They were journalists, and then they died...

In the past two months, two of the most influential people in my life as a journalist have died. And I hadn’t met either one of them.

For twenty years Doris Anderson served as the editor of Chatelaine magazine. With Doris at the helm, Chatelaine became a more than the stereotypical women’s magazine of the fifties and sixties. Moving beyond just recipes and household tips, Chatelaine became a vehicle for social change, carrying groundbreaking articles about gender equality, divorce and abortion rights.

And as we celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Charter of Rights, it is with gratitude that I remember Doris Anderson. Feeling that the Charter undermined women’s rights, and pressured by the government not to talk about it, she resigned as head of the Advisory Council on the Status of Women. That inspired an uprising of women across the country. And the result is the short but significant Constitutional clause that states that men and women are equal under the law. Doris Anderson died on March 2nd.

Like Doris, June Callwood was a pioneering member of the press. She started in the newspaper business when women were the typists, not the journalists. We know her as June Callwood, and not June Frayne, because in the forties, The Globe and Mail didn’t employ married women. So she used her maiden name. Doris had the stigma of being a working single mother. And June had the stigma of being a working married woman. The operative word there being “working.”

June died on April 14th, which happened to be my six-year anniversary as an employed journalist. No other person has had a greater influence on my career. In 2002, June delivered the first Dalton Camp Lecture in Journalism. It was broadcast on IDEAS that fall, and a friend gave me a cassette copy. I’ve listened to that lecture countless times, and each time, my passion for journalism is renewed. Addressing students at St. Thomas University in Fredericton, she spoke about journalism being at the heart of democracy. And said that “the profession of journalism enjoys its finest moments when it speaks against oppression and greed, but journalism does a glorious job of celebrating the triumphs of human spirit that elevate us all.” Through all that June accomplished, the awards, the foundations, it is that lecture that most endeared her to me. She said that you don’t have to be a journalist to be a good person, but you have to a good person to be a good journalist. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. And now she’s gone.

And I’m left wondering to whom the next generation of women journalists will look for guidance. Who will be their mentor? To whom has the torch been passed? And you know, I can’t think of a single person in the same category of Doris and June. They were peers, and yet peerless.

Sure, there are female colleagues that I admire and look to as mentors, but it’s not the same. I’m not sure why that is. Doris and June paved the way for us, breaking down barriers that seem ridiculous by today’s standards. Today, we take for granted the open doors for which they cut the key. And I fear we’ve stopped to rest on their laurels. We’ve come a long way baby, but there’s still a long road ahead.

When she was 15, Judy Maddren wrote to the CBC asking for advice on how to become a broadcaster. She received a polite letter in reply saying thanks but no thanks, there were several fine gentlemen already performing that role. She’s now the host of CBC Radio’s World Report. And on occasion, fine gentlemen fill in for her.

To see how far we have yet to go, we need look no further than the news events in the days surrounding June Callwood’s death. Belinda Stronach announced that she was stepping down from politics. Love her or hate her, no other politician in recent years has been scrutinized as closely as Ms. Stronach. Even the sponsorship scandal could be forgotten when the sexy blonde was in the room.

Don Imus, a nationally syndicated American radio host was fired making racist and sexist comments about the Rutgers women’s basketball team. And only days after June’s death, a shooting in Virginia was thought to be a domestic dispute, an event so common it wasn’t important enough to lock down the campus of Virginia Tech.

I have a male colleague who completely disagrees with me. Who feels that there are so many women journalists today that the focus is diffused, that there isn’t one person to look to, and that I should celebrate that fact. I do celebrate that there are so many women journalists, and there are many that I look to as excellent writers and broadcasters. That said, there isn’t anyone on a national level that I would hold up as a mentor. June Callwood stood out among the masses because she used her position of influence for the greater good.

I looked to the generation of trailblazers, and come from the generation of Promo Girl and Contest Girl. I have colleagues who hide their pregnancies for fear their contracts won’t be renewed. It wouldn’t hurt to take a step forward.

June Callwood and Doris Anderson were feminists before feminist became a bad word. The definition of feminism has since been hijacked. These days, if you’re called a feminist, it’s like being called religious – both sound radical and exclusive.

So, perhaps in moving forward, we should adopt a new term in the fight for equality. Today, I declare myself a Junist. A person defending the principles of Junism – the theory that all people are created equal, that good journalists are thorough and accurate and that kindness should prevail above all.

Abe Vigoda is still alive!

This is a four days late, for which I apologize. I shouldn't procrastinate when the man is 86 years-old. Twenty-five years ago People magazine mistakenly reported that Abe Vigoda had died. Congrats Mr. Vigoda on making it to the blunder silver anniversary! Abe Vigoda, for those who don't know, played Fish on the TV show Barney Miller. He even had his own spin-off show, and was in the films Good Burger and Underworld, but we won't hold those against him. Happy Birthday Abe! And in your face, People!

My true calling...

There have been few moments in my life when I have felt truly inspired, when I felt as though my life had real meaning. I am going through a period of inspiration right now my friends, and I owe it all to the As it Happens Complaints Choir. Unfortunately, the complaints are reserved for AIH listeners, and as a member of the choir I can't contribute. But alas, the Knitted Bikini has saved the day and I can spew my complaints o' plenty. Feel free to send a few of your own.

Muted, the first song of the Lori-Ellen Non-Vocal Complaints Choir

Britney Spears has shaved her head an is losing her mind.
I can't believe he's famous enough that we all know the name Kevin Federline.
My skin is dry and my cats are static-y.
Why don't they make single-people loaves of bread - mine always goes stale or moldy.
George Bush is President and he pronounces it nook-u-ler.
Why do women dye their hair in colours not found in nature?
And why is dealing with Bell such a nightmare?
And why is dealing with Bell such a nightmare?

Real estate costs too much for those who want to buy.
Public radio is so underfunded it makes me want to cry.
All my neighbours do is yell and fight and make a lot of noise.
Quiet time to myself is one of my former joys.
The people in decision-making roles at work can't make any decisions.
Why, with 71 channels, is there still nothing on television.
And the snooze button on my alarm clock is only five minutes.
And the snooze button on my alarm clock is only five minutes.

Feminine hygene products cost too much - it really is unfair.
Opening plastic toy packaging makes me want to swear.
I hate wearing socks and they keep slouching down.
Just how many t-shirts does Anderson Cooper Own?
Loud music and noises make me feel sick.
It's February and my middle is feeling much too thick.
And why don't employers offer real jobs anymore - I'm still on contract.
And why don't employers offer real jobs anymore - 6 years and I'm still on contract.

Oh Lord, please don't buy me a Mercedes Benz...

I've long had a theory that the most expensive cars are owned by the worst drivers. It is, by no means, a scientific theory. But I suspect that if you stood on a busy street corner for an hour, and made a list of all the high-end cars to go through that intersection and a separate list of the visibly bad drivers to go through the intersection, there'd be more than a minor correlation between the two.

It's a theory that is proven almost every day. For example, on Friday night, as I was walking home from work, I watched as a woman was almost hit by a car. We'd been standing on opposite sides of the street, and both stepped forward as the little white man appeared permitting us the cross the street. But as we stepped forward, a woman in a Porsche drove straight through the crosswalk and turned right on a red without stopping. She never even slowed down and I'm sure has no clue what she did. And then this afternoon, as I went out for an overpriced coffee, I was at the exact same intersection when the exact same thing happened. Only this time, I was the one nearer the car as it drove through the crosswalk, and the car was an Infiniti, not a Porsche. And again, the driver was completely clueless about what had happened. How can a person be smart enough to make enough money to own a Porsche, but not be smart enough to know how to drive? Although, I guess it doesn't require smarts to inherit Daddy's money.

I'm sure this is a coincidence, but I was recently speaking with a radio producer regarding his documentary about psychopaths. It's very interesting. Film and television would have you believe these are the scariest, weirdly interesting people in the world. It turns out, they're pretty boring. They just lack a connection to other people. They lack a conscience and thus commit serious crimes. But the producer was telling me about a new book that says not all psychopaths commit murderous, bloody crimes. The book has a theory that many crimes in the business/corporate world are commited by non-violent psychopaths. Hmmm... Psychopaths and big business, bad driver and expensive cars... It sounds very interesting, at the very least. You can hear more about it on CBC Radio on Sirius on Monday, February 19. It's on Producer's Choice, which follows As it Happens at 6:30 and 10:30 pm ET (pardon the shameless plug.)

And speaking of As it Happens, they've put out a call for your complaints. That shouldn't be too hard to manage for CBC listeners, but the main goal is to use your complaints in a song performed by Canada's first national complaints choir. Here's a sample from the Hamburg Complaints Choir: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMixEXn2SG8. Send your complaints to aih@cbc.ca. My complaint? Why do jerks drive the nice cars?

My happy thought du jour: I bought a pair of tall pants on my way home tonight. If you've read my Interests in the ABOUT ME section, you'll know that finding pants long enough for me is a lifelong quest. I'm 5'10", most pants are made for women shorter than me. So I sit here feeling glee, dreaming of wearing full-length pants tomorrow. No floods Tuesday! Woohoo!

In the beginning...

This is my very first posting for Knitted Bikini. In fact, it's my first blog entry ever. Yeah, I like to think of myself as being on the cutting edge and on top of the trends. I'll bet that one day they'll even invent something to replace my Sony Walkman cassette player.

I started Knitted Bikini as an online journal for my thoughts on daily events. For as long as I can remember, my head has been filled with a running commentary on everything happening in my life and in the news. My thoughts are organized into mental journal entries, as though I'm telling someone a story, or offering commentary on everything that's happening around me. From the woman I saw yesterday, cutting off a police car while driving through a red light, to the many fathers of Anna Nicole's baby, there's a commentary in my head. And I thought: "why keep these thoughful/intelligent/downright snarky comments to yourself?" Well, thanks to this new technology called the I-N-T-E-R-N-E-T (thanks Al Gore!), I can share my thoughts with you.

The title of this blog, Knitted Bikini, came to me while soldiering through an attack of an afflication I was diagnosed with as a teenager - chronic sarcasm. I am a nerd, and I do nerdy things like knitting. I have several knitting books, and almost every book has a pattern for a knitted bikini. Now, I ask you, what is the bloody use in a knitted bikini? I've never seen a real person wear a knitted bikini. I can't imagine I'd want to wear a knitted bikini when it's 30 degrees outside (celcius, I'm in Canada.) And if it actually got wet, a knitted bikini would likely weigh a tonne, sag or get itchy. The garment is beyond my comprehension. I suspect that most of my entries on this blog will be about things beyond my comprehension, so I thought the title fit.

I hope you find some level of entertainment in reading my blog. I'll try to add entries as frequently as possible. And I'll continue to add links and work on the appearance of this site. Guide's honour (three fingers.)

Thanks for looking.

L-E