Let’s face it: NPR has made its share of colossal goofs—one of which continues to unravel in public this week, even as nuclear reactors melt down in Japan.

If fan (or un-fan, or hate) mail is anything to go by, then the firing of radio journalist Bob Edwards was the “thriving media organization’s” biggest faux pas. Who takes the time to write—much less send—a letter pointing out that you don’t change a good thing? In marketing terms, you might hear them say you don’t kill the cash cow. And in former Morning Host Bob Edwards, NPR didn’t just have a very, very good thing—it had a great thing, a beloved thing, a well-established thing whose value listeners recognized. And loved. Edwards was a cash cow—a Charolais or Limousin, breeds both known for “a higher percentage of saleable product”—worth keeping!

So who does take the time to carefully compose and then email a message telling the least-biased news agency around that in 2004, when they let Edwards go, they didn’t just goof—they goofed as never before in their recent history? I’ll tell you who: more than 27,000 Americans, as of April 6, 2004, according to Jeffrey Dvorkin, the NPR ombudsman who wrote about it. At that time, more letters were pouring in, and Dvorkin himself said Edwards’ departure became “the most e-mailed complaint I have ever received.”

This isn’t a rant about Bob Edwards or NPR, but it does help put what I wanted to say into perspective. The day after the last Oldsmobile GM ever made rolled off the assembly line was also Edwards’ last newscast for the media giant. Edwards introduced that report by Rick Pluta of Michigan Public Radio. Pluta spoke about how the Oldsmobile helped make chrome trim and front-wheel-drive popular, and how the cars defined their eras.

Definition is missing from today’s newscasts, newspapers and new media. But a broadcast by Bob Edwards—now there’s something with definition! I knew that when I received the invitation to be interviewed by the iconic Edwards. I looked forward to hearing how well he defined the story of my life, as told in my book, Sister of Silence.

Unfortunately, Sirius XM Radio didn’t tell me how to go about listening to the interview, once it aired. (I’m someone who doesn’t own a car new enough to subscribe to their programming, and I'm not a huge radio listener anyway—unless it’s to NPR.)

It was only because I began chatting with Bob about the Louisville-WVU men’s basketball game one Saturday, that I even learned it would air the following Tuesday, March 8. He told me to go to Best Buy and buy a satellite radio. I’m sure it never occurred to him I wouldn’t have enough money in my checkbook to do so. It never occurred to me, either. (The least costly one is $150.)

By the time I figured this out Monday, I had downloaded a free one-month subscription to Sirius XM. Unfortunately, by the time Best Buy was already closed Monday evening—and long after I told everyone on Facebook to do the same, if they weren’t Sirius XM subscribers—I realized my error: you must have the premium package, to listen to The Bob Edwards Show. (Or Oprah. Go figure.)

No problem, I told myself—myself being the ever-innovative, make-do-in-a-pinch mother I’ve always been. I’ll just upgrade to the premium package! All I needed, according to the online payment form, was my car’s vehicle identification number. Or so I thought. By then it was after midnight, and I didn’t feel like traipsing downstairs and outside into the cold night air to retrieve the VIN.

So I went to bed, eagerly awaiting the next morning when I would sit inside the warmth of my own home and listen to Bob’s voice one more time. Only this time, he would be talking about me. How cool is that, really? Turns out, I didn’t have long to wait—I woke up at 4:30 a.m. Immediately got online, ready to enter the VIN I had run upstairs with, waving it on the scrap of paper I held in my hot little hand.

An hour later Rick Shartzer posted on Facebook. “Too excited to sleep? You’re like a kid waiting to go to Disneyworld!” he wrote. (Rick is a Cleveland, Ohio, schoolteacher and a fellow writer who loved Sister of Silence as much as Bob did, when he read the first three chapters at the writer’s conference where we met several years ago. I would call him my number one fan, but I’m pretty sure there are several people lined up for that spot at the moment, so I can’t. Sorry, Rick!)

By then, a sad realization had begun to dawn: Unlike the final 2004 Oldsmobile, my Chrysler LHS was made in 1997, so Sirius XM rejected my VIN. Meaning I couldn’t listen to Bob Edwards as he talked with me, and about me, to the world. Fate could not have been more cruel!

So I did what I would under any circumstances such as those: at 6:30 a.m. I texted a friend. Or two, or three. None of them had Sirius XM. But then Cathy called me back. If she could reach her husband, Mark, who was on his way home from midnight shift, they would trade vehicles and I could drive over and listen to the show in his car—which came equipped with Sirius XM.

But no, that was too easy. For once I arrived, 30 minutes prior to the show beginning, and Mark was ready to drive home for some much-needed sleep, we couldn’t find either channel: Sirius 169 or XM 133. He was sure it was there; he had seen the show flashing across the dial. Sure enough, he was right: it said something about needing to upgrade to the premium version.

By this time, Cathy was as upset as I was. I told her I was going to drive all over town, until I found a new car lot that had the right Sirius XM package. (Yet another bridge to cross was how I would convince them to let me listen to it. But I had some ideas, like this one: “I’d like to take your new vehicle for an extended test drive. There’s a show on I must hear, to make sure I like the way it sounds on your car’s stereo.” That was one idea.) Cathy suggested I drive across town to the Kia dealership where they bought their new vehicle. Maybe they would have one with the premium package on the lot.

They didn’t—and by then the show had already begun. But, eternal optimist that I am, I decided I could listen to the second broadcast, at 9 a.m. I wasn’t too far from some other new car lots, but for some reason, I felt like I should jump on the interstate and head to Mt. Morris, Pa., to the Honda dealership there. (Maybe it was because I would pass my favorite doughnut shop along the way, which would surely brighten my morning.)

By the time I pulled into the parking lot at I-79 Honda, it was 8:40 a.m. I jumped out, went inside, and asked the service desk about their new cars. They assured me some of the vehicles did, indeed, have the premium radio package, and directed me to a salesman who had just arrived.

With few minutes to spare, I simply told salesman Ryan Heaster the truth: “Bob Edwards interviewed me and they’re going to air it at 9 a.m. I don’t have any other way to listen to it. Would you please let me listen to it in one of your new vehicles?” Ryan didn’t even pause to wonder why I would make such an odd request. He just began peering through the car windows, until he found one that had what he was looking for: an XM button, there in the dashboard. (Imagine that—that’s how you can tell if you really own a vehicle that will let you listen to Bob, and Oprah, and other great radio folks!)

Now granted, this particular show was important to me because I played a role in it. But long before Bob’s producer contacted me, I’ve been a listener. I remember him from his Morning Edition days. Since then, I listen to his Bob Edwards Weekend show at—where else—NPR. Because I’m also an iTunes customer, I quite often download the shows I miss and listen to them while I’m working at my laptop, or working out on my elliptical, thanks to my iPod.

But here’s the thing that I find most interesting: according to NPR, it now has 27 million weekly listeners. In 2004, when Bob departed, he had more than13 million, or 50-percent of the listening audience himself. Even with Sirius XM’s 20 million subscribers, given my informal local “poll,” I can’t imagine more than 25-percent have the premium package. That’s 5 million, tops.

So it stands to reason that the number of listeners who benefited from hearing Bob interview me about Sister of Silence on Sirius XM, versus the people who could do so by listening to the same interview on Bob Edwards Weekend, which is an NPR program, would be a much, much higher figure. Maybe that’s because so many NPR listeners are just like me—ever-innovative, make-do-in-a-pinch mothers!

Editor's note: If you didn't hear the interview, you can do so by downloading the podcast here. Otherwise, we can only hope NPR airs it! Sister of Silence is $14.99. To order your copy, go to: http://nellieblybooks.com/sister-of-silence.html

Posted by Daleen at 12:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The thing about working for the media is, you sometimes take all the "glitz" that goes with it for granted: tight security, rubbing shoulders with celebrities, or gaining access when other people can't.

But when you change places, you tend to notice these things. Or at least I did, when I entered the parking lot at the Sirius XM offices in Washington, D.C. recently. Even more so, as a security guard accompanied me into the building and I signed in, waiting to be escorted to my interview with renowned broadcast journalist Bob Edwards.

I didn't interview Bob—he interviewed me. What an experience! It began when I offered to send a copy of my book, Sister of Silence, to him. He graciously accepted and a month or so later, I found an email waiting for me: it was from one of his producers, a lovely young woman by the name of Ariana Pekary. She said they wanted to arrange an interview, and did I have a radio station nearby? That week was full, but they had time the following week.

Turns out, by mere coincidence, I had already planned a trip to D.C., to visit my son. He had been urging me to sign up for a speakeasy event for months, but I'd been dragging my feet. Finally I had done it, and we arranged for my visit. The timing couldn't have been better.

So I picked up my rental car (My own 1997 auto had been acting up, so I didn't want to chance a breakdown on a D.C. beltway.) and excitedly headed east. The speakeasy would be fun, I thought, but the main reason for my trip was my son: I hadn't seen him for a year, and he had been on my mind for several months. Bob was a bonus.

That's how I came to be inside the Sirius XM building one cool February morning, where I found myself sitting across from one of the most well-respected journalists ever. Mr. Edwards, for those of you who haven't been on this planet very long, has not only been inducted into the Radio Hall of Fame, but he's garnered the prestigious awards to match, and interviewed anyone who's anybody. When he was with National Public Radio (NPR), as the "Morning Edition" host, more than 13 MILLION listeners loved listening to his voice, which is smooth and rich, like a fine cognac. I was one of them.

So it's really not necessary to say I was nervous. As an interviewer, I know what's involved in sitting in his chair. You prepare your questions, and then you ask them. Sometimes, other questions come up during the interview. I didn't know his interviewing style, or if his questions would be confined to my book. (A good friend suggested I brush up on current events, just in case. I did, and I also shopped for a new shirt, borrowed my daughter's best coat and went to the beauty salon.) Yes, I was nervous.

But Bob turned out to be a thoughtful and gracious interviewer, putting me at ease almost instantly. Ariana had given me a bottled water (which I needed, considering how dry one's mouth becomes when you're nervous) and I was slowly trying to twist the cap off so I could take a drink as Bob queried me. I reasoned that I could take a sip, swallow, and then be ready to answer his question.

"We're not live; would you like to take the top off and take a drink?" Bob asked in an amused tone. (I'm sure that wasn't a prepared question.) But it was the perfect ice-breaker, and I smiled, realizing we weren't live. This was a recorded interview, to be broadcast later. Bob's gentle kindness allowed me to tell my story freely, without worrying that the man asking the questions is at the top of his field. (At the top of my field, when you think about it.)

We talked and talked, and I think he went through four or five pages of questions. If I didn't understand the question, or didn't answer the question he asked, he rephrased it. He's a fantastic interviewer, I must say. So it was nothing short of a privilege to be invited there. When we were finished, we chatted briefly about one of the themes from my book that I think is crucial. So does Bob, from what he said.

(And that is, abused women simply must stand up for themselves and their children, and the children must come first, before the man. Too many women stay for far too long—and I can say this, because I was one of them—and the damage done to one's children can then become irreversible. Because children cannot fend for themselves, a parent's primary responsibility is to do it for them. That's all there is to it.)

I had brought along a camera so I could have my picture taken with Bob, but I was so enjoying the conversation I totally forgot. When we left the interview room, we joined Ariana and Dan, the sound engineer. (He's charged with making me sound more intelligent and witty than I am—a big task, trust me!) And I hope Bob doesn't mind, but I want to share the other reason I forgot about the photo op. It's because the first question out of Bob's mouth, as we all stood there, was this: "Has Oprah called you yet? Because this is right up her alley."

(Oh yes, did I forget to mention the life-size picture of Oprah that adorns the wall just as you enter the Sirius building?)

If I hadn't been on my toes, Bob, Dan and Ariana would have watched as I stood there with my mouth gaping, wide open. It's one thing for people you know to tell you that, but it's on a different level entirely when Bob Edwards says it. And if that wasn't enough, he then asked if anyone was working on a film version or a screenplay. I wasn't on my toes for that one, I must admit. I'm pretty sure I stammered.

Here's the thing: as a journalist, meeting Bob Edwards, being interviewed by him, is an honor. But coming to realize he and Ariana (and perhaps even Dan) actually read my book, and had such glowing words of praise for it, left me ecstatic. Ariana escorted me downstairs and I know I floated out of the Sirius building, because I was on Cloud Nine for at least a week. Maybe more.

And it doesn't get any better than that!

Editor's Note: Daleen's interview with Bob Edwards will air tomorrow, Tuesday, March 8, on Sirius XM Radio (XM 133 or Sirius 196) at 8 and 9 a.m., and 3 and 8 p.m. Eastern Time. If you are unable to listen on a satellite radio or online, you can always download the podcast.

Posted by Daleen at 08:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)