Winter and summer -- at the same time!

This is just a short posting to upload the photo of us at the Equator. (I didn't want to include it with the earlier posting, given the topic.)

 Joyce is in the southern hemisphere, where it's officially summer; I'm in the northern hemisphere, where it's winter.

That was yesterday. Today, we're both enjoying the wintry climes of Kampala: "Another beautiful day in Uganda."

Sports alert! Cricket is a cool sport. Seriously. We love it.

We took in a cricket match today -- a short one with only seven "overs," so it lasted only about an hour or so, with the score a relative blow-out of 77 to 36 for the garnet-and-gold team over the "blues." (Not sure of their real names).

We were cheering for the "blues" -- well, because garnet and gold are the colors of Florida State, one of the chief antagonists of my alma mater, The University of Florida. Go Gators! (Sorry you didn't make it to the NCAA men's basketball championship game).

There's always next year, for both the Florida Gators and the Kansas Jayhawks. Rock Chalk!

Now, we're getting ready to go out for some Indian food with the son of the owners of The Seventeen, where we're staying. And, because he was raised in Dallas, he likes college sports and the NFL -- but, sadly, he's a Dallas Cowboys fan (but, I guess, nobody's perfect).

A solemn day...and a reminder

Life is good, then it gets up and slaps a ton of reality right in the face with a message for us all: life is precious, so savor every moment and hold close the ones we love.

Joyce and I set out today to find the Equator, about 70 kilometers south of Kampala. We had planned a fun day, just enjoying the countryside and enjoying some shopping.

I'll start with the trip home. That's when, in the road ahead, we came upon a boda-boda (a motorcycle taxi also often used to carry goods stacked high) lying crumpled, its cargo scattered wide with broken glass serving as more evidence of disaster. Then, we noticed the body of a young man in his 20s, still as stone, beside the wreck, with a pool of blood ringing his head. No life to be seen and, at that point, no assistance from police or ambulance, just a few bystanders.

It was the trip to the Equator, though, that is seared in our memory. Forever.

About a third into our trip from our comfortable perch high atop Kampala, we came across a large crowd on the side of the road, the site of an obvious accident because the road was mostly blocked by vehicles. To our horror, we came upon it just as two white-uniformed traffic police officers were lifting, with little reverence or regard, in our view, the body of a lifeless young girl, about 7, wearing a white flowered dress, into the back of a pickup truck.

Our hearts, and the happiness that started the day, crumbled in that instant.

We could not stop, and not because the police were moving us past the huge tractor-trailer that lay on its side in the ditch a few yards ahead, but because we wanted to flee as fast as possible from that sadness, from that image, though knowing it will never leave us. We stayed silent, not able, not willing, to express our sorrow and dismay.

We drove on, finally reaching the Equator, obviously a much more subdued and meaningless event than first planned because of what we'd encountered.

We took a photo of Joyce in the southern hemisphere and me in the northern, but there was not much joy in doing so. We sat for a bit, again mostly in silence, at a nearby cafe, sipping an orange Fanta, for Malcolm, and, for Joyce, bitter lemon-flavored Krest. We wandered through the small roadside shops, more out of courtesy than desire, just buying a few little odds and ends for family and friends, and an oil painting from the AidChildren Project, devoted to providing assistance to orphaned children with AIDS.

Perhaps, we were drawn there, or even lured in some mystical way, in part because of what we'd seen. And that painting will always be a reminder, each time we gaze upon it, of that little girl in the white-flowered dress.

She will be in our thoughts and our hearts forever.

And may she be a reminder to us all.

Licking giraffes (or giraffes licking)!

Oh, as for the headline, the giraffe was licking, not me licking the giraffe. Word order is important.

As proof, here's the photo from two weekends ago during our visit to the wildlife preserve in Entebbe. I fed the giraffe a variety of vegetables (they are vegetarian).

Great fun here. Y'all visit.

On that note, Lauren Beatty, a former student, posted on Facebook that she is making preparations -- got a typhoid shot -- to come here for a visit in June along with, according to the plan, former student Sarah Green and her husband, even though she's still "mad" at me for allowing her to use our '79 MGB to ride away from her wedding, but wound up having to push the damned thing in her wedding dress along a Hutchinson, Kansas, highway. (Hey, welcome to the world of owning a British car, which is why I now own a Miata!)

When they come, we're already planning for the safari -- with Joyce as the guide.

American accents, a bit of Swahili and a NAKED prime minister...

Life here continues to be interesting and exciting:

On Monday, Joyce and I spent a lovely, relaxing evening with U.S. Ambassador Scott DeLisi and his wife, Leija, at their home, which is just two "doors" down the road from us on Kololo Hill Lane (we walked there).

And, on Friday morning, I had a visit to my office from "a representative" of the IGP (Inspector General Police, Uganda's top police chief, one of those responsible for shutting down the Monitor last spring). I was informed, by that pleasant young man, that the IGP was quite upset with the Monitor's coverage, especially with this week's political shenanigans (which I liken to "Housewives of Beverly Hills" -- fun to watch, but what does it really mean?). It involves some "secret" tape recording of political "doings" that included alleged payoffs to political operatives. The IGP says the tape, made available to us by the Ugandan prime minister's wife, a political rival, was stolen from police. Not sure yet what the fallout, if any, will be. Stay tuned.

Two ends of the spectrum in one week. Well, that's life (and journalism, which is most exciting) in Uganda. (BTW, just like the good ol' days in the U.S. -- we have at least five dailies here in Kampala, including one, the Red Pepper, that runs headlines such as "Prime Minister NAKED!", which referred to a political tug-of-war between the PM and the Ugandan president. Fun! My goal, BTW, is to make our paper, the Daily Monitor, the most-respected of the bunch, and we're on our way to do just that! So, no "NAKED" headlines for us.)

The visit with Scott and Leija was a comfortable couple of hours with two very engaging folks along with two other engaging folks, Bill and Theresa Ristow, both journalists. Bill, formerly of the Seattle Times (where a few KU alums are seated), is consulting with our chief rival, the government-owned daily, the "New Vision," which, for the most part, is a pretty good paper, considering, and a formidable competitor given its resources. However, it covers issues such as "stolen tape recordings" much differently (or at all).

It was a terrific evening on Scott and Leija's patio overlooking the city with Lake Victoria visible in the distance. Great company and great conversation. And a little bit like being back home with just U.S. accents filling the air.

Coincidentally, the U.S. Embassy had a "town hall" meeting for all the U.S. ex-pats in Uganda. That, too, was fun (and informative, including tips on how to be sensitive to the "bad guys" -- terrorists --"who are out there" and who would like to do harm to Uganda, especially to "muzungus" -- Europeans and Americans -- here). We do remain "aware," especially at a snazzy new mall that just opened just down the hill from us, but also we have felt wonderfully comfortable here in Kampala, meaning we don't walk around being "tense." Aware, but relaxed, is our mantra.

A note on Scott: He spoke at the U.S. Embassy's "town hall" meeting this week, both an opening speech, that appeared to be extemporaneous (without notes) and, after which, he answered questions. He's one of the best public speakers (smooth and glib and very relaxed) I've ever listened to. Everyone I've talked to who knows him says he's a top-notch guy. However, I'll bet Leija has a lot to do with that: She just makes everyone feel comfortable whenever she's around, just seeming to bring everything down to ground level and relaxed, even at that "official" gathering on the beautiful grounds (U.S. soil, by the way) of the embassy. She even gives us hugs when we see her, and that has made us feel better than she can possibly know. So, thanks to Scott and Leija for making us feel at home, as well as part of the Ugandan community.

As for the IGP's rep, Ambrose (first name only and "I don't carry a business card"), we actually had a pleasant chat (though I'm not sure I've convinced him of anything; we'll see). But, because he's from Kenya, I did get to practice my Swahili a bit. (I hope it impressed him! My photo with Nelson Mandela did, I think.)

So, here it is Saturday morning, just "another beautiful day in Uganda" -- with a terrific sunrise after a terrific and powerful rainstorm in the middle of the night (that we loved, even though it stirred us awake). Today, it's off to do some routine stuff (with me driving), along with searching for the spot where you can straddle the Equator (is that upper case or lower; I don't have my AP Stylebook available) with one foot in the northern hemisphere, and the other in the southern hemisphere -- winter in one, summer in the other.

And tomorrow, off to another cricket match -- we've become fans! And I now know what "overs" is, but still trying to figure out exactly when they occur and under what circumstances!

Hugs to all.

Oh, there's a photo of the six of us from the visit to the Scott and Leija's place on Monday that was taken with Bill and Theresa's camera. (We forgot ours because we were in a bit of a tizzy because, right before we left to meet them, I had cut myself shaving!). I've asked 'em to send the photo along, and I'll share it here when it arrives.

Kwa heri. ("Good luck," a form of "good-bye" in Swahili).

"Another beautiful day in Uganda"

The title of this entry is something I literally say every day when I get up and see the sun rising above a nearby hill from our perch atop the highest of the seven hills in Uganda. Seriously, every day is beautiful -- from a weather perspective, but from our experiences here, too.

Joyce and I have settled nicely into Uganda. Work is going well: a lot to do to bring the level of journalism up to where it should be, but a lot of dedicated folks here helping me get it there (and some not-so-dedicated folks who will be dedicated soon, or...).

And I know I've made promises in the past about keeping this blog updated, but now it will happen. Every Saturday morning, I will get up and post updates here. Joyce, too, has started a blog -- "We're Not in Kansas Anymore" -- that can be found at jlgibson49.wordpress.com. Check it out for updates, too. She is addressing more of the everyday-life events, particularly in her life in Uganda, while I'll be looking at issues from my perspective. In many ways, it's much different (and more difficult) for her. I have a job to go to every day, and one that challenges me every day. She does not, but she will be volunteering at a school just down the hill from where we live (at The Seventeen atop Kololo -- and, if interested, you can search for it on Google to get an idea of where we live by putting in the name and Kampala). That should make it better for her, though she, too, will tell you that she's enjoying this adventure.

We've done a bit exploring; more to come on that. We do have a car we like, which gives us mobility. But for work and longer excursions, I have a driver (who fetches me every morning, takes me places in the day [or night], when necessary, and deposits me at home each evening). We've hired a driver for Joyce, though we're hoping to get him off those duties and into a job at the radio station in our building because that's what he's trained for. He's a great young man (Lubega Henry) who has Kansas ties: I found him through MacKenzie Jones who works in African Studies at KU. She and her husband were in Kampala during the unrest last election time, and Henry was very protective of them. "I'd trust my life with him," MacKenzie says. Henry is a terrific young man whom we now count among the good friends we've already made here.

That's all for now. Getting ready to head out to pick up my driver from work and his daughter to have a "day on the town" together, and instead of him driving me (us), I'll be chauffeuring him and his daughter (and Joyce) to some special spots and eating places. Kabs (the driver) is a great young man to whom we would trust our lives.

The people of Uganda, by the way (and as you can likely tell) are among the nicest -- if not the nicest -- we've run into anywhere in our world travels. Truly, already, we've made a score of friends, from every level of society, during our now five weeks here. We're lovin' it.

And on Monday, the U.S. ambassador, whose residence is just two doors down from us on Kololo Hill Drive, is having Joyce and me over "for drinks." I'll let you know how that goes.

Please comment if you can (because we like to hear from folks back home) or ask any questions you might have about what's going on here. I promise to address all, and I promise (one I'll keep this time) to update this at least once each week.

Oh, and y'all come. We've got room, and every day you wake up you'll be saying what I say: "Another beautiful day in Uganda."

P.S.: I've changed the title of this blog from "Going Over Sixty" to "Going Over Seventy." Guess why! And the photo is of us last weekend at the wildlife preserve in Entebbe, about 25 miles from us. (We're the ones in the foreground, not the ones wearing stripes!) 'Twas wonderful. And I also found Honey-flavored Cheerios at a store along the way, so life is good.

He's back! (And he's going...!)

News flash! I'm back posting to this blog after a LONG absence, and, on May 31, it's official: I'm going to retire.

As for retirement, it's a choice, and it's about time. I'll be 70 in June, and after 2011's medical adventure, time to spend time on other things we'd like to spend time on before time runs out. And none of us truly knows when that will be.

(The decision to retire, by the way, is likely one that is filled with cheering and applause -- half from those who've appreciated my efforts here the past 17 years, the last 11 of which at the good ol' University Daily Kansan; the other half -- well, even with some overlap -- of folks who likely are cheering and applauding my departure. ["'Bout time!"] Well, you can't please everyone! Never have; never really tried. But I have been sincere in my efforts, and I've always worked hard.)

But that's not the "News flash!"

It's this: On May 11, and everyone is invited, Joyce is tossin' a retirement party -- an "open house" -- for me at our home -- 1013 Holiday Drive in Lawrence -- from 2 p.m. to whenever (well, likely about 8 p.m.-ish). And you -- one and all -- are invited. (RSVPs appreciated, but not required.)

Many of you, especially those who read our annual newsletter*, know that this has been a year filled with distractions, most good, but not all. (*And for those of you who want access to our annual newsletter, head to http://people.ku.edu/~mgibson/.)

I'll use those events as an excuse for remaining so silent for so long.

As for retirement, first the party, with good beer (likely from Free State), good brats (likely from HyVee, which makes terrific ones), and good "birth of..." music (which means the "birth of rock 'n' roll," meaning all from the '50s and '60s). And a lot of BS (reminiscing).

We're excited...for the party and for what follows.

Lots of things to do (and on our bucket list). As for staying busy, I've got a couple of writing projects I want to complete, and I'm sure (though state regulations forbid us from discussing it for 60 days after retirement) I'll keep a toe or two into the School of Journalism and KU. At least that's the hope.

And we do plan to stay in Lawrence, at least until Joyce retires in two years.

So, please, join us on Saturday, May 11, at our place.

As they say in the South -- Joyce is a true Southern gal; I'm a Yankee who grew up in the South -- "all y'all come."

The future of me and...

I’m about to retire. It’s by choice (and because of a bit of a boot from my lovely bride of 40-plus years, Joyce).

But I have a lament. I love what I do. Though leaving a job I still love is not the cause of my lament.

I ain’t done yet.

I have lots of projects to keep me busy, so that’s not the issue. I simply have a need to get out there – back in the news biz – while I’m healthy, hearty and filled with energy, and before I sign off for good.

It’s for one simple reason: I think that I can do some “good,” that I can make a difference in these difficult times that someone who’s “in” can’t do as well.

I want to be back “in” because I care, and because I’ve been on the outside looking in for the past 16 years, and I’ve learned a lot from that perspective.

Newspapers have been downright stupid in their approaches to the changing environment – in news and in business – because of the challenges of “digital.”

Newspapers should have been the ones that developed Yahoo. And Google. And Linkedin. And, yep!, Facebook. And (especially) Yelp! and other sites like it and those mentioned.

As an aside: A.O. Sulzberger Jr., publisher of The New York Times (who gave Joyce and me a personal tour of his then new-HQ in New York City a few years back) once visited my class and offered an analogy (and lesson), often punctuating his point with the “f” word to show his concern. I paraphrase:

The problem with the railroads, when airlines were about to emerge, he said, was thinking they were in the railroad business and not the transportation business. Same with newspapers. They aren’t in the newsprint business, but the information business. That’s why Yahoo, Google, et al., should have sprung from the well of newspapers.

He was saying that the airlines that emerged shouldn’t have been TWA or Pan Am; they should have been the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Airline or the Norfolk & Western Airline, as clunky as that may sound, because they were in the business of moving people and goods. By rail, by air, by whatever. They just didn’t realize or embrace it.

Arthur Jr. was correct. And my dear old New York Times, unfortunately, didn’t follow that advice either, until too late. (And I’m hoping for great success for the Times in this new age for two reasons: it still practices the best, and badly needed, journalism in the world and, as important, much of my retirement income is coming from its retirement fund.)

But back to me and newspapers.

The problem with newspapers is they are afraid, to use a cliché, to reinvent the wheel.

Instead of working with what they have and trying to move forward, they need to approach it working from a clean slate. The “what they have” is holding ‘em back.

You need wipe the slate clean and ask one question: If we were to create a media model that served the community – “our” community, any community – and it was a model that was able to sustain itself and, even, make an acceptable profit, what would that model be?

Not what we’re doing now.

For me, it would start with making the “media entity” what newspapers used to be or should be: the center of “community.” A place that ebbed and flowed with information to and from the audience, all of the audience. It would be the community center in the true meaning of those words.

Everyone in the community – every organization, public and private, and every individual – would be as much a part of it as the editor and the publisher or the reporter on the street.

Everything “community” would flow through that hub.

That’s the starting point. Where it would finish would depend on the individual media entity because, ultimately, each community is unique to every other.

Then, perhaps, we wouldn’t be caught up with words like “demise” and “outdated” when talking about a local newspaper operation. Perhaps, just perhaps, we’d replace those words with “vital,” "relevant" and “irreplaceable.”

That’s what I want to do before I really retire. I want to make it happen.