In a 24/7/365 world, who has time for the profound anymore?
Bert Medley and Cheryl Gould
Nearly everyone I know is busy to the point of being frantic, but being busy isn't only a matter of having a full schedule. Often, I feel like the weight of the things on your schedule matters even more. My biggest worry isn't having a full schedule -- I love being busy -- but rather not having the time to process important things. You can't rush past the profound. Or at least, you shouldn't. More and more, I feel like I have to, and that bothers me.
I lead a charmed life, and yesterday I had the high honor to attend two beautiful events. Both involved major life changes for titans of journalism, and the list of dignitaries was incredible. Towards the end of the night, I looked around and realized I was in a small room with Tom Brokaw, Brian Williams, Matt Lauer, and a host of other folks with names and faces you know. It was one of those moments when you try to click the video recorder in your mind into HD mode so you can remember every little detail.
And all I really wanted to do was sit down with a cup of coffee, stare out the window, and think for a little while.
The first event was a memorial service for Bert Medley, held at the famous St. Bart's Episcopal church on Park Avenue. Bert was a beautiful man with an outsized smile who helped invent journalism online back in the 1990s. He died of cancer, too young at 69, but lived a life much fuller than most. His produced one of NBC's most important and empathetic series ever, called "In Pursuit of the American Dream" with Bob Dotson. One of the stories he did, on a Philly cop's efforts to grant wishes for kids dying of cancer, eventually helped pave the way for the Make a Wish Foundation. He blazed trails not only in digital journalist, but also as one of the first successful African American TV pioneers. After journalism, Katie Couric made sure he served on the vestries of Trinity Wall Street and St. Bart's.
He walked with stars. But when I met him in 1995, he treated me -- an intern -- like I was an executive. Always encouraging, always asking questions, always trying to be helpful. Bert didn't just make me feel like his equal, he made me feel like I could be as great as him some day.
The memorial service, which he "produced" before he died from his hospice bed, was breathtaking. Bert knew music. If any other song can make you sad and happy at the same time as "Will the Circle Be Unbroken," sung Johnny Cash style by John Malino, I don't know what it is. Diane Medley Smith sang "If I Can Help Somebody," commanding that we all look inside to see if we are doing our part on the planet, with Bert as a measuring stick.
"If I can help somebody as I pass along/If I can cheer somebody with a word or a song/If I can show somebody how they're traveling wrong/than my living shall not be in vain."
Fittingly, Bert spent his last days comforted by an outpouring of messages left by friends from all over the world at a Facebook page called Loving Bert. Even if you have no idea who I'm writing about, a browse of the page will cheer you that such men still walk our earth, and such love endures.
Stumbling out of the church , I had only a few minutes to get to my next event, which was more of a coronation, but equally profound. But before I got there, having been offline for nearly three hours, I had to check my email. There were editors looking for story ideas, book publicists needing answers, all doing their jobs as they should.
And I just wanted to sit.
Instead, I scurried on to Rockefeller for the nicest farewell party I have ever attended -- and I have attended many recently. Cheryl Gould worked at NBC for 37 years. She was the first women executive producer of Nightly News, and smashed glass ceilings nearly every year of her life. But, like Bert, she did it all -- she swam with the sharks -- while somehow staying the kindest, most approachable and caring person in the building. Like Bert, Cheryl talked to me as if I were Tom Brokaw from the very first time we met. If she was ever busy, I never noticed. Her son sent along a letter that was read, chronicling the endless stream of visitors who arrived at Cheryl's apartment for wine and late-night conversations, both famous and invisible.
Last night, Tom Brokaw spoke and said that Cheryl had set the foundation for what he believes will be the "women's century." And if by that he means an America where executives can be great leaders AND great sources of empathy and kindness, I hope he's right.
I was incredibly lucky to be there, in a room full of famous TV personalities, all treating Cheryl Gould like gold. If you ever get the chance to attend a farewell party for someone in TV, please do so. The blooper reels alone are worth it. As I heard of her career, including stories of the Berlin Wall collapse, the opening of China, I thought about all that Cheryl has left to share.
I just wanted to sit.
If my parents taught me one thing, it was this: Listen to your elders. Don't be foolish and ignore all the great lessons learned by the people around you. I fear, as any rational observer should, that our culture and our economy is making it increasingly hard to listen to our elders. But that is a column for another day.
Today, I just want to sit and think about all these things. And as I try to carve out the time to....to what? I'm not sure. To process, I guess....I'm thinking about the hidden consequences of our always-on, 24/7/365 lives. You can't really put time to think on your Outlook calender. Cheating a profound experience out of the time it takes to let it settle in your heart is bad for your soul, I believe.
You can't rush the profound.