a more corporate, college-educated profession. It was an adjustment for me because of what my first-hand view of what journalism was before the locker room mentality of newsrooms was cleaned up. During my time at newspapers, journalism became more corporate. Like in many other businesses, you got ahead by playing the game more than by what you knew or how hard you worked.

But there is one unfortunate thing I share with my father and grandfather. We all were laid off or forced to retire too early.

My father was laid off from WNBC after winning an Emmy. Television news reports were transitioning from film to video tape in the 70s. There was no longer a need for the artful cameramen who documented news stories in the field in a similar manner to the way classic movies were filmed. Any schmuck with a video camera could create images by simply pointing a camera at a burning building or any other news event. And they could do it for far less money than the film craftsmen. Of course, the creativity and quality of video tape couldn't compete with film. But film itself was far too expensive. Tape was a bargain. Plus, the bean counters calculated that the average TV newscast viewer probably didn't care about quality. Our culture was quickly moving to a fast-food mentality across the board. You saw it in music, movies and even the nightly newscasts.

Fast forward to 2009 and look at all the video on so-called news web sites. The quality and composition is horrible, yet everyone within the industry runs around patting themselves on the backs like they are all a bunch of Frederico Fellini proteges. There isn't anything artful or even journalistic about most amateur video streaming online.

So while the technology improves, the creative capabilities continue to get watered down. Maybe one day the art of visual journalism will return, but for now, we're stuck with "citizen journalists" with camera phones because someone in power has determined that that is what will make their web sites profitable. Those who once aspired to be National Geographic photographers probably should look into wedding photography gigs.

My grandfather was pushed into retirement, not because he couldn't make compelling pictures anymore, but because he was no longer the future. I don't recall how old he was at the end, but I sure know he didn't want to call it quits. I remember stories about the dishonorable tactics the new owners of the New York Post used to get rid of anyone over a certain age. Despite my grandfather's unbelievable work ethics and dedication, not to mention ability to make pictures that helped put the Post on top back in the day, he was sent packing.

I see my grandfather in this black and white picture, on top of the world, and rubbing elbows with New York City's movers and shakers. I don't know the exact context of the picture, but I do know what it feels like to have the respect of others in your field. I see respect in that photograph.

USA TODAY let me go at age 51. As I outlined in an August posting, the circumstances of my being laid off stunk and involved more than just age. I am in a fairly profound jam as a result of one or two trivial-minded people making irrational decisions at a time when it's not good to be without a job. I turn 52 later this month. I don't feel that old because I am still very much involved in everything from new technologies to blasting away on my Stratocaster guitar through my Marshall amplifier. But those are hobbies, not a career.

Predictions of employment continuing to climb are reported almost daily. The newspaper business is in trouble and other businesses aren't doing much better. I, like so many other Americans, am just fighting to survive one day at a time, hoping that someone will see the many benefits I could bring to their business.

When I say survive, I do literally mean survive.

My grandfather died a short time after he was forced into retirement. He once told me, with a certain resignation in his voice, that there is only so much golf he could play. In my case, there is only so much blogging I can do or rock bands I can form or join.

My father got cancer a couple years after his layoff and died in his 50s. His passion was golf, much like my grandfather's. It wasn't enough to keep him healthy during his period of unemployment.

You can imagine some of the thoughts that run through my mind as I try to get back into the workplace. But when I look at that photograph, I come to realize something else. Nothing lasts forever. Our time on this planet is very short. Our time on top of our careers is even shorter. The concept of fairness in the workplace is as obsolete as film in a news camera. There is no rule that says just because I went to college, had an outstanding track record during my career, that I can't end up living on the streets in five or 10 years.

Yes, 50something is too young to not be working. I have so much to offer now that I didn't when I was in my 20s or 30s. Seasoning, perspective, a mountain of skills and life experience to name a few. Assets that could help any company make money. Trying to convince employers of that is quite a challenge these days. When I was in my 20s and 30s, and didn't have much versatility, all I needed to do to find work was send out a few resumes. Boy, what an upside-down world.

I don't want to give up on journalism quite yet, even though some say I should. It's hard to walk away from something that has been in your blood. I don't like the trends I see in journalism, but rather than criticize them in a blog, I would prefer to be part of the solution in a job. Whether I get another shot or not remains as big a mystery as that photograph of my grandfather.

Let it be

The Beatles never seem to go away. Never seem to find their proper resting place in music history. Half of them are dead. One still tours. And the fourth, Ringo, probably thanks the rock gods daily for the good fortune of being in the band of the century with just mediocre drumming talent and vocal ability that isn't exactly in the same league as Robert Plant. I must say, however, I liked Ringo in the movie, "Caveman."

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate The Beatles. I own a few of their CDs. I loved Abbey Road. I liked them more when they became a little scruffier later in their careers, but appreciate their entire body of work despite the silly suits and cereal bowl haircuts in the early 60s.

However, all the latest hoopla over the Fab Four is becoming a little annoying because it's no longer about the music. It's about making money. How many times are people going to try to get rich off of this band by repackaging the same old songs? The latest venture involves the remastering, in stereo, of classic Beatles albums. This comes on the heals of new video games that feature the band's music. Over the years, marketing experts, record companies and others have given us Beatlemania and Cirque du Soleil's LOVE. We've had box sets and gone from vinyl to tape to CD. You could spend hundreds of dollars just repurchasing the same Beatles albums in different formats. And don't forget all the DVDs.

I am not buying anymore Beatles stuff, just like I am not buying anymore Jimi Hendrix albums. I am a Rolling Stones kind of guy, anyway. Always preferred the Stones' bad boy image and edgier music. And say what you will about Mick and the boys, but at least they are still putting out new music and performing for audiences. And for the most part, they are all still alive. Only bassist Bill Wyman has left the band. And no one paid attention to him anyway. Of course, Brian Jones, a guitarist, died many years ago. His eventual replacement, Ron Wood, has carried on very nicely for decades.

I think all this Beatles marketing is just another indication of how bad music is today. I find myself going back in time and listening to artists who predated me rather than moving forward to listen to hip-hop or other types of modern music. I rather listen to Sinatra, Cash or The Temptations than endure yet another rap song with the same exact beat as thousands of other rap songs. But even with that said, I can't keep plunging into my wallet to buy another version of Help!

The Beatles are one of the greatest musical groups in any era in any genre, but until science (or music companies) figure out a way to get Paul, John, Ringo and George back into the recording studio or on stage at Wolf Trap, I am done spending money on their music.

Lynchburg College loses a legend

Unless you are immersed in the history of college soccer or went to Lynchburg College sometime in the last five decades or so, you probably haven't heard of Bill Shellenberger.

Sports Illustrated did an article in the late 1970s about the Lynchburg College soccer coach. Shellenberger had just broken the record for most wins of any college soccer coach in any division. For a small, division III school, this was quite an accomplishment.

Shellenberger died this week. He was 88 years old.

Lynchburg College doesn't have a football team. When I was getting ready to attend the school in 1975, I was mildly taken aback by this. I mean, what's college without a football team to cheer in the fall? I quickly discovered part of the reason why LC didn't have a football program.

Soccer ruled at this liberal arts school in southern Virginia. No one really wanted a football team. We intimidated soccer teams from much larger schools, often beating their scholarship players with our rag-tag, non-scholarship team. It reached a point where division I schools like the University of Virginia -- known for a pretty good soccer program at the top level of the NCAA -- wouldn't play Lynchburg College. There was nothing to be gained by the mighty Cavaliers losing to a smaller school. So they took their ball and went home.

Soccer games at LC were an event. The field was right in front of the three main men's dorms, so watching the games was easy. In the 1970s, the students were a bit out of control in their enthusiasm for the soccer team. I fully admit that fans often crossed lines in adding to the intimidation factor as opposing teams walked by us to take the field or to go to the locker room at halftime.

But the main reason for the team's success was its coach. Shellenberger was one of those rare people, an educator in the best sense, who would have succeeded in leading any team or group of young people. As sports editor of the college newspaper, I interviewed Shellenberger many times. I didn't always write complimentary articles about the team, but he never took anything that I said personally. He was always accommodating.

My last encounter with Shellenberger was at the graduation ceremony in 1979. He was part of the contingent of professors and various dignitaries on stage. As I received my diploma and handshake from the school president, I saw Shellenberger get out of his seat and take a step towards me. As I was about to leave the stage, he shook my hand and gave me that great smile as I headed out into the world.

Today, I too am smiling as the coach embarks on a new journey.

Talent and potential aren't always enough

Well, the "Favorite New York Yankee since 1960" poll is winding down. It appears Derek Jeter will edge out Mickey Mantle for the top spot. I met Mantle a couple times towards the end of his playing days, so I was sort of rooting for him, but Jeter is a great player in his own right and probably a lot nicer than the Mick. Mantle was not a big fan of having his picture taken with brats like me, although I do have some standing with him inside the tunnel near the dugout.

I liked roaming around Yankee Stadium in the 1960s, having my picture taken with guys like Joe Pepitone. Yes, that's me with Pepitone, circa 1965. Pepitone was one of the first players to use hair products for men. He was also the first major leaguer to blow dry his hair. He had a ton of potential to be a Yankee great, but vanity and some legal problems hampered his career. Now he's just a punch line on HBO's "Curb Your Enthusiasm." Sometimes talent and potential aren't enough.

Beware of scams against the unemployed

Unemployed folks face many pressures and are vulnerable to a variety of online scams because of their growing frustrations with being unable to find viable work. Two popular cons are selling insurance on commission and paying for advice on investing in a franchise. There are also work-at-home scams, educational ploys and other variations of all these things.

Below is the top portion of an e-mail I received today. I have gotten this one before. When I clicked the link to their site, there were feel-good pictures of families laughing in fields and older people smiling in front of inspiring sunsets. I guess they represent how satisfied people are with this online service.

I offer this posting as a warning that predators often hunt for the weak. Don't lose whatever resources you have left by falling for this junk. In tough times, bad people prey upon good people. My only hope is that one day these vultures will face some sort of cosmic payback.

Dear Mick,

I’d love to speak with you about your resume. 

Despite recent economic conditions, a few industries have experienced success - 
one of them being the franchise industry.  I have been hired to (hand select) 
and invite qualified individuals with managerial/leadership backgrounds (to 
explore franchise opportunities).  Based on your credentials, I feel you may be 
a good fit...

Old desk ornament with new meaning

A former colleague of mine gave me a magnet several years ago with a quotation on it. It's one of the few things I collected from my desk and brought home with me after being laid off at USA TODAY.

"If you're going through Hell, keep going ..."
- Winston Churchill

Northern Virginia lacks a smart-growth plan

In 1993, Disney was planning a theme park in Northern Virginia. It was to be called, "Disney's America." The company never broke ground. By 1995, Disney abandoned the project under pressure from preservationists and a fair number of rich folks who live in that part of the state, about 20 miles west of Manassas, Va.

It was about 3 a.m. when I got word from a reporter that Disney was leaving. I was the managing editor of the Manassas daily newspaper. This was big news. David had defeated Goliath.

Manassas is about 35 miles west of Washington D.C. The town is mainly known for two major Civil War battles and, in more modern times, a woman who cut off her husband's penis for abusing her. The folks who wanted to protect sacred Civil War lands from commercialization were dead set against the theme park, as were some wealthy actors, entertainers and D.C. business leaders who lived in the peaceful rolling hills where the park was to be built. They didn't want the extra traffic and other perceived problems the park would bring. Disney promised new roads, jobs and a classy park, but it wasn't enough for some people to lay down their arms in Prince William County.

Bottom line, Disney got tired of dealing with the protests and bad press. Many Virginians felt they didn't need Disney's version of how America was formed. Many felt there was enough real history all around them. Construction wasn't only slowed down, it was stopped before the first tree was chopped down. The giant Disney corporation left town.

I thought about Disney's defeat the other day as I drove up Route 7 towards Leesburg. There is so much construction of enormous shopping centers and office/residential projects that many cars were caked in dirt that is kicked up 12-16 hours a day from bulldozers leveling everything in sight along a 10-mile stretch of road east of Dulles International Airport, not all that far from where Disney's America was to be built. The traffic crawled, as it does all around Northern Virginia on most days. It's becoming a very ugly part of Loudoun County.

Developers continue to pressure politicians to let them build. When the arm twisting isn't enough, legal action usually follows, and another Wal-Mart is built and another cookie-cutter townhouse community is erected. If given a choice between a Disney theme park and the constant ravaging of the land in Prince William and Loudoun counties by transient builders, I would have taken the theme park.

I can't help feeling that while a significant battle was won in 1995, a war is being lost in 2009. Not even the current recession is stopping developers from making a quick buck by scarring the land and clogging the roads. It's time, I believe, for Northern Virginians to organize, much the way they did when they stopped Disney's America over a decade ago. Mindless growth has to be contained.

Homestead, Fla., and the Hotel Redland

It was a cooler-than-normal, sometimes rainy, Labor Day in Sterling, Va., today. The fall itself is not a season to be feared in Virginia, which is one of the reasons I live here and not in northern Maine. The fall can actually be quite beautiful. Unfortunately, fall gives way to winter. And for those of us who aren't fans of temperatures below 50 degrees, winter can be difficult to contend with. Inevitably, by Thanksgiving, my thoughts turn to my days in Florida. Those thoughts are a bit early this year and might be more age-related than climate related.

I lived in Homestead, Fla., for about five years in the early 1980s. Homestead is a small town south of Miami. A stone's throw from the Florida Keys. It was rough place to live at times. Crime and poverty took hold of the agricultural town and didn't let go until Hurricane Andrew flattened it. Then everything left. Eventually, long after I departed, Homestead rebuilt. Now it's the home of a NASCAR facility as well as a revitalized downtown district and other amenities on the edge of the Everglades. It's still no Miami or Coral Gables, and never will be, but it's on the mend and a lot cheaper to live in than the pricier neighborhoods 25 miles up the turnpike.

I will always remember the grittier Homestead, pre-Andrew, when I hung out at a local boarding house known as the Hotel Redland. The flop house was owned by a man named Ben Lonic. Ben also lived in the hotel with his wife. It was located across the street from the newspaper where I worked, the South Dade News-Leader. Ben could be spotted on his porch, sometimes pulling out an old sofa from the lobby that caught fire again from a cigarette. Or perhaps he'd be seen throwing a border out who hadn't paid their rent in weeks.

Ben was a fair-skinned, white-haired man in his early 50s, about the age I am now, with large tattooed forearms and a formidable belly. He loved boxing and managed some of the young fighters in town, mostly minorities, who were hoping to get out of the nearby migrant camps through professional fighting. His most successful fighter was a kid named Johnny Torres. But even Johnny didn't make it very far in boxing. He got beat badly in his only televised bout.

I enjoyed writing about boxing because of the human stories behind the fighters and where they came from and wanted to go. A lot of hope and much despair, but always great images to try to describe. This was a very colorful sport that did not have the glitter of other professional sports. In a way, despite all the corruption and brutality, it was the purist of sports because it was not rooted in expensive camps and private lessons for rich kids.

Ben would hold court on the porch of his hotel for hours, talking about this fighter or that fighter who, in his mind, were a punch or two away from being champions. Ben fought with Homestead officials to keep a practice ring in his backyard. He fought government officials to open a gym down the street in an old abandoned building. He drove underprivileged kids into Hialeah and points farther north so they could compete. I don't remember the make or model of his car, but I remember it was in as bad a shape as the hotel.

Ben died in the hotel one morning. Heart attack. I ran over to see why the ambulance was there. His body was being removed. His face was blue. Rescuers had an oxygen mask on him, but I was sure Ben was dead.

I remember talking with Ben the previous day on the steps of his hotel. He was complaining a lot about what he thought was an ulcer from the stress he was feeling from fighting with town leaders on a routine basis. It was another hot, humid South Florida day. I was there with pen and pad in hand, looking for a story. But as was so often the case, we just started talking about life in general. I watched him touch the area near his breastbone a few times. Ben was not one to complain about pain. I saw his arm on fire once and he barely said a thing about it. But this was different.

Despite many bouts with crime, bugs the size of Buicks and even deaths of acquaintances, I remember my days in Florida fondly, sitting on porch of the Hotel Redland or roaming around the Coconut Grove or Key Biscayne. The Miami Zoo opened and I took my one-year-old daughter there to see the white tigers. I enjoyed going to Miami Dolphin games and eating stone crabs. I liked being a newspaper guy, even when the letters to the editor weren't so complimentary.

I am glad the hotel is still there, apparently renovated and designated as a historic site. While the newspaper died with Hurricane Andrew, Ben's hotel remains. Nice to see some things survive natural and man-made assaults, at least for a while. While age eventually catches up with everything and everyone, good memories have a way of living on a little longer.

Jury is out on online networking

As Labor Day weekend winds down, I was wondering how many people actually find jobs via online social or professional networking. The first thing I was told to do when I was laid off was to get involved as much as possible with various networking sites. I joined everything I could and have participated in professional online discussions on a regular basis. Recently, I started this blog just to step things up a bit. Short, meaningless blurbs on Twitter just isn't my style. But I am truly immersed in this stuff.

Has it been worth it? Am I more likely to be hired or do I appear more tech savvy because of saturation networking? I think the jury is still out, but a verdict is nearing.

I am wondering whether online networking actually produces results for job seekers. Nine months into this and all I get for all my online interactions is the occasional "hang in there" or generic advice about seeking out freelance jobs. I also get a ton of junk mail now, mostly from insurance companies trying to get me to sell policies on commission. Even less reputable scams have filled my inbox since I have thrown my hat into sites like CareerBuilder.com and Monster.com. Those are job sites and not networking sites, per se, but they still seem as ineffective as the interactive, social sites. Even targeted job databases, like journalismjobs.com, seem fairly ineffective.

Yes, sites like LinkedIn are interesting and sort of provide a way to stay in the conversation through smart interactive options, but does anyone have any data on how many people are hired through networking on LinkedIn or any other site or database? Perhaps it depends on the field one is in. As a journalist, I haven't had any luck, but that could be because journalism is hurting right now. Yet, every media company nowadays demands that reporters and editors have web-savvy knowledge and skills. Having those things, however, is no guarantee that you will find or keep your job. You can seemingly get fired just as easily for spending too much time on Facebook as too little time on it. I often find myself wishing we could go back to judging potential job candidates on their work ethics, abilities, talents, intelligence and not on whether they know how to type with their thumbs or make smiley faces in messages sent from their iPhones.

You can Google my name and find out almost anything about me, from my musical interests to my vast professional experiences. You can find videos of my bands on YouTube. You can read my old newspaper clips and see which states I've lived in. You can view pages that I have helped design or read numerous professional recommendations of me written by my former colleagues. Yet, despite this significant online presence, I have not always felt that plastering myself all over the Internet has been time well spent.

Are social and professional networking sites truly benefiting anyone other than the people who profit from these things? Are some employers placing too much weight on whether you actively blog or have a MySpace profile? I guess as I continue to blog and interact on other sites, I will discover whether there are practical benefits to spending so much time online.