Whitney

How can I NOT do a post about Whitney Houston?

I wasn't ever a huge Whitney fan. It's not that I disliked her - I'd watch a video if it popped up on MTV, but I never bought any of her records. But there is no denying she was one of the top selling pop singers of all time, which translated into MANY fans. And little did I know until she passed away that she was from New Jersey. Newark, NJ, in fact. Which is about 15 miles from where I now live. And little did I know that her father was laid to rest in the cemetery in the town I now reside (population of about 30K - more people went to the universities I attended than live in my town).

But with the coverage her death received here (and I'm sure it was a lot elsewhere on national news, but we got it in all the local news too), there is no way I'll ever forget where she was from.

I don't begrudge her the press her death has received. In fact, I've become somewhat appalled by some of the comments I've seen on coverage of it. Lots of people decrying the fact that so much airtime and press is being given to a "druggie" and "crackhead". But what it comes down to is that she DID sell all those records and she DID have many, many fans. And she let her demons get the better of her.

There were two very good things I read recently about her. One was the writeup in People Magazine about her life. Not that People is usually hard-hitting journalism, but this article did a great job in pointing out the two sides to Whitney's life. She grew up on the mean streets of Newark. Yes, she was big in her church, but she certainly wasn't from some white-bread suburb. She grew up on the streets, liked to party, and liked to be herself with those that knew her best. She was also a product of the music industry, packaged up and sold as this great crossover star - a sweet pop princess all the way. And that the stress of having to hold up that sweet pop facade was hard on her when it wasn't who she actually was inside. Everyone was surprised when she married Bobby Brown, but apparently people that knew her well say it wasn't that big a surprise for who she really was.

The other interesting thing I read was a column in the Newark newspaper (which is my local paper). It pointed out how the story of Whitney (and Michael Jackson, and Elvis, etc.) should really drive home the point that drug addiction is VERY hard to beat. Everybody knows how bad it is for you, and knows rehab and such is how to kick the habit, but when people who have the means to try every route can't seem to break their addictions you know it must be a hard thing to achieve.

So I feel very sorry for Whitney. I feel sorry for her mother and her daughter. I feel sorry for her fans who I'm sure all hoped she would eventually be able to clean herself and her life up. Rather than complain about the media spending so much time on a fallen star, I'd rather use this as a lesson for my children on how drug abuse can ruin your life, and how sad it makes everyone that gets left behind.

Duty calls

I swear I'm not trying to get out of my weekly-minimum blog posting vow, but right now I'm knee-deep in inputting ad copy for the Variety Show playbill for the PTA. So I'll be back soon...

It's gonna be a LONG night

So tonight I (along with two other moms) are taking 14 girls to overnight at the Liberty Science Center. Not so bad, you think? Well, when you combine that with the fact that there will be a total of 345 fourth- and fifth-grade girls and 142 adults, it looks to be quite an experience.

I know the museum does these overnights for quite a few groups, so I'm hoping that they have it down for keeping things moving. We don't get our schedule until we check in tonight, but the sample one provided looks like events are pretty well stacked one after another. My concern is sleeping. Luckily adults are allowed to bring a blow-up air mattress, but I've been fighting a head cold all week. Nyquil has helped me sleep through the night, but I'm pretty sure it's not a good idea for the troop leader to drug herself up when in charge of other people's children.

I guess the saving grace may be that they don't have the day ending until 11pm ("quiet hours" don't actually start until midnight), and lights begin coming on at 6:30 the next morning. I'll pack a bag of cough drops so that even if I have to stay awake sucking on them for a few hours at least the night will pass quickly.

We have the option of sticking around the next day and exploring the museum some more, but I can tell you at least my car of girls will be heading home after breakfast. I'm going to have a nice soft BED waiting for me to nap in.

Groundhog's Day

So according to Punxsutawney Phil, there will be 6 more weeks of winter. Not surprising, since we have really had no winter to speak of so far.

There was a little article in the paper today about the movie "Groundhog Day". Which, by the way, is always one of those movies I can stop and watch when I run across it on TV. One item the article ended on was something that I have to admit I'd never thought of before, but now it's stuck in my head. Easier for me to just copy what was written than try to paraphrase:

For fans, of course, the biggest conjecture is just how long was Phil Connors condemned to this purgatory. Co-star Stephen Tobolowsky has said (Harold) Ramis told him "that in Buddhism, they say that it takes 10,000 years for a soul to evolve to the next level. So he said that he felt that the entire progress of 'Groundhog Day' covered 10,000 years..."

Ramis himself later told a magazine, "It takes at least 10 years to get good at anything, and, allotting for the down time and misguided years he spent, it had to be more like 30 or 40 years."

So now I'm wanting to watch the movie again with the context in my brain that Bill Murray's character actually relived that day for 40 YEARS (or 10,000 if you want to go to the extreme). Should make his exasperation even more interesting to watch.

Happy Groundhog's Day, everyone!