The Malawi Mission

"The hills are alive with the sound of music..." sister Mother Miriam playfully leaps for joy and spins atop the sun-bleached farm hills of Greenwich, New York. Just below us, surrounded by sweeping pastures and bright red barns is her 14 member Nunnery called 'Saint Mary's Convent'. The cozy spiritual life center offers a life of poverty, chastity, and obedience embodied in baptismal vows. Sadly though, Mother Superior is loosing four of her favorite occupants - some special sisters from Malawi, Africa. They've lived here since 2005.

A few days ago Mother Superior asked if I could videotape several melodic hymns by the girls before they fly home next month. These incorrigible beauties can sing with such harmony, rhythm and wonder I can only describe it as angelic. Unbridled joy and bliss belt from their souls and when they aren't smiling or kidding around with each other they're volunteering to help with my equipment. Meeting the Malawi sisters, full of conviction and faith, was special for me too - and something tells me that I'll be flying to Malawi next year for the full choir.

Spread Your Wings and Fly

Ahhhh, Sunday morning with Charles Osgood, the New York Times and NPR's Prairie Home Companion - I've said it before and I'll say it again "the arsty media just doesn't get any better than on a Sunday!" This morning CBS White House correspondent Jim Axelrod did a forthcoming piece on the international perceptions of our "go-it-alone" President including the results of the annual Pew Institute's Global Attitudes Survey. As expected, the survey wasn't flattering - listing Anti-Americanism in foreign countries at an all-time high. But, even nonpartisan pollsters like Pew never sit well with me. Too often they focus on the negative rather than the positive and give limited choices to questions. The more I travel the more I realize that polls are not to be taken to heart or prevent you from venturing abroad. We, the curious folk with the insatiable desire to learn new cultures and appreciate distant lands are what this country needs to mend our broken image and restore our home to its humble beginnings. It's a countdown in my book before dubyaspeak.com is out of work but in the meantime I don't let the polls deter me from taking advantage of frequent flyer miles. Of my many many strange travels in strange lands I've never once been judged on the cocky mistakes my U.S. government makes. If I were I would defend my home to the hilt tossing scientists, techonology, humanitarian endeavors and freedoms into the debate. However, I'm often embraced more like a long-lost cousin and invited to stay the week. I'm not a betting person but I can safely say you'll also get the same treatment provided you don't act like an "ugly American"...

Discount Demons

It's Black Friday and for compulsive shoppers everywhere it's the best day of the year to excercise those discount demons. But not for me - I gave up wandering through discount outlet malls when I first started PilotGirl Productions a year ago. Something had to give and my fetish for footwear (sneaks only) and winter coats was the first to go. Following that was an absolutely zero tolerance on all clothing, haircuts, make-up, accessories, premium shampoos, conditioners, lotions and jewelry. I was determined to cut corners where I could even if that meant becoming "Ugly Betty". Like any good addiction, I cheated but only a couple of times (2 pairs of Reeboks) and indeed bore the brunt of a guilty-conscience for weeks after. But, after months of sewing up holey socks and shredded jeans, wearing discolored shirts with stained collars and scrubbing down jackets that used to be white, I officially gave up the fast. I embarked on a journey to a discount retail outlet and blew it all! Tonight I'm hitting the town dressed from head to toe in new digs, new colors, new designs, new logos and a new attitude. If someone accidently dumps a full cocktail or a plate of Tapas on my sporty new look there's going to be trouble!

Chow like a Pilgrim

Next year I'm spending this day at the Plimouth Planatation in Plymouth, MA. It's a long haul to go for a Thanksgiving feast and reservations usually sell out by June but it beats this catatonic state I'm in right now. My soar butt has been stapled to this computer chair editing projects all week. My eyes are bugging out staring at a monitor that has eerily turned psychedelic pink. My back is as stiff as board and I think my left hand is showing traces of carpal tunnel. Yes, it's Thanksgiving and I can almost smell the scrumptious turkey and gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie wafting in from the neighbors. Ahhh heck, my stuff can wait - it's time to chow like a Pilgrim and if it's not too late maybe I can enjoy the leftovers from the 1627 feast in Plimouth Mass....

Ratings and Revenue

Remember Sidney Lumet's Movie "Network" when Howard Beale shouts: "We're not a respectable network. We're a whorehouse, and we'll take what we can get." Might he been talking about a hollowless FOX way back in 1976? When Rupert Murdoch fronted a fund-raiser for Senator Hillary Clinton this past summer, I thought; WOW, there's hope yet for this super conservative media mogul. But then, last week, I got vomitus hearing that News Corporation agreed to air a pseudo-memoir/confessional of the cold-blooded killer and publish his book. To make matters worse, FOX was bent on airing the exploitive filth the first few days into sweeps; a cunning ratings game to make more blood money. Revolting! Myself and 51,000 others were gathering ammunition to boycott several book stores including Walmart, Amazon, Barnes&Nobles and businesses that advertised during the special. But thank goodness, this website by the deceased family spoke loud and clear and put an end to corporate America's greed. Democracy and decency have not only prevailed on Election Day but today as well!

Happy 33 again & again & again

It's my birthday....and I'm laugh/cry/sing if I want to....laugh/cry/sing if I want to...you would laugh/cry/sing too if you had to film a happy couple wedding at midnight like I just did! But many thanks to Ms. Camilla and Ms. Sturgeon for your cards and special wishes. Without you both I would have plumb forgot that I turned...33 again.

A Saint in a City of Sinners

Day 2 in Vegas and it's time to get down to business and I'm not talking about the naughty kind that showgirls, peepshows or bikini-clad mudwrestlers offer. And forget about the Cirque du Soleil's Zumanity tour where racy contortionists spin sex into a whole new art form (if only I had more time). I'm talking about pure altruism and a bonafide passion; a tride and true love for helping others. Oh, sugar - there went half my readership.

The irony is I'm in Sin City to interview one of the worlds greatest humanitarians, a doctor by the name of Ron Zamber. The Ophthalmologist has a practice in chilly Fairbanks but we decided to meet in the middle (between NY and Alaska) to help lessen the budget blow in producing this documentary. The Doctor began reaching out to others through charitable causes at a young age (16yrs) by supporting a needy child in a developing country. It was then that his heroic deeds began. Today, he volunteers his expertise in countries that others downright refuse to go; places like Nepal, Costa Rico, Ecuador and Malawi. In Malawi alone, the AIDS epidemic leaves a startling 500,000 children without Mommies or Daddies every year and of the 11 million people that live there, only 2 are full-time ophthalmologists.

Dr. Zambers services are desperately needed and he screens over 500 patients with cataract problems a month performing over 100 surgeries during each trip. Cataracts are a fairly simply procedure to fix but in poor countries that can't even supply glasses to each other, this routine surgery is a miracle in the making. Those that have gone a lifetime without sight and then reborn with new eyes are the stories that Ron recounts with the rawest emotion. "One patient got up out of the chair and looked into his wife's eyes for the first time in 40 years and exclaimed "Honey, your more beautiful than I could have ever imagined".

Boo hoo, weep, weep, blot, blot....grab a tissue if you like, I did.

How in the world does it happen that I keep meeting such amazing people on this journey through life?

Jetsetting in Sin City

Extreme excesses are everywhere in Las Vegas - except in my hotel room. Upon arriving in Las Vegas we shuttle our way past the Luxor, the MGM Grand, the Wynn, Treasure Island and the Mirage. Anticipations are soaring seeing these grandiose luxery suites lit up in neon lights. I wonder where we'll be staying.... Our bus swiftly makes an abrupt turn into a parking lot where a 1950's marquis screams "Cold Beer, Dirty Girls" and "Bikini Bull Riding until Midnight". Oh no, say it isn't so. I'm staying at the only dump on the Sin City strip. The upside is my Producer's wicked sense of humor has me snickering at little bitties with hairnets and stockings wasting their retirement on BINGO and chain-smoking rednecks cashing in quarters. Neither of us intend on spending much time here anyway - instead we're off to take in a city that never sleeps. Night 1 in Sin City and Bob enjoys a hearty cut of sirloin overlooking a rockin' outdoor patio at Cafe Ba-Ba-Reeba as I launch into a peach schnapps sangria and tapas appetizer. Bob is a meat and potatoes kind-of-guy not easily enticed by authentic specialities, thrill rides (like the Stratosphere) or exotic drinks. Too bad because thanks to a Southwest Airlines magazine article I finally found a staple spirit I can call my own (lest pronounce it) - the Calvados Sidecar. A mixologist at this frou-frou Baccarrat Bar in the Bellagio created a classic cocktail on Night 2 and even garnished it with an orange peel - just like the article promised. Sure, hanging in the Bellagio is a far-cry from the dive we hung our heads at night but that's the thing about Vegas; there doesn't seem to be much middle ground. Either you live large in ridiculous splendor among jetsetters or you share a musty shabby-chic room with a broken toilet and lots of bathtub scum. I'll take the Bellagio over my digs anyday.

A Must-See Mecca

Neon lights, casinos and Siegfried & Roy, I'm off to Las Vegas, Nevada today not to gamble but to meet an extraordinary individual. A man who started an organization that helps children in need of eye operations in third world countries. Agencies estimate that over fifty million people worldwide are currently blind, including 2 million children. A whopping eighty percent of the world's blindness is avoidable, treatable, or preventable. His organization is called Vision Quest and where better to interview a doctor who cures blindness than in a city known for its visual attractions? Odds are I won't have time for the Mirage's world-famous white tigers or the fountains of Bellagio or oh drats, the Elvis-a-Rama Museum because I'll be too busy videotaping Serge Roetheli's hero. Still, in a city this crazy who knows what stories I'll be sharing by tomorrow!

The Nectar of the Gods

Wheatgrass juice is the nectar of rejuvenation! After beelining it back to the city this morning for an early morning shoot I began losing enzymes, vitamins and nucleic acids fast. I needed something to restore my balance and keep me going until midnight. Along came the Union Square Farmers Market between the Flatiron District to the north and NY University to the South. This place is so super hip! Spirited street musicians, playful dogs on leashes, thousands of park-benchers basking in the sun and row after row of tents with organic produce and funky foods. "You my friend need a 'green-fix transfusion' suggests a long-haired 60's throwback. He squeezes a handful of dark stringy needles into a blender and pours me a shot. It doesn't have much of a smell but tastes sweet, like fresh garden peas. I wash it down with a cup of water. Physically or psychiologically, it gives me the boost I'm looking for. Farmers’ markets began in New York City in 1976, when Union Square Park was known as a drug haven. Today, the psychedelics are gone and the health-conscience offer up advice on energy alternatives, anti-globalization politics and buying local. Philosophies I love. Following my 'shot', I squeeze my way through the Whole Foods Grocery line for a take-out order of Indian Naan, Chicken Marsala and a copy of a 'Time Out'. Eat healthy my beloved bloggers and live well.

My Shade-Tree Mechanic

I'm in love with a Grease Monkey! Not because smelling gas fumes all day is the bomb or free oil changes every 3000 miles helps too or that blue Carhartt Overalls is the sexiest thing going...my Grease Monkey is 'Super Unleaded' because he shows me historical places to hike right here in my own backyard. Check out the picts of this beautiful area just minutes from my home. The top shot is the Whipple Cast & Wrought Iron Bowstring Truss Bridge built in 1867. It's one of the only remaining bridges out of over 100 that was built for the Erie Canal and still in service. The bridge crosses a gully and was placed on the National Registry of Historic Places in 1971. The second shot is the Normanskill Farm established in 1630 by an early Dutch settler called "the Norman". The path runs alongside a deep blue river that feeds into the Hudson River. There's even the remains of an old saw mill and ice house, both from the 1800's and an organic garden that used to be known as the Normans Kill Dairy Farm in 1900. Go ahead and ask your Shade-Tree Mechanic what his favorite walk-in-the-woods is...and if he's not too busy fixing your flat bring him along.

The Dems Did It!

When I was asked to work in New Jersey on Election date I kicked myself that I didn't knab an absentee registration. After all one vote does matter. But even with the beckoning lights of busy Manhatten calling over the Hudson I could do nothing else from my hotel suite here in Secaucus than watch politics over take-out. What a historical moment for the country, especially New York State! I thought I could depend on the Capitol Confidential blog at the Times Union to stay in the know but when that was hacked I turned to a tech geek at my old stomping grounds (Channel 6) for up-to-date coverage. By 11pm I was confident that Senator Hillary, Gov. Spitzer and Congresswoman Kirsten Gillibrand's early leads would take them to victory. Sure enough, congradulations to them and everyone. Now it's time to get myself out of this stoggy hotel room and off to Midtown's Sheraton Hotel to celebrate with the masses!

Where All the Lights are Bright

A lead from a NBC affiliate friend (thank you Steve) put me in touch with a GE (General Electric) rep 2 days ago. The rep needed a freelancer on the double for a few days in New Jersey. 48 hours later I'm bouncing around Secaucus shooting Industrial training tapes on machine parts for their workers. One caveat tonight was finding steel-toed safety shoes to wear inside the factories while working. Besides goggles, a face mask and earplugs, safety rules require protective footing. I didn't have much time so I hit the streets of Midtown with a few University friends (now Professors) hunting for these one-of-kind sh**-kickers. First though, we wet our appetite enjoying a Vietnamese favorite, Po-soup cuisine with Green Tea and Spring Rolls. Yummy. When we finally finished (it's tough eating soup with chopsticks) all the shoe stores had locked up nice and tight for the night. Where to go, where to go? Tamara recommended Times Square: "where all the lights are bright, Times Square". Sure enough, cushioned between the next off-broadway musical hit and a Duane Reade was Sketchers, lit up with a shining neon marque. No steel-tips to be found here but a pair of heavy duty, weather-proof soles that came as close to protecting my toes from falling debris as I'm going to find at quarter to midnight. Only in Manhatten can your every need, wish, want and whim be fulfilled in a couple blocks in just a few minutes. Life is good here.

1 Marathon x 1000 = Serge Roetheli

52 year old Swiss Serge Roetheli just spent the last 5 years of his life running around the world and the last 2 days telling us all about it in a Holiday Inn Express in Latham, NY. He and his wife Nicole, a hearty gal who trailed behind him on a motorbike loaded with supplies, flew from Geneva to Albany so that we - his lowly underachiever production peeps, could document their amazing adventures.

Serge didn't walk, bike or rollerblade around the world, he ran ON FOOT - can you even begin to grasp that concept? Most people, including moi, have difficulty doing a lap around the neighborhood, let alone 66 countries in 5 continents or 25,000 miles. This amazing machine of a man and his equally determined partner survived malaria, venomous snake bites, suffocating heat and humidity, street thugs, violent snowstorms, sprained ankles, broken spirits, reckless drivers and countless physical, mental and emotional roadblocks. Their story is one you have to see to believe and thank goodness Serge's wife Nicole carried 3 handheld videocameras with her - rolling on everything while Serge set a pace of about 7 miles an hour or 50 miles a day.

Serge has made it into the Guiness Book of World Records, written a book and inspires thousands everyday to 'never give up' and 'follow their dreams'. What a truly mindblowing epic this documentary will make when we (Luzerne Productions/Shenise Productions and PilotGirl Productions) finishes shooting and editing it. The couple’s impetus for the run was to promote children’s rights worldwide and to help fund Vision Quest, a humanitarian organization that provides treatment and prevention for blinding eye conditions in underserved areas worldwide.

I'll never brag about running a marathon ever again...

Halloween Parlance

"Ding, Dong."
10 scary-dressed kids marshal a timeless adage that will fill their plastic pumpkins and empty pillow cases to the brink. I'm in the back office hustling another editing piece so Mutti rushes to the door and swings it wide open.
"Trick or Treat! Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat!"
I laugh. Kids aren't suppose to use 'that one' I think to myself. Mutti is unfazed and piles in handfuls of tootsie-rolls, blow-pops and ET's favorite.
"Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding, Dong."
It's like the incessant drip-drop of my leaky kitchen faucet.
The warm temps bring out every greedy kid in this suburban nightmare I call home. The old fashion 'Trick or Treat' isn't enough as kids get creative with both their costumes and parlance.
"Hello, my name is such-and such and I'm running for lots and lots of candy" appeals a politically dressed election candidate. This kid's originality would have prompted me to forfeit the rest of the sugar-coated loot straight into his candy coffers. "Good luck on Nov. 7 and don't forget to brush your teeth," I mumble from under my breath as I peak around the corner from my back office.
There's a lull in the 'ding, dongs' and everything grows quiet. The hurricane has moved on leaving a hundred little footprints and sticky candy wrappers strewn about in the front lawn. Mutti resumes emailing on her laptop and I settle down with the leftovers!