Word on the Street

Voices/Perspectives of African Americans Flourish on The Root

In timing with the 100th anniversary of the NAACP and the 200th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln this week, I wrote an article for Poynter’s diversity blog about The Root. An online magazine, The Root features content from leading black writers, as well as information about genealogy. I found the site to be particularly interesting because it provides what most main stream organizations don’t — a place for voices of African Americans to flourish.

In doing research for the article, I found that news organizations are not giving diversity much play. I interviewed Mark Jurkowitz, associate director of the Pew Research Center’s Project for Excellence in Journalism, who said stories about “race, gender and gay issues” only accounted for an estimated 1 percent of the coverage the center tracked between 2007 and 2008.

The low percentage, Jurkowitz said, is likely due to the fact that the center only tracks stories that appear on the front pages of newspapers or in the first half of newscasts.

Click here to learn how The Root is trying to make up for that scarcity of diversity news.

Do you know of any other news organizations that have created niche publications, online magazines, etc., to help provide a space for diverse voices?

An Anniversary That Gets Easier with Time, and a Cat

Clara is good company, no doubt. She likes to give me Eskimo kisses.

February 9 is a day I’ll always remember. It’s the day my mom died, the day that signaled the end of a life and the beginning of my rocky journey into life without a mom. I’ve learned a lot in the past 12 years since my mom died, but I still struggle to understand why lives have to be taken so soon, why life is so unfair at times.

Every year I recount the events that led to my mom’s death, maybe as a way of making sure I don’t forget the memories of that day, painful as they are. The night before Mom died, my grandma suggested I sleep at her house. It wasn’t right, she said, to see my mother in so much pain.

I thought all along my mom would survive. At least, that’s what everyone had been telling me. As an 11-year-old, I didn’t want to believe otherwise. I didn’t want to face the “essential female tragedy,” as poet Adrienne Rich calls it, the loss of a mother to a daughter, a daughter to a mother. Even as a 2-year-old watching Bambi, this loss seemed so real.

On the day Mom died, I was in her childhood bedroom, sitting on her bed. The phone rang. My grandma answered.

“Yes? Oh my God …”

My grandma rushed upstairs, sat on the bed next to me and said, “Mal, your mom’s passed away.” So final, so hurtful, so terse.

We piled into my grandparent’s blue Buick and headed toward my house. I lay across the backseat, resting my head on my grandma’s lap, holding onto the “Rosie Red” lipstick Mom had bought me. Nervously, I twisted the cap back and forth, crushing the stick. Then I started to cry.

I spent a few minutes at my mother’s side but I wasn’t ready to let go when the men in black came and took her away.

Tell me why, Mommy, tell me why you had to leave me, I thought. Why did you desert me? Why did you promise you would stay?

Twelve years later, I still don’t know the answers to those questions. What I do know, though, is that death’s sting softens with time. While February 9 is usually a difficult day for me, I found it to be easier this year. I made a point to talk with friends and I had my new cat, Clara, to come home to.

One of the most difficult parts about losing my mom was coming home to an empty house after she died. When I’d come home from school, I always expected to see her on the couch where she slept when she was sick, but instead I would turn the lock, open the door and feel engulfed by emptiness and loneliness.

Tonight when I came home, Clara greeted me with a loud meow and cuddled up next to me throughout the night. No, she’s clearly not mom, but she’s company nonetheless. Sometimes, even pets can make us feel loved and less alone. They’re little gifts we give ourselves, gifts that reassure us that we are cared for and loved, and that we are needed. As much as I seem to need Clara, she seems to need me, too. She relentlessly follows me wherever I go and meows when I don’t give her attention. She purrs when she’s happy, which is just about every time she’s near me.

The day after I got Clara, I heard Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You” on the radio. It’s the song my mom dedicated to me before she died. I hadn’t heard it in a while, so I considered it a sign that Mom is with me and that she’s happy I have a new furry little friend. As much as I’ll remember February 9, 1997, I’ll also remember February 9, 2009 as the anniversary that wasn’t easy, but that was better than expected. Sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.

Adding to the ’25 Random Things About Me’ Craze

I usually don’t like taking part in chain letters, but I couldn’t help but want to be part of the latest “25 Random Things About Me” craze. As I read people’s 25 posts, I was intrigued by how open and honest they were.

I learned a lot about some of my Facebook friends — especially those who I don’t know very well — and felt more connected to them. That’s what social networking sites are all about, right? Connecting with people through photos, notes, status updates, 25 Things, etc.? The New York Times ran a recent article about the craze, saying:

Unlike the chain letters of yesteryear, no money changes hands and no one is threatened with apocalyptic bad luck for refusing to comply. Yet the practice has spread so far and so fast that a Google search for “25 Random Things About Me” yields 35,700 pages of results, almost all of which seem to have been created in the last two weeks.

“It’s really interesting to sit there and try to think of 25 things that you’re willing to tell other people but that they don’t already know about you,” said Ms. Morgan, a health care industry publicist who has kissed 6 1/2 boys (No. 16), is legally blind (No. 19) and didn’t go to school until the fourth grade (No. 7).

I love how the reporter, Douglas Quenqua, includes details from each person’s “25 Things” list in the story.

Here are my 25 “heartfelt observations” about myself, which I thought would be difficult to write. Turns out, I had more than 25 things I wanted to say and more than 25 people I wanted to share them with. Tonight on Facebook, one of my friends actually posted a “25 MORE Things About Me” list. I don’t think I’m quite ready to do that … yet.

1.) I’ve known I wanted to be a journalist since I was 8. “Harriet the Spy” was one of my favorite books. I emulated Harriet and would “spy” on my neighbors and ask them if they’d seen any suspicious activity lately. I’d take notes about what they said in my Lisa Frank notebook, then write stories using the info I gathered.

2.) I’m an only child. When I was younger, I loved not having brothers and sisters. Now I want them.

3.) My mother passed away from breast cancer when I was 11. Feb. 9 will be the 12-year anniversary of her death. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about how strong she was, how lucky I am to have had her for that long, and how much I wish she were still here.

4.) I love climbing trees, even though I haven’t climbed one in years. I used to be fascinated by baobab trees because of their big hollow trunks. Almost every day as a child, I climbed the maple tree in my front yard and read.

5.) One summer I made $76 from selling lemonade. To attract customers, I would get in the middle of the road and jump on my pink and green pogo stick while waving a pool noodle in the air. I lived on a quiet street near the Department of Public Works, so all the workers would stop and I’d give them a Dixie cup of Paul Newman’s lemonade. I sold crafts, too — bookmarks, pins and other things.

6.) One of these “other things” was a craft I made up called a Refwingem. I made Refwingems out of plastic disks that I decorated with glitter glue. My college friends loved hearing about me selling Refwingems, so we named our room sophomore year “Room Refwingem.” When I moved to Florida, my colleagues liked the story, too. One of my Poynter coworkers has a Refwingem hanging on his office door. Another colleague has them hanging from the window in her house.

7.) I played the clarinet for four years in middle school. I would put a chair and music stand in my front yard and start playing. Slowly, my neighbors’ doors would shut. I never understood why …

8.) I twirled the baton competitively for about eight years. I once chipped my front tooth with the baton; I was looking up and the baton came crashing down on my mouth. Ouch. I used to twirl with fire in local parades. (It’s not as scary as it sounds.)

9.) I like feeding ducks. There was a pond in the back yard of the house where I grew up. I’d literally call out “Quack, quack, quack, quack,” and the ducks would come flying out of nowhere, looking for food.

10.) I wish I weren’t such a worrywart.

11.) My favorite book is “A Little Princess” by Frances Hodgson Burnett, who also wrote “The Secret Garden.” At one point in the book, the main character, Sara Crewe, drew a circle on the floor of the attic where she was living. She said she’d be safe within that circle and that nothing could harm her if she stayed in it. I always thought this was a sad, but at the same time comforting, scene. We all need little safety circles sometimes.

12.) I’ve learned that if you want to write, you can’t let that passion slip away. I’m happiest when I’m writing and would someday like to write a memoir.

13.) Mother-daughter relationships fascinate me. In college, I wrote some papers about the subject. One of my favorites was a 25-page paper for my Contemporary Women Philosophers class about philosopher Julia Kristeva’s thoughts on motherhood. It was called: “Kristeva, Mother, and Child: Finding Hope in Regaining What Has Been Lost.”

14.) My first car was a ’93 Ford Tempo that was Bimmeny Blue in color. It was my mom’s car, which we kept after she passed away. My dad let me have it as my first car, and it was a stick shift, which I’ve always preferred driving. After I graduated from college, my dad, my grandma and I drove it from Massachusetts to Florida with all of my belongings. The car was running fine until I got in an accident last year and totaled it. I miss that car!

15.) I just adopted a new cat named Clara. She is the most loving cat I’ve ever met, and she makes me so happy!

12.) I am blessed with amazing friends. I desperately miss my friends from home and college. My Providence College friends are so much fun. There are 10 of us girls who were, and still are, really close. We called our group “FBW” as in “fun before work,” even though a lot of us didn’t usually follow this motto. I just recently found out that “FBW” is actually an acronym for something terribly different. …

13.) I like living in Florida and am glad I moved away after graduation so I could grow and experience new things, but I will always have a special place in my heart for New England. I can definitely see myself moving back there someday, after I do some more traveling. I miss autumn, historic buildings, winding back roads, hills, making snow angels.

14.) I collect books and am especially fond of old, smelly books. Now if only I could find time to actually read them!

15.) I love senior citizens and babies. Seniors have such great stories and are so wise, and babies, well they’re just plain adorable. My 86-year-old grandma, who I call “gramz,” is the coolest senior I know. She just started dating her neighbor, who’s 88. They call each other “80 teens.”

16.) One of my greatest fears is being alone — not meeting the right guy, not having a family of my own.

17.) I started running track races (for kids) when I was 6 years old. I ran cross-country and track in high school and am starting to run more now. I signed up for the Gasparilla half-marathon in March but haven’t been training as much as I should. Hope to still run it.

18.) I love languages. I double majored in Spanish and English in college and do my best to keep up with Spanish. Someday, I’d like to get my master’s in Hispanic studies.

19.) I played Marian the Librarian once in “The Music Man.” This was a much better role than when I played the coroner in “The Wizard of Oz.” Librarian v. little old, male munchkin. The difference was striking.

20.) It takes a lot to make me angry.

21.) When I’m really tired, I giggle … a lot. Laughter that hurts is one of the best feelings.

22.) I’m a night owl. It’s not unusual for me to go to bed at 2 a.m. or later on weeknights.

23.) I never liked brand names. I’d take Target or Marshall’s over Abercrombie or Coach any day.

24.) I spend too much time on the computer, but it helps me feel connected to the world around me, especially when I’m home alone.

25.) I love, love, love to sing and dance. I’ll admit — I sometimes have dance parties in my room, and I’m totally “that girl” who blasts the radio in my car with the windows down and sings loudly. Singing and dancing help me step outside of my more quiet self.

What does your list include?

Meet Clara, My New Furry Friend

clara Here are some photos of my new cat Clara. She is the most loving cat I’ve ever met, and she’s quite spoiled, too. Whenever I sit down, she jumps on my lap and starts purring. She extends her paws toward my face as though she’s giving me little love taps, and then she often curls up in a ball and falls asleep. She likes to play, too, and readily uses her scratch post. She’s 4-months-old and is pretty tiny. Check back here for more updates on her growth.

Saving the Times’ ‘Modern Love’ Column for Last

I have a method for reading the newspaper: it involves reading my favorite sections last.

When reading the Sunday New York Times, saving “the best” for last means setting aside the Sunday Styles’ section — eye candy for anyone interested in quirky trends, love stories and fashion.

The styles section colors outside the lines of love, particularly in its “Modern Love” column, which exposes the imperfect, darker and funnier sides of relationships, or lack thereof. By the column’s end, you realize love is far from being perfect. Boyfriends and girlfriends fight. Couples get divorced. Men cheat on their wives, women on their husbands. The column gives off a sense, though, that despite all of love’s imperfections, it’s still worth embracing; at its core, love teaches us lessons about life and makes us feel connected to the world around us — not necessarily because we’ve shared the same experiences as someone else, but because we all have an understanding of what it’s like to be loved, or to yearn for love.

Some of my favorite “Modern Love” columns have little to do with my own experiences, but they nonetheless resonate with me. The ones that come to mind are about a young sex addict, a man who went from being an ugly frog in his younger years to a handsome grown prince, and a girl who Googled a guy before dating him, only to find that it completely backfired on her. I just learned that the column will soon feature essays from college students who will explain what love means to them.

“Modern Love” clearly isn’t the newsiest part of the paper, but it’s a nice break from all the stories about economic woes, homelessness, corruption, etc. If you’re not familiar with the column, check it out and see if you think my high rating of it holds true. You may just find a column that resonates with you.

Learning from Old Written Work

I’ve often thought that one of the best ways to improve as a writer is to go back and read your old work. Read it with a critic’s eye. Laugh when you read it. Cringe. See how far you’ve come as a writer. Lately I’ve been reading a lot of my old articles and realizing how much my voice has developed, and how much less verbose I am when writing.

I plan to occasionally post some of my old work here as an exercise in editing and to see how I’ve grown as a writer. I’ll start off with a somewhat sad piece, but one that’s meaningful to me. It’s the eulogy I wrote for my mom’s funeral. At the time, I was an 11-year-old trying to be strong for everyone else. In the eulogy, I give advice about how to deal with my mom’s death, which is ironic considering I didn’t heed any of the advice myself. Deep down, I was afraid, sad and in denial.

You can tell by the highfalutin language I use in the eulogy that my words were almost too good to be true. When I read it now, I get sad to think about the girl behind those words of encouragement, the girl who covered up her sadness with words of hope, the girl who couldn’t bear to lose the mom who everyone always told her would “be OK.”

We learn in life, though, that not everything goes as planned, that people die too soon, that it takes a while for us to come to terms with death and what it means to “move on.” Life goes on, but I’d be lying if I said the pain of death goes away. Part of moving on is being truthful to yourself and not pretending that everything’s OK.

So, too, does this apply to personal writing. When I write personal essays, I tend to end them on a really positive note, which sometimes makes the essays’ endings sound forced. I’m learning that it’s better to be real — with yourself and your readers.

Here is the eulogy. I’d be curious to hear what you think about it. Feel free to share your comments.

Robin, my mother, was a pure angel who was sent to us by the Lord Almighty. Her everlasting wings brought her here on Earth to us and brought her back up to Paradise. My mother, why she was a wonderful, loving, and sincere person. She was a person who was put on Earth to take away our deepest sorrows, worries and hurts. And truthfully that is exactly what she did.

My mother was a mighty strong fighter. She was a brave soldier in a battle. She was a hiker climbing a steep mountain, a mountain with rough, rigid rocks. And she climbed those rocks with a strong wind blowing against her. She climbed those rocks often with difficulty, and sometimes with no difficulty whatsoever. Yet the wind was just too hard to take, and it thrust her to the bottom of the mountain.

We all have to realize that even though Robin can not be seen physically be the human eye, she can be seen and heard with our hearts. Whenever you feel that you would like to speak with my mother or just tell her how much you love her, all you have to do is find the doors to your hearts and open them, and she will be right there. In fact, she is watching each and every one of us right now, at this very minute. Her spirit fills this room that we are in.

We all know that this is the beginning of a new chapter in our lives and that life goes on. For some of us right now, our courage is scattered around here and there in various places. Yet it is our responsibility, for our own good, and for Robin’s sake, that we take our hands and gather all of those pieces, big and small, to form our courage. For I know that this is what my mother would want us to do, this is what she would do.

Everything happens for a reason. Although, that reason is often hard to find. But believe me, sooner or later in life you will find that reason. Now we should all still cry, and we should always keep Robin in our hearts, but we cannot let it bother us for the rest of our lives. We can’t keep going back to that old chapter, but look forward to the new chapter in our lives, and just hope that it brings us the best of luck and much happiness.

This is hard to do, I know, to find that new chapter, but we can all do it if we try. Just think, my mother, Robin Jo Tenore, is walking along the streets of gold, she’s having the time of her life. She no longer suffers from pain. She is now in the hands of God, she is now in Heaven. A place where she truly belongs.

The Benefits of Waking Up Early

Remember a couple of weeks ago when I made a goal of going to bed by 11:30 p.m. each night? Well, I haven’t exactly met my goal. I’ve still been going to bed late and haven’t gotten much sleep lately. Habits, no doubt, are hard to break.

They are breakable, though. A friend Tweeted a blog post to me today that I found somewhat encouraging. It’s written by someone who used to be a night owl but is now an early riser. He explains some of the benefits of waking up early, including quietude, eating breakfast and exercising.

I find that on the rare occasions when I do get enough sleep and wake up early, I can appreciate the everyday gifts that sleep sometimes deprives us of: the sunrise, morning dew, cool mornings on otherwise unbearably hot days …

Here’s some advice from the blog post:

Greet the day. I love being able to get up, and greet a wonderful new day. I suggest creating a morning ritual that includes saying thanks for your blessings. I’m inspired by the Dalai Lama, who said, “Everyday, think as you wake up, ‘today I am fortunate to have woken up, I am alive, I have a precious human life, I am not going to waste it. I am going to use all my energies to develop myself, to expand my heart out to others, to achieve enlightenment for the benefit of all beings, I am going to have kind thoughts towards others, I am not going to get angry or think badly about others, I am going to benefit others as much as I can.'”

The world seems more awake in the morning. Sometimes, late at night, it feels as though the whole word is sleeping, which in turn leaves you feeling lonely. Maybe thinking about the benefits of getting up early will motivate me to go to bed earlier. Or maybe I’m just not cut out to be a morning person!

Are you a morning or a night person? Why?

Documenting Conversations on ‘Overheard in the Newsroom’

You know those days when you hear something so ridiculous or funny in the office that you just want to share it with someone? Well, now there’s apparently a Web site journalists can use to anonymously do just that.

I don’t know how legitimate the site is, and I wonder how true some of the “overheard conversations” are, but the site grabbed my interest nonetheless. Some of the comments are crass and not related to journalism, while others would make most any journalist used to working in the newsroom say: “I hate when that happens!” or “Seriously?!” Even though the posts are anonymous, I wonder about the ethics of posting to such a site.

Here are a couple of overheard lines from the last few days:

–“Do you guys take letters to the editor over the phone?”

–On deadlines: “They are just suggestions.”

–“I’m actually on deadline, but for you I’ll talk.”

–A producer talking out loud to herself about making a mug shot: “Hmm… I think I’m going to need to cut off a couple of his chins to make him fit.”

–Citizen catches several large catfish and wanted a photo of it run in the paper. Reporter: “Where do you want these catfish?”
Editor: “A frying pan works.”

The site reminds me a bit of the “Stuff Journalists Like” blog.

What do you think about “Overheard in the Newsroom”?

Obama’s Historic Inauguration Unites People, Renews Hope

Obama was posing next to Poynter's election front-page book, which was on display at Union Station. OK, so maybe he wasn't posing next to it, but we can pretend!

The masses flocked to Washington, D.C., to witness a defining moment for our generation, the swearing in of the nation’s first African American president, Barack Obama. They waited in lines, faced the cold and ran on little sleep in a city that seemed to flash continuously with lights, loud noises and waving flags. And yet amidst all the chaos that ensued, there was an overwhelming sense of calm.

As one of the millions who descended upon the city, I saw the smiles of people on the Mall, felt the touch of shoulders squeezing me tight, heard the stories of people who had traveled from afar. I felt like a freshman in college as I answered questions from people I met.

“What’s your name?” “Where are you from?” “When did you get here?”

People asked these questions with what seemed like a genuine sense of curiosity and care. Even the huffing-puffing, eye-rolling people (myself included) who couldn’t push past the crowds shed some smiles when one of the Obama volunteers called out, “Alright everybody, we need to make this line narrower! We don’t cut people in Obama’s country!”

“Right this way, right this way,” another volunteer yelled, motioning her arms like a traffic cop. “We’re all going to be happy, healthy and ‘huggy’ today.”

One man I talked to said he had been to four inaugurations but had never experienced one like Obama’s.

“This one just feels different, ya know?” he said. “The energy — man it’s strong.”

The guy had traveled from Florida and watched the inauguration with friends who he met up with in D.C. He said he hopes Obama will bring together people, Republicans and Democrats alike.

A mother standing by me shortly before the inauguration reached up and grabbed the hand of her son, who was sitting atop his dad’s shoulders. “Say bye-bye Bush, bye-bye Bush,” she told her son, who quietly shouted the refrain.

People partying on U Street the night before the inauguration sang in the streets and jammed to a chorus of “Ohhhh-baaa-ma, Ohhhh-baaa-ma …” Everyone was noticeably friendly and generous that night and on Inauguration Day and the day after. Take my experience on the Marc train. While heading from D.C. to Baltimore the day after the inauguration, I overheard a woman say she waited in line for a ticket ahead of time but didn’t make it to the front of the line before the train arrived.

“Can I just pay the pre-paid price?” she asked the conductor.

“That’s fine, no worries,” the conductor said. “Just pay the $7.”

“Oh thank you!” the woman said, coyly shrugging her shoulders. “You’ve got so much good will.”

“After yesterday, I’ve got enough good will now,” the conductor said, “ to last me a lifetime.”

All of the stories I heard and the acts of kindness I saw echoed messages of “yes we can,” “we are one,” and “hope in the face of difficulty.” People of mixed races embraced one another throughout inauguration week and seemed to share in an enduring commonality rooted not in politics but in the sense that we are all in this together and that yes, maybe change is possible.

Seeing blacks, whites, Latinos, Muslims and Jews gather for a common cause made me feel happy and invigorated. My happiness stemmed from a re-affirmation of the idea that equality and acceptance don’t have to be distant buzzwords that we pretend to think are important; they can be words that we turn into actions and live out in our day-to-day lives. They can be words that help us patch together a quilted landscape of varied colors, one that brings warmth to the cold-hearted and helps mend the world’s dropped stitches and tattered edges.

It’s the patchwork Obama laid out in his inaugural speech, a “patchwork heritage” that he calls “a strength, not a weakness.”

The weaknesses Obama laid out are many. ”Our nation is at war against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred,” he acknowledged. “Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare for a new age.”

The economic woes didn’t seem all that evident the morning after the inauguration as people bought newspapers, magazines with Obama on the cover and other memorabilia. They lined up around stores and out the door, holding Obama T-shirts and stacks of The Washington Post, The New York Times and The Philadelphia Inquirer.

“How many do you want of these?” one woman asked in the Hudson News stand at Union Station.

“Oh, give me eight New York Times,” the woman with her responded.

“I think I just about snagged the last copy of The Washington Post,” one woman behind me said. Its pages were scattered all over, she said, but she picked them up and put them together again.

People stared at the covers and dirtied their fingers as they flipped through inky pages and read headlines that made boldly simple statements: “President Obama.” “The President,” and “Obama Takes Charge.”

One of my friends heard about my experience seeing so many people waiting in line for newspapers and commented, “Greeeeat. Newspapers are not much more than keepsakes now.” In some ways, he’s right: seeing people get so excited about the newspaper was like a glimpse into the past, to a time when journalism in its daily printed form attracted far more attention and dedicated, daily readers. I thought it was refreshing, though, to see so many people buy the paper and to see them actually reading it, or pretending to anyway.

Whether you embraced Obama’s inauguration and scooped up copies of the paper, or whether you joined your Republican friends and reluctantly watched the ceremony from afar, there’s a sense that it is worth remembering.

The palpable desire to celebrate this historic moment is no doubt a testimony to the novelty of the event and to the hope that the goals set forth in recent days past will become the long-awaited reality of days, months and years to come.

What was your experience like watching the inauguration?

Traveling to D.C. for Obama’s Inauguration

I’m sitting in an Amtrak station now, waiting to take a train from Baltimore to Union Station in Washington, D.C. Like millions of others, I’ve come to see the inauguration of President-elect Barack Obama.

I may not have much Internet access throughout the next few days, but you can be sure I’ll be writing more about the inauguration when I get back next Thursday.

So far, I’ve been amazed to see how friendly people are. I’ve met people from Nashville Pheonix, Baltimore and other places from around the country who have come here for the big event. One woman, Nancy, even tagged along with me from BWI to the Amtrack Station because she didn’t know exactly where she was going and wanted a “travel buddy.” (Mind you, I’m not that experienced at traveling to D.C., but I must have seemed like I knew what I was talking about!)

The children I’ve seen seem especially excited. A little girl named Bridgette, who was sitting behind me on the plane, kept asking her dad questions while we were flying.

“Are we in Heaven yet?” she asked as we flew into a cluster of clouds.

“When are we going to get to see Obama?”

“Daddy, why is the sunset so beautiful?”

She made me smile.

There’s lots more that will make me smile this week, including a concert Sunday afternoon featuring Bono, Beyonce, Bruce Sprinsteen and plenty of others. Check back for more updates …