The New and The News

While preparing breakfast this morning, I glanced out at the living room through our kitchen’s pass-through window. Looking past all the beautiful plants that fill the room and out the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Mindy gently playing with our dogs on the deck. I could hear the light melody in her voice. Her face was serene and happy beneath her silvery-ginger hair.

Pandora chose the perfect soundtrack for the moment—an instrumental rendition of Mr. Bojangles plucked on an acoustic guitar. Standing at the counter I stopped what I was doing and traced the sunbeams coming through the skylights. The stillness and beauty of the setting took my breath away. I felt a deep sense of gratitude as I took it all in. It felt like the force from a fountain pushing up from the deep, producing the unmistakable stirring one feels in their chest just before tears begin to fill their eyes. "How did I get so lucky? I love her in all her fucked-upness and I know she loves me the same." The timeless Mr. Bojangles, still playing in the background... I swallowed hard when I saw her reach for the door to come back inside. I didn't want her to see me cry. I didn't want to lose the moment. I wanted to keep it tucked away in a place where I could find it when I needed to—a place where I hold memories about how good it is to be here, with her, in our magical home.

On September 11, 2001, I turned on the news—and never turned it off. Magical mornings did not happen, ever. How could I have transcendence when the world was coming to an end every single minute of every single day?

I've devoted 20 plus years of my life to the ceaseless cable news cycle. It's hard to believe that much time has passed. I was living in New York on the day of the attacks, so the reality of the situation was particularly poignant. In my on-again off-again relationship with god, church and apocalyptic forecasts, I felt a certain calling that day. I felt it was my duty to stay informed from there on out. And that's pretty much what I did, even after leaving the church.

I can hardly remember a time when cable news was not a constant presence in the years after 9/11. I thought about TV personalities as if they were my neighbors and friends. I didn't watch Morning Joe, I watched Joe and Mika. I didn't dislike The Situation Room, I disliked Wolf's monotone voice (“...someone should tell him”). From the time I got up each morning to finally crawling into bed, the news was always running in the background. I watched while getting dressed. While cooking. I watched at the gym and would get pissed if my headphones wouldn't sync with the gym's TV.  I worked at a media company in New York City, and the news was silently playing with captions all day long. When I got home, I watched my favorite cable hosts throughout the evening. In bed, I'd flip through channels to other news outlets in case I'd missed something. After finally drifting off to sleep, I'd wake up a few hours later. Unless there was breaking news, I’d finally switch off the blabber box. This was my “newsy” world. It might sound completely unhinged to some people, but I'm betting it's more widespread than most of us realize or are willing to admit. 

It's not all bad to have consumed this much content. I’m definitely more aware of the world around me and how things work from local governments to world affairs. I feel smarter, though I realize that's debatable. I also feel sharply informed, at least as far as one can believe what they hear on cable news. Plus, I'm socially adept, armed with a plethora of topics to discuss with other informed people. And that last point is something I’d like to highlight: how news-based conversations differ from genuine connection. 

I don’t want to outright pooh-pooh the idea of discussing current events with friends and acquaintances. The state of the world can be a catalyst to deeper conversations, and it offers an easy ice-breaker for awkward social gatherings. But I’ve noticed something peculiar about being ultra-informed. It’s given me a sense of belonging. There's a certain social currency that comes with being in the know. People look up to you. I’ve fantasized about having a certain sophistication that, if used properly, would set me at the head of the table for a lot of conversations. On the other hand, an overly-informed person is sometimes simply an opinionated jerk. I might lean that way on occasion if I’m being completely honest.

We all need a place to blow off steam and get some relief from the tension and stresses of the world. I’d venture to say that with the combination of cable news and social media, we are more than in touch with our fears, frustration and outrage. But I don’t think we were prepared as a society to see what these avenues of communication were going to do to us. I’m not saying anything new here and many writers have said it much better than me. What I’m getting at is that while these media streams offer us a place to off-load pent up feelings, they’re really emotional substitutes for things about life, or perhaps people, that have disappointed us. In social settings, I didn’t know what to talk about because I’d lived a mostly unconventional life that often embarrassed me. News-based conversations validated that I was intelligent and participating in society. That’s an assumption of course, maybe I am a fool! But as the saying goes, “there’s safety in numbers.” I would agree. I felt safe when I was with people who worried and complained as I did about the state of the world. We’re in this together, we fight side by side to the bitter end. We’re a part of something, even if we do nothing but post OMFG’s on Facebook a few times a week.

Competition. We love it. We live for it. We sometimes pay handsomely just to get a chance to scream our love/hate from stadium chairs. It almost felt the same way when I’d flip between competing news channels. I’d suck my teeth at one, and blow kisses at the other. Occasionally I'd root for the other team if I thought that what they were saying would have a direct impact on me, especially on my pocket book. "Hmm, that's a fair observation." That might actually be a better way to watch cable news if we must. Don't commit to either side. Slip on the zebra shirt and call it like we see it.

By nature I'm a judgmental person. It’s a perpetual thorn in my flesh. Perched high on my throne of self-righteousness, I’ve enjoyed talking out loud to the talking heads and sometimes shouting at them while driving an angry fist. I’ve felt intensely engaged with the world and with my peers. It didn’t matter that I was wallowing in mud pit slime, all dudied up in the important need-to-know details of the day. It gave me a sense of togetherness with others as informed and miserable as me. It feels good to be miserable, to mock and aim arrows. It feels good to shame the other. "How can you not see the error of your ways?" cry the red, purple and blue.

After the November ’24 general election, and all the anxiety and buildup to it, I felt as if I’d been run over by a media truck. I just couldn’t do it any more. I stopped watching the news until about mid-February, and then only about 10 to 20 minutes every couple of days. On the stairmaster at the gym, I’ll manage a half hour to help mindlessly pass the time. I still haven’t gone back to doom-scrolling in bed. It’s no surprise that I’m sleeping so much better! 

My wife and I are in negotiations for cutting the cord. Giving up on cable news isn’t a new concept. We’ve made the leap several times before but inevitably would go back, especially with a looming election cycle. But an unwired TV lifestyle just might be on the horizon.

A funny thing happened recently. We’ve been trying different furniture configurations to improve the space in our small living room. Each arrangement hinged on the best viewing experience on our gargantuan TV. We kept trying to find a setup where the TV wasn’t so prominent when we finally realized that, “You can’t hide a 55 inch TV!” I remembered we had an older, smaller model stuffed on a shelf in the bedroom closet—a cute little 32 inch smart TV. We set it up against a small section of wall where it doesn’t stick out. There’s no seductive cable outlet on that wall either. Suddenly, we had our house back. The monstrosity no longer demanded our attention. It felt good. 

We are both doing our best to read more, to do artsy crafty stuff, play with the dogs and enjoy nature. Don't get me wrong. Even though I've cut news viewing to a fraction, at any moment I might fling myself right down in front of my laptop and start scanning sites for breaking news. On one such occasion I witnessed the recent ignominious hullabaloo in the Oval Office between Trump, Vance and Zelenskyy. I lost 2 hours of sleep that night. I laid there wide awake at 3 in the morning, annoyed with myself for being so vulnerable to the instantaneous influence of the media. 

Yawning and moody later that day, a timeless saying came to mind: “Be in the world, not of it.” I’ve most often heard it used to instruct christian believers to live their lives without being sullied by the ugly, sinful world. I find it useful in the context of news consumption. We know that in reality, cable news channel executives care about one thing— ratings—and they will do anything to keep viewers coming back for one popcorn-cramming spectacle after another. 

I don’t know why we humans find it difficult to look away from a hideous site. There is very little news reported today that doesn’t induce anxiety. Scarier than that, I think that the over-consumption of the news might be numbing us to the point that when it becomes imperative that we “act accordingly”—we don’t. We’ll wind up staring in space while the rug is pulled out from under us. Arguably, we might already be there.

Despite these concerns, I still want to stay informed while remaining open and thoughtful. I've discovered that reading the news, rather than watching it, brings a natural freshness that broadcast media cannot provide.

I like the idea of reading newspapers, an exercise lost to previous generations. Part of me would love to have newspapers delivered to my door but it’s a lot of paper, and costs so much more than the online versions. Since I’ve started reading the news, I’ve noticed that stories stick differently. Without all the indignance, mockery, and worried expressions, I’m better able to form my own opinions. Perhaps behind the texts there still lurks the snobbish nasality of an over-educated journalist, but I seem to absorb and appreciate the content in a richer way— and on my own terms. Some might argue that I’m still being fed, but it’s fundamentally different. The written word creates a healthier nuance in the brain where feeding it images does not. It’s harder work for one, and exercising the mind is not a dubious undertaking. 

After thinking about it for many years, I finally decided to document my life experiences, in part as a way to cope and let things go. As I mentioned earlier, some of my history is terribly embarrassing, and up until now it was hard to talk about. Now I find myself more willing to share those experiences, and talk about life matters without so much focus on current events. Maybe others would be willing to share their stories too. Maybe it’s a way to fight back against the storytellers that are doing us more harm than good. One press of the remote power button opens up another world, the one we used to play and climb trees in, chase grasshoppers and sing back to birds. I realize there will always be “the news” to fall back on if social awkwardness insists on getting the best of me. But with some practice, I’m hoping this new outlook will open doors to more intentional engagement with the most precious things we have: time and each other. 

Does the news really need to be that big?