My Life
2007
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| Roberta News by Roberta Jasina |
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| Stuff about me and some things that are on my mind. |
September 2006
Welcome to Roberta News!
I'm a long-time news anchor-reporter at Detroit's #1 radio station for news, sports, traffic and weather information. In my opinion, I have the greatest job in the world. I get to be on the radio and tell stories. True stories. Sometimes, they are great, inspiring stories. Sometimes, they are stories that help people. Sometimes they're sad, horrible stories about the "human condition." The cross we all carry. I love my job. And I love the stories.
If you have a story you'd like to tell me, please drop me a note at Robertanews@gmail.com
RobertaJasina@aol.com
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Life goes in waves.
It truly does.
A couple of weeks ago, while on my way to work in the dead of night,
down a dark, lonely road that runs alongside a very large cemetery,
I was followed by someone driving a dark sport utility vehicle.
No, it was more than just being followed.
First he was tailgating me...very very closely.
And then he pulled out quickly, and jumped in front of me at a red light.
This little cat and mouse game went on for about four miles.
I was terrified.
As we continued on, we came upon a fork in the road.
At this point, the SUV was in front of me.
I was relieved.
I thought…which ever way HE goes, I’ll go the other way.
He turned to the right.
I went to the left.
I felt better.
Then I looked in my rearview mirror and saw him cutting across to get back on the road that I was on.
I floored the gas pedal.
Luckily I was only about a half mile from the radio station.
I screeched into the parking lot, drove my car right up to the door of WWJ, left it sitting there with the lights on, grabbed my purse and jumped out. Luckily I had my electronic key card in my purse and was able to get in the door of the office before I came face to face with the guy who’d followed me into the radio station parking lot.
I was petrified.
The bosses were notified. The police were called.
Nothing has come of it.
The whole thing just scared me and depressed me.
And then something like today happens.
Today I had the opportunity of a lifetime.
I got to sit down in a little room with Sir Neville Marriner at Orchestra Hall in Detroit, and I got to interview him.
I was given the opportunity to ask him anything in the world.
I asked him how much time he had for me.
He told me, I could have him as long as I wanted.
(Sigh.)
We talked about Mozart, and Salieri.
We talked about Sir Neville’s son.
We talked about conducting an orchestra.
We talked about Detroit.
He told me about something that absolutely petrifies him on stage.
I asked him what makes him a great conductor.
I asked him if he’s flamboyant.
(!)
He told me a funny story about the actor Jimmy Stewart.
We laughted out loud, a couple of times.
He was handsome, and wonderful, and about as down to Earth as you can get.
I absolutely loved him.
And then I did something I never do.
I asked him for his autograph.
He was so gracious.
He autographed a CD for me.
Beautiful handwriting.
And as I was leaving he told me it was a pleasure to meet me.
Sir Neville Marriner told me it was a pleasure to meet me.
Good God.
Thank you.
The pleasure was all mine.
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August 12
Something really big happened to me this past week.
I had the honor of "throwing out the first pitch" at the Detroit Tigers game against Minnesota on Monday night at Comerica Park.
Now, in these days of terrorism, war, recession and depression, I know something like this doesn't sound very important.
But it was important to me.
My beloved father, Michael Jasina, loved baseball.
He loved to play baseball.
He and his brothers loved to play baseball.
They loved the Tigers their entire lives.
One of the brothers almost had a major league pitching career.
They loved to talk about the Tigers.
They saved newspaper clippings about the Tigers.
They loved the Tigers.
And on Monday night, in a downtown stadium that was sold out, with
nearly 40 thousand people in the stands,
I was on the field where the Detroit Tigers play,
and my name was announced in the stadium over the stadium speaker,
and my picture was on the scoreboard
and I threw a Tigers baseball to home plate.
(And it MADE IT to home plate.)
And now I have that autographed baseball here at home with me.
It was an incredible moment.
See the thing is....
When they announced my name, they were announcing my father's name.
Jasina.
I wore his World War II "dog tags" around my neck in his honor.
Never in his wildest dreams, would he have EVER believed
that his DAUGHTER would some day throw a pitch at a Tigers Game.
And that HIS NAME would be announced in front of a crowd of forty thousand.
Daddy....
I hope you saw that on Monday night.
I hope you know I was thinking of you.
I hope you were proud.
I love you.
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July 10, 2006
“Who Moved My Cheese”
That’s the name of a book I read a while ago.
In the business world it’s a big best seller.
It’s just a little book.
It’s about change.
It’s about change being inevitable.
And it’s about how we should not DREAD change.
We should anticipate it.
And embrace it!
I’m having a hard time with the embracing.
The older I get, it seems, the less I want to say….
Look at all the unbelievable changes happening to my body!
Great!
Friends are drifting off,
My house is falling apart,
The economy is getting tighter,
My bills are getting higher.
Wonderful!
North Korea is shooting off missiles.
Iran wants to play the nuclear game.
The world is getting more populated, and polluted.
Perfect!
People I cherish are getting sick and dying.
Bon Voyage!
I wish I could be one of those people who look at problems and change as “opportunities.”
I wish I could just be hearty, and happy and optimistic.
But I can’t
I can’t stand change.
So where’s the damn cheese, please.
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June 30
It’s happened again.
It happens every year.
About this time.
I was in my garden this morning, thinking about
how my flower beds haven’t turned out the way I’d planned.
Again.
Plants that are supposed to be “shade loving”
Don’t really love the shade they’re in at my house.
Plants that are supposed to crave “full sun”
Are looking a little fried.
Some bushes and perennials I’ve planted this year haven’t yet “taken.”
They’re still getting to know their new surroundings.
Deciding whether they want to put down roots or not.
Other perennials I’ve planted in years past, have decided to create a sudden crowded jungle.
When did they go from being small and stubborn
To being too big for their britches.
I caught myself saying this morning,
“Well next year, this should look great.”
Every year, it seems, I say that.
And every year…it never quite pans out.
Ok.
So that’s how it is, is it?
I’m not giving up..
Maybe some day, before I die,
I will be able to look out at my yard and say…
Good!
This is good!
In the meantime, I’m enjoying the sweating and the dreaming.
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June 23
What a remarkable dad.
The father of one of those two U.S. soldiers who were kidnapped, tortured and then beheaded in Iraq has said something amazing.
In an interview, he said his son was a really wonderful young man who was an excellent soldier.
He said his son was in Iraq to do his job.
And he died trying to do his job.
And about his son’s killers?
The father said, the men that did this to his son….
Were also there doing THEIR jobs.
That THEY are also someone’s sons.
He’s right, of course.
This is the story of war.
I don’t think I could EVER be this rational about the kidnapping, torture and death of my own son.
But my God,
I admire the hell out of this American dad.
And his son.
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June 16
I was out driving with my 14 year old son today, and we were talking about how funny it would be if someone made
a movie of our family's life.
(An adventure-comedy, no doubt.)
I told my son I would like Angelina Jolie to star as me in the flick.
Dead silence.
Then hysterical laughter from the back seat.
Pretending to be surprised and hurt by his response, I asked him...
"What's so funny?"
He said, after a few moments,
"Um, Angelina Jolie isn't smart enough or pretty enough to be you."
What a brilliant boy.
: )
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June 2006
Munich on My Mind
World Cup Soccer has begun.
Normally I don’t give a damn about soccer.
Lots of running.
Not much scoring.
Rioting fans.
But I do care this year.
They are playing this year in Germany.
(This past April I was in Germany, during my first ever trip to Europe.)
I fell in love with that country.
I loved the mountains.
The gorgeous cathedrals.
The old world charm.
The history.
The music.
The people.
The food.
And of course, the beer.
There is such greatness in Germany.
Past and present.
Great beauty.
Great composers.
Great scientists.
Great tragedy.
And I was there to touch it and taste it and hear it and see it and breathe it.
I loved it.
I am so grateful.
And as I watch those games there this year,
in the brand new stadium they built just for this competition,
I will be wishing I was there.
A part of my heart already is.
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April 15, 2006
I’m doing something I’ve never done before. Other people do this sort of thing all the time. I haven’t. But Monday I will. I am breaking out of my comfort zone. (It’s gotten uncomfortable.) And so I’m breaking out. Way out. I’m going to Europe for the first time ever. I can’t even believe I wrote that: I’m going to Europe. I’m taking my beloved son who is half German (not my half. His father’s half) to Germany. To the land of some of his ancestors. Also the land of Mozart. And Hitler. I am so excited for my son. And I am so excited and scared for myself. My husband isn’t going. My other son is staying home with my husband. And the two dogs. It will just be my 17 year old son and me. I’m worried about so many things. How will the flight across the Atlantic be? Will there be any complications? What is Germany like? How much money will we spend? Why didn’t I start packing sooner? What will the weather be like? Will we get into any trouble? Will my son be able to stand me for ten days? What will I learn about him? Will this trip bring us closer, or split us apart? I am so glad I’m going. I need an adventure. God help me.
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March 18, 2006
I was in a card shop one day and I heard one of the young clerks “confessing” to her coworkers, that she was “going to have to “break it off with another one.” They were all laughing. She was saying that another guy she’d met on the Internet and had been writing to for some time, was “falling in love” with her, and it was time for her to end their “relationship.” More laughter. I wondered, how many hearts had this young woman broken? Why does she do this? Why is it funny? How did it start? What kind of “wreckage” has she left in her e-mail wake? How much? How serious? I felt sorry for the invisible men she written to, and reeled in with her wonderful letters. She had offered them bait, and they took it. And now she was cutting the line. And someone would flounder. Maybe wondering what HE had done wrong. Wondering what was the matter with him. Maybe he would never trust anyone for a long long time. Maybe he would be empty. And acheing. While she was laughing. Out loud. So that friends and strangers (like me) could hear. _________________________________________________________________________________________
December 3, 2005
There are two parts to my job. For five hours a day I am on the air READING the news. For three hours after that, I am in the newsroom (or out and about) trying to dig up some interesting local news stories. Yesterday, I worked on three VERY DIFFERENT stories. And they were "uplifting," and depressing, and thought provoking. All at the same time. The first story I phoned on was an Oakland County plastic surgeon who is running newspaper ads, encouraging people to "Give the Gift That Keeps on Giving" this holiday season. Breast Enlargement. For Christmas. $3999. About an hour after I did an interview on THAT little number, some little school kids from Detroit came into the radio station for a tour. I interviewed them about what they'd like for Christmas. There were the usual answers: computer games, music, jewelry. Then one little boy said: "I wish the shootings would stop in my neighborhood." Then a friend of mine called me and told me about a homeless shelter in Detroit run by a Catholic priest. My friend claims the guy is a saint. She says I should do a story about him. Get this. He organizes volunteers to wash the feet of the poor people who stay at his shelter. Under the supervision of registered nurses, volunteers care for the feet of the homeless. The priest says Detroit has the highest percentage of diabetes related amputations in the country. I guess foot care is not a top priority for people who are often freezing and starving to death in the streets. I came home from work and couldn't stop thinking about those three news stories. Breast enlargement to celebrate the birth of Christ. A little kid whose Christmas wish is for people to stop shooting each other. And the priest who humbles himself before the homeless and washes their feet. What a wild and interesting world we live in. God bless us, (And God HELP us) everyone.
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November 20
Interesting survey out this week about Catholics, and what they're doing (and NOT doing) and thinking. The survey was done by The National Catholic Reporter, an independent news weekly. Three-quarters of American Roman Catholics consider themselves in good standing with their church (and God!) even if they don't attend Mass weekly or obey the church ban on artificial contraception. Asked about possible responses to the priest shortage, three-quarters said the church should ordain married men, while 61 percent supported ordaining celibate women. Eighty-one percent said clergy who left the priesthood to marry should be allowed to return. Ok. I confess. I personally am with the majority on all of these questions. Amen.
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November 12, 2005
I had one of those moments yesterday. A short, sweet, little moment.
It was the Friday after election day in Detroit, and our newsteam did such an excellent job covering the balloting, that our boss treated us to a little after-work party at a wonderful Southfield restaurant. The food was good. Cajun. Mmmmm. People I care about were all there, and we were, all of us, in a good celebratory mood. We ate and drank and laughed and remembered (out loud) crazy/funny stuff about politicans, news stories and people from our past. And we laughed at ourselves. As the day was winding down (and the drinks were loosening us up!) a young lady who works with us said to no one in particular, "What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?" We looked around the table at each other. Laughed out loud. And then AMAZINGLY...people in the group started telling about some of the skeletons in their closet. This was a dangerous conversation. But people were serious (and funny) and were sharing their uncomfortable stuff. Situations that make them squirm. Their inner selves. I was the last person. When the conversation came to me I said.... "I'm pretty boring. I'm just an old woman with a husband and two children." That's when the young lady who had originally posed the question, looked at me with the most SERIOUS look on her face and said quietly, "Roberta. I would NEVER describe you that way." Thank you. Thank you, sweet girl. From someone who wants to be normal. But NOT boring.
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October 25, 2005
I’m learning something new about relationships. Something I don’t like very much. Something that doesn’t make much sense. (But when did relationships EVER make sense?!!) More and more, I’m discovering that there are in my life, certain people whom I love dearly, but who, at the same time… DRIVE ME CRAZY. CRAZY, I TELL YOU!!! Oh. And one more thing. I know I drive THEM crazy, too. And when I have a conversation with these particular people I love, we are always….ALWAYS….on the verge of a strangulation. Possibly a double strangulation. Always. How is this possible? How can you like someone, respect someone, even love someone… and want to constantly throttle them at the same time. Is it just me, or does everyone have "Poison Pals and Toxic Lovers." Why do I so often clash with people I care about. Why can’t love be easy. Why can’t love be loving
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October 1, 2005
I spent the day at my Alma Mater, Michigan State University on Thursday. I talked with dozens of students, and moms and dads, and store clerks and passers-by. It was wonderful going back. Back to the place I earned my degree. The place I met my husband. The place in the past where much of my future would be born. But something bothered me in my euphoric nostalgia. Something about the students I saw. The majority of them were talking on cell phones, or were listening to their I-pods as they strolled around campus in between classes. I wanted to grab them and say.... "ARE YOU CRAZY?" You can listen to recorded music and downloads for the rest of your life! But these precious years at this beautiful place where the students are all young, and beautiful and intelligent and bursting with hope and life and questions, and opinions and laughter ...these years are fleeting! I wanted to tell them to live in the "now." Unplug. Talk to strangers. For God's sake...unplug yourself. And open yourself up to the unfamiliar, the options, the question marks, the unscripted the un-recorded and unpredictable and new now. Because very soon, life becomes so different you'll just want to cry. And you will.
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