Never wanted to be President, but Helen Thomas showed me I could grill one

As a journalism student in 1975, I snuck into the White House press corps which was camped out in the basement of the East-West Center in Hawaii to watch Ms. Helen Thomas, UPI cover President Ford. 

• Visit Didn't Help Ford Win Hawaii, Honolulu Star-Bulletin
• Daily Diary of President Gerald R. Ford, Dec. 7, 1975 (the 34th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor)

As reporters talked and laughed, waiting for Ford to mispronounce the word "hegemony," Helen Thomas smiled and typed away. She was my rock star.   

Eleven years later, I was working for that very same UPI, covering the deposed dictator President Ferdinand Marcos as he landed in Hawaii, exiled from the Philippines.

I hate the disgrace that came to Helen Thomas at the end of her career. I prefer to remember the very smart, very visible role model she was for women journalists.  

I never wanted to be the President.  Helen Thomas certainly showed me that I could grill one if that's what I wanted to do.  

Helen Thomas died today. She will always be remembered. 
 Thomas, Pioneering White House Correspondent, Dies at 92

Emmy had her all a Twitter

Not sure which makes me feel more proud .. that my sweetie sent me her first note on Twitter or that she won an Emmy.





Still shouting it from the rooftops. Here's that 30-minute program on South Africa: At the Crossroads of Hate and Hope.

Walter Cronkite, the 2nd most important man in my life

Today I mourned the passing of the second most important man in my life, Walter Cronkite. Now, let me make it clear, the most important man was my father, Raymond Green. My father taught me about right and wrong, he taught me about respect, and he taught me that it was OK for a young, African American woman to question the establishment, to ask for answers if I felt something was wrong. He taught me to not be afraid to go against the tide as long as I got the answers I was searching for.
Walter Cronkite reinforced these lessons. He became the second most important man in my life.
He became the man who helped shape my life into the extraordinary journey that it's been.
Getting back to my father, he was old school. He got a newspaper everyday, and watched the news every night. I mean every night. We sat down in front of the TV and watched Walter Cronkite, and nothing disturbed this. We ate dinner at 4pm so we could be ready to watch the news.

That's just how it was in our house. For that half hour every day we were in Walter's house, as he took us on a journey around the world.

Both these men gave me a passion for journalism. I got my first paper route when I was just nine, and I remember my mother Iris getting up on rainy mornings before the sunrise and driving me from house to house so I could deliver the papers. The real perk was I got my own paper every day from the supplier, it was my own paper. I was the first one to open the pages,and bend them back. It was my paper. I didn't make much money from that paper route, but gained so much more. It reinforced this passion I had for information. I wanted to know everything that was happening.

This passion led me to get my journalism degree from Arizona State University, and begin working for the NBC station in Phoenix. My career in TV news led me to stations in Washington DC, Los Angeles and New York City. For more than two decades, every day I went into a newsroom I carried Mr. Cronkite on my shoulders, trying to ask the questions he would ask, wanting to make sure I was being a good journalist, wanting to make sure he was proud of the job I was doing.Thinking that some day he might actually see one of my shows. I wanted to make sure it was one he would approve of, and since I never knew when he might happen to catch a show, I had to make sure I gave it my all every day.

Walter Cronkite didn't know me, but I sure felt like I knew him.You can only imagine what I felt when I accepted a job teaching as a Professor of Practice at the Walter Cronkite school of Journalism and Mass Communication three years ago. As of that wasn't exciting enough, I then got a letter in the mail, it was from Walter Cronkite himself, welcoming me to the school. I was literally shaking as I read it.

Then, the unthinkable. Just a couple of months after accepting the position, I actually got a chance to meet Mr. Cronkite in person when he came to Arizona State University to speak with the students. There I was, sitting down next to Mr. Cronkite, the chance to meet the second most important man in my life, and I was tongue tied.

I just sat there looking at this man who for the majority of my life I had watched most days on TV, and here he was right next to me. I finally took a deep breath, introduced myself and told him I was honored to be teaching in his school. He said he had heard about me joining the staff, and was excited that I would be able to share my knowledge with the students. He said just teach them well, and I have taken that to heart.

The entire time I sat next to him as he spoke about his days at UPI and covering the Apollo Moon landing, all I could think about was I wish my dad was here, he would be so proud of me.

Now, both of the most important men in my life are gone, but never forgotten. I know that somewhere up there my Dad has invited Walter Cronkite to come sit in on his game of Pinochle, and they are sitting there discussing what it was like reporting on the Civil Rights movement, the Vietnam War and the situation in Israel. My Dad will tell him job well done, and Mr Cronkite will say the same back to my father.


For more memories, and pictures about Walter Cronkite, please visit the Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication website at Arizona State University.

Susan Green, Tempe, AZ

The Most Amazing Last Lunch

I have eaten in some of the finer restaurants, you know, the ones where you have like ten forks, beautiful white linens on the tables, and even a so called foot stool for your purse. Yes, a foot stool. I was sort of shocked when I saw it as well.

Getting back to the subject, I have experienced fine dining, but nothing as fine as the lunch my students treated me to this past week. No, this lunch was special, not just because of what the chef's cooked up, but because my students thought enough of me to want to do something special.


It all started on thursday morning when Jeff put his head inside my office and said, "don't get your lunch today". He said it with a big smile across his face. About an hour later another of my students came into my office and said, "whatever you do, don't go get your lunch." When I asked what was going on, he just smiled and said just wait.

At about 12:30 I was starting to get a little hungry. I tried to find the students to see what was going on, but they had disappeared. At about 1pm I was more than a little peckish. I was starving, and starting to count out some change for the vending machine. That's when Emily spied me and hollered "don't you dare. Hang on, I will try to find them."

At about 1:15 they walked into the office carrying several bags of food, and told me to sit down at the table. Then, they opened the bags and I felt I had died and gone to heaven. They could have bought me anything for lunch, but no, they knew the exact thing to get me.
They opened up the boxes with huge smiles on their faces and then waited. I took one look, let out a squeal, and felt my mouth start to water. They had driven down to LoLo's and got me chicken and waffles! OK,OK if you have never had it before you might not be able to appreciate the two amazing flavors together, the sweet of the maple syrup and butter, and the saltiness of the hot, crunchy chicken. My mouth is just watering describing it.

They were so proud of themselves. I think I had maybe mentioned chicken and waffles once, and they remembered! We sat for the next hour eating and laughing and talking. It was the most amazing hour, and I wish all of you could have been a part of it.
I know my students are just a week away from graduating, and we will keep in touch through emails and phone calls, but I will truly miss every one of them.

I am so happy I have this memory of our last lunch together, and will treasure it always.

Lolo's is not the only place frying up chicken and waffles. You can find restaurants all across the country specializing in this Haute cuisine. Check out this throwdown between food network and Melba's!


Sue, Tempe

One teacher's proudest moment

You know, as a journalist in the business for more than 20 years, I have been honored with several awards, including a Peabody, but I admit I was truly honored today by an invitation to a luncheon from one of my students, Danielle Fernades.
A luncheon to say Thank You!
When I decided to leave the industry and begin teaching, I thought I would miss all the excitement of journalism, the camaraderie of the newsroom, the daily battle to meet deadlines, "getting" the story, being the first to know what is going on. Journalism at its purist. I love it.

When the opportunity arrived to go into the classroom, at first I hesitated, not knowing if I was ready to "give it up".
Man, am I glad I made the decision to teach! I love teaching, I love working with the students, I love holding their feet to the fire, I love giving them a high five when they figure it out. I love teasing them about wearing slippers and hoodies to class...

I love talking to them about their eagerness to return home, and their fears about returning home. I love talking with them about their love life, or lack of it.
I was honored at being able to comfort one student when she got the news that not one, but both of her parents are terminally ill.
I am so privileged that I am in this spot to be able to offer some small form of comfort.
Being a teacher is one of the hardest and most rewarding jobs i have ever had. I have been blessed with some amazing students, and they have taught me so much about life. They have reminded me once again about how to play, how to laugh, how to not take everything so seriously.

Today, I received an email from the school notifying me that I had been invited to a luncheon because Danielle had chosen me as the most influential professors in her four years at the University. I am touched.
Whether they know it or not, together these students have been the most influential people in my life.

Sue, Arizona State University, Tempe, Arizona

The Perfect Email from my Student

The beginning of the new school year is now one week old, and I have to admit, I am wiped out! But I got an email from one of my students that once again reminded me why I put in the 12 and 14 hour days!

Carolyn and Anne were two of my journalism students from last year. We pretty much lived together in our lab, turning stories, doing live shots, learning how to be great storytellers, and meet deadlines....


For a solid year I got to work with these two students, and witness their growth as they became seasoned journalists.It was amazing to watch them go from frightened students, to someone who will one day be delivering the days news to thousands.

I also got a chance to then take Carolyn to South Africa for an amazing project this summer, one that taught both of us about the changing world of journalism.

I then sent them out into the world, and held my breath, hoping I had done enough to prepare them for the "real world". They both got jobs, and they are both now reporters for two different stations in Oregon. When they called me to tell me they got their jobs, I was so proud of them. I warned them about being home sick, about taking care of themselves, about making sure they rely on their friends, and making sure they follow all the ethics of journalism. And the most important thing, I told them to make sure they hit their deadlines. I also told them they could call me anytime they need a few words to cheer them up, or if they needed someone to slap them upside the head!

So, when I got this email the other day from Carolyn, I have to admit, I got a bit choked up. Here is the email:

"Hey Sue,

How are you? How's the new school year looking?

Anne and I went out to dinner the other night and decided we owe you a big THANK YOU.

I have no idea how I've managed to do a day turn every single day...my only guess is that I'm always reminding myself of stuff you taught me. Just keep it simple! My writing now is the fastest part of the process. Who would have thought?

Anyways, thank you so much for everything! I'm so lucky to have had you as a teacher before diving into the real world.

And THANK YOU so much for inviting me along to South Africa. It was a huge life changing experience I got really lucky to experience.

I hope you know that I haven't taken it for granted for a second. I know you pulled strings to bring me and I truly appreciate it!

I honestly have thought about thanking you every single day since we boarded the plane. So thank you!"

Is this not a perfect moment or what!

Susan, Tempe

We're all outstanding in our fields

When you are having one of those days when work just kind of sucks and you think your job is a dead end, I have found a job that will make your life seem really good.

While in South Africa, we were driving along this road near the border where there were orange farms.

As we were driving about every 20 yards we would see people just standing in the field...

We finally stopped, curious about what they were doing.

When we asked them, they told us their job is to run off the baboons when they tried to steal the oranges.

That's what they did day in and day out, stand in these fields and run off the baboons.

Compared to this, most jobs aren't so bad. As a matter of fact, some days standing in a field smelling orange blossoms, and looking out for baboons doesn't sound so bad!

Sue, South Africa,
near the border of Zimbabwe

Coffee, friends and new-found freedom

I had a most interesting experience this morning. I exercise 3 mornings a week at a senior facility about 5 miles from my townhouse. I usually stop at my sister’s for coffee and conversation, but since she was out of town, I went directly to my other favorite place -- Starbucks.

After ordering my tall latte and a scone (after all, I did exercise) I was sitting alone, writing a grocery list, enjoying myself when two African American ladies walked past me and took another table across the room, and then they ordered. After picking up their goodies, they passed my table again and the younger of the two stopped and spoke to me.


My mouth was full and I was afraid I didn’t respond properly, but I did mumble that I was "just fine,” my usual response. So when I was ready to leave, I looked for the trash can closest to their table so I would have a purpose to speak to them again...


After introducing myself and saying how nice it was to have a stranger speak to me, they graciously asked me to be seated.

In my sometimes overly chatty manner, I gave them a brief history of myself, and then asked the young lady called “Gee” only one “Gee” not “Gee Gee”. Where she worked, and she said she had had a long career at Qwest, but had just retired ... their request, not hers.

But the freedom did give her a chance to do a little traveling, and she just returned from a trip to Washington, D.C. to visit a friend who was employed in the Bush Administration. It was Gee’s first visit to our Nation’s Capitol, and she was privileged to have a very special tour of the monuments, Arlington and the Capitol. She had a lot to say about patriotism, and how beautiful and impressive the monuments were.


I told both of them of my experiences in D.C. and how I never tire of going there. She told me of the newest museum, one she hadn’t had a chance to visit this trip…the ”Newseum”, which of course gave me the opportunity to enlightened them about how Joan and I had been there last May and how much we enjoyed the tour and especially being on the terrace on the 6th floor to view the magnificent view of the Capitol and all the museums and how proud we were to be Americans. They both agreed.

Gee’s friend seemed to enjoy our conversation and told us she is ready to make that trip with Gee. We visited a long time.

What a lovely encounter I had on Saturday, the day after Independence Day. A Perfect Moment? I think so!!!

Joyce, Aurora, Colorado

When my graduating students let it rip

Graduation Day. I love it. I think it's really special to me now because I really didn't get a chance to walk across the stage or anything when I graduated from college years ago. But, now that I am a professor, it's really something special.

I enjoy sitting on that stage, looking at each student, so proud as they walk up to the dean to shake his hand and get that diploma. Hundreds of students. It only takes about 10 seconds for each of them to walk across the stage, 2 1/2 seconds for each year they spent in college. During the ceremony and after the ceremony there were several perfect moments.

The first happened when they introduced the professors. They had us all stand one by one as they said our names. The first few professors got a smattering of applause, and all I was hoping was that I got a little applause as well when they said my name.

Finally they got to me, and the Dean said my name, I stood, and then my graduating students let it rip! They were so loud. I was by far the loudest cheer up to that point! I know, I know, that sounds a bit weird and competitive, but dammit, I liked it, and I was really proud.

We made it through the ceremony without me crying which I considered a major feat since I am somewhat of a whimp! Afterward we were outside for a little meet and greet, my chance to finally meet the parents. I love this time. It's my chance to really let these parents, grandparents and family friends know how special ...

their child is! I love it when their faces start to beam with each word of praise.

But there was one family in particular that touched me. Sarah was one of my production students, and she had worked her butt off this semester.

She was so proud as she introduced me to her family, especially her grandfather. I was telling them how much Sarah had improved over the semester, and telling them I just knew she would soon be working in the field. Her parents just beamed with pride, but then I noticed her grandfather. His eyes were welling up. I put my hand on his shoulder and asked what was wrong. He just said he wished Sarah's grandmother could be there to see this.

That she worked so hard to make sure Sarah got to college. At this point I almost started crying along with him. But I knew that that wasn't want he needed. I just squeezed his shoulder and said, "She's here, she's here watching." He just nodded, tried to smile, and that's when Sarah reached over and said, "Come on, Grandpa, let's
go get some spaghetti." That's when he really smiled and nodded. I don't know what
the spaghetti symbolized, but for him, the spaghetti definitely brought up memories
of happier times.

As I continued to work my way through the crowd, one of my students grabbed my arm
and pulled me aside. I loved this kid. We had had spent many hours talking shop, and
talking about life. We talked about challenges he would face as a reporter, we
talked about fears, and we talked about how to deal with trauma.

Many things he would face as he heads off to a life in the middle east, working as a reporter. Ian is one of those special kids, so intense, so naive and so pure. He talked about how he wanted to show some of the positive stories coming from this part of the world, the real stories that sometimes we don't have time to show. I told him to go for it, to help people understand that they have to find time. But on this night, he didn't want to talk about the job, or stories, or fears. He just wanted to tell me thanks.

He said, "Sue, I just wanted to let you know you are my favorite mentor. I always
knew I could come to you and you would tell me the truth, even if it wasn't what I
wanted to hear. Thank you."

Man it doesn't get much more perfect than that! This was an amazing night!

Sue, Tempe

He really gets it

Day 2 of our 30 PERFECT MOMENTS in 30 days.

Todays perfect moment came to me from the mouth of one of my students. We were celebrating the end of the semester today with a gathering at a local restaurant.

One of my students had had a pretty tough semester. He was learning how to be a reporter, and he was having a difficult time. I was pretty tough on him, trying to get him up to speed, and trying to get him to believe in himself. Well, by the end of the semester, he was finally able to finish a story on time, and his videotape shooting was much improved.

I was very proud of him. But it was what he said tonight that really reminded me why I enjoy teaching. I was sitting next to him, and he said "Sue I want to thank you for not giving up on me....

I feel really good now. I know I can do this."

I almost wanted to cry. This is the moment I always want each of my students to have at the end of the semester. I want them to have that incredible feeling of knowing they are up to the task.

Tonight, this student finally "got it".

He now knows he can do anything that's thrown his way. I look into his eyes and I see happiness and fear, and confidence, and excitement. I know that he can do it, and now my job is done because he also knows he can do it!

Man I really love this job!

Sue, Tempe

Hail to the dark and stormy day

A beautiful Friday dawned in Paterson in June of 1976, and I had volunteered to provide music for the visit of Gerald R. Ford, the president of the United States, to the home of Lawrence F. Kramer, the mayor of Paterson. It was a fund-raiser, I guess, but tickets didn't cost much, probably $25 to $50 each, and it was in the era of gentle Republicans, such as Ford and Kramer -- before the broad-sworded hateful, conniving Ronald Reagan and others arrived to employ race- and gay-baiting and mass murder as tools to bring political power to a Republican Party that would have ashamed Herbert Hoover, Dwight Eisenhower, and maybe even Richard Nixon.

The mayor's wife, Mary Ellen Kramer, who was brilliant and effective in a way that many are not, asked if the band could play, "Hail to the Chief," when the president came to deliver his speech. "Sure," I said. There was a lot I did not know. Go to a music store and ask for "Hail to the Chief." No one has it. It's played only for the president, and the president isn't there. I promised sheet music, and I did not deliver....


I went to Schermer's on West 46th Street in New York, the finest music store of its time. I called high schools and universities. No "Hail to the Chief" was to be found, any where.

Friday, I arrived at the hour appointed for me to meet with representatives of the Secret Service and convey the names and social security numbers of the five people chosen to perform in a jazz band that would play the next day, and to entertain the 300 or so guests who would have a chance to meet the president. Though I am a part-time musician myself, I knew that Gerald Ford was out of my class, and I hired real pros.

Also, I wanted diversity, so I chose men whom I knew well, an excellent cornet player, whose name will not be revealed here; Marv Rosenthal on clarinet, Gim Burton on banjo, and Marquis Foster on drums. Though I did not know her well, I engaged Barbara Driewicz to play tuba. The result, three white men, one black man, and one white woman. When asked the name of the group, I hesitantly, and humorously, answered, "Affirmative Action Five." To the Secret Service, it wasn't a joke. It was written down.

All looked well. Until the day of President Ford's arrival, June 6, 1976. What was forecast as a beautiful blue day like the one before was instead one of pouring rain. Ford was soaked head-to-toe, shielded by rain only by an umbrella, by the time he finished his speech at Paterson's Great Falls. When he arrived at 114 East 38th Street, the Paterson mayor's residence, he was still soaked. He asked for privacy and time to change his clothes, The people waited outside, most protected by a huge tent Mrs. Kramer had had the foresight to rent.

My band, meanwhile, entertained with songs that appeared to please the crowd. Champagne flowed as it did in what I consider to be the golden age of my life, the nonjudgmental period preceding Reagan when no one cared too much about who slept with whom, who drank how much or who was 15 minutes late to work. A few people smoked pot and fewer used harder drugs, but it was what kind of person you were and far less what you churned out for your employer that determined the charity with which you would be receive.

Mayor Kramer, a gentle, humorous man of signficant intelligence and leadership ability, had joked that he would require some time to introduce President Ford properly. He had no such oration in mind. There was a pause in music when the sparklingly clad Mayor Kramer, as heavy rain poured relentlessly around him, walked onto the platform and drew the crowd's attention.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Mayor Kramer announced, "the president of the United States."

The band, at my direction, began to play "Hail to the Chief," or what was supposed to be "Hail to the Chief." It was unrecognizable as "Hail to the Chief"' or anything else. The president of the United States did not appear; awaiting his familiar cue, he remained in the Kramer house.

The cornet player, perceiving, the deficiency of his initial effort, lifted his mouthpiece away, and said to no one, "Boy, did I blow that." After the first, dismal attempt, the band looked at me for help.

"Again," I said.

Then, the perfect moment occurred. As well as any band ever has, the Affirmative Action Five delivered a flawless rendering of "Hail to the Chief." The dry President Ford appeared and gave his speech to the joy of the throng and to the delight of the Kramers, who had committed much family treasure to his visit. I felt as if I had done my job, Mrs. Kramer felt vindicated in assigning the responsibility to me, and President Ford truly felt welcome in Paterson. The Kramers went on to be happy that night, and so did I. One of the best days of all of our lives.

It was not a dark and stormy night, but a dark and stormy day. Yet for all concerned, it was perfect.

Laird, Paterson, New Jersey

Thank you, Jesus

I'm not sure where to begin!

My family and I have been through a lot. Since we have been married (1996), we have dealt with 4 car accidents, two back surgeries, three lay-offs, a miscarriage and numerous health issues.

I am a Christian, and am taking my kids to church and talking with them about God. However, my husband is "not sure" if he is saved, which in turn means I don't know. He sure doesn't act like it, but I digress. He is a good man in so many ways, that I have to leave it to God to deal with.

One day, we were talking about a possible job opportunity (he has been laid off for about two-and-a-half years), and he had a spark in his eye that I hadn't seen in a long time....


He actually said " thank you, Jesus" when he was telling me about something possibly happening for him. I couldn't believe my ears, but boy was I thrilled!

I keep playing back that moment in my mind. Especially when I feel like my prayers are going unanswered as far as him giving his life to the Lord.

That three word statement he made gave me hope. The opportunity he was talking about didn't turn into anything. And he is still as stubborn as a mule. But I will always play that back in my head to remind myself that God is working in and through him. And believe me .... God is the ONLY one who can get through that thick skull!

And of course, when I hear my 8 year old talk about God it just touches me to no end! She says "we love God and nothing will ever change that", and "if a bad guy ever told me to stop loving God I would beat him up and tell him NO WAY!". It's cute, but so important. My teenager has a more reserved attitude, but I know He is working through her as well.

Adrienne, Calif.

First published novel

Hello, My friend Tiana asked me to be apart of this project and it made my day! It’s really nice to just think about the beautiful things in life every once in a while!

My perfect moment came enclosed in a box....

I had been waiting for this box to arrive for weeks, but if you were to truly ask i had been waiting all my life to get this box.

The day it came was a busy one filled with running errands, making phone calls, being too busy and then there was a knock at the door. I signed for the package, thanked the delivery guy and carried my future to the dining room table.

I cut open the box and there they were -- 20 copies of my very first published novel....

Everything in my life came together in that moment everything that i had been through and dealt with to bring this dream to reality simply made sense.

I held one of the glossy copies in my hand not wanting to even open it and bend the pages and I remember that in that moment i could not have imagined myself happier!

Brandelyn, Calif.