And I loved it. An English professor at Hope College in Holland, Mich., Janzen is intimately acquainted with Mennonite history, theology and culture, yet far enough removed to possess the refreshing perspective of one who can skewer them with ease and a certain relish. For those of us who were raised in Mennonite homes and have, through our lives, been alternately repelled by and attracted to various aspects of this faith tradition, Janzen’s memoir of her return home after a series of personal crises was unvarnished, penetrating, insightful and humorous in the deadpan manner of a Mennonite Bob Newhart. The last time I rang up this many LOLs per page was reading Armin Wiebe’s The Salvation of Jasch Siemens.

If I’d been paying closer attention to the denominational press or the book sections of prominent U.S. newspapers, Janzen’s memoir wouldn’t have come as much as a surprise. In the Mennonite Weekly Review, editor Paul Schrag went to great lengths to document the decidedly mixed reception the book has had in Janzen’s home community of Fresno, Calif., where there is much handwringing about the promotion of stereotypes and the biting nature of Janzen’s satire and critiques. A profile of the author by Cathy Horyn in The New York Times, however, is much more revelatory of Janzen’s personality and intent. Erika Schickel’s review in the Los Angeles Times, meanwhile, seems to miss the essence of the book almost entirely.

Janzen has posted a kind of trailer to the book on YouTube, in which she provides some of the anecdotes from the memoir’s opening chapters (see the clip below). The video, however, doesn’t match the wonderfully engaging style that is Rhoda Janzen in print.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Janzen has already reached a deal with her publisher for a kind of sequel, titled Backslider, which Horyn describes as “an ongoing history of a skeptic’s move back to a community of faith.” Which could easily describe Little Black Dress, too. What’s evident from the early pages is that implanted in Janzen’s consciousness is a homing beacon that steadily points the way back to a tradition she thought she’d left — but that evidently had never left her.

Michelle Lang

Lang’s untimely death has hit journalists hard — not because her life was somehow more important than the soldiers who died with her, but because the Canadian journalistic community is, despite appearances, a relatively small one. There are few among us who do not personally know someone who has been to Afghanistan to report on Canada’s mission there. Lang was the first to die doing it.

I did not personally know Lang. Over the past day, tributes from those who were well acquainted with her have been posted; they come from across the country and overseas. There is the account of Globe and Mail reporters Patrick White (on the ground in Afghanistan) and Anna Mehler Paperny on Lang’s career, spirit and courage. There is the column by Windsor Star reporter Craig Pearson on the loss of a journalistic comrade. There is the account of Emmy Award-winning reporter Graeme Smith, also of the Globe and Mail, on the fear journalists confront while working in a war zone. There is a blog post by U.S. Ambassador to Canada David Jacobson, one of the last people to be interviewed by Lang. There are statements of regret and condolence by many journalistic organizations, including Canadian Journalists for Free Expression. There is a tribute by Canwest News Service columnist Don Martin.

Dozens of Canadian journalists have, over the past six years, volunteered for a tour of duty in Afghanistan. Many do more than volunteer — they actively lobby their managers, syndicates and networks for the opportunity to go. Still others see the chance to work in a war zone, even for a short period of time, as a way to burnish their professional credentials and hone their abilities. All, however, are driven by the desire to tell the story of what Canada is doing in such a remote part of the world — and whether, through military action or humanitarian intervention, we’re making a positive difference there.

We owe a debt to Lang — for modelling journalistic integrity and excellence; for being brave enough to risk her life for the sake of understanding and clarity; and for reminding us that journalistic zeal and passion are no antidote against the deadly, ugly realities of armed conflict.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Hmmm. Maybe Delta Airlines employees and airport security officials in Amsterdam were doing something similar on Christmas Day, when Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab passed through their security scanners. In any case, it’s a nice gesture. Though, as Toronto Star columnist Cathal Kelley notes, this kind of routine will now get you tasered at some international airports.

The Lisbon airport dance is reminiscent of a routine in April of this year at Amsterdam’s main train station:

Click here to view the embedded video.

Here’s hoping that, despite our collective obsession and occasional bouts of paranoia over security in public spaces, we never entirely erase such displays of cheer, fantasy, whimsy and goodwill.

The approach of that milestone reminds me of how tentative, narrow and conditional our understanding of history often is. Take the current decade, now coming fast to a close, as an example.

As we approached the end of 1999, it seemed clear that with the turning of all four numbers on our digital calendars — as if they were odometer numerals — we’d enter a new, as-yet-undesignated, era. The calendar was telling us things were about to change. Who were we to argue?

There were passionate and heated arguments about what the turning of all those figures would mean. Remember the Y2K paranoia — the notion that many of our automated systems would freeze and lock up, creating mass havoc? Then there were the debates over when, exactly, the end of the second millennium in the common era would arrive. Many argued (rightly, but inconsequentially) that the new millennium would not begin on Jan. 1, 2000, but rather on Jan. 1, 2001.

When extremists struck at the United States with such unprecedented force on Sept. 11, 2001, we revised our thinking. Many commentators, myself included, thought that, when the chronicle of this century is written 100 years hence, 01-09-11 would mark the geopolitical fulcrum on which the world shifted and a new chapter of human history began. Only eight years out, does that still seem likely? Not so much, really — the events around airport security in the last few days notwithstanding.

Just as lively debate still exists among historians over precisely when the Dark Ages, the Renaissance, the Reformation, the Industrial Revolution, the Victorian Era or the Modern Era began, so I expect debate to continue for some time as to when, exactly, the 21st century arrived in our midst. For some, it will be the clicking over of the calendric numerals; for others, the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. Economists may one day argue that it was a particular date in the fall of 2008, when the biggest global recession since the Great Depression struck.

I was intrigued, however, to read a passage on the popular Quoteflections blog from Roger Martin, dean of the Rotman School of Management at the University of Toronto. Martin is quoted there as saying Nov. 10, 2001, was a pivotal date in the history of the past decade, if not the fledgling century. “That was the day the first iPod was shipped. To me, it heralded a kind of an interesting, ironic intersection of trends. In terms of consumers, what it heralded was individualization . . . . But Apple didn’t just announce iPod; it announced iPod and iTunes simultaneously. What that heralded was also the era of the business ecosystem — a gigantic system that a corporation orchestrates and manages. The two trends were more momentous than any of us had realized. It’s not that iPod caused it, but iPod signalled it,” Martin said.

Whose view will prevail over the long run won’t be known for another century or two. But two things seem clear. One, that the technological shifts of the past decade will play a role in interpreting and drawing the lines of history. And two, that history, as always, will be told in myriad ways, through the lenses of an increasing number of tellers, through an ever-expanding bouquet of tools and platforms.

And, in a way, it has. Christmas has come, ready or not. Commercial jingles and slogans about the meaning of the season are mercifully sucked into some unseen cosmic dumpster, laying bare the stark, enchanting nudity of Christmas — the bare bones, the naked flesh, the unadorned essence.

There is nothing left now but to approach the creche — this crude, stylized manger scene meant to mirror some similar imagining of nearly 2,000 years ago. We tend too often to admire it only from afar. In our detached, urbane, 20th-century sophistication, we refuse to allow ourselves to get close enough. Like a finely played classical guitar or cello, this event is best appreciated in close proximity, in its unamplified, undistorted form.

Pause before this natal moment, this nativity scene. Take several steps, sometimes many steps, forward. Dare to gaze intently into the eyes of this child. Wait patiently until, like an a 3-D optical puzzle or motion picture, the full depth of this event suddenly comes into focus — the unbearable dimensions of the infinite contained in the finite, the eternal captured in the temporal. Once seen, you wonder why you couldn’t see it at first blush.

But the voyage of discovery continues. Look even more closely, adjusting your focus again, slightly, ever so slightly, until there, at the outer edge of the child’s cornea, you glimpse your own reflection.

In seeing that image, you grasp the mysterious, eternal truth that the invasion of human history by something divine is celebrated in the nativity, but is not confined to it. That discovery, with its many Christmas corollaries, is the best hope for peace on earth in a world conflicted by poverty, war and injustice.

The Supreme Court of Canada's judgment means additional freedom — and responsibility — for journalists. Credit: SCC

I was sitting in a restaurant Tuesday morning having breakfast with my spouse, our daughter and her friend when I happened to check the Twitter feed on my mobile phone. “Yes!” I exclaimed, feeling suddenly self-conscious about my outburst as other patrons were trying to caffeinate their way to alertness.

“That sounds as if you might actually be getting excited about something,” my wife said. (I’m not generally known for pouring a lot of emotion into everyday conversation.)

I’d read a tweet about the Supreme Court of Canada’s decision in a case where “responsible journalism” had been the key argument in a libel case — a ruling that provides for additional protection for journalists and news organizations when careful, balanced and methodical work on a story is in the public interest, even if it happens to tarnish the reputation of an individual.

In the annals of Canadian journalism, the lack of this type of precedent has killed hundreds of stories, no matter their importance to the public interest and national discourse, for fear of libel and slander litigation.

Dean Jobb, associate professor of journalism at King’s College in Halifax, has provided a cogent and accessible analysis of the ruling for J-Source.ca. Globe and Mail justice reporter Kirk Makin also wrote a fine piece on the meaning of the ruling.

The challenge for news media now, of course, will be to live up to the demands implicit in the judgment. The danger lies in citation of the Supreme Court decision by journalists without the requisite hard work and care in reporting. As is so often the case in other spheres, with increased freedom comes increased responsibility — and that will be the message journalism instructors will need to relay to their students.

I expect the ruling will, in a roundabout way, also increase the impetus toward the professionalization of investigative journalism, if not in a formal sense, then in its practice. And like the proverbial tide that lifts all boats, it reminds every thinking journalist of the imperative of nailing down every detail before publication.

A review by Charles McGrath in today’s New York Times, however, puts the book on my Christmas list — or at least at the top of my shopping list for the inevitable trip to the bookstore during the upcoming holidays.

McGrath’s review isn’t especially flattering, but holds out the promise that Assouline delves into considerable detail about the man whose artistic style became distinct and who, through his storytelling, delved into topics that, for his time, pushed the boundaries of what could be accomplished through the medium of the graphic novel. I’ll be interested in learning more about a man who, at least for many North American readers, has remained rather two-dimensional, much like his drawings.

Interest in Hergé, his characters and the story lines of his Tintin series will likely continue to grow as we approach the premiere of the first of three motion pictures, directed by Steven Spielberg, based on the novels. The Secret of the Unicorn is slated for release in the fall of 2011. Accompanying the film are sure to be the long-simmering controversy about whether Remi was a tool of the Nazi occupation and the question of whether the racism reflected in some of his work — which he later regretted and, quite literally, tried to erase — negated some of his genius.

1. Story still matters. The great flux in the worlds of media and journalism are essentially about modes of delivery and creation of new business models. There’s very little serious talk about whether journalism, in some form, will survive or whether engaged citizens of North American democracies will continue to demand timely, accurate and contextualized information, whether through flat screens, podcasts, e-readers, mobile devices or more traditional media. Journalists are analytical storytellers, so practise and hone to a razor edge your skills at telling stories across the wide range of platforms. Don’t, however, ignore development of an equally important skill — something past generations of journalists have called a “nose for news.” Master the knack for anticipating and uncovering the story and, as within the proverbial mousetrap, the world will beat a path to your door. If you can’t do that, all the software and technological prowess in the world won’t make you successful.

2. Develop your own brand. As you practise your writing — in the classroom, on your blog, through social media postings, etc. — begin to ask yourself about what will distinguish you from the thousands of other journalists with whom you’ll soon be in competition. How will your work stand out? What special interests, proprietary knowledge or, yes, even bias might you leverage or develop to set yourself apart? An intimate knowledge of the procedures and databases or the Transportation Safety Board of Canada? An expertise in sport-related injuries and the clinics that treat them? A heightened understanding of food science and food distribution? Now’s the time to take a hobby, special interest or mere curiosity and turn it into a sort of mini-specialization. Don’t dismiss the importance of competence in journalism’s primary skills: investigation, interviewing, vocabulary, accuracy and deft writing, among others. But develop your personal brand on a parallel track with those basic competencies. Take your first steps, however halting, along that path.

3. Think entrepreneurially. Consider the possibility that you may never spend 20 or 25 years as an employee of a large media company. The trend toward leaner staffs and outsourced work is often characterized as evidence of the slow death of journalism and news organizations, especially by those who have spent their careers inside those walls. It needn’t be so. While traditional news media outlets will likely continue to hire staff writers, reporters, photographers, illustrators, designers and engineers for some time to come (albeit at a slower pace), don’t dismiss the notion that your journalistic career might be more akin to that of the owner/operator of a small business or a member of profession. Find ways of learning or practising entrepreneurial skills, such as pitching story ideas, promoting yourself and the type of work you’re interested in doing, keeping proper financial records as a self-employed individual and collaborating with others to break and tell great stories. Consider the possibility that, as they develop leaner business models, news organizations may some day contract out reporting in addition to copy editing; that journalism will be more collaborative and as much the purview of self-starting, independent professionals as of staff tied to desks inside corporate entities. And within that scenario, what’s to prevent clusters of excellent journalists from operating collegially as units, offering their services to buyers or “clients” the way law firms have operated for decades?

4. Rev up your flux capacitor. Don’t be cowed by the naysaying and pessimism of those within traditional news media who live — or in some cases are imprisoned — inside legacy products and the business models on which they’ve too long relied. Rather than focus on its delivery modes, place your confidence and faith in journalism itself: the human yearning for story; the pursuit of truth in an age of spin; the need for mediated discussion, spirited debate and forged consensus among bonfires of various vanities; the continuing importance of assembling that “first rough draft of history” for the benefit of those who come after, whether they be other journalists, historians or their critics. The questions around delivery modes and business models will eventually sort themselves out — and you have an opportunity to play a significant role in helping devise them. Within another generation — one slice of the duration of a typical career — the news media landscape is likely to look very different. So what. Seize the historic moment. Master the storytelling arts; muster your courage.

The organization’s website is loaded with hints for parents, educators, information professionals and media enthusiasts on how and why they should be part of the process. There are also plenty of resources, available online and for download.

London Public Library has scheduled two events as part of this year’s Media Literacy Week. The first, on Wednesday, Nov. 4, at 7 p.m., consists of a screening of the film Reel Bad Arabs: How Hollywood Vilifies a People. If you have a Google account, you can watch it here on Google Video. Following the film, I’ll moderate discussion by a panel consisting of Kane X. Faucher, an assistant professor in the faculty of information and media studies at the University of Western Ontario; Wael Haddara, a physician and a director of the Muslim Association of Canada; and Ghada Turk, an educator at the Al-Taqwa Islamic School in London, Ont.

The second event, on the following evening at 7 p.m., is titled Digital Media: The New Democracy. It’ll be a talk and discussion led by London blogger and creative thinker Brian Frank, exploring the notion that the digital revolution that is so dramatically changing our lives has links to ancient Greek notions of democracy — and what might be next. It promises to be an interesting evening.

If you believe in the importance of media literacy and think you can lend your insights to broaden understanding of the media and their many effects, get involved. Plan or attend an event — or simply encourage others to do so.

But the prospect of a 500-kilogram great blue heron, made of steel and suspended from the upscale Renaissance Tower above special masonry below, bears all the marks of a very successful public-private partnership. Think London’s Via Rail station or the central branch of the London Public Library, except that this project will be much more about art than function.

Ted Goodden describes the installation of a steel great blue heron near the forks of the Thames River in London, Ont.

At a news conference this afternoon in the lobby of the newly built tower immediately south of the John Labatt Centre, artist Ted Goodden unveiled a small model of his sculpture and spoke eloquently of the images he hopes it will evoke. The steel bird will “gesture” toward the forks of what the region’s First Nations called the Antler River — the waterway European settlers later called the Thames. For both aboriginals and Europeans, the river was the locus of community life and commercial activity. The great blue heron was, and still is, a common sight. In crafting his sculpture, Goodden envisioned the heron ascending toward King Street from a resting place on the river.

Goodden’s three-by-five-metre heron, when installed, will also function as a kind of seasonal timepiece, its left wing outfitted with a sundial-type orb that will track the sun’s movement and register the summer solstice and points of semiannual equinox on the brickwork at street level.

Goodden’s installation will mark the end of a competition that included more than a dozen entries from across Canada. The juried selection process was led by the London Arts Council. The project is worth $100,000. Tricar Group, owner of Renaissance Tower, was granted a higher residential density during the project’s development in exchange for a contribution in the form of public art, guided by the city’s public art policy, which was adopted in January.

Goodden’s sculpture should be in place by the end of the year. Its design has already been tested by the Alan G. Davenport Wind Engineering Group at the University of Western Ontario.

London Free Press video of this afternoon’s event is here.