My Rock

AJ meets William for the first time.

LaRoche — my mother Betty’s maiden name, which she once shared with her sister Joan — means “rock” in French. The name is fitting, as my Aunt Joan LaRoche has always been my rock. I can’t remember a time in which she hasn’t been there for me, both while growing up and well into adulthood. She’s never missed a birthday and has been there for so many pivotal moments of my 47 years on the planet.

Last month she was in a terrible car accident, one she was lucky enough to escape with her life. Following the accident, my mind went straight to all the moments we have shared together through the years and the important role she has played in my life. When I was young she would often take me cross country skiing on the Swedetown trails. I was your typical wimpy ass, whiny child on these excursions and she would always coax me along with the promise of a new Garfield book if I could make it to the end of the trail. These skiing adventures were the number one reason I had quite the Garfield book collection. As I grew older, her work as a microbiologist lab tech at Calumet Public Hospital (now known as Aspirus Keweenaw Hospital), came in handy whenever I had a science project to work on at school. Her strong Catholic faith guided me through the years, as she was my sponsor for confirmation and encouraged me to overcome my fear of public speaking and serve as a lector, just like her. Although I no longer consider myself a Catholic, I have great respect for her faith and what it means to her.

Dollar Bay High School Parents Night - 1993

For many years she lived with my Grandma Linda, eventually serving as her main caregiver when Alzheimer's disease descended upon her. Aunt Joanie and Grandma Linda were always a pair, and both were there for me for my high school’s parents night, when my mom and dad were away on a trip to Florida. Aunt Joanie and my mom brought me and my best friend Kristin to see our first ever live concert — the ever so dreamy Harry Connick, Jr., in Milwaukee at the Marcus Amphitheater. I still have a t-shirt from that show and remember it fondly. Aunt Joanie always made time for me — attended most all of my basketball games (even though I was a major bench warmer), swim meets and band concerts. She photographed my high school graduation photos — the ones where I look like Blossom — and even made it to my college graduation all the way down in Ann Arbor. So many of these moments are documented in photographs, which seems fitting seeing how one of her favorite hobbies for many years was photography. She introduced me to the craft and I used to assist her with shooting the occasional wedding. I was mostly there for moral support, as she’d tend to get pretty nervous and I don’t envy photographing weddings before digital cameras were a thing.

University of Michigan graduation - December 1997

 
Two things my Aunt Joanie loves are travel and coffee. She has traveled all over the world and when I was a kid would bring back the best souvenirs. Six years ago, the ladies in our family made it to New York City to celebrate my mom’s 70th birthday, taking in a Broadway show and making it to the Statue of Liberty and the 9/11 Tribute Museum. At the time I was six-months pregnant with my youngest, who incidentally was born on September 11th. Most recently she’s traveled to Italy and has been able to spend time with cousins she managed to track down through her genealogical work. She’s been working hard to learn Italian and we’ve been discussing plans for another ladies trip, this time to Italy. Lucky for Aunt Joanie, Italy has no shortage of good coffee. I have never known anybody who drinks more coffee than Aunt Joanie. She beats me out on my own love of coffee. This woman can drink anyone under the table, drinking coffee any time of the day. I try to avoid drinking it after 5 p.m., as I know it will disturb my ability to fall asleep. I will, however, make an exception and drink coffee after 5 p.m. if I’m with my aunt. Because nothing is quite as enjoyable as sitting around my mother’s kitchen table, eating Christmas cookies and fudge while drinking coffee with Aunt Joanie, even if it is 7 p.m. and I’ll be up all night. It’s totally worth it, both for the treats and for the good company.

My wedding - August 22, 2009

 
Along with being very involved with her family, Aunt Joanie has been very active with her community and church. Through the years she’s been active with Main Street Calumet and Pasty Fest, even being awarded volunteer of the year back in 2005. She is caring, reliable, and giving and I’m lucky to call her my aunt. Unlike so many others who give so much of themselves, she’s completely unassuming, never expecting anything in return for all she gives.


Five years ago I slipped on some ice while visiting my parents over Christmas and broke my left leg pretty badly. I ended up at Aspirus Keweenaw Hospital, the same hospital Aunt Joanie and my mom had worked at for many years and needed surgery. The surgery was scheduled on my birthday in the very same hospital where I was born. I was convinced I was going to die in surgery — coming full circle. My mom was busy looking after my two boys while I was in the hospital and my husband Adam was back in Minneapolis. Who do you think was at my bedside through this drama? My rock, my Aunt Joanie, of course. She even helped me get my hands on a cell phone charger, because I just had to document my broken leg experience.

A visit to the apple orchard with Grandma Betty and the boys

 
Aunt Joanie, now more commonly referred to as AJ, has been there for the next generation, too, as a wonderful great aunt to mine and my siblings' children. She never misses the opportunity to send them a card with a ten dollar bill for Valentines Day or Halloween. She never misses a birthday and even made it out to Seattle for my nephews’ high school graduation and my niece’s high school plays. I feel lucky my sons get to experience the same love I grew up with from this wonderful lady.

Christmastime at Grandma Betty's

 
And now Aunt Joanie faces an uphill battle as she recovers from extensive injuries that would even be tough for the slightly more famous Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson to overcome. As hard as the road ahead will be, I know she can do it. There are countless more cups of coffee to be drunk and Italian words to master. She will always have the love and support from her family, a family that has benefited so much through the years from this incredible and unwavering rock of a woman. We love you Aunt Joanie!

The LaRoche sisters

This Sweater Will Change Your Fashion Life

Last year I found myself stalked by a Facebook sweater ad. I made the mistake of clicking on an ad for a very cute sweater that caught my eye, so of course my newsfeed was soon bombarded by sweater ads — all very similar and all accompanied by the most hyperbolic blurbs I’ve ever read. The ads were all from mysterious clothing companies I’ve never heard of — Aloxy, Tiansel, Ylliy, Bobak — which of course was red flag number one that something wasn’t quite legit. Red flag number two was the price, just $40.00 for the sweater that would “change my fashion life forever.” As someone who doesn’t really consider herself having a fashion life, I had to laugh at the descriptions, many of which mentioned these sweaters were tailored for “mature women.” Sure, I was over 40, but I did not consider myself mature by any means. The original sweater I had clicked on continued to pop up in my feed for months and months, along with all her sister sweaters.

Tailored for mature women. Not to be overly dramatic, but this sweater will change your fashion life. The fabric is jersey (like t-shirt material) but a bit thicker and higher quality. You feel like you’re wearing your coziest pajamas but look like a million bucks. It can EASILY be dressed up or down, throw on some stilettos for a night out or flip-flops for the farmers market. True to size, just follow the chart. Don’t miss out this chance to get changed!

The sister sweaters were all very nice, but something kept bringing me back to that original sweater. I loved the colors — gray, blue and an eye-catching orange that accented the cuffs and the collar. Sure, I didn’t think it would change my fashion life forever, but it was very attractive and I wanted it.

I continued to document the sweater barrage on my Facebook feed, as I found it comical to get so many similar ads and the written descriptions alone were hilarious. “Part preppy, part ski lodge-chic, this lightweight yet cozy pullover is exactly what we crave come fall and winter.” It all made me want to get a job as a sweater blurb writer. Finally, against my better judgment, after months and months of pandemic stress, I decided to pull the trigger and order the damn sweater. Sure, I knew in my heart of hearts that it was most likely a scam, but I decided to take a chance for $40.00. If anything, ordering the sweater seemed like a logical end to the on-going Facebook sweater saga I had been documenting in my newsfeed. Let’s see what Tiansel, the “company” I finally ordered from, would send me, if they sent me anything at all. So on September 4th, 2021, I did it, I ordered the sweater.

After ordering the sweater, I did receive notification that it was sent out on September 9th. This notification included a tracking number, which of course did not work. As a couple weeks went by with no working tracking number and no sign of the sweater, I finally asked Tiansel for a refund. A knitting friend of mine had informed me that the picture and sweater pattern used in the ad was stolen from a legit website, which was further proof to me that my $40.00 dream sweater was too good to be true. To their credit, Tiansel did refund my money. And then, to my surprise, a couple days later, the sweater was actually delivered.

September 28th, 2021, the sweater made it to my doorstep. I found myself doing my very first ever unboxing video, as I just had to record opening the package and seeing if this sweater lived up to all the hype. The sweater certainly lived up to my expectations pretty well, in the fact that it was made out of pretty cheap material and the colors were off, especially the orange. This was not the sweater that would change my fashion life, unless it was truly possible to become less fashionable at this point in my life. I couldn’t even imagine sporting this sweater at the farmer’s market let alone dressing it up with my stilettos. It was, in short, pretty shitty and nothing like the stolen sweater image used in the ads. I was happy I had received a refund and wasn’t out $40.00 for this sad specimen of a sweater.

The Facebook sweater.

To my surprise, the saga of the Facebook sweater was far from over. Many of my Facebook friends had been following the story and in response to my post about receiving this sad, shoddy sweater, my friend Randi offered to use her amazing talents to hand knit the sweater for me. I knew a few people locally who were knitters and had considered commissioning someone to knit the sweater for me, as the pattern was available for sale on the Internet. I considered Randi’s offer an incredibly nice gesture from someone I’ve never met who lives on the other side of the world. But I never figured it would actually work out, as throughout my life I’ve received many nice gestures from people that were just that, nice gestures.

Randi lives in Vestre Jakobselv, which is a small town in extreme northeastern Norway, north of Finland and not far from the Russian border. Randi and I were pen pals when we were kids, I’m guessing when I was 12-years-old, though I admit that 12 is generally my default age when it comes to memories from childhood. Her grandmother and my grandmother used to write letters to each other in Finnish and we think they were cousins. Sadly, neither of us can quite remember the exact nature of their relationship and both have since passed away. All those years ago, our grandmothers hooked us up as pen pals and we shared letters for a couple years of our youth. I remember getting her letters with neat Norwegian stickers and I know I kept the letters for several years, but sadly have since managed to lose them. Back in 2007, Randi contacted me after tracking me down through the Internet. I still have the first emails she sent to me back then and we’ve been Facebook friends now for many years.

Vestre Jakobselv - Randi's hometown.

Randi followed through on her offer and as I type this, I am wearing the most amazing hand knitted cozy sweater that has changed my fashion life. Okay, maybe it hasn’t changed my fashion life so much as it’s changed my view of humanity. After the past two years of what seems like non-stop terrible news, events and stories of people behaving like selfish, nasty assholes, having someone you’ve never met in person do something this kind is pretty incredible. Randi refused to let me pay for her beautiful work, which she produced incredibly quickly. The quality of this sweater is so nice and she got the size just right working with the measurements I sent her. The day I picked up the sweater from the post office is one I won’t soon forget and she even included some Norwegian chocolate treats for me and my family.

I’m still working on a way to repay her kindness, but for now I just want her to know how much I appreciate what she did. Everytime I wear the sweater, I am reminded of her kindness and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, just like the sweater itself. I love the sweater so much that I’m almost afraid to wear it, as I want to keep it in good shape. The story of the sweater is a great reminder that kindness can make such a big difference in our day to day lives as we stumble through these historic, unprecedented times. As I get older I realize how important it is to embrace and appreciate kind and generous behavior and to pay it forward in any way possible. I hope this is a lesson I can share often with my children as I try to raise empathetic humans in a world that can be nothing short of cruel and unfair. Thank you Randi. You are an amazing human. I hope we’re able to meet in person someday soon.

I did use the original sweater for my Halloween costume.

A happy camper in her hand knitted sweater. 

The Truth Needs An Ally

Journalism in Peril

On a recent visit to Rochester, as if on autopilot, my car steers me straight to the Post-Bulletin newspaper, or at least the site where it once stood on First Avenue Southeast. Although it’s been nearly ten years since I quit my job as a staff photographer at the paper, I am not prepared to see the empty, snow covered lot that was once a bustling newspaper building, complete with running presses and people coming and going. Stepping out of my car and bracing for the cold, I get a better look at the site and a quick snapshot with my phone as tears well up in my eyes. Even with the knowledge the newspaper is still in business — downsized, mostly online, and relocated across town — I still feel a great sense of loss looking at the empty lot. My feelings are about a lot more than the loss of a building. This vast empty lot represents the loss of a viable and important profession — journalism itself. A profession I fell in love with many years ago. A profession embattled through the years and now barely recognizable in these days of “fake news,” click-bait, the 24-hour news cycle, pundits, social media and of course, the ever important bottomline. This cold, snow covered lot and the state of journalism today are one and the same. And they both break my heart.

The site of my former employer the Rochester Post-Bulletin newspaper.

I fell into photojournalism quite by accident. I always had an interest in photography and after finishing my degree in biology, I happened upon a basic black and white class at a community college. While learning how to develop film and make prints in the darkroom, I marveled at the process of watching images appear before my eyes like magic. I wandered around Ann Arbor taking pictures of everything from close-ups of parking meters to giant dead stag beetles at the museum where I worked. Eventually, I found my favorite subject to photograph — people. Following a failed attempt to use my biology degree as a high school teacher, I had a quarter-life-crisis and landed a job at my hometown newspaper in the U.P. of Michigan — the Daily Mining Gazette. Working for the paper I further developed my love for photographing people and telling their stories with images. Whether I was shooting yet another high school basketball game or a fishing tournament — where I learned walleye is “the chocolate of fishes,” — I was in my element. Although having to listen to another high school pep band rendition of the ever so timeless Final Countdown made me cringe, the sheer variety of newspaper assignments and the people I met on the job had me hooked. This was the job for me.

Early attempts at being artsy - stag beetle. 

High contrast building because why not.

Even back then, in the early aughts, the writing was on the wall for the newspaper industry, no pun intended. Newspapers were already struggling with readership and ultimately failing to successfully adapt to the age of the Internet. Despite all this, I followed my heart and not my head, and decided to go to graduate school for journalism at the University of Missouri-Columbia in 2003. It’s one of the country’s best journalism schools and although I certainly received a quality education, followed by a number of great internships, a long lasting career in journalism was not in the cards for myself and many of my classmates. My time at the Rochester Post-Bulletin — a mid-sized community newspaper — was a mere five years. In total, between that last job, graduate school, internships and my first job at the Daily Mining Gazette, I spent about twelve years as a working journalist. Not exactly a long career, but certainly personally impactful. Like so many former journalists, I long to go back to a profession that essentially doesn’t exist anymore. At this point, I’d probably have better luck finding a job as a blacksmith.

    People make the most interesting photos.

Journalism falls into that category of important and noble professions that should offer better pay to attract and maintain quality professionals. It’s right up there with teaching in its importance to a functioning society and democracy. Teaching and journalism are often touted as more than just jobs, they’re vocations, the practitioners of which are typically passionate about their work. The love and passion associated with these jobs is somehow supposed to make up for crap pay and treatment their practitioners so often receive, even while public officials continue to sing their praises and speak of their importance. Like so many other underappreciated and underfunded areas of our society, the working conditions and expectations in these professions are unsustainable, magnified even more during a global pandemic. Dedication and passion can fuel a person for a while, but eventually burnout always wins. As more and more burnt out educators look to leave their profession, more and more newspapers across the country continue to shutter. According to the University of North Carolina’s Hussman School of Journalism, at the end of 2019 the U.S. had 6,700 newspapers – down from almost 9,000 in 2004, or about 25%. Many communities are now forced to look elsewhere for their news and information, often leading to less than reliable sources, which ultimately helps fuel the spread of misinformation and disinformation.

Snapshot of me on my last day of work in 2012 - inspired by the Breakfast Club.

The Truth Needs An Ally

The decline of print is one of the many changes and challenges facing the media landscape over the last twenty years, the most notable being the rise of the Internet and its polarizing effect on political points of view. I recently picked up my old copy of The Truth Needs No Ally: Inside Photojournalism, by Howard Chapnick. Published in 1994, the book is the definitive guide to the importance of photojournalism throughout history, its best practices and advice to aspiring photojournalists. It is the book that made me want to become a photojournalist. Chapnick extols the overwhelming power of the still image and speaks of how despite the rise and dominance of video and t.v. news, the still image continues to hold the ability to change history. However, Chapnick could not predict the profound effects the Internet — only in its infancy in 1994 — would have on the power of photojournalism and ultimately the very definition of truth itself. Between the image fueled Internet, social media and the fact that everybody now walks around with a camera in their pocket, so much has changed since his book was published.

We are constantly bombarded with thousands of images, whether we’re glued to our smartphones, laptops or even old fashioned television. When I was in graduate school, courses in journalism ethics covered various scandals involving the manipulation of images using Photoshop to change their content. Although the phenomenon was fairly new and photographers and news agencies who participated in such practices were held accountable for their violations, gone were the days of the assumed verisimilitude of a still image. Viewers were now forced to put their trust in the integrity of the producers of images. Fast forward to today, and a highly polarized ultra bipartisan America where trust in government institutions, the media and each other has eroded to a point of being nearly non-existent, and the truth has become ever so elusive. Add to that the ease of manipulating not only still images but video, and the title of Chapnick’s brilliant book feels especially ironic, because now more than ever, the truth needs an ally.

When his book was published, Chapnick could not have imagined where we’d be today. Still, it’s interesting to read his viewpoints on the future of photojournalism, most of which were fairly optimistic. On the subject of photo manipulation, he points out that even before, “the advent of computerized equipment and the introduction of electronic still camera systems,” it was possible to alter photographs in the darkroom. He admits the relative ease to doctor images with new technologies could lead to, “a further dilution of the public’s acceptance of the photograph as a credible witness to events.” In the book’s epilogue, Photojournalism 2000 — A Look into the Future, Chapnick concludes, “By the year 2000, I expect we will have learned how to tame threatening technological innovations and the electronic imaging monsters. The demand for thinking photographers will still be there. No technology can replace the mind. No machine can heighten one’s vision. No electronic darkroom can compose as well as the mind’s eye. The same kind of photographers who have justifiably dominated photojournalism throughout its history will be equally well rewarded in tomorrow’s communications world.”

While there is still a clear distinction between seasoned, professional photojournalists and everyday people with cell phones, the larger and more important issue facing our society today is the role of truth in journalism itself and its effect on the very health of our democracy. We are well beyond simply dealing with the occasional manipulation of an image here or there. As responsible media consumers, it’s up to us to do the work required to vet out the truth, to be an ally to truth. But how? How do we become an ally to truth when we live in a world where people choose to believe what they want to believe without ever bothering to back anything up with facts?

Becoming An Ally

The key to becoming an ally to truth is media literacy. What is media literacy? The Center for Media Literacy, offers a comprehensive explanation of media literacy —

Media Literacy is a 21st century approach to education. It provides a framework to access, analyze, evaluate, create and participate with messages in a variety of forms — from print to video to the Internet. Media literacy builds an understanding of the role of media in society as well as essential skills of inquiry and self-expression necessary for citizens of a democracy.

Common Sense Media’s definition stresses the importance of understanding the intent behind messages with a focus on children as media consumers —

Media literacy is the ability to identify different types of media and understand the messages they're sending. Kids take in a huge amount of information from a wide array of sources, far beyond the traditional media (TV, radio, newspapers, and magazines) of most parents' youth. There are text messages, memes, viral videos, social media, video games, advertising, and more. But all media share one thing: Someone created it. And it was created for a reason. Understanding that reason is the basis of media literacy.

I am guilty of assuming average, everyday media consumers know some basics about the sources of their information and I admit the need to be more aware of the generational divide that exists in the way we, as a society, get our information and news. I grew up in a time when there were three major t.v. networks that were the main sources of national and world news — end of story. This time before cable news stations, the 24-hour news cycle, and the Internet was not without its problems, namely the power these sources had as gatekeepers to determine what news was considered important enough to cover while overlooking other “lesser” stories. However, these sources generally had the trust of the public and people believed, for the most part, that they were presenting the truth without hidden agendas. The public’s trust of the media has significantly decreased since the rise of the Internet as our main source of information, and this mistrust is one of the greatest obstacles we face in the preservation of our democracy.

Lucky for us, the very technology that threatens truth and democracy can be used as a tool to combat the spread of misinformation and disinformation, which leads to continued distrust of the media. There’s an abundance of great media literacy resources available online that can help us all become allies to the truth. Taking the time to use these resources to learn how to be more responsible media users is imperative if we hope to preserve our democracy as it teeters on the edge of disaster. I began writing about these resources and was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information available and the best way to organize it all. As I found myself writing a never ending essay, I decided to break up my examination of media literacy resources and tools into installments — shorter essays that look at singular areas of media literacy. Stay tuned as I work on creating what I hope will be a comprehensive guide to help navigate the ever complex media landscape of 2022.

Greater Expectations

 

We’re quickly approaching the two year anniversary of Covid-19 hitting the U.S. and changing our lives forever. Throughout this pandemic, I have found myself saying, “well, things could always be worse.” It’s time for me to stop uttering those words, as it bites me in the ass every single time I say them.

Isolating with your family, homeschooling your children while fearing death from a new, mysterious disease? Could be worse.

Cops murdering people of color on the street in cold blood? Could be worse. 

Narcissistic sociopath President inciting a coup attempt following a fair election? Could be worse. 

Democracy as you know it hurtling like an out of control freight train on fire toward the edge of the Grand Canyon? Could be worse.

Movement of anti-vax, anti-mask delusional assholes living in an alternative universe pushing their agenda of death upon all of society? Could be worse.

No. That’s it, I’m putting my foot down. No more worse. I’m tired of worse. I want better. I demand better. Instead of thinking about how much worse things could be, it’s about Goddamn time we start to think about how much better everything needs to be at this point in the pandemic and in our country in general. In fact, it’s beyond time. 

Far too long I’ve had an overall philosophy on life involving the beauty of low expectations. I’d joke that I’d be happy with the way my kids turned out as long as they didn’t grow up to be serial killers or republicans. These days it’s no longer remotely funny as I couldn’t imagine the nightmare of my children being republicans because of what the republican party has become. For so long, I figured by keeping my expectations low, my chances of being disappointed were significantly diminished. Though this philosophy may work quite well when going to see a movie, I realize now it’s not a great way to base my world view.

Sadly, America as a society has bought into the philosophy of low expectations and, as a result, has succeeded in setting the bar very low in so many areas. Rights and privileges we’ve taken for granted are slowly eroding, as the GOP makes it their mission to chip away at them bit by bit. Meanwhile, democrats have done very little to put a stop to it. Union rights, voting rights, social safety nets, affordable healthcare and childcare, our educational system — the list seems never ending. 

It’s time we raise expectations of our leaders and institutions, not lower them. We’ve been lowering them for so long we’ve reached a point where the bar is set so low we’ll soon need a shovel to dig a hole, and that hole will be our own grave. Not only do we need to raise our expectations, we need to demand they get met. Demand healthcare for all. Demand affordable childcare. Demand quality education and the protection of the most vulnerable in our society. Demand giving a shit about climate change and actually doing the work to reverse it. I’m tired of setting the bar low. I’m tired of expecting the minimum and not even getting that. I’m tired of barely striving for the status quo. It’s time to rise up and say fuck to “it can always be worse.”

It may feel like we’ve been beaten into submission, into a state of just accepting things for being what they are. Yes, we’re all exhausted and finding the energy to fight so much all at once is not going to be easy. The GOP have made it clear they’ll go to any length to win — lie, cheat and steal — they’ll truly sink to the lowest of lows. They are a morally corrupt party reliant on lies and fear to guide their base. They have lost whatever soul they may have once had. How do we fight that? Where do we even begin?

We can start by raising the bar up high, raising our expectations of our leaders. Bring back shame. Make them accountable for their actions or inaction — whether it be at the ballot box or in court. Strive to be part of the solution on any level you can manage. Get involved in your community. Get on that school board and tell those anti-maskers where to go. If you can’t manage a big commitment, keep it simple. Bake some cookies for someone who’s having a hard go of it. Spread kindness, encouragement, empathy, send out positive energy into this world that so often feels dark and hopeless. Raise expectations for yourself and those around you. Expect more, give more, feel more, love more. Sorry, I think I may be evoking a Target commercial here . . .

Remember you are not alone. Don’t give up!