Who hasn’t wondered about former old friends, and had the urge to touch base? Joe Bev takes the urge and acts, seeking out the best buddy he met in second grade and lost in college. Fortunate for him, he’s an inveterate tape-saver and has priceless archival tape of he and his buddy from their earliest comedic forays. Twenty-one years after their falling out, inspired by Paul and Art’s vocal reunion, Joe starts his search and takes us along for the ride. Somewhat surprisingly, there’s little audio of the search, just audio of Paul Simon, Joe’s narrative, and the voice of a mutual friend reading a message from the still ticked-off buddy who, bizarrely, makes a point of e-mailing from an untraceable location. I’d have liked to hear the friend’s mom, or some of the people contacted on the search, or the drama coach. But anyway, turns out the ex-buddy can hold a grudge like nobody’s business, and JB is left shrugging –– he’s not guilty as charged, but he can’t get a hearing. There’s no ruminating on bitterness, differing realities, unsatisfying resolution. In a way, this feels like the start of a piece, but really, it’s complete –– just not as deep as some might enjoy. Would be fine starting discussion piece, as part of longer programming on friendship, youth, or fine as a first person drop-in. PDs pay attention: this has an ATC in and out.

A cacophony of voices starts off this worthy report from outside the borders of World America. Quickly we move to a series of comments from various activists, male and female, around the globe. It may make you unhappy to hear that we’re considered “arrogant and slightly ignorant about the state of the world,” but it shouldn’t surprise you. Nor should it to hear an Iraqi woman describe the occupation as a virus that’s introduced terrorism where once there was none. What happens in America greatly affects the rest of the world and we need to know how we’re seen. Given that the current president seems to consider pigheadedness a positive value, and much of the media daintily avoids the art of serious reportage, we the people desperately need the fresh oxygen of other opinions to keep us from succumbing to the stifling limitations imposed by the war on terrorism. PD’s would do well to squeeze this half-hour into their programming inauguration week. It may irk listeners who think Bush is the right Yale cowpoke for the job, but anything that stirs the populace to reflect is good for the health of the body politic.

Sensitive, artful production here. A cat scan test running under the intimate words of a father with cancer. He's thinking out loud about protecting the children from his pain and suffering: "They have enough to worry about in their own lives." And about keeping his spirits positive: "If they're talking gloom and doom around me, I'm just not going down that road." We hear from his children, too, and it grabs your heart, the whole picture. Lots of parents have cancer. Air this for them. Air this for their kids.

Hearing a young, fresh talented voice is an exciting thing. You can tell when someone’s got something going on and Kierstin Gray does. She’s got a Stevie Wonder way with rhythm, a Tracy Chapman way with words and playing chops to spare. Real talent. But the setting leaves a little to be desired. The congenial host opens the program with 20 minutes of keyboard noodling, and fine noodling it is, but it feels a little self-indulgent. Conversational breaks are so-so. Some of the Q&A is good, but there’s way too much talk about upcoming gigs and web sites and things that could be edited out. The idea of a live, relaxed studio session is a fine one. I just think the producer might think about editing it into an hour-long program that more folk-based public radio stations might consider airing.

Meister makes a reasoned, well-informed case for allowing, as most other countries do, convicts who have served their time the right to vote. This was as important an issue during the 2000 Florida debacle as it is right this minute. When large numbers in certain communities are disenfranchised, true democracy suffers. This is a no-frills commentary and has a home-production quality that somehow works for me. There’s something wonderful about hearing an intelligent, non-celebrated citizen’s two-cents. It’s worth much more than that!

A moving and satisfying tribute to survivors of those lost in the explosion and crash of Pan Am Flight 103. But the piece moves beyond one specific tragedy and reaches all the way to the land of universal appeal. The production delicately interconnects spoken word and archival tape with music from a requiem for the Lockerbie victims, and feels as ethereal as what it describes: surviving the unimaginable loss of someone you love. The program’s arc covers huge spans in a mere twenty minutes. Sentence fragments shine beams of light at spots along the tragic arc. While we are spared excruciating details, we’re given just enough to imagine the unimaginable. A widow describes her daughter’s year-long premonitory series of nightmares about her father dying in a crash. Scottish accents flicker in, witnesses to the crash itself. Another widow describes the phone call announcing her husband’s death, and her response: “I don’t want to hear this. Stop… Stop… Stop.” The strength and comfort they find in each other and in their political activism inspires, although 9/11 left them feeling betrayed: “One of the things that motivated us in our political work was that we would be the last people to ever go through this again.” The women describe their husbands in words that sound like clichés, except they’re not because the words apply to real and much missed human beings. The women light up when someone wants to hear about their late spouses. “There’s a revival. It’s like you’ve taken bellows and you are taking a little glowing ember that never goes out and you’re bringing it back into flame.” Perfect production to air in remembrance of the Lockerbie anniversary, but also during holidays when we reflect and remember. You needn’t have lost someone in a tragic incident to find sustenance in this fine work, you just need to be human.

Thank you Larry Josephson for the opportunity to eavesdrop on this fascinating, thought-provoking exchange, and no duck hunting involved! Josephson’s respect and appreciation for Ginsburg’s strength, independence and intelligence fuel his thoughtful questions and she is generous with her responses. No arrogance here, just an amazing story – as Josephson points out, hers is the perfect paradigm of the American immigrant experience. Her calm recounting of dealing with sexism and anti-semitism provide powerful reminders of how far we’ve come, and how far we have yet to go to create true equality and respect for “the other” in this country. Ginsburg’s profound admiration of our founding fathers’ far-sightedness, and of the grandness of the Constitution make that precious document come intensely alive for the listener. And there’s a lovely moment where she’s asked to read the First Amendment. I won’t spoil by telling. Air this. Listen for that moment. Obvious pick for Women’s History month, but don’t ghettoize it there. Given that new Supremes are in the offing, this couldn’t be more timely. OK, after Christmas, but soon!

I enjoyed listening to the different observations and reflections of the mostly male voices in this piece. Of course, I happen to agree with much of what’s being said about America’s country’s warring, controlling nature, including the culture’s insatiable need to consume and then some. Thoughtful quotes from Norman Mailer, Mark Hertsgaard and Allen Ginsberg frame a series of voices, some of color, whose interesting insights and reactions provide food for thought, especially if you see the world differently than the speakers in this piece. Fear is always worth examining since it’s at the heart of so many of our actions, and this is indeed a nuanced journey into the topic. That there’s no attempt at balance is somewhat of a relief given the narrowing definition of what it means to be patriotic these days. This would be perfect Sunday or evening programming.

HearingVoices specials’ feel like themed Harper’s Magazines for radio to me. Their culling of fine new or archival material is always beautifully paced and produced. This special is no exception. The narrator offers a few significant statistics, but the power is in the people’s voices, from South Africa’s exquisitely human nurse Sister Agnes, to North America’s excrutiatingly human HIV+ mother Jackie. In between are powerful excerpts from poem, essay, theatrical production, and the poignant audio diaries of spirited, philosophical teens living positively in more ways than one. This heart-moving hour needs to be heard.

My late mother was bipolar, undiagnosed till she was in her late 60s. I used to think how different her life would have been had she received help during adolescence. Of course, as this documentary ably demonstrates she’d have had to have been born in America within the last twenty years, had alert, caring parents, lived in an area with savvy pediatricians and an enlightened school district, etc. etc, to have had a prayer. It’s a complicated diagnosis, treatment is by experiment and feel, the strain on family members intense, and the prognosis uncertain. I remember my mother saying she’d give anything just to know what it felt like to be “normal.” Listening to these three young people struggle to hold onto themselves, I understood even more of what she went through. There’s a good range of professionals interviewed (though a couple of them are so dry I had to pinch myself to pay attention). It’s the kids and moms at the heart of the report who move you. The strain, fear, anger, hope touched me, and there’s much useful and interesting information to contemplate. Adolescence is a hard enough stretch for kids and parents to navigate. Mental illness makes the journey endlessly more treacherous. Highly recommend as health or youth-related programming.

Amusing, insightful look at the differences between Hollywood’s take on Washington and the thing itself from someone who has actually witnessed political life. My RN mother used to have the same indignant reaction to hospital shows, as in “Don’t they know anything?!!” Paul has the same lively harrumph thing going on. Real politics seems surreal enough these days, but Paul reminds us that most of the time they’re actually trying to do something in DC. Even if it isn’t always what you want them to do. Good ME, ATC drop-in length.

The producer takes a complicated, potentially dry topic and delivers a fine treatment. There’s lively audio, an interesting original score, and fast-moving, cogent narrative. Piece wisely focuses on two neighborhoods, giving us time to get to know at least a few protagonists and get a real sense of place and of the issues involved. Unhappy artists fearing eviction from illegally occupied mill live/work space tail a building department guy as he inspects: “This place will go up like a matchstick.” The artists’ want affordable, flexible housing, the city wants to keep them alive, especially after the horrific Station nightclub fire. A group of developers want to raze the mills and build a super market, preservationists want to preserve the industrial heritage of the city. Other developers plan for adaptive reuse of industrial buildings in a neighborhood of immigrants who fear being forced out by the gentrification wave that inevitably follows artists. While sympathetic to the artists’ point of view, the lens ranges wide. Although this is about Providence, the issue exists in any urban setting –– affordable housing is scarce all over the country. Conveniently in two parts so could run as short series. Glad to see a talented young producer tackle this kind of subject.

The production notes describe the gist of this well-balanced report. The emotional impact of what is said by various children is slightly dulled unless you understand their native tongue, but only slightly. Poignant observations by professionals make acutely clear the devastating impact of seemingly endless violence and uncertainty.
A Palestinian doctor says, “No one knows what’s normal any more,” as he describes kids saying, “We’re used to it,” when asked how they manage to cope. He continues: “Nobody should be used to misfortune or occupation or pressure or torture in such a humiliating way. Nobody should be used to curfews, not going to school, or not going to work…” He could be describing life in some of America’s poorest of the poor communities, the ones we don’t want to think about. Alex Kotlowitz’s “There Are No Children Here,” immediately comes to mind. Worth airing because what happens to the children over there impacts what will happen here, and this is a well-produced look at what sows the seeds in the cycle of violence.

Connolly, self-described as a “recovering political journalist now writing about health care,” is an engaging speaker, with a sense of a humor and an ability to coherently deconstruct a host of complex health care issues. She opens with a brief flurry of statistics and context-providing information, talks about some of the positive aspects of our health care system –– innovation, advances, longer life spans, and then focuses on the more problematic and illogical aspects. Gives good, clear examples throughout and clearly elucidates the difference between Bush and Kerry’s health care approach. Focus on malpractice reform is illuminating, as is discussion on value of mammogram and prostate screening. And of course, our 44 million uninsured, Medicare concerns, the high cost of pharmaceuticals in this country, and the grassroots revolt of mayors and governors who are buying drugs from Canada merit much discussion. An excellent hour on health care issues, definitely worth airing before the election. This is the second of the chautauqua series I’ve heard and thank goodness for WQLN’s public service bent.

This feels like a sort of sound google of swan. We hear snippets about swans as they appear in poetry and prose, legend and religion, music and dance, as well as in nature, and even in sales. Stories about Pavlova, observations on the various swan species, recordings of their natural call, as well as excerpts of lovely swan-inspired music, are gathered in what feels like no particular order. There’s a dreamy quality, balanced by a swan specialist’s clear-eyed comments, including how they taste after accidentally colliding with power lines and dying very un-poetic deaths. Not usual NPR fare, but could be satisfying change from point-driven reports, election coverage, and hideous news from various war zones.