Dixie Fix

How Changing Business Models Change Our Everyday Life

There's probably no argument that the business model of a newspaper is outdated. Look around at the 20-somethings, 30-somethings and others who get their news on their mobile phones. They're not interested in reading today's news tomorrow; they're much more immediate than that.

Newspapers get most of their money from advertising. But advertisers are thinking of other, creative ways to get their message across -- leaving newspapers scrambling for dollars that used to just roll in by the truckful. Top of the food chain in ad rep land was the National Account. Those reps had their own fax machine and Macy's and Ford and all the big boys just faxed the ads from New York and the rep did the paperwork. No pounding the pavement for them.

But listen to what Kentucky Fried Chicken is doing to promote its new line of hot wings. Instead of taking out newspaper ads, they're going to City Councils across the country offering up their advertising budgets to paint the city's fire hydrants with their message. Fire, hot wings. get it? The city's hydrants get a fresh coat of paint (albiet with a "message") and the city -- drowning in debt and layoffs -- gets a chunk of money that was totally unexpected.

Think Qualcom Stadium, just taken to a smaller level. Totally doable, and probably fresh enough to create a buzz, which is really what advertising is all about. So that money, once in the newspaper's pocket, now belongs to a municipality, which actually might use it for something that benefits its residents instead of lining the pockets of print executives.

Newspapers large and small are scrambling and it is evident in Southern California that big changes are on the horizon. Take the venerable Los Angeles Times. Its "Idea du Jour" is to save money by allowing the Wall Street Journal to be printed on its presses in the late evening for a pretty penny. Great idea, right? Except that's when the Los Angeles Times usually prints its own paper, in time for delivery people to get it to us early in the morning.

The only solution was to print The Times earlier in the evening. Beginning sometime next month, all deadlines will change and The Times will "go to bed" at 6 p.m. A fourth-grader can see that is really stupid, since stories are reported in the day and edited in the night. Not to mention sports scores for night games. In a 24/7 news cycle, that sounds like information suicide.

The Bean Counters and executives know this, but it's not just about making/saving money. Now it's about Keeping the Doors Open. Are we doing something dumb? Yes, they answer. But we are keeping the paper open a few more months by doing it. Not only does the WSJ give the LAT money, the LAT can now layoff all those night editors, page designers and proofreaders because only the pressmen will work at night.

And what if a significant world event occurs at night? Well, they've come up with the LATE Wrap, a one page wrap-around that will carry the breaking news -- if it is deemed "significant enough."

So, if a paper like the LAT is that desperate, what will happen to the rest of the papers? And if newspapers go away, how will TV news survive? About 75% of television news is gleaned from morning papers...no time for "reporting," you know.

I just know the world is changing -- faster than I can keep up with!

Pants on the Ground, Pants on the Ground!

I was in Southern Cal when that American Idol audition went viral...from Neil Young parodies to Brett Farve in the Locker Room. It is infectious; go to YouTube if you haven't seen it. Even on TV, the news in SoCal is filled with celebrity gossip and things like "Pants on the Ground." Harvey Levin has his TMZ as a television show in addition to the Web site. Let's just say I feel up-to-date on all my celebrity gossip.

Saw "The Lovely Bones" and "Precious." Both seemed like award winners. TLB is almost as good as the book, and much better than the critics painted it. "Precious" was hard to watch at times, but fascinating and an example of what just a bit of encouragement can do to someone who has received virtually none. Monique deserves every accolade she receives for her role at Precious's mother...Wow! And Mariah Carrey is a shocker in straight, fine brown hair and no makeup. Believable as a tired but well-meaning social worker with zero pizzazz.

Rented "Jennifer's Body" (ugh) and "500 Days of Summer" which isn't about the season, but 500 days of one relationship and was actually quite entertaining.

Had the Flight from Hell going home last night. After the mini tornado touched down in Long Beach as we were driving to the Long Beach Airport, I got checked in 90 minutes before my flight and the power at the Airport went off. And guess what? The backup generator failed. All the JetBlue personnel were hiding somewhere and we sat in the dark wondering if we'd ever see Northern California again. I tried to explain the delay to a woman who spoke only Greek by pointing to my watch and making hysterical hand gestures and finally led her, confused and frightened, on to the plane hours later. (The only passengers more miserable were stuck OUTSIDE in a security line for hours, not allowed to move into the building because...nothing works without electricity.) When the generator kicked in about 7 p.m. they got into the building and ran -- en masse -- to the airport bar where everyone was buying each other drinks and swapping horror stories. Made it to Nevada City after 11 p.m.

The snow is falling outside my window (it's about 12:30 p.m.) and sticking to the driveway so I'm hunkering down to ride out this end of the storm. More tomorrow, when I probably still won't be caught up on my sleep but will be a little more coherent. Don't go out if you don't have to!

You Can Be a Teenager Again!

And it's not through time travel. It's "doing it the third time around" with grandchildren! 

My real teenage years were fun! But not for my parents, because I was a real hellion. I wasn't into drugs or sexually active, but I did run away from home for a long time and probably hastened my parents' deaths in many ways. It was 1965, you see, and Haight Ashbury was just beginning, so OF COURSE I needed to climb out my window and go immediately. The narcissism of teenager-hood prevented me from feeling or understanding how awful this would be to the people who were desperately trying to raise me!

Having my first child at 20 -- after marrying at 18 -- also seemed like a good idea at the time! But it was a child raising children, and God knows, I made more than my share of mistakes. But being a young, hip mom, I thought MY teens would not go through the teenage rebellion stage because I was so cool. What a joke! They rebelled in all sorts of fun ways, ensuring that my hair would turn gray from worry. It was hard and stressful, but today they are wonderful, mature, great adults who have been terrific parents to their own children!

Which bring me to the delicious icing on the cake: Grandchildren! It is all the love and not as much worry! Because each and every one of them (we have 9 now) are perfect, beautiful, brilliant, talented...I could go on and on. They are the delight of my life. And Paisley Nicole Scott, the third oldest, turns 18 on Sunday! And I'm leaving early Wednesday morning to fly down to SoCal to help her celebrate.

It seems like yesterday when she was born. I remember her father and I trying to wrangle the brand-new car seat into the car to bring her home from the hospital. I also remember those colicky first months when her parents were pulling their hair out and she would only fall asleep on someone's chest. Her colic was legendary, as were her tantrums when she got into the 2's.

You might expect she would have blossomed into a boisterous child, but no. To this day she is quite shy and reserved, and doesn't even have a driver's license. She's growing up in a world far different than I did, and I have no doubt that she will become a wonderful, responsible adult! We'll do some shopping, and probably make a special dinner together.

When I was going through my cancer treatment -- when Paisley was 2 -- my doctor asked me what I had to look forward to in the distant future. He said to think of something a couple decades away to focus on as I fought, literally, for my life. I told him, and I remember this as though it were yesterday, too, that I wanted to dance at Paisley's wedding. That seemed so far off when she was a toddler, but now, as she thinks about college, it is no longer the distant future.

Now that I'm in my 60s and about to collect Social Security (yikes!) I find I reflect on the time passed, and I'm aware that more of my life is behind me than ahead of me. I think about the generations, and how times have changed, but people have remained constant. My family is still there, although I am now the matriarch; the oldest of the living.

Because no matter what we do -- or don't do -- time marches on. Dixiefix will be on hiatus for a week, unless I snag a computer while I'm down south. See you back here around January 20th.

It's Movie Watching Weather!

If you -- like me -- try to see all the nominated films for best picture, it will be harder this year. I think there will be 10 movies instead of 5, so an early start is imperative. I've seen some, and here are some quick comments on them.

Avatar: You owe it to yourself to see this on the big screen, in 3D. I am not a science fiction fan and long movies usually bore me, but this is so exceptionally beautiful I didn't notice. You will have to pay $9 for a matinee in Nevada County because of the cost of the glasses, but hey, that's half of the "big city" price! Go. See. It.

Up in the Air: Some are saying this is the movie of the year. I wouldn't go that far, but I loved it anyway! George Clooney is perfect as the black-hearted "fire for hire" corporate jerk. Lots of messages here. And, it's not a downer.

Invictus: This understated film starring Matt Damon and Morgan Freeman is like being on the sidelines of history, seeing Mandela's life-affirming decisions as he leads his country. I felt this could be the movie of the year but don't think the academy will agree.

Inglorius Basterds: You can rent this one now. For someone who doesn't like war movies this held my interest and the acting is amazing.

Precious: I'm waiting for this one, and have a bet with a couple friends that it will finally come here, to the regular theaters. Some of my friends say it is "too black" for Nevada County and that, if anything, it will be at Magic or Nevada Theatre. If so, I'll bite the bullet and drive to see it, because I think it is an important film and will probably play a major part in the Academy Awards. It may not be pretty to look at, but as a society we need to look. We can't heal any wounds unless we know how and why they were inflicted.

That's it for movies...I'm reading "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" and loving it. Thanks, Stacy Hart, for passing it on.

I'm taking Monday off, so check back Tuesday afternoon. Bill Holman will have to read something else tomorrow morning while he's sipping his tea.

A Quiet Nevada City Spot to Have Coffee, Meet Friends

It's The Spot, where the old Kirby's used to be, by the creek. Forget the Oxygen Bar, there are two nice rooms with tables and chairs to have coffee, a smoothie or a healthy lunch. It's quiet, so talking is pleasant, and if you're the laptop type, the tables make it easy to set up and work.

There seem to be a couple components to the Oxygen Bar, complete with "experiences" you can order and large chairs to relax in. Could be virtual reality, I'm not sure. Or, you can belly up to the bar for oxygen.

When you drive by it always looks like nobody's in there, but you can't see the other rooms from the street.

I just had regular coffee (it was excellent!) but they have an espresso machine and all that. Check it out! I thought it was a terrific place to relax!

What is it About Your Mother?

A dear friend and I had coffee Thursday, a hastily arranged date to catch up on our lives. But this time, she had terrible news to convey about her adult daughter. As I listened to her story, it ended (as all these stories do) with her anguish that perhaps it was her parenting that somehow resulted in her daughter's violent act.

Now think about calling your mother. Do you sometimes dread it? Put it off? Does she tend to give you unsolicited advice? Or, treat you -- still -- as a child?

I always kept bad news from my mother if I could. Who wants to tell your mother your marriage is crumbling apart, or you're losing your house? It's so much easier to say "Everybody's Fine" (the name of a great movie starring Robert DiNiro about adult children and what they tell, and don't tell, their parents.) I always figured that by telling my mom that everybody was fine, it was in her best interest.

The irony here is that whatever your relationship with your mother, NO ONE ON EARTH is as interested in you as she is. And when your mother is gone, this fact above all others will be front and center. You get a promotion at work: your partner is thrilled, your kids are proud of you. But it is your mother who would be happiest, proudest, hanging on every detail before she runs to brag to her friends!

Adult kids may not realize this, but you and your lives are our main topic of conversation with our friends. We love to talk about our kids and how proud we are of them. This fact was brought to light for me one day many years ago when my kids were small. I had dropped them off at mom's in Whittier and then stopped to get gas before I ran some errands and went out to lunch.

The gas station attendant (that's how long ago this was!) was filling my car with gas and he looked at me and said, "You have the most beautiful children." I was shocked, realizing quickly he had mistaken me for someone else. I even glanced in the backseat to see if they were there, in their car seats, while he was commenting.

"Excuse me, I think you have me mistaken for somebody else," I said, briefly wondering if the guy was some weird pervert. "You are Kymry and Amber's mother, aren't you?" he said, causing my jaw to drop open. How in the Hell did this guy know my children? Major creepy!

He saw my shock and quickly explained. "Your mom is a customer here, and she always brings in the latest pictures of your kids and tells me what they're doing," he said, continuing to pump gas.

OMG. My mother is showing pictures of her grandkids to the gas station attendant?! Yikes! Can you imagine her pulling up and whisking out the pocket photo album while he's a captive audience, pumping her gas? And him, probably all of 19, having to be polite as she shows him photo after photo? And he recognized me from the photos.

I was mortified. Only later, long after my mom died, did I realize the depth of love that act was. At the time -- as a young mom myself, I only saw it as highly embarrassing.

It's highly difficult business, being somebody's mother. And the biggest myth of parenting is that you do most of your "mothering" when the children are little. It's the adult children, with their careers and relationships and stumbles in life, that require the most of us.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes in Nevada County

The last year (and I suspect this year as well) has brought amazing changes to Nevada County. While lots of businesses closed their doors, some brave souls started new ventures. Change is in the air.

Whether it's the Board of Supervisors consolidating or privatizing -- or coming up with new ventures like the business and convention bureau, the staid halls of government are flexing and bending. The city of Grass Valley is looking at consolidation of some services; Nevada City is getting a "local food marketplace"; and the friendly folks at the management company that oversees the Pineless, Creekless Center have evicted yet another tenant: this one Fashion Bug, a good source of serviceable inexpensive women's clothes.

Bel Capelli Spa will be opening soon on Broad Street and Culture Shock Yogurt in GV seems to have a following -- even in these cool months.

It's going to be more expensive to launch a boat or visit Scotts Flat Lake, and the annual pass has gone up as well.

There is no earthquake, but the county is changing and shifting as surely as if there had been one. Doctors and dentists come and go, but neighbors stay the same because no one can sell their house.

Are the changes good? Necessary? Or are some robbing the county of some of its funky rural charm? Have any changes impacted you?

Why is the Culture So Different at Monster & South Yuba Clubs?

Culture is an interesting thing. I'm sure you've been to a workplace with a great corporate culture -- maybe there is a lot of joking going on, or the people seem to genuinely like one another. And then, there's the oppressive culture at other workplaces or businesses -- kind of like the proverbial black cloud that seems to hang over the place. You can feel it. It's palpable. Where would you rather spend your time?

When Rich Sommerville was the editor of the local newspaper, he confessed that he hoped to change its culture. In fact, he was working on a doctoral thesis about changing newsroom culture so he viewed the local paper as a great testing ground. When the reporters didn't adapt the way he wanted them to, he set about turning over the jobs, hoping to "mold" the new people as he saw fit.

Sadly, Rich didn't achieve the results he hoped for with the newer employees. I think he forgot that a lot of strong egos lived in the journalism arena in those days and he also had to contend with the fact that the newsroom he managed was a small part of the paper as a whole and would never be able to undo the ingrained habits and culture that existed. After a couple years he moved on to another paper, and died of a heart attack before his work was completed.

All this is a roundabout way of getting to two of our local gyms, and the culture at each. First, South Yuba Club: a tad upscale for Nevada County. V'tae products used to compete for shelf space with sweats and T-shirts and, as the only gym at the time in Nevada City proper, it had a certain cache. It also has a pool, one of only 2 gym pools in the area. It's a bit more expensive.

Then we have Monster Gym, which used to be Courthouse Athletic Club until the Carvilles, owners of South Yuba, bought it, spiffed it up and changed the name. When we first moved here my husband joined Courthouse and I joined South Yuba. Since that time I have been able to add Monster to my membership for $5 more a month, doubling my offer of classes and equipment.

South Yuba has a quiet culture, respectful. People are there to work out, and the atmosphere is serious for the most part. Monster Gym is a whole other animal.

It seems as if everyone knows one another at Monster, and if they don't, you will soon get acquainted. The culture is extremely friendly, with everyone calling each other by name, smiling and chatting and joking going on as everyone works out. Mike, who is usually at the front desk, greets everyone by name and smiles, bantering some small talk about their family or their workout. Many people works in twos, spotting one another and visiting as they work out. Birthdays are celebrated regularly.

The class instructors all work out at the gym and can be seen outside of class, encouraging you to join in, whether it's spinning or Tai Chi. You feel welcomed, and included. At Monster, you are part of the collective -- at South Yuba, you work out alone.

There are people who probably appreciate the solitude of South Yuba, not wanting or caring to get to know anyone else working out. When I go there, no one asks where I've been or what I've been up to. But I sure feel welcomed at Monster, where, like Cheers, everybody knows your name.

Is Facebook the New Office Water Cooler?

Since becoming "funemployed" last March (has it really been almost a year?) several people still working have asked me if I miss the camaraderie of an office. I thought I would -- I really did -- but Facebook has filled that need.

I was a reluctant convert to FB, not really "getting" the point; several friends and relatives were on it and suggested I give it a try. It's about as hard to explain the lure of FB as Twitter, but I'll try...

The obvious is I keep up daily with a number of the older grandkids. I know how the Kauai grandson is doing in college in Southern California; how his brother was running the Honolulu Marathon (with my daughter posting photos and comments along his way); how 9 year old Bleu sees the world; and what our adult children are up to.

Then, there's the connections. Eric Tunison, my third-grade boyfriend, found me on FB! So have dozens of high school friends and various people from my past that I'd lost touch with. A reporter who worked for me more than 20 years ago found a typo in a post I wrote and said he's been waiting 20 years for that! My childhood next door neighbors have reconnected as well.

My current friends and neighbors offer up all kinds of info on their worlds as well. I knew that Lisa's baby was going to be a boy because they posted that when they left the doctor's office. I know which neighbors are on vacation and who their housesitter is.

Take that stew and throw in friends around the world; KVMR DJ's promoting upcoming shows; businesses telling me what's new and on sale; pages for Weight Watchers with diet and exercise tips and discussion boards.

Then there's the collective advice factor. I have nearly 500 people as FB friends, and any question is quickly answered by several of them. Kind of like Google, but with people you know making recommendations. Julie used that plumber and was happy with him? OK, sold.

The communication between friends can either be public (writing on their "wall") or private in a message that only they see. It's easier to message people on FB than sorting through different e-mail addresses.

So, all this stuff is not essential to my life. But, like the old image of the office water cooler, it's a great place to hang out for a few minutes and glean all sorts of interesting information.

Not on Facebook? It's easy to get connected. And while you're there, friend me!

Ginger, the Feline Alarm Clock

Ever since we rescued our cat, Ginger, from AnimalSave, I have had no need for an alarm clock. This was especially handy when I was still working, but now is less handy. Ginger wants me up at precisely 6 a.m. and believe me, if you can sleep while a determined cat is trying to get you up, you're a better person than I.

Ginger had been turned back to AnimalSave twice, and sucker that I am, I figured it was time for her "forever" home. Her first owner, an elderly woman, died of cancer and the husband returned the cat after she died. Her second adoption was with a family with young kids and she was abused by the children to the point that she was returned, again. As I carried her home, shaking and meowing in her carrier, I thought that living in a cage at AnimalSave (where she had been for several months) was worse than the cozy home we would provide.

The first 2 weeks Ginger lived under the bed, with a catbox and food and water. She rarely ventured out, but eventually she came to explore our small house. We figured it was just a matter of time before she was a contented lap cat.

That was 4 years ago. She sleeps on the bed with us now (the better to spring into action at 6 a.m.!), meows for my husband to brush her while he's reading the paper and occasionally sits within 10 feet of us. Last night was a big breakthrough -- she jumped on the couch for about 1 minute while we were both sitting there. So, it's been a long journey.

She accepted our Golden immediately, although she makes it clear she thinks he's an idiot. She looks from him to us as he's chewing on a tennis ball, a disgusted look on her face as if to say, "What in the world do you see in that fool?"

So, our tenuous peace continues. We've accepted the fact that Ginger will probably never be a lap cat, and she's accepted the fact that I am willing to spring out of bed at 6, ready to be at the cat's beck and call.

She's a beautiful girl, all fluffy white with a few orange spots and an orange striped tail. She seems to know she's pretty.

And getting up at 6 every day has its advantages, after all.